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xxsabitoxx · 7 months

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Confession | Kinktober

Priest Geto Suguru x AFAB Reader

Warnings: religion, sacrilege, fucking a priest, blow jobs, finger fucking, explicit language, squirting, pet names, mild gaslighting

A/N: Day three is here! This one may be offensive to anyone who is religious so please proceed with caution.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

“Tell me, what have you come here for?” You squirmed a bit against the uncomfortable wooden chair. The box itself was pretty dim, only a small, uncovered lightbulb was illuminating the musty space. Through a mesh window on your left, the man spoke with a gentle tone. “I’ve come to confess my sins to you, father.” You couldn’t calm your racing heart, hands twisting tightly together as you mentally prepare yourself to receive his blessings. “Is that so? Please, my dear, tell me the things that haunt you.” Again, his tone was enough to make you shudder. Although it was gentle, it sparked something warm deep within your gut.

“You see, father, I’ve been a terribly naughty girl.” You swallowed, eyes shutting slowly as you tried to focus on your own words. “Go on.” This time it was a little less gentle, a little more gruff. It made warmth flood your cheeks, your eyes blinking open in surprise. You knew what the priest looked like, having attended some of his masses before. You knew he was a devastatingly attractive man, one around your age, and one unfortunately sworn to celibacy. That, however, didn’t make you want him any less. “Father Suguru, I’ve done things I shouldn’t have… to myself.” You spoke in a low tone, listening to him hum softly before asking “Like what? What have you done to yourself?” he took the bait, your heart hammering in your chest.

“I've touched myself, for my own pleasure.” You held your breath, vaguely certain that Father Suguru did too. After a moment of your confession hanging in the air, he spoke up. “Oh? How many times have you committed this sin?” his tone wasn’t as gentle now, rather it held a level of strain to it. You could hear him shifting in his seat on the other side of the small confessional wall. “Many times, father. I’ve lost count… which is why I’ve come to you. I want to be cleansed of my filthy acts, only your generous mercy can free my tainted soul.” You stroked his ego with each word, a devious grin plastering to your lips as you heard him clear his throat.

“Sweet girl, by his grace I can cleanse you. But for it to truly work, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific. Tell me how you committed this act, recall one of the moments for me.” you could have choked on the little saliva that was in your mouth, heat pooling deep down as you recalled the last time you masturbated. “Oh well, last night I…” You stopped when you heard him inhale sharply, your teeth sinking into the side of your cheek before you asked “Father Suguru, are you alright?” You tried to sound innocent, praying your smirk wasn’t evident in your tone. “I-I’m alright, I was just taken by surprise. I didn’t think you’d be so bold as to touch yourself the night before coming to see me. But by all means…” his tone was mildly condescending “... go on.”

Your thighs pressed together, alleviating the mild ache just a bit. You hadn’t even gotten into the details with him, yet you could feel your own arousal dampening your underwear. “Well, you see, I was laying in my bed all alone. I got bored, my mind wandered and I started to think about such sinful things, Father. They got the better of me and I found myself kicking off the sheets and using my hands to toy with my breasts.” You swallowed, one hand coming up to hold your breast as you spoke, as if needing a physical reminder for all the things you had done. “A-and that wasn’t enough. I felt so achy down there that I couldn’t help taking my panties off and spreading my legs…” You stopped again, letting it hang in the air as you tried to compose yourself.

Beyond the confessional wall, Father Suguru was gritting his teeth, trying desperately to even his breathing as his cock started to strain against his pants. He wasn’t supposed to know who was sitting beside him, but your voice was recognizable. What a sinful girl you were, always attending his masses in such short sundresses. Your smile was addicting, just like the way your hips swayed as you walked up to him to chat after the mass was done. The thoughts you made him think, the things you made him feel… you must have been a temptation sent by the devil. But god dammit, it turns out he was a weak, weak man. He couldn’t resist the temptation of you for much longer he feared. Especially now. “And then what did you do?” he breathed out, quieter.

“Father, is this really necessary?” you feigned innocence again, all the while you were slowly parting your legs. “Y-yes, go on. For your sins to be properly forgiven, you must tell me in detail.” You could hear his voice straining again, threatening to crack if you asked him something else. “Alright then…” you sighed, legs spreading enough for your hand to slip down and press on your aching cunt. You nearly whimpered, swallowing the noise by clearing your throat. “I used my hand to reach down there and play with myself.” You admitted with warm cheeks, the heat radiating from where your fingers were pressing was enough to make you squirm, the old wooden chair creaking as your hips swivelled. Father Suguru was losing the battle, hand shakily holding his fully erect length and squeezing it roughly in hopes of helping the ache.

“And?” he said again, as if working on autopilot. “I played with my pussy until I climaxed.” you stated boldly, using two fingers to press directly over your aching clit. You heard it loud and clear now, a deep rumbling groan from the priest beside you. “You know, such a sinful act needs more of a demonstration.” he spoke with a surprisingly level tone, letting go of his aching bulge to stand. You, on the other hand, had frozen in your seat. “A-a demonstration? Father Suguru, I just bore my soul to you by explaining verbally.” But you heard him click his tongue, “Nonsense girl, you’ve yet to bare your soul to me in any capacity.” You pushed your dress down, hand resting on your lap instead of your cunt as you straightened, Through the mesh window, you could see he was standing. “An intervention for a tainted soul like yours needs to happen face to face.”

You couldn’t help but gasp, watching through the window as he pushed the door to the confessional open and stepped out. A moment later you were standing, shamelessly pushing the door open to stand in front of the clearly worked up priest. “Father Suguru…” you started innocently yet again, as if you weren’t the direct cause of his raging erection. His jaw was clenched tight, his hair out of its uniform bun and instead styled in a half up half down look. It only made you want him more, especially with the way his tanned cheeks were flushed red. His pupils were swallowing the pretty brown of his eyes, his fingers were tugging at the tight collar of his black clergy top. Your eyes zeroed in on the bulge in his pants before trailing back up.

“You need to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.” You blinked, eyes roaming the empty pews of the cathedral’s main room. His voice was echoing, sending a shiver down your spine as stain glass windows looked back at you. “Father Suguru I…” you swallowed, truly not anticipating the priest to go as far as he was. You hadn’t gotten this far in your daydreams, because you always convinced yourself the holy man wouldn’t give into temptation. Yet, you were taking a step forward, dropping to your knees before him on the cold marble floor. You felt like you should be ashamed of what you were about to do, not only in front of an altar, but with a priest… a man who swore his life to this work.

“Don’t speak.” he commanded slowly, fixing you in place with a hard stare. Your lips closed again, any sort of reason leaving your mind as he started undoing his belt with one hand. The other came down to tuck some hair behind your ear, the motion far too gentle for the flames burning in his gaze. “Be a good girl for me, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You obeyed, Suguru’s eyes watched with dilated pupils as your pretty lips parted and your tongue appeared. He breathed out through his nose, leaning over you a little as his belt came undone. You flinched as he spit, saliva landing perfectly in your mouth. “Swallow it, sweet girl.” you did, eyes locking with his as you swallowed the contents in your mouth.

“You must really want forgiveness.” He mused, quickly undoing the button and zipper of his black slacks. You nodded slowly, being mindful to remain quiet just as he had asked. “Surely, this is your ticket to salvation.” You held in a gasp as Suguru pulled out his cock. It was certainly bigger than you had anticipated, tanned and long with pretty veins running up the sides. “Father Suguru… please…” you rasped, mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock. “Atta girl, beg for your forgiveness, you can speak now.” Your lips parted, eyes trained on the oozing tip as Suguru wrapped his hand around the middle of his shaft. He was taunting you with it, moving it side to side just to watch your eyes follow it wherever it went.

“F-father Suguru I… I want to be forgiven for my sins… I want you to cleanse my soul with your gracious hands… Father Suguru please…” you begged him, breathing turning laboured as you waited for him to stop the torture and give you what you wanted. Suguru held his breath for a moment, heart racing as each syllable fell from your lips. “Please… god please.” you were breathless, eyes watering as you looked up at him. “Yes…” Suguru whispered, squeezing his length tightly before taking a half step forward. He was in mouth’s reach now, making your hips wiggle as your lips parted for him. “Please…” you said again, shivering as his second whisper of yes reached your ears. You took initiative now that he gave you his permission.

You kept your hands folded nearly on your lap, only using your mouth to take him. With Suguru’s guidance, the weeping head of his cock was slipping between your lips. You inhaled through your nose, jaw struggling to open wide enough to accommodate him as you pushed your head further down his length. You were determined to take the priest’s entire cock, you wanted to hear his pretty moans bouncing off the walls of the cathedral. You locked eyes with him, swallowing around him just to see his eyes nearly roll back. You had to wonder if this was the first time he had ever gotten head, maybe this would be the first time he ever got to touch a woman. The idea of the priest above you being a virgin made your cunt clench around nothing.

Suguru’s lips were parted, letting go of his cock as you began to bob your head, hands obediently on your lap. “Such a good girl… such a good girl… so so good…” be babbled softly, hands coming to cup your cheeks and guide you as his cock slipped in and out of the wet cavern of your mouth. You got off on his praise, fingers itching to sink between your thighs and toy with your clit just as you had described to father Suguru moments earlier. “So good, you’re such a good girl for not touching yourself yet. Surely you’ll be forgiven…” he groaned, head tilting back as your nose brushed the dark mess of hair at the base of his cock before you pulled back again. Each pass over your tongue, each time your throat constricted around him, it was enough to send him into a blissful state of euphoria. It was enough to make him question his beliefs.

Your mouth was too preoccupied to ask, but you desperately wanted to touch his balls. They were sitting there, taunting you, growing shiny as your saliva cascaded down his shaft. You moved one hand, eyes still locked on his neck and chin since he was tilting his head back, to test the waters. Suguru didn’t seem to notice as your fingers danced up his thigh, tongue still lavashing him as your head moved back and forth in a steady rhythm. You hesitated for only a moment before gingerly cupping him, watching as his head shot forward to look down at you with a shocked expression. They were warm and heavy with his cum, tightening as you massaged them between your fingers. “Oh… good girl…” he said again, voice a little more broken than before as he uttered the same praise for you.

The repetitiveness of it wasn’t an issue for you, if anything it got you going more. Every time he uttered the phrase, you felt yourself grow wetter, you were certain your panties were absolutely destroyed at this point. “I-I’m going to cum if you keep doing that… is that what you want, sweet girl?” he cooed, regaining a little composure as he spoke to you. You hummed, sending vibrations straight through him and eliciting a moan from his lips. “You want my cum, don’t you sweet girl. You want me to shoot my load right down your throat, right?” you hummed again, moaning around his twitching length as you squeezed his balls a little harder. Suguru cursed, the sound coming from the priest were enough to have your nipples bubbling, brushing uncomfortably against the material of your bra. “Fuck…fuck…” he panted, cheeks flushing a dark shade of pink as his fingers buried in your hair, no longer gentle as he rutted his hips into your mouth.

You gagged, fully unprepared for the priest to take over the way he had, the sound echoing and only fueling the fire in his gut. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over and down your cheeks as you let him thrust into your mouth as he pleased, fingers fisting in your hair just as your free hand fisted in the material of your sundress. You inhaled through your nose, lightheaded as the priest abused your throat to his liking. “Gonna… fuck gonna cum… oh yes, fuck… gonna cum down that pretty throat.” you whined, eyes nearly shutting before he commanded you to keep them open. “Look at me, the only way you can be forgiven is if you look at me, sweet-ah-girl.” He gritted his teeth, the pleasure ebbing up the back of his spine was going to make his knees week. Dutifully, you kept your eyes on him, watching his jaw go slack before he finally came.

You flinched, throat constricting at the extra intrusion but relaxing a moment later. You swallowed, mildly disappointed he had waited until he was nearly down your throat to cum. You didn’t get to taste much, not until he drew his hips back and the salty taste dragged over your tongue. Suguru was panting, watching you reach up to rub your aching jaw as he tried to even his breathing. “You’re on the road to forgiveness, sweet girl. But I don’t quite think you’re there yet.” You looked at him with mild hurt, you had thought you had done so good. “Be a doll and strip for me… sit on the pew and demonstrate your sins from last night.” the priest was tucking his now softened cock away, trying to act as if he weren’t flustered in the slightest. “Father Suguru…” you spoke, voice slightly raspy from his use.

“Yes? I believe I made myself clear.” he watched as you stood to your full height again, pulling your sundress off with no shame. You held his gaze as you pulled your ruined panties down, making sure he could see how destroyed they were before dropping them on the cold marble and walking down the few steps to the first row of pews. “I would much rather instruct you, I think it only makes sense for your pure hands to cleanse me of my sins in the deepest way.” You sat on the cold, polished wood, looking up at him where he stood on the elevated stage. He seemed to ponder your implications, huffing out a laugh before responding. “I guess that makes the most sense, you’re quite a smart, sweet girl.” You smiled at him, spreading your legs and moving to plant your feet on the pew. You were fully spread, the position mildly uncomfortable but you couldn’t really think past that point as cool air met your slick, displayed cunt.

“Father Suguru, please… I want to be pure.” you coaxed him down, watching as he took shaky footsteps before dropping to his knees before you. “Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me how you indulged yourself and tainted your soul… let me save you.” You shivered as his fingers trialed up the bare skin of your thighs, brown eyes observing your cunt dutifully. Your hands found their home pressed flat to either side of you, supporting you against the polished wood. “My clit… I played with it until I left a wet mark on my sheets… I didn’t let myself cum for a long while…” you breathed out, watching as he nodded, cheeks red and lips glossy as his tongue swiped across them. “I see…” he started, moving one calloused finger to swipe up your slick folds. “...like this? Gentle strokes and circles, right?” he used his thumb to press against your clit, rubbing it in circles until he felt you twitch. “Y-yeah…” you sighed, head falling back.

Suguru smirked, not moving any quicker. Your pretty sounds began to fill the empty cathedral, your arousal dripping down to the polished bench below you. He was careful with his movements, slowing until he was barely moving when he noticed you clenching around nothing, trying to draw your orgasm closer. “Be a good girl and let it happen… don’t force your body to cum because you think I’ll leave you hanging, sweet girl.” you whined, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding until he said that. You forced your head back down, face warm as you realized he was still intently staring at you. Granted you had done the same to him as you got him off. “Tell me, is this how you were sinning last night?” Suguru waited until you were about to speak, using two fingers and slipping them straight into your slick core. “Y-yeah…”

Your body tensed again at the intrusion, moaning loudly as he massaged your walls. “I promise you, sweet girl, I will cleanse you.” he cooed, eyes focusing solely on you as he gauged your reactions. He would find that one particular spot, he was sure of it. “Please Father Suguru… cleanse me…” you cried out as he brushed it, a smirk curling the ends of his lips as he pressed his fingers into the front of your walls, thumb still sloppily rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your thigh. “S-Su…Father Suguru…” you croaked, tears leaking down your cheeks as he abused that one spongy part of your cunt. You couldn’t think straight, mind blanking completely as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. “Go on, sweet girl, cum on my fingers.” He encouraged, voice so gentle you would have never guessed he was knuckle deep in your cunt.

Suguru could feel it of course, your walls fluttering and twitching around his fingers as more and more of your slick arousal slipped out of you and down to the pew. “I’m gonna cum… Fa-ahh” you couldn’t get the rest out, hip jerking as your orgasm hit you before you could truly prepare. You cried out, the noise bouncing off of the cathedral walls as the priest continued to finger your cunt and circle your clit with his thumb. “S-Stop oh fuck s-stop…” you wheezed out, an unfamiliar feeling building in your gut as he continued to abuse that one spot with his fingers. “No, this is what you need, sweet girl, let it happen.” he encouraged, lips parted as he watched where his fingers had disappeared inside of you very intently. Your eyes screwed shut, trying to fight off the feeling but it was useless, the priest was unrelenting in his movements.

Shockwaves of your orgasm turned into a full blown tsunami, your head falling back as a gush of fluid sprayed out of you and onto the bench and marble floor below. You cried out, his name mixed somewhere in the jumble of your babbling, utterly embarrassed. Finally, Father Suguru stopped, withdrawing from your body entirely and getting off his knees. “Sweet girl, what a mess.” he scolded you, a devious grin on his face still as he looked your wrecked frame over. “You’ve been cleansed, pretty. But I would argue that we should double… or even triple check to make sure it’s really working.” Your body felt heavy, eyes lidded as you merely nodded, cunt still fluttering at the thought of getting more of the priest before you.

“I’ll make sure you are pure, my sweet girl.”

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

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Can you do a Alastor x married reader? (No smut please just wholesome and gore shit)

omg i didn’t know if you wanted Alastor with a reader who’s already married to somebody else or if you want reader who’s married to Alastor.

Initially i thought it was the ladder so that’s what i wrote. If you wanted the first option you can drop another ask and i’ll write that too!

✧.* He goes absolutely crazy for your wedding anniversaries, like i’m not kidding. He would probably do really extreme borderline insane grand gestures

✧.* like say you like nirvana he would probably hunt down kurt kobain and steal his soul just so you get a free concert

✧.* that was a ridiculous example but the gestures are seriously that crazy

✧.* His love language would probably be gift giving and acts of service. He’s the type to unexpectedly get you flowers or chocolates because he doesn’t really know how else to express his affection towards you.

✧.* On your wedding day, your first dance would probably start slow but then halfway through the song pick up the pace and have like an electro-swing type beat.

✧.* I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t tell you about it either, just all of a sudden started spinning and dipping you.

✧.* as you know, he is SUCH an attention whore and his jealousy gets even worse after you two get married. He wants your eyes on him at all times and throws a little tantrum anytime someone else has your attention.

✧.* Luckily you know him well enough to figure out when this happens. Maybe even call him out on it, that’ll get him going.

✧.* If you do end up saying something about his jealousy, especially if it’s in a teasing way, watch his grin tighten and his eyes widen before shaking his head slightly. Obviously trying to hide how much you just caught him off guard.

✧.* He’ll probably say something like “Oh, my dear, you know me far too well.”

✧.* Kisses aren’t as common as they are in other peoples relationships, not to say they don’t happen. Usually he’s the one to initiate it as he’s not that big of a fan of physical touch.

✧.* But he’ll wait until you two have a moment alone and lean down to kiss you.

✧.* Although if he is in a touchy mood, however rare that scenario might be, he will show you very discreetly. maybe you two are just lounging in bed and he’ll gradually scoot ever so slightly closer too you until your practically squeezed together.

✧.* Maybe you take the hint and start to hold his hand, or even rub his back. He wouldn’t say how much he liked it but maybe even let him lean on your shoulder.

✧.* Brother has mad parental issues and misses his mommy so he actually would love feeling taken care of like that.

✧.* More on his jealousy, he will ABSOLUTELY WITHOUT A DOUBT kill for you. Whether it’s someone who just had your attention for a little too long, or someone who just plain annoyed you, they’re a goner. OH, and it will not be fast. it will be drawn out and slow because this bitch is absolutely crazy.

✧.* He loves to dance so much that’s probably the most common form of physical touch between you two.

✧.* Alastor also has a terrible habit of just talking AT you. Usually you humor him at listen even if it feels like he’s talking to himself more than you. Buddy just thinks the things he has to say or super important so you just nod your head and smile.

✧.* If you’re especially known for being Alastors wife then people will absolutely steer clear of you. Actually, a week into dating he probably already sent a message to people who even thought of messing with you. Yeah, it doesn’t happen often anymore.

✧.* He also likes it when you cook for him. It reminds him of his childhood and probably makes him happy.

✧.* He will DEFINITELY join it and help you cook because my boy loves that quality time!

✧.* Maybe you and him happen to be disliking the same demon and decide to kill them together. Literally power couple shit right there, taking turns beating the shit out of some disrespectful bitch.

✧.* Probably kissing whilst that’s happening too to be honest.

a/n: OMG IM NOT VERY PROUD OF THIS TBH!! I swear usually i’m better at writing but i literally just don’t like Alastor very much? I don’t know he just doesn’t do it for… well anyways bc of that it might be a little out of character.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #fluff #x reader

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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getosbigballsack · 1 month

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Random thought! - Husband Gojo x Wife Reader-chan #inside the diary

Hear me out! Gojo read your thoughts in your diary and came to realize that he was a terrible husband to you.

He knew he was a good lay, hence the reason he managed to knock you up three times. But as of lately, he came to realize that you weren't interested in having sex with him.

At first, he thought it was just because you were too tired, having to take care of the kids while he works, all day by yourself (in which he understands, and he praises you for being such a wonderful mother).

But that wasn't the case. He just happened to come home early from work while you were out shopping with the kids, and he got a hold of your diary.

Interestingly, he took it upon himself to skim through the pages of your book, just to see what's inside your little head. Nothing out of the ordinary, just little notes and reminders to yourself about the task you had to complete and a few words of encouragement here and there.

He usually doesn't read through your thoughts, always thinking that if you had an issue you'd come and talk to him, so he was about to put your diary back where he found it because he didn't want to pry further into your thoughts, but that's until one page in particular caught his eye.

I find it difficult to enjoy sex with my husband nowadays and I don't know why?

Words in blue handwriting are written beautifully on the paper. He kept on reading, and as he continued to move further down the line, he felt his heart break.

It’s just me, but I don't think I'm attractive enough to have sex with my husband.

I wanted to suggest the last time we had sex [that was a month ago], but I didn't wanna ruin the moment for him because he looked like he was having fun.

Satoru came home today and wanted to have sex. I told him no. He never forced himself on me. He only kissed me goodnight and left to go sleep in the guest room. I know he was upset but did he really have to leave?

It's been 2 months, and Satoru hasn't tried touching me since that night. Am I not worthy of loving anymore? He doesn't even buy me flowers anymore or take me out on dates.

He doesn't compliment me anymore, doesn't tell me that I'm beautiful. He doesn’t even call me baby girl, doll or even honey.

No more I love you, only kisses to the forehead and peck on the lips before he leaves for work in the morning.

He comes home late, I'm always alone with the kids, no more family dinners, no more kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom conversations. No more late-night kisses, no more holding me tightly in his arms while he sleeps.

Does he not want me anymore?

Sometimes I wanna visit his office with the children but I’m afraid that he’ll find my presence a bit annoying. I feel lonely without him here with me.

I should've said yes that night and spread my legs for him,

That's my duty as his wife.

To have fulfilled all my husband's needs without complaint.

But it hurts to have sex, I'm just not in the mood. I'm too tired, I just need my husband to hold me, but he's not there.

I can't complain, he's the reason I don't have to work.

But is it so bad to ask my husband to love me without having the need to touch me?

The last entry to your diary reads.

I'm going to do it today, bare the pain and have sex with my husband, just so that I can feel his love once again.

Now he knows the real reason you won’t have intercourse with him, or let's say the reason you don’t enjoy having sex with him. You feel as though he doesn’t love you anymore, and he needs to fix that. So, until he can figure out a way to prove to you just how much he loves you, he’ll have to deprive himself of your warm loving touch.

Later in the day when you came home with the kids, you saw your husband cooking up a storm in the kitchen. “Hey baby girl, want something to eat? It’s been a while hasn’t it.” too stunned to even say a word, you just watched as your kids, ages 3, 4 and 6 ran over to their dad and engulfed him in a big hug. He giggled and stopped whatever he was doing to bend to his children’s height and kissed every single of them on their cheeks. “Hey boys. Did you all take your mom out shopping today?” Oh, that’s right you’re a boy mom. You managed to pop three boys, all of them came out looking just like their dad, especially your eldest son.

The boys chatted away with their dad until he excused himself and walked over to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your body. You're in a state of shock, unable to move for a moment until he whispers, “can I get a hug back?” and you did give him a hug.

“Welcome home, have a seat, dinner’s almost ready. I cooked vegetable curry today, I know it’s your favourite,” and indeed it is your favourite. For the rest of the day, he spent time in the kitchen cooking while chatting with his kids, not without taking small glances at you. You all ate dinner together, got the kids ready for bed when night falls, before preparing for bed yourselves.

You remembered that you wrote in your diary that you were about to try and have sex with your husband, all for the sake of feeling his love again, but that didn’t happen. Instead, you found your husband already waiting for you on the bed, fully dressed in pjs, a cup of your favourite tea in his hand and a warm loving smile on his face.

He immediately started up a conversation with you, asking you about your day and your trip to the shopping centre. You had no clue what was going on inside your husband’s head, but it’s been a while since he last sat down and had small conversations like these, and you weren’t about to miss this opportunity.

So with a smile on your face, you told everything that happened today and even the fact that you had to buy a bag of grapes you had no intentions of buying, but you did so because your 3 year old son stole and ate a few while you picked up a bag of oranges. The conversation went all a while until he sighed.

“Y/N,” he whispered in a serious tone. “We need to talk. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I can’t bear the fact that my wife would be going to bed with doubts about our relationship and my love for you.”

You swallow thickly and rest your now empty cup against the nightstand before turning to face your husband fully. He reached his hand out for you, and you gently placed your left hand in his. He wrapped his large hand around your finger and gently pulled you until you were straddling his lips. You swallowed that thick lump yet again, before whispering, “So what is it that we need to talk about.”

“Why do you always refuse to communicate your feelings with me?” he asked as he let go of your hand and wrapped both hands around your waist and rested his head up against your chest. “I know I haven’t been a good husband to you these past few months, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you or that you’re not worthy of loving.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He sighed heavily before taking a deep breath. “I found your diary in the living room when I got home, and I read through your notes.” Your body tensed up in his lap, your mind immediately racing towards negative thoughts. Is he angry? Why did you have to carelessly leave your diary out in the open for him to see.

“Oh!”

“I’m sorry for reading through your diary, but I’m happy that I did because my wife won’t communicate with me,” he said with a frustrated sigh.

You frowned, “Would you have listened even if I tried?”

“I would’ve dropped everything and listened to whatever it is that you have to say. I know it's my duty to ensure that my wife is living her best happy life, and that it’s also my responsibility to take care of your wellbeing, but I can’t always know what's going on with you if you don’t communicate with me.”

Communication on your end has always been a big issue in your relationship with your husband. It bothered him and he’d hope that after a while you would’ve grown out of your bad habit, but he guess he’s wrong, because here you are now after 8 years of being a relationship total and that includes the four years of marriage, and 3 kids later, you still struggling to figure out a way to communicate your feelings with him.

“I broke my heart when I read that you thought that as my wife, your duty is to only provide for me sexually or even the fact that you don’t think that you’re attractive enough to have sex with me. What hurts me the most is that you have so many doubts about my love for you. Y/N you know that I love you right?”

“I do,” your voice trembled slightly as you answered.

“Then why are you doubting my feelings for you? I apologise for leaving you to sleep in the guest room that night, it was wrong of me to be upset all because you told me no.” There was a moment of silence, you figured he was waiting for a response in which you never gave.

“I know I don’t say this as much as I need to, but I love you. I LOVE YOU so very much. I love you as my best friend, my wife and I love you even more as the mother of my children.” Tears started to obstruct your vision as you stared off at your wedding portrait that was above your bed and listened as your husband poured his hurt out to you.

“I need you to stop thinking that you are not worthy of loving because you are more than worthy. You’re an amazing woman, an amazing wife, and an amazing mother to our children. Just the fact that you're a mother makes you worthy of loving.”

“Satoru… I- I,” you stuttered, trying to formulate the words inside your mouth, but even if you did, what are you going to say to your husband? You had not one clue.

“I’m not a mind reader Y/N, so you need to start communicating your feelings with me, because if you don’t tell me, I’m not going to always know,” he said to you as he snuggled his head against your chest.

“I- I’ll do better.”

“I’m happy to hear that, and I promise to show you just how much I love you and do whatever it is to ensure that my wife is happy, because your happiness means the most to me. I’ll get you those flowers you want, and I’ll try my best to buy you loads of flowers in the future. And about visiting my office.”

“Yes?” you said.

“I would love for you to pop up at my office one day with the kids and surprise me. My workers have been dying to meet my beautiful wife and children. And about the late-night work meetings. I can’t promise you that there won’t be any more late-night meetings, but I'll do my best to get home as early as I can to be with you and the kids. I don’t want you to feel as though I’ve abandoned you with the kids. I’ll take a few days off from work too and take the ends out. You’re right we barely have family time.”

“Thank you,” you said smiling as you allowed those tears to run down your cheeks.

“I’ll do better as your husband. It wasn't my intention to not cuddle and hold you tightly while we sleep. Baby you know you can always smack me in the head or do that cute silly little thing you do and crawl underneath my arms if you want to cuddle with me,” he said to you, and you let out a small giggle.

He chuckled too as he removed one hand from around your waist to cradle your cheek. “Lastly, this is about our sex life. If I make you feel physical pain, or uncomfortable at any time during intercourse you need to let me know because the last thing I want to do is hurt you. In your diary you said that you wanted to suggest the last time we had sex. I want you to tell me what it is.”

Your face heated up immediately, why would he have to bring that up now. Couldn’t he have waited until a better time. But nonetheless despite the obvious look of embarrassment on your face you whispered, “I was wondering if… if…”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if we could try something outside the usual vanilla sex,” you said to him, and he cocked his eyebrow towards you. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy vanilla sex, I love having vanilla sex with you and you know how to be rough when you need to be. But I thought it would be nice if we could do something different.”

“What do you suggest?” he asked with a sunning grin on his face.

“Maybe we could try using some sex toys.”

“Sex toys heh?” he said, and you quickly covered up your face with your hands. “I’m open, I don’t mind getting a few sex toys here and there for us to use. I can order us a few online on another day.”

“Ok…”

“Good girl. I love you.” he whispered as he kissed your lips. "I promise I'll be a better husband for you."

“I love you too, Satoru.”

#gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #satoru smut

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fillinforlater · 2 months

Text

On her jeans (Part 2 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Pham Hanni (ft. Jisoo, Seungyeon, Seolhyun)

Length: 8018 words

Tags: You know what? How about no tags. Yes, really. This is very similar to the rest of the On her series, especially cuz it's a Part 2. Go have fun, I know you will have it ;)

TW: rushed editing, a terrible friend, nothing but sex matters

Inspiration: @sooyadelicacies

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for being a fantastic co-writer!

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part3-

(A/N: This fic has it all: from three cameos to rapid fire scene changes to betrayal to an all-time threesome combo. Have fun with these grown-ass women!)

"What the fuck, Unnie?"

"What?" Kazuha says, not even bothering to turn her attention to the young girl.

"He… I—"

The ballerina then turns around to see tears forming in Minji's eyes. This is how so many of them must have looked when the realization came crashing over them like a merciless tsunami. Did I really just do this? Is it worth it? Will he ever have enough?

"As he should." Kazuha's expression turns cold, uncaring. "I did exactly what you asked me to. I sent you to him. It looks like you weren't good enough for him. That's on you. If you can't stick it out, maybe you aren't cut out for all of this."

"What—do you really feel that way? Is that why you do it?" Minji sobs.

"At the start sure, but now I know: he is my whole world, all that I could need or want.

“I love him," Kazuha says with unflinching conviction.

"Really?" Minji shouts and Kazuha quickly shuts her up with a palm on her sore lips.

"Yes, really, and if you screw this up, I swear, I'll make your life a living hell." Kazuha looks around the long corridors of the Hybe building. She then removes her hand from Minji's lips and unexpectedly dives straight to the younger’s ear. "You can be a good girl for him, call him Master or Daddy and get your brains fucked out—but don't ever get in between us. When the time is right, I'll be the only one for him.

"Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Zuha-unnie."

"Good. Now, what did he say you need to do?"

A seemingly never ending, vicious cycle starts for Minji. She works her butt off, dances the entire day, goes through hours of meetings, recordings—and instead of going to bed every day, she takes every conceivable measure to go straight to your office.

She walks in, lays on the table and waits for you to finish a call. At first, it's a mystery who you are talking to, but she finds out that it's all kinds of producers, managers, executives and most importantly—idols.

"So how is everything going?" Jisoo dreamily asks from the other end of the line.

"Well, I almost fucked up,” you respond in all honesty and drop your pants. “I almost slipped and told one of the new prospects they reminded me of you."

Jisoo's face softens and smiles. It’s like you can hear every movement of her facial bones. "Oh? Care to tell me who? Is she prettier than I was back then?"

"Impossible," You say sincerely.

"You're sweet, but don't think you're off the hook for that little quick tryst you had with Jennie. Rosie's sad about it. You need to make it up to her. And you need to make it up to me too." Jisoo says the last part a bit forcefully and you imagine scrunches on her face to show you her seriousness.

"I know,” you sigh and rub a finger along Minji’s throat and cheeks without thinking about her or the incredible sensation of her skin. “I will, I will. I miss you."

"I know you do. You tell me every time we talk. I miss you too, Daddy.” That’s always how Jisoo finishes a long distance conversation. She wishes you were there, with a hand in her panties. She wants to moan your name into your ear, your actual name, and not scream it out when rubbing one out under some hotel bed sheets. But Jisoo will have to wait.

The moment you finish the call, you start to pull out your hard cock and press it into Minji’s wide open mouth. She makes sure to keep her lips moisturized at all times, but she can never be ready for the strong impact of your hips hitting her head and rocking her back and forth on the desk.

With every single one of those meetings, Minji's clothes become more revealing, to the point she gasps whenever she sees herself in a public mirror. People on the train start to watch her round ass bounce in short shorts, then in very short shorts, then in a miniskirt.

Minji wonders how she is able to push through this. Her sleep gets shorter, the training rougher, the meetings more intense—worst of all, you become more violent too. It all reaches a peak when Minji is unable to shower because otherwise she would be too late.

In her dirty, sweaty state, she sprints to your office and bursts through the door, just to be greeted by the sight of you roughly fucking—destroying—the huge ass of a familiar idol.

"You are fuck-ing late!" you growl and slam the bendover idol against the desk a final time. Minji hurries around the wooden monstrosity to get into her, by now well-known position. It is then that she realizes who you are fucking: Seungyeon, the former dancer of CLC.

"What are you?" you shout at Seungyeon and smack her ass hard.

"Your stupid, bubble-butt bitch, Master," she wails in a weird mix of pain and euphoria. She gets a tap on said bubble-butt with your cock.

"How do you want it, bitch?"

"Harder, Master."

"What are you going to get?"

"What Master wants."

"Exactly."

Minji lets her head hang off the edge, only a few inches away from where you annihilate Seungyeon's dignity and her asshole with your inches. Both you and the idol grunt like animals in heat, but for her it sounds blissful, for you more like work.

And so Minji lays there, drenched in sweat, and the weirdness of being forced to watch other people fuck never really fading. It's stranger the more she has seen or admired an idol. No matter who, everyone she saw has folded to you, and Seungyeon might be the most submissive. How she degrades herself and begs for you to ruin and spit on her—

"Good bitch, keep your ass gaping!"

Suddenly, the cock is on Minji's face and she looks past it in shock. Your expression, though a bit exhausted, remains stern.

"Open fucking wide, Minji," you command and Minji gulps. This cock has just been in Seungyeon's ass, maybe for hours, and though it looks spotless, she can't bring herself to—

Minji gasps and that is enough. You push against her lips, into her mouth and start to use it to 'clean' yourself—really, it is just training for Minji to trust you and accept your commands.

Though her first reaction was a gag of disgust, Minji has to admit to herself quickly that Seungyeon's ass on your cock tastes great. It's an embarrassing secret which she will never tell anyone.

You switch between the holes a couple more times before creaming Seungyeon. While Minji has her final cleaning session, you order the older idol to clean Minji's feet and calves off sweat.

No hesitation, Minji realizes, as Seungyeon does not leave out an inch of her skin.

Seungyeon isn't the only one showing complete devotion to you and your every order. You've had a few other idols over before or after Minji's throat-stretching. The young soon-to-be idol knew them, but they weren't the stars yet she saw in your profile list. The thought that you might have been bluffing with controlling the likes of Blackpink, aespa or Red Velvet crossed her mind, but they faded whenever she thought of Kazuha's success.

She wants that too, no, Minji wants to pass Kazuha and so she comes back to you, no matter how hard the companies’ training is fucking her. Then finally comes the day—actually, the day before the day.

The not-yet NewJeans member lays on your table. She returned from the final pre-debut meeting and was ready for you to quickly walk in and fuck her face, but you never came. For endless hours, the entire fucking night, Minji had to lay there and wait. She could've left at any time, but the gravity of this situation, this presumed test, pulled her down to the flat, wooden surface.

No matter how uncomfortable it got, she did not stand up. You could be around the corner at any second. The thought of her giving up right as you walk in gave Minji a weird mixture of fear and arousal, further amplified when she had to keep herself from falling asleep. A hand in her soaked panties, Minji played the fantasy out in her head:

You would walk in and find her asleep. Angry by her inability to follow orders and service her Master, you decide to punish her. When you find her panties wet, the desk covered in girl juice, you wouldn't hesitate to plunge into Minji's tight, virgin cunt and fuck her awake. It would hurt, but Minji wouldn't stop cumming!

She can't stop cumming, her fingers rub her clit to completion and now real juice runs down your desk. Minji is wide awake, but an hour later, she does it again, again, again, until you finally enter the room. Casually, as if Minji isn't completely spent and almost fully naked on your work desk.

The sparkle in her eyes is priceless. Out of all the crazy shit you pulled on this formerly innocent virgin, this was the task that broke her. You don't know the exact moment, but you will never forget this moment where you see her orbs and know that she is past her prostitute stage.

"This is actually impressive," you say with a coy smile while gently caressing Minji's forehead. "I see you... had fun last night?"

"Sorry, Master," Minji carefully apologizes and kisses your hand. "I made a mess."

"Don't worry, I'll call someone to clean it later. Now, get on your knees and show me what you have learned."

She is dizzy, barely able to stand, but luckily, Minji's place is at your feet, hands wrapped around your length. Her strokes are soft, careful, and she does not wait to use her tongue on you. After a minute, she sees the impatience in your look and uses her mouth. Quickly it’s wrapped around your tip and for the first time ever, Minji fucks her face on your cock.

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaim. There is some actual joy in that, especially when you can lazily put Minji's hair in a makeshift ponytail and watch her go down on your crotch in surprisingly quick succession. "This is good, this is fucking—great!

"Hold still."

Your heart pumps like crazy, but it's nothing compared to your hips which start to obliterate Minji's throat. Your cock bulges her visibly and she starts to shake. Usually, she'd have her teeth at spots where they don't belong, but at long last, she has learned.

She takes it well, like a slut should. Not yet one of your perfect sluts however. It's all a bit rushed; her debut, the training, the stretching. Considering this, she is definitely good and her gags sound delicious.

You pull out of her mouth. Minji triest to catch her breath, instead catches three of your fingers which you also use to fuck her mouth while locking eyes. The salty tears that stream from hers look so delicious and you love how, no matter how many chokes you force out of her, there is no fight or flight response. She takes it.

"Become sloppy, slut, get your drool out. I want to see you become a mess for your Master!"

Minji twitches. She is dazed, your fingers become glazed; then an avalanche spurts forth, of more tears and drool that starts to cover her chin and stain your floor. You want more, so you replace your fingers with your cock and fuck her throat again, never slowly, only hard and fast. At this point, the poor girl beneath you is dehydrated and the pool on her thighs and the tiles excessive. You stop.

"Fuck, this is what I mean. This is how you suck cock, Minji."

"G-glad you l-like it—Master."

"Go clean up your mess."

"Yes, Master."

When Minji goes down to lick and suck her saliva from the floor, you rest your shiny, polished shoe on her cheek and bask in the faint sun, dawning right before your office window.

"You will go home and sleep," you order firmly. "The only contact we will have is when you send me a video of you masturbating in your debut panties. Send me those panties in the mail, and you'll soon lift your first music show trophy."

Lean down after Minji has collected all the slick and press an unmistakable love bite right under her right breast. Minji mewls as you do so.

"The-they'll probably try to hide the mark, Master."

"Good." Pat her head. "No one can know what happened here."

"Of course, Master."

"You've been a good girl, Minji. Now go out there and become a bigger star than you could've ever dreamed of."

"Thank you, Master."

Months go by where Minji is mostly a concept for you, some asset to be discussed in meeting with your connections in HYBE. Rarely did she send a direct message to you—except for the video you asked for. It's nice that she didn't totally forget about you. After a busy day that calls for vacation and a nice, warm pussy on your cock, you turn on the TV to watch the most important year-end award show.

A quick scroll down your contact list, you pick someone you know is nearby, obedient and definitely warm. The calls with Seolhyun are never longer than ten seconds, because she knows she's got to be there for her Daddy.

"You ever miss this?" you ask her when she sits down on your cock, panties still around her ankles, jacket still hanging from her shoulders.

"The awards? Sometimes, but—oh fuck!” Seolhyun is interrupted by you thrusting upwards while you care more for the TV than her. “Yes, more Daddy. They are nothing compared to your cock, your touch, your love!"

Seolhyun tightens when she moans these words and you give her more of your touch, your thrusts, your cock. Soon she is bouncing in rhythm with it and begs for you to rub her clit. You won’t do so yet, would be boring if she’d get all the things that make her cum so easily.

"What do you think of her, Seolhyun?” You nod towards the screen as it captures Minji in all her beauty and on stage charisma. “Think she can capture the nation's heart like you once did?"

"Minji, right? I think so."

That is the first time Minji has been in your sight since when her face was pressed to the floor. She looks like a proper star, close to being a super star (their next song will guarantee it) and her attitude reflects that. Don't touch me, I'm better than you, get out of my way, who even are you? - you imagine how she feels towards these other, lesser known people around her.

Minji's dream came true and you were the pixy dust. Now you deem it the right time to get a hold of her. In between comebacks, right after all the award shows, she will have no excuses. Time to pay up, you text her, with a location, time and date while your finger disappears in Seolhyun’s asshole.

The day comes and you've checked into your favorite spa-hotel with excitement. The security and privacy here are top notch, or at least they are for you. See, it’s all about connections and here you have the best connections and can make sure that no rumors spread and that all information comes to you in no time. Minji will be here shortly and you've already painted the pictures of her naked body in your head, scenes where she undresses, spreads her legs and folds, begs for you to part her—

You hear the door open. From your seated position on the bed, you look expectantly at the entrance to the bedroom which Minji finds shortly after, her fluffy, thick jacket already falling from her shoulders.

"Hello, Master," she sultrily says with a smile. You reciprocate it.

"I see you've been doing great," you skip the greeting and walk over to her. A gentle push and the jacket fully falls off. Minji's outfit underneath is surprisingly thin for this season; there could be snowfall outside any day now and she runs around in a white crop and skinny denim.

"Those jeans look good on you." Stare down at her eyes while you check the quality of those mentioned jeans by fondling her butt, then her thighs and lastly her crotch. "Very expensive, HYBE is already paying you?"

"It's all the ads we do," Minji quickly responds, her breath halted while she does the unthinkable and moves your hand away from her crotch. "I... I never thought it would work so quickly."

"Yeah, it feels surreal, almost too quickly," you say with careful annoyance, unsure how to judge Minji's hand on your wrist holding you back from getting to feel more of her body.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Master, thank you very much~"

"You see, Minji..."

Her shoulders in your firm grasp, you move Minji to the next wall and position her in such a way that she is trapped and your knee is able to gradually push up against her covered pussy. The young girl tries to resist, she is suddenly flustered, oh how this should remind her of her success.

"... no one was ever this successful without a big commitment. Your commitments until now were nothing."

"Tha-that's why I'm here. Master, I'll suck your cock as much as you want, I'll let you deepthroat me hard, even for the entire night!"

You scoff and give Minji's cheek a quick, small slap. Your knee has now become the only pillar that keeps her upright. She has to balance and rub her slightly moistened folds on them so as to not to fall over.

"Sucking? Deep throating? Oh you're still so naive. No. You, Minji… belong to me. All of you, which means any hole. You are mine to use however I want."

"Wha—no!" She puts a hand on her cheek and looks at you with puppy eyes that beg so pathetically, like the thought that you took this deal seriously is a shocking reveal. You roll your eyes at her and find the top button of her jeans, but Minji starts to fight back with a loud, whiny voice.

"No, Master, you don't understand! Un-unlike all those other idols, I'm... I'm still a virgin. I don't want to lose it now, not here, not—"

"That is not up to you!"

Your shout halts time and space, only Minji's facial expression matters. She looks honest, absolutely in dread that it might happen at not the moment she wants it to. She cannot fathom giving you or anyone that control, she wants it special and precious and all those nonsense illusions. It's gut wrenchingly annoying but you will not go too far to break her now; you're too fond of her for that.

Call it your weakness and curse you for that.

"We had a deal."

"I-I know."

"And you don't want to fulfill it?"

"I'm sorry, Ma-Master, please don't—"

"Then offer me something equally valuable." Minji looks at you in confusion. You drop her from the wall and hand her your phone. "Put in the number of someone whose virginity I can take. They have to be your sacrifice, your warrantor, and they have to agree to the same contract.

"You will then come with her to me and will watch how I take her virginity. You will watch every fucking pump I put into her pussy. She will testify, she will call me Master and she will love it. That's your only way, you better bring me someone."

Minji clutches the cell phone, her life-line, her lever to the trolley problem, except the train that was about to hit her can only be directed at another girl.

"And Minji,” you add in controlled yet uncontrollable rage. “I want her here, now. I want someone worthy of my time and touch. Or else. You will call them and then you will be on your knees sucking my cock while we wait."

Sweat comes pouring down Minji's forehead. You can hear the inner workings of her brain scramble, trying to find someone she can push in between you and her. There is no submission to you and there is no urge to flee and break your deal.

Minji genuinely tries to sell you someone. Despicable, everything for success.

"D-do you know Hanni?" she suddenly stutters, quietly, ashamed but her fingers are already dialing up her friends number.

"I have never met her." You laugh in disbelief and turn your back to Minji. "You're really going to sell your bandmate? Are you not friends?"

"I—she's the only one I know who is a virgin but not... not... not unwilling."

You cock your eyebrow and listen to Minji's call which is surprisingly short. No mention of you or your arrangement, just the location and some details. Definitely no one is allowed to know of this and yes, Hanni has to be swift.

Minji ends the call and you immediately throw her to the ground, her head on the cushions of the nearby bed, your belt already loose, a hand on your pants.

"Pull them down and open your fucking mouth." Minji does so, the shock in her eyes is wonderful when you push past her lips and against the back of her throat in one go. Violent choking. "You are terrible, the worst friend, but at least you know how to make that mouth-pussy of yours work. Go on! Fucking use your tongue."

Minji starts to gag, trying to adjust to your cock, not realizing you weren't even fully hard yet. You never were with her.

"Good, all the way. Use your tongue and saliva, let me fucking feel it."

You kick off your trousers and put more force in your hips so that your long shaft may fill Minji's deepest depths. It pushes out a lot of saliva, a waterfall that tumbles down her chin and covers her top. From your point of view you may not see it, but you know that Minji's aroused nipples poke through her bra and show that no matter how hard you fuck her face or belittle her, she's yours.

Minji's mind shall only be occupied with satisfying you, so even her still lacking tongue and lips do their best to suck you from tip to base—you make sure she never slacks by pistoning in and out of her.

After about 30 minutes of slowly thrusting in and out of here and replying to texts on your phone, you receive a message from the hotel staff that someone has arrived and come to see you. Minji tries to tap on your leg, indicating she wished to be freed of this position. You shake your head, no.

"Oh, you don't want your bandmate to see you like this? That's not an option."

The sound of a door opening echoes through the hotel room and Minji panics, flailing wildly, her eyes tearing up and begging, begging so well—maybe she can finally grasp what she has gotten her friend into—

"Hello? Minji, are you here? Is everything okay?"

—but she still has so much to learn. Smack her cheek a final time, loud enough for Hanni to gasp at the front door. Before she can enter the bedroom, you pull out of Minji's mouth and push her towards the door.

"Minji?" Hanni asks again and rushes towards her. Minji stops her, both of them shriek in shock. "Oh my Gosh, Minji, it is you! You scared me!"

"I-I'm sorry, I—"

"You look... messy. Is everything alright? I'm sorry if I took too long, you sounded so sad and terrified."

"Hanni, I," Minji stutters, hesitates, maybe even contemplates. It all makes her seem as if she has a heart and does not want to use Hanni to keep her virginity, but deep down everyone has to know that she is not a good person. No one would sell their friend for something like this. Minji is cold hearted when it comes to her career and things she believes she rightfully owns. "I have to ask something crazy of you."

"Okay? Look, you need to calm down first, maybe clean your face up and then we can talk ab—"

"Hanni, please." You hear some uncertain steps, as if someone is almost falling over and is ultimately pressed to a wall. You hear a wet sound, then a moan. Your cock is going crazy at all the possible things that might happen right around the corner and later in this bed. "Do you trust me?"

"Why did you kiss me, Minji?"

"Do you trust your leader?"

"Yes, of course. I'm a bit scared though, what have you gotten into?" Hanni's voice is full of concern and so is her face which you see for the first time when Minji guides her into the bedroom, arms around Hanni's tiny waist.

Hanni is in complete shock.

"Minji, what is this? Who is this man?" You still have your pants down and cock out.

Unfazed, you smile at the girl. "Minji, tell your friend what you did."

"Have you never wondered," Minji starts right away and tightens her hold on the younger band member. "Why so much changed before our debut, why the success was imminent, why it didn't stop? Have you never questioned all the blessings we received?"

"I-I... what was I supposed to think?" Hanni weakly laughs and tries to avoid the sight of your erection, but she can't because Minji is slowly inching her closer to it. "We are in a gr-great company, smart managers, pro-ducers... so who are you?"

"He is the reason, he is why we did not fail. Look, Hanni, I had to do it, okay?"

"Do what? Sell your body?" Hanni looks over her shoulder at the glassy-eyed leader of her group who gives her the tiniest nod. In those large, round orbs of the young Vietnamese woman you see the realization kick in bit by bit. At first she does not want to accept it, then she cannot believe it—but at last, she has to put it into words.

"You sold your body... and now he wants more."

"He wants something only you can give him," Minji whispers and pecks Hanni's cheek. You are astonished at how she manipulates her dongsaeng, Minji truly is ruthless; but Hanni's calmness deserves an award. She seems to surrender to this idea easily. There is no flight, there is barely any fight—she accepts her situation.

"Will you give it to him? Your virginity?"

"Minji, I—"

"That's not the entire truth is it, Minji?" You smirk coldly. "You are a pretty thing, Hanni. She's right, I do want more. It's not something only you can give me, rather, it's something Minji refuses to give me. So instead, she offered you to me. Your precious group leader sold you out."

Put her tiny chin into your hand and for the first time, Hanni locks eyes with you. Minji's manipulation roots deeper, as there is not a hint of belief in the words you say. Rather, Hanni listens to the girl in her ear, at her ear, that licks her ear and tells her sweet lies:

"He is playing with you. He likes to play. But don't worry, he will help us.

"Don't you want to be a star, Hanni? The most successful foreign idol?" You hear Minji opening Hanni's belt as she melts in between your thumb and index finger. Her lips look so full and perfect. You'd bet your career that she is already a great sucker, maybe even better than Minji is at this point. "My sacrifice can't be for nothing, and yours won't be either."

Hanni's pants drop to the floor, while you work to get rid of her jacket. She is like a Barbie doll: pretty, clear skin, obedient, ready to be undressed and played with. No matter what you do or where you touch, she just obliges while her features become redder and hotter. Soon, she wears nothing but her undergarments.

"You have an amazing body," you compliment her. She just nods. You order Minji to put Hanni on your bed. For now, you'll not reveal the whole story, the truth: yes, you play games, but Minji clearly is lying to Hanni, trying to get away with more than questionable methods.

You respect Minji for that. Yes, in this dedication, the lies, you see devotion for you. She is willing to sacrifice herself and even her friend for your satisfaction. It wouldn't be long now until she would truly be turned into a loyal one for you.

You have a suspicion and you would test it out here.

"Hanni Pham, a bright star plucked out of Australia, a Viet idol with international appeal. And a lovely voice too, dare I say even prettier than Minji's..."

You smirk, sensing the hurt from Minji without even looking.

"Will you tell me your name?" Hanni asks as you crawl on top of her. Minji placed her in a missionary position and still rubs her hand all over her exposed thighs so she would open her legs for you.

"You don't need my name, you just need to know what I can do and what I want. My deal with Minji benefits you a lot. Tell me, how does it feel to hold a music show trophy or one of those MAMA awards?"

"G-good, Sir, it's quite the," Hanni gasps when you push her legs open and place a finger on her white, innocent panties. You search for a bit until you find her clit and rub it from side to side. "Thrill."

"Drop the Sir, with me Hanni." Lean down to her pink lips, those round, moisturized and smooth lips. "Call me Daddy."

Minji's eyes widen and she almost lets out a whimper as if to object to you. A first encounter and you already let her call you, Daddy? Did you already like Hanni more than her when you haven’t even received pleasure yet?

"Daddy?" Hanni responds unsure.

"Yes, Hanni. You'll be a good girl for me won't you? That's all I want. Good, loyal girls. If you do that, you can have anything you desire."

"Daddy, I want to be successful and I want to give you what you need for that." She whimpers when you put more pressure on her nub. "B-but I'm a bit scared. I have never put something inside."

"I think your friend here can help you with that. After all, she got you into that situation." You glance at Minji and she gets what you mean, though the envy at Hanni's preferential treatment is clearly visible on her wrinkled forehead.

Minji leans down and gives Hanni a firm kiss while replacing your hand on the clit that has steadily hardened and is now aroused to the point Hanni's panties become stained with wet spots.

You glance at Minji in thanks.

"Oh and Minji: no more kissing Hanni unless I command it. Her lips and your lips, belong to me only. Is that clear?" She can only meekly nod. "I hope you haven't been touching anyone else during our time together, Minji. That would really upset me."

You already know the answer. Given how easily Minji’s and Hanni’s lips connected just this evening, you know it's something they are comfortable with. That would end now.

Before Minji can answer you, you focus back on Hanni and the sticky sensation spreading over your fingers.

"Already wet for me? You're taking to my touch a lot better than your leader. Tell me, Hanni, you're not afraid of me, are you? Just ask me to touch you more. Tell me what you want."

Hanni is still hesitant, though there is shyness only in the way her mouth doesn't move and admit to her body's obvious reaction. She leaks onto your fingers, her chest heaves heavily, faster. You insert a finger, as well as part of those drenched panties inside her and finally, the right words slip out.

"Your fingers feel so good, fu-uck."

"That's what I wanted to hear." You smile and lean down to Hanni's face. Her lips instinctively pucker, her eyes fall shut, oh, how incredible: she is already yours. You let her wait there, finger twirling, pretending to push aside her panties and go for the real deal, but you're all teasing. Hanni mewls.

"Please, D-Daddy, kiss me."

"I will, when I put it in."

"W-will it hurt? Will you hurt me Daddy?"

"Only if you want me to, baby girl, but you want what Daddy wants, right? It might hurt to begin with, but it will feel so good for both of us."

The chemistry between you two surprises Minji as she backs off, her hands away from the young women for the first time. Hanni nods.

"Make me feel good, Daddy. I trust you."

Hook your fingers in Hanni's panties and at last, her soaked entrance is exposed, for your eyes only. You stroke your cock a couple of times, get the fresh girl juice all over it and gaze over the insanely well-trained body you're about to ravish.

Hanni's abdomen is to die for. The muscles on her midriff are absolutely stunning, the same goes for her navel perfectly resting in between them and then further up her subtle boobs, which Minji frees from the bra after your command. It all ends with Hanni’s chin, the sweat that runs down her throat, the faint sparkle of perfection—to sum it up, Hanni is incredibly beautiful.

You take hold of her hips and bask in the way your cock and her hole are magnetically attracted and connect. Hanni throws her head back at the impact and with every inch you stuff into her, her breathing becomes more erratic. Funnily enough, the same goes for Minji, who quietly scoots back and rests at the headboard of the bed.

As you slowly pump half of your cock in and out of the tight cavern, Minji goes for the same rhythm and rubs her clit, hand buried in her pants. She even goes and opens the first buttons. Is it really this girl that wants to keep control over her virginity? Let her have it for now, she'll be yours soon enough.

"Daddy, just focus on me!” Hanni whines out her first words after becoming a full blown woman. “You-you didn't need her, right?"

"Then make me forget, baby girl. Squeeze my cock with your pink little pussy." You go and have a taste of Hanni’s fat lips again, wishing they would suck your balls right now. Hanni could become a whore who would worship your crown jewels like no other. Better than Minji, whose eyes beg to be involved in the action. "Spread your legs more, I want to fuck you harder, Hanni.

"Oh and Minji: Go and suck my balls! That's what you're good for."

"O-okay, Master."

"Be grateful for it. But remember, no cumming."

"Thank you, Master."

"Daddy?” Hanni whimpers softly. “Why does she call you, Master? Is one better?"

"Oh baby girl. Daddy is more affectionate. It's what you deserve. Minji still has to learn, her heart isn't in this yet."

Minji's heart might not be in the right place (rather the place you intend it to be) but her lips surely are. She gives your swinging balls a good suck and slows done the pace at which your fucking Hanni's pussy.

It's amazing how well she adjusted to your size, even with your length and girth growing continuously at her fantastic heat and texture. Hanni handles you like a pro, and like one of your pro girls, she is already more drool than straight thoughts.

"Does it feel good, Daddy's hard cock in your virgin pussy? Get used to it because it's the only thing your hole will know. I will be the only one to use your holes, is that clear?"

"Oh Daddy, oh Daddy," Hanni moans and her body rocks violently on the bed sheets. "You-you are so much better."

"Better than what, baby girl?"

Hanni puts both her weak hands on the back of your head and pulls you down to where her lips meet your ears to tell you lewd things that Minji must not hear.

"Better than Minji's fingers."

You take this as a cue to grab Hanni's thighs and angle her in such a way that you can slam into her cunt harder. You let gravity do the work while the force of the entire bed frame shaking has Minji trembling in awe. She rubs her thighs together and tries to keep her hands busy with other spots of her heated body.

You can see that she wants to rub her clit while you make Hanni cum during her precious first time. She is probably projecting, wants you to go softly, then harder, but that is not your game.

"Hanni, no more of that, no more Minji's fingers. Only Daddy shall touch you from now on. You are mine and I'm going to go as hard as I want." You growl out slamming into her even more. "Take it all, Hanni, prove your fucking worth to me."

"Thank y-you, Daddy," Hanni begins her way down the rabbit hole of subjugation towards only you. The new life she will enter, all the changes, challenges and benefits will overwhelm her, but first you overwhelm her with your rod. "Thank you, for help-ing us, thank you for the wins, thank—ah, Daddy, I'm cumming! My pussy is cumming! Thank you for your cock, Daddy!"

You enter a nirvana drilling into Hanni's tight cunt.

"Good girl, yes thank me, beg me, need me. This is the only cock you will ever have from now on and—" You kiss her with wanton lust, shoving your tongue in her mouth. The next whisper in Hanni's ear is out of Minji’s reach, though she might be too distracted from your delicious balls to get what you were saying either way.

"Daddy! I understand, yes."

Without losing focus of your hammering, you give a dismissive order to Minji, who is not worth your eyes on her.

"You can go Minji. I don't need you here. In fact, we can end our deal. You got what you needed right? Wins and fame. I won't meddle with your group in anyway. You are free to go."

"What?" Minji shrieks, completely offended that you could say such a thing.

"You heard me. Fuck. Off." Every word is empathized by a huge thrust that bulges Hanni's tummy. She stares at it in infinite bliss, then throws her head back as you knead her small tits and make the nipples hard like steel.

"B-but Master, you can't just do that."

"You did not keep your part of the bargain and still got what you wanted. Why the hell are you still here?"

"But I did!” Minji argues and climbs in front of you on the bed. “I brought you, Hanni, Master! I—"

"Hanni, turn around and get in position, I want both of us to look at Minji. I'm going to fuck you from behind.

"What's wrong, Minji? You never truly wanted me in the first place. We both got what we needed from our deal. You don't need my help, your group will be successful. I made sure of it. I am releasing you from our contract with no punishments. Take the fucking deal, Minji."

Minji sits there, on the bed, not moving from her position. In utter shock as she watches Hanni smile and moan as you take her from behind, her pussy stretched again. God, how good she must feel, that face says it all. The pleasure, the desire, all the praises for your cock and it's only because she has her tongue sticking out like it's numb.

Suddenly, it all seems so clear to Minji, so easy to comprehend. She takes a deep breath and learns towards you, her upper body prompted up. All that just to throw her dignity away, to throw herself underneath you.

"Daddy, please! Give me your cock too! Take my virginity, don't push me away!"

You stop thrusting into Hanni right away and pull out for a moment to look at her.

"Bullshit. I told you we were done here. You don't mean that. You just want my power and connections like everyone else."

"No, I mean it," Minji reassures, but words are nothing when it comes to her current state. She has to follow it up with more, significantly more. You doubt that she can deliver, but low and behold, she unbuttons her jeans and peels them off to show her long legs and the thoroughly drenched panties.

"Mi-Minji, what in the," Hanni moans and goes silent when you smack her ass. It's unbelievable that she is already so obedient and well-trained without training. The more she impresses you, the more Minji has to follow up. Soon she is on her back, jeans on the floor, shut legs turned towards you.

You put your hand on her thigh and though it's tough on her, Minji spreads her trembling legs wide. You poke her lips through her panties and when she squirms you give her a quick slap on her face.

"Look at me, Minji," you order and she does. "Beg me, call me Master until I have given you, no, until I have taken what is rightfully mine."

"Please, Master," Minji cries out. "Please take my virginity, y-you own it."

"Louder," you growl and smack her covered pussy. Minji cries out, her pleas louder and louder with every new hit you give her cunt. Oh the way her eyes sparkle and body jerks is addicting, you don't realize that you have started to fuck back into Hanni who might have seen Minji naked before, who might have had sex with her—

—but this is new. Minji is a brainless mess, her pussy red from the beating, her face fully in tears.

"Master, fuck my pussy, please! Fuck this pussy, my worthless pussy, it's yours! Make me full, make me full, I don't deserve it!"

"Now we are getting there," you viciously laugh and grab her chin to aggressively tonguefuck her wet, silly mouth. Minji is such a mess, dazed to the point Hanni's hands undressing her top after your order doesn't even faze her. Her top is gone, her bra as well. All that's left are her panties and Hanni has her fingers already hooked in them.

"Wait, Hanni, she should do it alone."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Ma-Master?"

"Lay down, Minji.

"Pull them to the side.

"Show me your pussy.

"Say it.”

Minji slowly and clumsily works on pulling and getting her wet panties off of her. There is an unfathomable amount of embarrassment in the way Minji’s eyes cannot hold your strong, charismatic gaze for long.

"Shall I feast on your pussy, Minji?" You ask with a smirk and hunger in your eyes.

They all turn eventually. It sometimes sounds so sudden and drastic, but it's all more or less the same. It builds up over time, like an orgasm. Some girls are quiet, until it bursts out of them in a heavy gush that has the entire floor wet. Some are loud the entire way through and what was once only lip service becomes reality, a reality they adore.

They all turn and they all get your cock. So does Minji, with her finger still spreading those sore, red folds and you ignoring her pleasure just to find yours in this wet, messy hole. Minji's cunt is remarkable, cute in the way it ripples and tightens and incredibly lewd in the way it sounds when you slam yourself in and out while holding onto her slim waist.

Now she is part of the loud girls, those idols that suddenly come to worship you more than the career that they fought so hard for. It will be later that they realize that this is the way they get approval from their company, their sponsors, their fans. You are success, the Queen maker for the outside world and a toy maker in your bedroom.

Minji is a great toy. She is euphoric now, the pain already gone. She makes sure to adjust to your will, lifts her hips off the ground when you need to slow down, shows you her tongue when you go for a kiss, and always says the right things. It was so hard for her not long ago, but now she is willing to do it despite Hanni laying next to her and admiring both of you fucking like animals.

"Hanni," you groan and hammer your cock balls deep into Minji, who throws her head back in another (accidental) orgasm. "I know you want to fuck both of us so bad, but if you don't touch yourself until I'm finished with her, I'm gonna cum on your pretty face and tell you how good you are, okay?"

"O-okay, Daddy," Hanni mewls. Not that she would have touched herself, but you can't blame her for considering it. Caress her cheek softly for being so good, then fucking destroy Minji's cunt because she has been so bad.

"Master, more, pl-please, fuck!" Minji howls with pleasure.

"You're going to be my good girl from now on, right?"

"Yes, Master, use me however you want. I-I just want to live to fulfill your desires. Master!"

You stare deeply at her and pause right before the next spike rattles Minji’s brain.

"Really? With every atom in your body. Tell me again, Minji."

"Every-thing." Minji can barely talk but does so for you, despite you, despite the large dick that is reshaping her insides. "You own everything, Master. You c-can use me daily, everywhere, any-time. I-I mean it!"

You lean down to her and give her a simple, hard thrust to make sure she gets your point.

"You're a good girl?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then call me Daddy," you whisper into her ear and put a hand on her throat, ready to press down on it.

"Thank you, Daddy," Minji rasps before you choke her hard and fuck her absolutely senseless. Orgasm after orgasm shoots through her frame, her existence becomes numb, she is a fleshlight now. The vibrations of her climax become your stimulation and at the last possible second, you pull out of that twitching hole.

"Get on your knees Hanni," you order in time. Hanni kneels before you as you somehow slide off the bed, legs a bit shaky and with her head thrown back because you could not resist pulling her raven hair, you cum all over her features. "God, you are such a pretty girl. I can't believe such beauty loves cum on her face."

"It's Daddy's cum," Hanni moans and sucks on your tip to get more on her lips. The rest has mostly covered her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. "Of course I like it!"

"That is right, baby girl, well said," you compliment her and pat her head while she instinctively cleans your cock with superb care. "Did you ever service someone else?"

"No?" Hanni asks and collects your cream off of her stupidly gorgeous face.

"You, I swear to God, you can't be that good right from the start."

Hanni pouts her lips and puts them under your cock. She truly is one in a million, the rare idol who barely hesitates and immediately knows how to do the right things. In many regards, she reminds you of Kazuha, who told you it was her kinks that made her adapt so easily. Maybe this is the case for Hanni as well. Should that make her devotion less impressive?

"Daddy?" Hanni cutely asks and waits.

"Open your mouth, I need to fuck it now."

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #newjeans smut #newjeans minji smut #newjeans hanni smut #newjeans fanfic #male reader smut

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yesimwriting · 3 months

Text

something about bestfriend!felix who's so used to the world bending over backwards to please him that he seems entirely separated from the concept of boundaries.

it's one of the few things about him that remains unspoken because it reminds those in his social circle that no matter how much influence or money they might have, someone has more. and that someone is felix catton.

he's never weird about it, there's just this rule that everyone learns to pick up on and never mention. if felix wants to go out for the night or do anything socially with someone, it's customary for that person to cancel any other plans.

it might be more of an issue if felix's proximity didn't feel like sunbathing on an early summer day, but it does. so he's used to not having to work to get someone where he wants them.

until you.

despite your friendship still being relatively new, the two of you have bonded enough for you to accept his presence instantly.

felix didn't call before coming over. you answered the door after two knocks, grinning as soon as you saw him standing there. you didn't even think to ask about the lack of notice, you just invited him in and made some comment about how you were just studying.

he told you he didn't mind if you wanted to keep studying, that he brought over his own textbooks just in case. even though you were set up at your desk, you moved your supplies over to your bed so that you could sit with him.

it started off as separated as the two of you ever are, just your bent knee pressing gently into his lower thigh. your shared restraint dissolved quickly.

you're practically laying down, back partially supported by a wall and two pillows, felix's head resting on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. he's holding up a textbook for you with one arm, fingertips absentmindedly brushing against your bare leg.

he breaks the silence with a sigh. when you don't respond, he turns his head and presses his lips against your thigh. your nails freeze against his scalp. "felix."

"lovie," he replies, tone as scandalized as yours. you sigh, and he can practically feel your eye roll.

felix grins, turning his head look up at you. he knows he should be good about this, about you, but he's not accustomed to practicing this kind of restraint. he's preoccupied with terribly soft thoughts of closer when he blurts out the question, "come out with me tonight?"

it's only a question by technicality, his eyes bright as if you've already agreed.

you press your lips together, and the hesitance in the look jabs at him. he brushes his knuckles against the side of your leg like that might tip the decision. "i have an econ test on monday."

the excuse deflates him. it's only friday, and even if it wasn't, you don't need to worry about your grades. there's a naturalness to your schooling, you grasp everything almost immediately. any personal selfishness aside, you don't need a weekend of studying. it's objective fact.

you're still watching him, expression unsure. "y'know too much studying's bad for you." your lips part, but before you can say anything, felix is shutting the book he'd been holding up for you.

he extends his arm, his palm covering the upper half of your face with the palm of his hand. you laugh out his name. "what? your eyes need the rest." you shift, still giggling as you halfheartedly try to push him off. "you'll get a headache."

your fingers wrap around his wrist. "you're my headache."

he lets out a mock gasp before pulling away entirely. felix doesn't miss your slight pout as he sits up. "actually?"

you're chasing after him, sitting up and attempting to grab his arm. felix lets you. "no." you squeeze his arm to you. "i meant it in a you're my best friend way."

"that so?" you nod innocently, all wide eyes as if to say see? i have no intentions of being anything other than a perfect angel.

felix pretends to contemplate forgiveness, then, with no warning lays down. you're not given a chance to deliberate what that means before he's tugging on your arm. he mumbles a brief, explanatory, "c'mere," as he pulls you into his chest.

you listen, moving to rest your chin against the side of his chest. your arm's across him. felix's shirt has ridden up right where your fingertips naturally rest. the bare contact makes goosebumps break out across your arms.

"go out with me tonight," he tries, voice soft. you have to drop your gaze to keep from immediately melting and agreeing to whatever he wants. "c'mon, think it's good for you to take a break every now and then."

you lift your head up just enough to glare at him. felix shifts his leg, pressing it against yours. you push back gently, just enough to reciprocate the gesture. "so you're saying i'm a friendless loser that only ever goes out when you make me?"

"i'm saying," he extends the syllables to buy himself some time to think, "i have to go, and i won't have any fun without you."

you find it hard to imagine that felix catton ever has to do anything he doesn't want to. you're also confident in his ability to find fun at a party. "you have farleigh, and oliver, and annabel--you'll be fine without me."

his hand is on your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your t-shirt. "i don't want anyone else." the soft whine in his tone paired with his slight pout makes him seem smaller, like a little kid that just needs to be wrapped up. "i want you."

"you have me."

felix frowns, "doesn't feel like it."

you're losing. "do you really want me to go that badly?"

he smiles, feeling the crack in your resolve. "we'll just go for a little. have a drink or two, then y'can sleepover if you want." you do like sleeping over in felix's dorm. "and then tomorrow we can do whatever you want--study, watch a movie, dinner."

a sleepover and a saturday. this no longer feels like a loss. you smile, "deal."

felix's available hand finds your hip. "that's my girl."

the comment makes your face feel warm, you drop your head to rest on his stomach to hide any potential signs of being flustered. he'd tease you to no end about it. "i should get up, start getting ready."

he runs his hand down your back, "it's not until later." he moves his hand back up slowly. his thumb starts traces circles against your shoulder. "we've got time."

----

omg bestfriend!felix blurbs are everything to me,, if you have any thoughts about bestfriend-verse pls lmk,,

also?? might have to write a full fic for bestfriend-verse

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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incognit0slut · 11 months

Text

Buried in the pillow

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A night of restless sleep ends better than expected. Based on;

warning: 18+ explicit content including edging, a little chocking, sexual intercourse, and dom spence

words: 4,6k (I got carried away😭)

a/n: am I supposed to be writing something else? Yes. Will it stop me from writing a slow, lazy sex scene? NO

MASTERLIST

“…you’re buried in the pillow, yeah you’re so loud…”

THERE WAS NO DENYING THE WARM FLOOD OF AROUSAL RUSHING IN HER SYSTEM. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse throbbing through her entire body. She readjusted herself along her pillow and closed her eyes before exhaling, her thighs pressed together as she tried not to let her mind travel into any lewd thoughts.

But the sound of his shallow breathing was enough to make her terribly aware of the abrupt shift in her body. She could feel the dull, needy throb between her legs merging with that burn of sheer want for him low in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open then, and there he was, sleeping on his side of the bed with his face facing toward her.

Spencer looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed, lashes brushing along his cheeks, and his mouth slightly parted while his chest rose in a steady rhythm, a sign of him in complete slumber. She had seen the drowsiness in his eyes the moment he walked through the door this evening, the fatigue clumped in his shoulders as he kissed her in greeting. It had been days since the last time he had proper sleep, having to travel across the country for a recent case, and today he finally had the chance to rest his bones from all of the work.

But it also meant it had been eleven days, fifteen hours, and forty-six minutes since the last time she had him buried deep inside her...

Not that she was counting.

Fine—maybe she was. Maybe she was keeping up with their time apart because being with him was something she looked forward to, in and out of the bedroom. How could she not? He was her partner; her smart, caring boyfriend who she loved too damn much and would do anything to bide the time relishing in his presence.

Although tonight she did have a specific activity in mind, which now seemed more like wishful thinking considering he was already deep in slumber. He needed the sleep, she reminded herself. He was simply tired and he needed all the rest he could get.

Swallowing hard, Y/n tried to push her desire back down. She turned over, laid back down on her back, and let her eyelids fall back down as she settled her arms to her side. But the position was too uncomfortable. She let out a groan and shifted again, hips moving along the bed a few times before she finally stopped.

The feel of something shifting woke Spencer up, his mind slowly stirring awake. A soft sigh escaped him as he lay silently, his mind quieted in the stillness of the night. Then his breathing evened out a moment later, exhaustion of the past few days took over before his eyelids lowered, body drifting back to sleep. Except for a little bit later, he heard more rustling along the pillow, a soft, feminine sound of frustration barely ringing in his ears. This time he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting himself in the dark.

The first thing he noticed was a mass of hair laid in front of him, then bare arms and a slender body clad in a silky nightgown. There was silence as he tried to pick up her breathing, watching her back move steadily in the poorly lit room. When another exasperated sigh escaped her, Spencer inched closer and reached out, an arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her closer toward him.

"Hey," he softly murmured, concerned about her constant movements in her sleep. "You alright?"

Y/n stopped herself from letting out a moan. On normal occasions, being pressed up against him in bed would lull her to sleep, the comfort of his arms provided an immense amount of warmth and safety. Definitely not tonight. The way his arm tightened around her, tugging her back into his solid chest awoken that part of her she tried to suppress. The heat of his body enveloped her and she found herself leaning back, accepting the warmth he was offering.

"Hmm," her returning hum answered, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"Bad dream?"

She stopped herself from snorting. She couldn't even get a wink of sleep and here he was, concerned about the possibility of her having nightmares. But it was a better reason than to admit why she couldn't rest her eyes, so she nodded, her voice slightly breathless as she whispered, "Something like that."

The silence in the air after her reply was jarring. If Spencer was half-awake before, he was fully awake now, the rasp in her voice far too familiar for him to ignore. And when he finally regained his consciousness back, he became highly aware of his surroundings. The soft mattress underneath him, the plush pillow below his head, and the soft curves pressed against him.

He could feel her body trembling underneath his palm, her breathing picking up its pace as his fingers glided along her stomach. He could practically hear the sound of her heartbeat as he pulled her even closer, his head shifting along her shoulder, his nose brushing against the back of her neck. The subtle fragrance of flowers and honey filled his nostrils as he breathed in her scent, nuzzling further into her, the stubble of his jaw grazing along her skin.

"Spence," she muttered, tilting her head into the pillow. "What are you doing?"

"You seem to be having trouble sleeping." She felt the bed shift behind her as he moved again, and then a moment later she felt him pressing his hips into her ass. She let out a gasp. "I'm helping you relax."

She felt something pleasantly warm grazing her neck, his lips moving deliberately slow, as if he was in no hurry and only wanted to savor the taste of her skin. His hand then slid further up her stomach, palm flat as it dragged up her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It eventually stopped its roam, halting its search when he cupped her left breast tenderly.

She couldn't stop the strained moan from slipping out of her mouth. "Sleep isn't exactly on my mind right now."

"I figured," he murmured beside her ear, his hot breath drawing goosebumps along her skin. "How long have you been awake?"

His hand gently kneaded her breast as his mouth traveled along her neck. Her eyelids lowered slightly, a wet heat forming between her thighs as her arousal intensified. "I haven't slept."

"And why is that?" A finger brushed across her nipple through her thin nightgown. She suppressed a helpless whimper as his thumb circled around the nub, caressing it so gently she could feel her body shaking with need. "Go on." He tugged on her nipple between his fingers. "Use your words."

"I..." She felt his tongue softly grazing her skin before he wrapped his mouth around her flesh, sucking on the spot. What was she to say? That she was too aroused to relax? She carefully weighed her words, feeling bashful verbalizing her thoughts, so she finally settled with, "It was too hot."

He hummed in response, somehow acknowledging the meaning behind her words. She watched as his hand left her breast, sliding up her bare arm before it settled on the strap of her flimsy sleepwear. He gently tugged down the thin string as his mouth lowered towards her shoulder, languorously trailing kisses down the line of it. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we?"

She couldn't think clearly when his touch sent her into a whirlwind of chaos. To crave something was one thing, to actually acquire that craving was an entirely different thing. She had wanted to feel him so much, but as his hand trailed back to her now-exposed breast, her mind was in a mess of desperate longing and need. Somehow his mouth trailing on her neck wasn't enough. Somehow his callused fingers stroking her nipple wasn't enough. She needed to feel every inch of his body on her. She wanted all of him.

More, more, more.

"Spence," she breathed out, her hoarse voice hanging in the air.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Tell me." His grip on her nipple tightened, and she shuddered at the sensation. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she answered in a daze. "I want you."

"What do you want me to do?" He gently bit her flesh. "Do you want me to make you feel good? Do you want me to touch you, relax the tension in your body?" Then her heart sped up in her chest, slamming roughly into her rib cage at his next words.

"Do you want me to fuck you to sleep?"

A strangled whimper left her mouth. Spencer was a lot of things in bed. When they had first been together, he was so timid and unsure of himself, too caught up in his thoughts that left him too afraid to touch her—which she honestly hadn't minded, she loved being the one who saw his transformation in the bedroom. But when he finally started to loosen up and be himself with her, exploring things he wanted to try, to finally take control? It drove her absolutely wild to experience him gain his confidence it made her weak in the knees every damn time.

Like this side of him now always managed to render her speechless. Perhaps it was the way he was so poised and calm outside the bedroom, a very different demeanor when he was alone with her, that made it all seem so overwhelming. In the safety of their bedroom, he was everything he desired, and being crude and demanding was what he decided to be this night.

His hand caressing her nipple slid up her chest, his fingers gently wrapping around the base of her neck. Her breath hitched as he softly gripped it, pulling her even further into his chest. "Tell me, is that what you want?"

She was breathing even heavier now, her shoulders heaving with each audible inhale. "Yes."

He bit her earlobe, evoking another breathless shudder out of her. "Explain it in words, I need you to speak to me."

Y/n enjoyed the sweet, gentle way he made love to her. She really did. Very, very much so. But there was a certain enjoyment whenever he was in control. Whenever he let himself go and have his way with her—crass words over sweet nothings, rough stokes over soft touches. It burned her skin and gripped onto her arousal, waking up the submissive side of her which she enjoyed more than she should probably have.

Spencer's grip tightened at her silence. "Are you not going to answer me?"

"Yes," she quickly responded, feeling the subtle bulge of him pressed along her backside. "Please."

"Please... what?"

She couldn't believe he was making her say it. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath and leaned into his touch, practically shifting the weight of her body on top of him. "Spence."

"I need to hear the words or you won't get anything at all," he spoke, his thumb grazing her chin.

The thought of being left sexually frustrated was enough for her to nod, giving in to his command. "Yes," she whispered, and because she wanted to make him feel as desperate as she was, she squirmed, hips writhing along his groin as she searched for friction. "I want you to fuck me to sleep."

A pleased rumble vibrated in his throat. Letting go of her neck, his hand trailed down her body and landed on the top of her thigh, gently massaging the muscle beneath his palm. His fingers skimmed up toward her skin, pushing up her nightgown, exposing more delicate skin and skimpy underwear barely covering her ass. Then it happened so fast. One moment he was caressing her, the next thing she knew his hand drew back before it came barreling forward with a sharp smack that echoed in the room. She gasped in pleasant surprise, her clit throbbing in excitement as his palm rubbed along the stinging flesh.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

She whimpered in response. Then his hand retreated from her ass only to come flying forward again with another sharp crack. Her hips jolted forward at the impact, her eyes closing at the delicious sting as his hand held onto her her stomach. His fingers then slowly trailed south and her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his lips hot on her ear.

"Open your legs, sweetheart."

Her knees fell apart at the demand, one of her legs laying on top of his. She waited for him to touch her, to dip his hand into her aching folds in the confinement of her underwear. Instead, his fingers slipped into the side of her fabric, tugging the material to the side, exposing wet, damp skin to his desire. The slick evidence of her arousal stuck onto the fabric so thickly it was enough for her to feel the heat creeping along her cheeks.

"Would you look at that?" He whispered, lips touching the back of her ear. "I haven't even touched you here and you're already soaking wet."

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she watched him. There wasn't a moment of hesitation while his fingers tugged the waistband of her underwear, gingerly sliding them down her legs before pulling them past her feet and casting them somewhere over the side of the bed. Then he grabbed onto her knee, parting her legs further apart but not doing anything to quench her desire. He could feel her trembling, writhing with need as she pressed further into his front.

The cool air hit her exposed skin, and it took a lot of self-control for her not to beg even further, but the way her body squirmed was enough to let him know what she craved. Though his hand stayed where it was, firmly gripping onto her left leg, sliding it on top of his while his lips lazily mapped along her neck.

"Here's what we're going to do," his gruff voice filled her ears. "I'm going to touch you, I'm going to please you in every way you like—" His hand slid painfully slow down her thigh before it came to a complete stop. "—but you can only cum when I give you permission to." His fingers inched closer to her throbbing heat. "Do I make myself clear?"

A shiver spread along her body, understanding what he meant by those words. He wanted to rule her, he wanted to be the one in charge of her own body. And while she should've felt appalled at the thought, her arousal rather grew deeper at every ticking second as he waited for her reply.

And then suddenly his fingers wrapped around her neck again, gently pressing onto her skin as he jutted his hips towards her. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," she begged him, her hand lightly tugging around his arm. "Perfectly clear."

Then his hand trailed down again, slightly brushing her aroused nipples before it settled on the heated span between her legs. When the pads of his fingers lightly grazed her clit, his teeth bit down on her shoulder. A hiss of pleasure instantly flew out of her mouth. Two of his fingers began running back and forth between her damp folds, the sensation was gradually pulling shallower and shallower breaths from her.

"You're so wet," he growled against her skin. "This what you've been needing?"

She faintly nodded, her hips moving gradually with his fingers. His fingers circled in swift motion and it was enough for her to roll her head back onto his shoulder. His fingers then slid back into her slicked entrance before he abruptly slipped two of them into her. Eyes snapping shut, she groaned in pleasure. He began thrusting slowly into her over and over, curling them deep inside. A whimper escaped her mouth at the feel of them as he began to pump into her roughly, her hips pressing eagerly back into his hand.

"I can already feel you clenching around my fingers," he whispered. "You really needed this, didn't you?"

"So much," she found herself answering, a hand grasping onto his arm as he kept thrusting his fingers at a steady pace. "I needed you."

"Then you have me. You'll always have me."

A breathy moan flew out of her at his words, her back arched in response. She felt his lips pulling into a smile along her skin, thrusting his fingers all the way in. She moaned loudly, her head dropping down between his shoulders as he pulled his fingers out before quickly pushing them right back inside.

"Spence," she breathlessly sighed, his fingers still vigorously thrusting into her, only pausing to occasionally curl inside of her which in turn had her toes curling on the bed, her body feeling closer to the edge of her release. "I-I'm gonna—"

"No. You're not."

She let out a loud groan, griping his arm as he thrust deeper, his fingers spreading wider into her as another finger entered her heat. His warm breath was brushing over her skin, the sensation mingled with his finger still thrusting into her deliciously pleasant. "Baby, I-I can't—"

"You can," he whispered, his breathing sounding harsher than before. "You're going to wait until I give you my permission."

A harsh moan ripped in her throat, her body spasming as she tried to force herself to control her body. but it was getting harder to do when her vision felt like it was blurring, her breath coming in sharp pants as his fingers continued to drive into her, the sensation had her legs shaking. She could hear how wet she was, the slick sound of him pumping into her echoed in the room.

"You're really enjoying this," he ground out as his pace picked up. "You're already so close."

She nodded against the pillow, whimpering out an affirmative noise that wasn't quite a word.

"Then I can't let that happen."

Instead of getting what she wanted, he abruptly pulled his fingers out from inside of her before she whined in protest. The loss of his touch on her body was too much to handle as she gripped his arm again, guiding him back between his legs. Spencer couldn't help the amusement dripping in his voice as he watched her move his fingers with her own. "What are you doing?"

"Spence, I was so close—"

"That's not how this works."

Then he retrieved his hand again before shifting behind her, and when she caught him pulling down his sweatpants, she couldn't help but arch her body towards him. She swallowed hard, goosebumps raising along her skin as she watched him pull out his cock, his hand gripping onto the length of it as he settled between her legs.

A moment later she felt the head of his cock rubbing through her damp folds, a shudder running down her spine at the sensation, a soft hum vibrating through her lips. She felt him line himself up with her entrance, her breath feeling like it was catching in her throat as she impatiently waited for him.

And then, finally, after many days of being apart, the tip of him slid inside of her so slowly. A gasp fell out of her mouth. Spencer rumbled out a very gruff, contented noise as he gradually sunk even deeper inside of her, pausing to let herself adjust to him.

"You feel so warm," he groaned out. "So perfectly warm."

She moaned in response, breath coming in hard. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

She could feel her walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust to his girth. Then his hips slowly began rocking into her, pleasure washing over her body in waves at the sensation. His mouth lowered beside her ear, each of his panting breaths falling straight into it. "Nice—" He moved his hips back before pushing them forward leisurely, enjoying the way she clenched around him. "—and slow."

The roll of his hips pulled her into a trance as her body responded; muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting. Sparks of electricity began to ricochet along every nerve. The coil inside her was building up, her chest was rising and falling faster, more and more, dragging desperate breaths into her lungs with every thrust of his hips.

Then her eyes shifted downwards, watching the way he entered her deliciously body. It was a strange sight, to watch her body react to something so wonderful. Her muscles tensed, goosebumps sprang up along her skin, and it was all there for her viewing pleasure. She watched as he shoved himself into her, over and over again, her walls trembling at how intoxicating he was making her feel.

"Baby, I—" she whimpered, trembling in her wake. "I can't hold much longer."

"You can," he assured her, his fingers digging into her skin.

Weak and desperate, she surrendered in the wake of the urge elicited by his abrasive touch. His hands were all over her, large and expansive, confident in the way he touched, squeezed, and fondled every part of her body. Eager flames bloomed in the pit of her gut. "I—I can't."

He relished the way she clenched around him, her breathing coming out shallow as he took what he wanted. Then he gripped her hips, building up his pace as he thrust deeper into her. "You're so close, I can feel it," he pointed out. "Do you want to cum?"

She tried to focus her mind on something other than the feeling of him inside her. "Yes."

"Hmm," he hummed out, his pace briefly slowing. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he demanded, "Beg me or I'll stop."

A whimper left her. "Spence."

His lips found her neck when he felt her walls squeezing him even tighter, "Do you want to cum?" he repeated against her skin.

"Mhmm."

"Use your words," he groaned as he increased the pace of his movements. "Say it."

Swallowing hard, her head rolled against his shoulder. Her lips were quivering as he kept up his pace, her body inching closer and closer to her release. She was fighting to hold it back, her body slowly beginning to shake along the mattress.

"Beg." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

She was so close. Her eyes were half-lidded her voice rang in the air, breathless and desperate for his mercy from the overwhelming pleasure. "Please," she finally breathed out, almost letting out a cry, her lips parted in delight. "Baby—I-I... please let me cum."

"What was that?"

"Spencer," she whimpered desperately. "Please. Please. Let me—fuck.. baby, please."

This time she did let out a cry.

He snarled behind her before his teeth snapped at her earlobe, tugging at the delicate skin. Her body was quaking on the bed as she whined, struggling to hold back any longer. And when she felt like she was about to lose control, he finally released her earlobe and spoke, "Go on, then. Cum for me."

A loud moan flew up out of her throat, her body pressing back into his. She felt the hard clench of her walls around his length as pleasure spread through her entire body. As the coil in her stomach grew, she couldn't help but snake a hand down to where they were connected and quickly found her throbbing sex. Catching her desperate fingers, he swatted her hand away, replacing it with his own as his fingers circled around her clit.

His rough fingers taunting their joint bodies tipped her over that tantalizing edge. She felt each pulse of her walls so acutely, felt the heat flow throughout her spine as the high she reached never came to an end. He buried his face into her neck, kissing and biting the smooth skin. A certain movement from his fingers made her whole body shake. She couldn't handle it, couldn't see through the tears falling, couldn't feel anything but him and the hot pleasure.

She finally came with a scream, wrenched from her throat so roughly it seared its way out of her lungs and into the air. She felt herself clench around him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against her. Her ears tingled at the rhythm of his grunts as he exhaled her name, his thrusts growing erratic. Then she felt him completely, she could feel his warmth seeping into her heat as he let out the most primal groan she had ever heard.

Silence engulfed them afterward, their heart slowing down from their erratic breathing. It wasn't until he slipped out of her that she let out a tired moan, her voice echoing in the dark. He gently grabbed her body and turned her around, cradling her cheek before leaning in for a kiss.

Then slowly, but steadily, all he tasted was her. It felt like a missing puzzle falling back to its place as his warm lips connected with hers. He was so enraptured by her touch, by the taste of her, that it took a lot for him to pull away. Breathing heavily, he finally rested his head back onto his pillow, a coy smile stretched on his lips as his thumb stroked along her cheek.

"Hi."

A sincere smile flourished on her face. "Hi."

"Well, that was... something."

She laughed as she leaned closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. "It was fun."

"It really was," he agreed, suddenly feeling shy as he realized what had just occurred. "I always surprise myself when I'm with you."

"Good," she simply said. He wrapped his arms around her as she settled in his embrace. They lay in comfortable silence, her head on his chest, legs draped over him as his fingers drew lazy patterns on her thigh. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence.

"You know," he started, his voice very soft. "You could've just woken me up if you have trouble sleeping."

She slightly leaned back to look up at him. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you."

"Nothing about you will ever be disturbing to me."

She wrinkled her nose. "Even if you got home from a long, exhausting trip, you wouldn't mind if I woke you up for sex?"

"I'd especially want to be woken up for that reason," he replied in disbelief. His fingers trailed under her chin, angling her gaze on him. "Wouldn't you?"

She smiled at the thought. There was a delightful feeling as her mind wandered on the possibility of him interrupting her sleep because he craved her touch. "Alright," she agreed. "Duly noted."

His arms tightened around her. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

She hummed out a positive response, her face burrowing along his skin, just beneath his chin. Her body suddenly felt the heavy post-sexual bliss, and now surrounded by his warmth, she could feel the fatigue creeping into her body.

"I was hoping so," he murmured.

Tugging the sheets up higher over their body, she felt him shifting along the bed for a minute, his arms encircling her waist. His chin was carefully tucked onto the top of her head as he drew her in tight under the covers. And when the steady rhythm of his breathing embraced her, her body finally relaxed, falling into sleep.

5K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

hello love! i know you probably a dumpster load of requests so i apologize for taking your time. but i just had a thought.; james potter is totally the kind of guy to tell his girlfriend he's taken when drunk. like that man is to loyal for his own good. even when his own gf is trying to bring to home, he's just like "no. i've got a girlfriend that I love DEARLY. leave me alone" and when she keeps trying he'd call for sirius for backup😭. don't feel guilty if you don't do this!! i just wanted to share my thought, with or without you writing it! have an AMAZING day or night, and keep being YOU!! you inspire many people whether you believe that or not, it stays true!!!

Thanks sweetheart, love you!

cw: alcohol

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 844 words

You find your boyfriend in a corner booth, hanging onto Sirius’ arm and waxing poetic about their school days.

“They never figured out how we always avoided Minnie whenever she wanted to find us,” he snickers, eyes glimmering. “We were soooo slippery.”

“I think she knew everything,” says Remus, taking a sip of his drink. You notice there’s not one in front of James; it must have been confiscated. “She just liked us—some of us, that is—” He hides a smirk behind his glass. “—well enough to let us get away with it all.” He spots you and, with a nod, turns his attention to Sirius to give you and James space.

James humphs noncommittally, confused as to why Remus no longer seems to be entertaining him.

You come up on his other side, touching his muscled shoulder lightly. “Hey.”

James turns swiftly, clearing not having noticed you walking over. You’re expecting a smile and a hug and expectant, puckered lips—his usual greeting for you—but instead his eyes narrow behind his glasses, brows twitching together almost imperceptibly.

“Hello,” he says, somewhat stiffly.

You feel your lips curve into a bemused sort of smile. “Hi, handsome. Ready to go home?”

He guffaws. Actually guffaws, like you’ve just suggested he go jump in the Thames. “I think not,” he says. “I have a girlfriend.”

A tiny laugh startles out of you. “Yeah, I’m aware. You alright?”

Now he gives you a smile. Or his best attempt at one, but James has always been a terrible actor, and the false grin manifests as a grimace. “M’good, thanks.”

He starts to turn back towards his friends, but you pull on his sleeve.

“C’mon, Jamie,” you urge. “It’s time to go, yeah?” James turns around, looking truly scandalized now. You give his arm a tug. “Let’s go home.”

“No,” he insists, firmer than you knew could be managed with a slur. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. She’s waiting at my home, ‘nd I love her very much. Leave me alone.”

“James,” you laugh. “Honey, it’s me.”

“Pads.” He turns around, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulders like he needs to hold onto something lest you try and haul him away. “Pads, this woman is trying to take me home. Tell ‘er I have a girlfriend.”

Your mouth drops open. “James!”

Sirius turns slowly, raking his gaze over you. He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Get lost, babe. This one’s taken.”

Then he jolts and cuts a glare towards Remus, who sips from his drink innocently. “Be nice,” he reminds his boyfriend, foot moving back under his own chair.

Sirius sighs, rolling his eyes. “Prongs,” he says with great reluctance, “this is your girlfriend.”

Even drunk, James knows enough to be suspicious of his friend when he’s in a mischief-making mood. He squints at Sirius. “My girlfriend s’at home,” he reasons.

“Your girlfriend is here,” Sirius says evenly, and you can’t blame James for his skepticism; if you weren’t fully aware that you are here, you wouldn’t trust Sirius’ deadpan stare either.

“I texted her, James,” Remus says helpfully. “She’s here because I told her where we were.”

Your boyfriend’s lips part, and he turns to you with something between joy and heartache—but the shock of both—written all over his face. “Sweetheart,” he cries, “it’s you!”

“Yeah,” you laugh, letting him tug you forward by the hips into an awkward hug. You set a consoling hand on top of his head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“My sweetheart,” he mumbles into your stomach. “I didn’t know it was you, angel. Of course I’ll go home with you.”

“Glad to hear it.” You pat his back, heat rising to your cheeks at the display.

James turns his head, still gripping you tightly so the side of his face is pressed to your front. “You texted her for me?” he asks Remus, maudlin.

“Well, I texted her because I didn’t feel like walking in the opposite direction of our flat to carry you home,” Remus says, then shrugs. “But for you too, sure.”

“Thank you, Moony,” James croons.

Remus turns to hide a smile, and you take James’ head in your hands, angling his face back up towards you. “Hi, handsome,” you try again. “Ready to go home?”

He bobs his head happily, clambering out of his seat and whistling rowdily when you slip an arm around his waist to help support him. You wonder if the heat from your face could be harvested to power a hospital or something. You wave goodbye to his friends as James calls over your shoulder how much he’ll miss them until he sees them tomorrow.

“M’so excited to go home, baby.” He leans into your side as you maneuver the both of you out the door of the pub. “I’ve been dying to get home to you. You should’a heard, earlier, I was talking to this other girl ‘nd I told her, ‘I’m just dying to get home to my girlfriend’.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you say. “That was me.”

“Oh, right!”

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lale-txt · 3 months

Text

❥ subtle ways they say "I love you" without saying it ↳ w/ Nanami, Ino, Toji & Naoya

a/n: gn!reader for Nanami, Toji & Ino, f!reader for Naoya! somehow i got carried away writing these and halfway through wondered if i should have just made single fics for each of them... oh well ♡-(๑˙ー˙๑)-♡

word count: 1.5k

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Nanami needs his sweet time until he’ll put his feelings into proper words, part of him too afraid to pursue love during his time as jujutsu sorcerer, but his actions have always been louder than words anyway

his love is stored in the smallest gestures, like fixing the collar of your shirt or helping you put on a necklace, not letting you go without kissing the back of your neck gently, his lips lingering on your skin for a heartbeat longer than expected

when you’re in a bookstore together, his eyes always follow you around even when you’re looking at different shelves; he observes which books you pick up and put back again because you have too many unread ones at home (both of you are terrible book hoarders), just so he can go back another day and get you the one book you really wanted

sometimes he’ll also make the time to read it before he gifts it to you, small scribbled thoughts on the side so you can discuss them together later–a tiny book club of two lovers

in the comfort of your home, Nanami is also incredibly touchy, never not seeking skin contact; anything will do, even if it’s just linked pinkies across the table while you’re having your morning coffee and sharing the newspaper

his love will seep into you with every gaze, every smile, every kiss you share

with you, Nanami can let his guard down; he can allow himself to just be loved, with his head in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair, charming out sweet sounds from his throat that sound a lot like “I love you” if you listen closely

if he has to leave for a solo mission, Nanami will leave a handwritten note on the table for you to find in the morning, nothing too cheesy but enough to remind you that you’re always on his mind

and if you show him your collection of notes one day, stored in a box in your closet, a smile will play upon his lips, asking you if you really kept all of them (even if some of them just say things like “Can you buy eggs while I’m out? I want to make us waffles for breakfast tomorrow” or “I watered your dying plant on the top shelf. xx”)

there’s wonder in his eyes when he looks at you, as if he sometimes finds it hard to believe that your love is mutual, that he’s allowed to experience this during his lifetime, and the quiet hope that maybe, maybe this can last forever

❦ 𝐈𝐍𝐎

Ino’s love for you is written all over his face: the way it lights up when he sees you, the confident yet boyish smirk when you compliment him, the gleam in his eyes when you call out for him

it’s in his touch, too

his fingers playing with yours when you’re sitting somewhere together, always fidgeting with them as if he couldn’t believe that he really gets to hold your hand

or the arm that sneaks around your waist when you’re on the train together and it’s crowded, his body shielding you from the other passengers and giving you some space to breathe (plus–how convenient–he can steal a kiss from your lips without anyone looking, too)

Ino also walks you home at any given occasion, whether it’s after a night out with your senpais or after a mission you’ve been on together; he doesn’t mind that he lives in a different neighborhood or if he has to get up early the next day, he rather wants to know you’re home safely

when you’re apart, Ino and you keep texting with each other throughout the day, his lips curling into a smile whenever your name lights up on his screen

Ino will text you everything and anything that reminds him of you and it’s plenty and in the most mundane things

[img.attached] “saw this chonky cat on my mission. u would have loved to give them belly rubs. Nanami said i’m not allowed to take them home with me”

[new text] “i think we should adopt a cat one day. maybe two so it doesn’t get lonely. knowing us we’ll also adopt a third”

[voice message] “babe can you hear this? i’ve never heard a cat purr like this. (sounds of rustling and Ino sweet talking to the cat, it’s purring very loudly)”

[new text] “i hope the cat distribution system chooses us next”

being loved by Ino means being part of his future and his dreams; he’s thinking of you always and can’t imagine a life without you in it, so listen closely when he tells you all about it

❦ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji isn’t shy to admit his love verbally, whispered into your ear at night, his voice bourbon raspy, making sure you never forget how your own name sounds when rolled off his lips

being in love makes him domestic; Toji grew up not knowing what a warm home is, and so he’ll strive to make his place one for you both to hide from the world outside

it’s like your presence is a reminder that even someone like him is allowed to love, and be loved in return

Toji brings you your favorite beverage to bed in the morning, urging you not to get up just yet (he also wants to slip back under the covers with you)

if you really have to get up on on cold mornings though, Toji will give you his worn and warmed up sweater for you to wear so you won’t be freezing

he also slips pocket warmers into your coat before you leave the house and gives you the deepest kiss, almost as if his biggest concern is that you stay warm

cooking isn’t Toji’s strong suit but he’ll get you takeout, even if it means driving across the whole town to get you that one dish from that specific restaurant that you’re craving (and some dessert on top); your big smile once he returns home is his solely reward

after seeing you struggle with opening a jar of jam once, Toji will go around the kitchen and loosen the lids of all the jars for you. every single one of them. there won’t be even one jar left that gives you any further troubles

it’s endearing in a way, how Toji always takes the fastest route to solve your struggles (there’s barely anything he can’t solve with his hands)

with love, it all comes down to warmth for Toji: the heat of your body when he has his arms wrapped around you. letting you warm up your cold hands on his stomach (he tries his best not to flinch). sharing a hot bath while you’re getting snowed in.

to Toji, you are his sun, the one who brought back colors into his life and who showed him what it means to live despite everything; he may be blinded by your light but he doesn’t need to see to find your lips in every universe

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀

Naoya doesn’t do love, he prefers to be worshiped and adored over admitting his feeling for you

yet still, he has his ways of showing that you actually mean something more to him than just being his trophy wife

the kitchen staff and servants have been drilled to cook all of your meals exactly to your liking, and he’ll look overly pleased with himself over dinner when he notices that you enjoy the food, proud of himself as if he was the one who prepared it for you (smug bastard that he is)

there’s always an air of possessiveness around him when you’re with him; as if he wants the whole world to know that you’re his wife, even insisting you walk by his side instead of behind him, always one hand around your waist or in the back of your neck, making sure to keep you close

even though it displeases him that you want to spent time apart from him, he made sure that you get a room of your own in the Zen’in estate after your arranged marriage (he still lingers around often until you kick him out)

he insists on sharing a bed at night though–it’s when he gets surprisingly clingy, insisting to hold you close, his hands playing with anything he can get a hold of: your hair, the hem of the pajamas he picked out for you in the color he thinks suits you best, the ring on your finger that proofs you’re his

Naoya can be surprisingly gentle in those moments when it’s just the two of you–no family and no servants around

his sharp yellow eyes study your features thoroughly, ignoring the pull at his heart strings when he picks up an eyelash from your cheeks and holds it out for you when you make a wish

he’s dying to know what you wished for, but he doesn’t ask; part of him scared it doesn’t involve him, part of him too prideful to believe you could wish for something that doesn’t include him, because at the end of the day you still belong to him–or is it the other way around?

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #ino x reader #naoya x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #nanami kento #ino takuma #toji fushiguro #naoya zenin #nanami kento x reader #ino takuma x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #naoya zenin x reader #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

Note

Would you ever consider writing out the Alley Boyfriends?

Tim's favorite brand of coffee since childhood- for one could not follow Batman and Robin around without losing some sleep- had always been the Heart Attack Coffee. It was known for its high levels of sugar and caffeine, with the added bonus of being cheap.

Heart Attack Coffee grew from a small family-run booth in Gotham's street market to five stores in Gotham, three in Bludhaven, and even one in Metropolis.

Their menu comprises about sixty percent of various coffees, but there are teas, fruit waters, and even pastries.

They rolled out signature drinks per season, and Tim was always the first one in line when the new menu was revealed. He preferred the winter ones- mainly because they were hot and always had a special kick to his coffee compared to the spring and summer that tended to lean more towards ice dreams like teas or fruit waters.

Tim adored Heart Attack with all his might. He collected their special cups, a book on all the different flavors he tried, and even cried for three hours straight after learning the Heart Attack team had made drinks inspired by the Bats.

He doesn't think he drank anything but the Red Robbin Rush for the three months the promotion ran. Yes, his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest the whole time, and he was a bit jitty, but it was worth it.

Then came the terrible day Bruce found out just how much caffeine was inside Heart Attack's coffee. Not enough to shut them down with health violations but enough to worry him.

He forbids the family from Heart Attack, suggesting another cafe that were safer. The thing is, Tim does not drink any other coffee. He tried of course, but unless he was the one that made it, the other coffee never came close!

That was Tim's coffee. His special coffee. He had one every day (that he was in town and not away on a mission) so much so the employees knew him by name and what time he usually showed up.

Sean, the morning cashier at the closest branch to WE, would have an experimental drink prepared for him. Sean would let him test out possible new flavors!

That's how valued he was as a customer.

Don't get him wrong, Tim tried to follow Bruce's mandatory boycott. But by the third day, his headache was killing him, and his hands were starting to get itchy.

Not only that. His whole day just felt off when he skipped out on his morning coffee or his after-work coffee. Tam had caught him re-organizing his office at least five times because his office just didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't balanced.

On the fourth day, he walked into a Heart Attack, and Sean smiled at him. He had a blond expresso Rush halfway made when Tim reached the counter. "Welcome back, Tim."

He placed a fifty in the tip jar grinning at the employee. He took his first sip of the golden nectar and felt his very soul breathe as it settled in his stomach. "Good to be back"

Tim figured that Bruce wouldn't notice because, frankly his adoptive dad wasn't the most observant when it came to Tim's habits. He got away with it for about a month.

Then came the faithful day Bruce reminded him why he was Bartman.

"I'm sorry, Tim, you've been placed on the Do not Serve Coffee list." Sean winces, showing the binder to the stunned CEO.

"I've been banned!?" He chokes, running his eyes over his own face in picture form. "What did I do!?"

"Not banned. You can still order caffeine-free teas or fruit waters." Sean reassures, but it means nothing. His apologies and his explanations mean nothing.

Sean-who he was half sure had been flirting with Tim for months- suddenly meant nothing.

Bruce has bought out Heart Attack was nearest WE in an effort to get Tim to cut back on his coffee intake. The man knew he did not like drinking any other brand, didn't function right without it, and still chose to pull this stunt.

Well, if he thought Tim wouldn't drive ten minutes to the next nearest Heart Attack, he was sorely mistaken. He got up twenty minutes early- and Tim loves to sleep okay. Just because he can't have too much of it with his busy life didn't mean he didn't adore sleep- and drove himself there to make sure he was on time for WE.

The employee gave him the same spiel, holding that dreaded binder. Bruce had also gotten to this branch. But Tim knew that while the branches could be bought out, the name was trademarked, so Bruce couldn't own them all!

He tried the Heart Attack that was thirty minutes away, showing up late to work due to him not planning the traffic for the morning rush, and still did not succeed in getting coffee.

. Then he tried the one that forty minutes, on the complete opposite side of his work, and that one failed too. By this point, a whole week had gone by since he last had a Heart Attack.

Not even on missions did he go this long. He usually bought those take-home packages when he knew the missions were going to be longer than three days at the most. They wouldn't even sell him that anymore!

The packages were just packs of Heart Attack instant coffee. It wasn't even the real deal!

He was feeling withdrawal; his headaches were getting worse, while his body felt slow with fatigue, and he was snapping at everything and everyone.

Just the other day, he yelled at Tam for sneezing. Sneezing.

Thankfully, she can give out as good as she gets. She reminded Tim why she was the one who tended to call all the shots around the office despite what others believed.

His skin was starting to burn, which didn't make sense since caffeine withdrawal did not include itchiness, but he couldn't stop scratching. Tim also hasn't slept in a while because his daily evening routines were all off now that he couldn't have Coco Connect!

He thinks he made all of his executives uneasy with his fidgeting and nasty scowl at the last meeting because he couldn't sit still when all he could think of was Heart Attack.

The last Heart Attack, the one right at the edge of the city, the one that was only a street away from Crime Alley and happened to be a forty-five-minute commute for both Wayne Manor and WE, was his last hope.

Out of all of the branches, this one was the least impressive. It was cramped with only three tables, the walls were painted a dark brown, and the light setting was all low.

It was nothing like the bright and spacious atmosphere of the other branches. It was even squished between two large buildings, the narrow doorway making it hard to even see. Tim was sure Bruce had not found this one yet.

When he pushed the door open, he jumped slightly at the chime from the bells on the door. His anxiety had been climbing to ridiculous levels, he needed his coffee.

At the counter, a boy who looked his age glanced up from his red bulky phone. He quickly slipped it into his pocket, giving Tim a friendly, if slightly bored smile. "Can I help you?"

Tim raced towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was a slight note of deranged desperation in his voice as he responded. "Please, I just want a cup of coffee."

The boy nods, pressing a few buttons on his little cheap register. "What kind would you like?"

Tim's heart swelled with hope. "I want a large Blond Expresso Rush and a-"

The boy stops. He looks up slowly at the time, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Tim's mind. Then, with a slow movement, he reached under the counter to withdraw a very familiar binder.

Tim's eyes burn with unshed tears as the stranger flips through the binder before stopping on a particular page. "I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-"

"NO!" Tim yells, causing the employee to jerk back. He knows he must look like a mess, with tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. This was his last chance. He can't make it to the branches in Bludhaven or Metropolis, not daily and certainly not without Bruce noticing. " THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!"

He places his face into his hands and wails. His body is shaking with his sobs, leaning against the counter because he lost all strength to himself up.

The employee stares at him with a strangely understanding expression. "Does this coffee mean that much to you? Is it.... an Obsession for you?"

Tim can only nod because words are hard to push through his cries. The teenager sighs, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward and whispering. "Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes, and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash."

Tim snaps his head up at once.

"How much? Five hundred, six hundred, or hell, even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want." He sobbed, knowing he looked sort of pathetic but beyond the point of caring about his dignity.

" Chill, dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine." The other says with a sort of uneasy smile.

"It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand, and Bruce bought them out to ensure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!"

The guy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?"

Tim stumbles his way outside, reaching for his wallet. He has no cash, but he says an ATM is not too far down the street. He all but runs there and sprints back with a crispy twenties.

He stopped at a local flower store to ask if they would break it for him and was told he needed to buy something first. Not wanting to meet the coffee angel, he picks out a lovely bouquet of lavender roses.

He gets four dollars as his change and races back to the Alley behind Heart Attack. Just in time, too, because the back door opens and out strolls the cashier with a large travel container.

Tim throws the cash and flowers into his hands to rip off the lid and check the inside. It's a Blond Expersso Rush. Even just a sniff has something in him settling. He takes a sip, and all is right with the world for the first time in a while.

"That good?" The boy asks with a slight grin. Tim hums, smiling back as he takes another sip. "I'm glad. Want your flowers back?"

Huh? Oh yeah, he bought those. He shakes his head. "Keep them. Think of it as a thanks for doing this."

"Cool. Never had flowers as a tip before." He jokes, taking a sniff of the roses with a broader grin. "Name's Danny, by the way."

"Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Tim tips his head back, letting the coffee burn down his throat. It's hot, but that hardly matters. Danny's mouth drops. "Dude, maybe wait for it to not be so hot?"

"I can't." He whines, downing the cup's contents, and only after it's all gone does he realize he forgot to savor it. He throws it over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. "I don't know when I'll get a chance like this again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you more whenever you want. Here, have my number and text me when you're on your way so I can-"

Tim throws himself onto Danny. The other fumbles with the flowers, trying to hold them and Tim simultaneously, but Tim doesn't care. "You are the best person I have ever met! I think I love you!"

The other laughs, patting his hair. "I'm glad. You've been the first to give me flowers, so you're cool, too."

"When do you get off shift? I'll treat you to dinner."

"It's not a big deal, dude."

"I insist!"

"Well if you insist. I just finished, actually. Where do you have in mind?"

Tim leans back to smile at Danny, unaware of the two shadows that leap away from the still-embraced couple. They arrived sometime after Tim finished his cup, unaware he had drunk it since it was lying on the group near the other discarded cups in the trash.

They only saw Tim in the arms of a boy, holding flowers, which represented "Love at First Sight," and the way they heard Tim offer to buy him dinner.

"See B? Tim wasn't buying coffee. He was just meeting his crush!"

"Hmm. Based on what we saw, it's safe to say boyfriend. No one is comfortable with someone unless they have known them for a while."

"I think your right. I wonder when Tim will bring him over to meet the family?"

"Try not to push too much Nightwing. You know T values his privacy."

They both smile at each other knowingly, and even though Bruce suppresses it right away for his Batman persona they don't forget what they saw.

They pretend not to notice every time Tim disappears or that his GPS puts him back in that alley. They'll wait till he's ready to tell them. Besides, the barista seems good to him; Tim is far more energetic and bright these days.

A month goes by like this, where Tim is back to his normal self, no longer needing coffee to be happy. Bruce pats himself ion the back for his plan to help cut him off working so well.

Even though he seems to be texting constantly on his phone.

Neither Dick nor Bruce noticed the narrow eye stare of worry that Jason aimed at Tim whenever he slipped away to meet Danny. He has theories on what is inside those strange containers, but he hasn't gotten close enough to confirm his suspicions yet.

Jason prays he's wrong.

He waits until he knows Tim is gone (he is not. He likes to hide in the cave's shadows to overhear the latest family gossip) before turning to Bruce and Dick.

"Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention."

Predictably both men freak out.

"What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!" Dick wails, looking over all the pictures of Tim and Danny standing in an alley trading cash, flowers, and containers that Jason took.

"I also thought that was Tim's boyfriend, but if it's a drug dealer, we have to help him," Bruce grunts, eyes hard as he now sees Danny Fenton in a new, less favorable light.

And Tim, who is still hiding in the cave's shadows overhead, can only whisper a heartfelt "shit."

He rips out his phone to text Danny as the rest of the Bats below begin plotting. Thank goodness they don't know what Danny has been giving him exactly. Maybe they can steal Bruce's and Dick's ideas.

Meanwhile, Danny's tiny apartment across the city is starting to appear like a greenhouse with all the flowers Tim has been giving him. His small slip of loving flowers was all Tim needed to hear.

He's taken it as a personal challenge to always have some flowers for Danny as a thank-you for the coffee he made for him.

It was nice. It helped get rid of the boredom his life had developed. He looked forward to Tim's presence. He hadn't had this much fun or clicked as easily with someone since Sam or Tucker.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Danny grins as his phone dings and Tim's picture flashes on his screen.

If anyone asks you're my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny stares at the screen momentarily, before shrugging and texting back a confirmation. "Who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend."

He's never met any of Tim's family, but he doesn't think they will be too hard to fool.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Alley Boyfrinds #Part 1?#Does the chat considered the first part?#misunderstandings #fake relationship #Danny was bored and this guy who looked to be on crack for coffee is funny #Tim was not aware of the flowers meaning. Neither is Danny #Everyone playing chess while Tim is trying to figure out thumb wrestling #Danny is not aware that Tim is a Wayne

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elatedfool · 2 months

Text

the first ray of light

reverse comfort, may contain small spoilers for aventurine's backstory, may be ooc, reader and aven are in a relationship, mention of childhood trauma, abuse, slavery, aven with abandonment issues, hurt no comfort(?) not really

tbh idk what am i making and i'm not exactly sure how to end it, as i just want to project my abandonment issue onto him 😺 no worries though i will give him all the cuddles and loving he deserves after this. <3 #avenkai_real

aventurine who flinches the first time you try to touch him after a bad day that left him particularly upset.

aventurine who's still on guard whenever he's vulnerable, like right now—the stratagem is quieter than usual, no longer having that smug smile on his face, the lack of life in his eyes even more noticeable when his eyes are wide—surprised at his own reaction.

aventurine who apologizes—even if he doesn't need to—then tries to reach for you, saying that he just had a 'long and exhausting day at work' and shake his head when you ask him what's wrong—the senior manager is still determined to look unbothered in front of you.

aventurine who's had tons of bad, horrible experience during his childhood, resulting in his inability to trust anyone enough, not even to show any signs of exhaustion, always putting up a mask, appearing as a mysterious and mischievous guy, keeping everyone at arm's length.

aventurine who's secretly afraid of being left alone again, of losing his purpose and being deemed as useless. the moment he flinches from you, memories of the past come back to flood his mind with doubts and reminders—reminding him of the chains binding his wrists and neck together, the cells that caged him and his kins, and the shouts of the audience fighting over his younger self, over who gets to bring the poor boy home—treating him like a rare animal, a pet to command.

aventurine who unconsciously begins to tear up, his eyes still wide and unmoving as he stares into space, your words of concern flying over his head, until you cup his face and lean closer to snap him out of his thoughts.

"you're not just 'tired', i can see that something's bothering you. won't you tell me?" oh, those eyes of yours, full of worry and love, and your gentle fingers brushing away his tears. aventurine feels so weak, but he's also scared to open up, yet he also knows you well enough to know that you're a honest person, that your concern is genuine.

aventurine who's already used to fake empathy that it feels like a dream to feel your warm hands on his face—no, not even the thought of having such a wonderful person as his partner has ever crossed the gambler's mind, not like he deserves them, right?

aventurine who's caught off guard when you pulled him into a tight hug, his arms suspended in the air and his brain that just stops working the moment your warmth spreads through his body, quickly enveloping him and slowly melting the ice encasing his heart.

it's not like he's never been hugged before, but they were purely for business reasons, merely a way to greet his acquaintances. but a hug from you? it was an effective way to make him sobs harder.

aventurine who was deprived of the love he deserves, but now he has you, his darling, who has wormed your way into his perfectly-shut heart (or so he thought) and settle yourself inside it, filling the empty space with your warmth.

maybe you could be the perfect listener, the first person he opens up to. maybe you won't leave after hearing about his gruesome past. maybe the goddess finally blessed him with your presence, who came into his life at the perfect time, to give him a reason to live again.

it was like walking into the sun， being with you，it was like walking into the sun for the first time after a terribly long winter.

#quote cr to holyaches on twt #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x reader #aventurine angst #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr angst

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forteafy · 9 months

Text

A House, A Home | CL16 & CS55

Summary: A loveless marriage usually comes after years, not before. You've always loved him, his best friend has always loved you.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: Hard Angst, Cheating, Mentions of Sex, Death.

Note: This piece has two heavy inspirations. The first is @lxclerc's amazing pieces 'Moth to a Flame' and 'Call out my Name.' They are both incredible pieces and I highly suggest you give them a read. The second is from a TikTok Account called 'ForPercival,' they are currently doing a social media AU which I cannot recommend enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

Charles Leclerc is a husband.

At least, he was your husband on paper. One year ago, a hidden agreement had been put in place between Scuderia Ferrari and the Leclerc Household; their son, the ‘Il Predestinato,’ of the team, (albeit one whom had had the most terrible season,) could continue to drive for the team, so long as he married the daughter of one of their longest-running investors.

That so happened to be you.

You had been against the entire idea since the first day. After being introduced to Ferrari’s driver, you had instantly felt the divide between the two of you. You’d reluctantly shaken his hand and since then, had been thrown through a mixture of fake dates, a fake engagement and the fakest wedding that could possibly be imagined. The ceremony hadn’t even ended with a kiss, per tradition.

It didn’t take long for your walls to crack; living with Charles, seeing him at his highest and lowest points, his most vulnerable behind the four walls of your home had caused your heart to soften. Forget being forced into this marriage, you’d grown to care, to adore the man who’d once burdened you with his presence. You dreamed of the day he would return your affection; how long would it take for you to realise you lived in denial? In your late-night fantasies, lying alone in one of the guest rooms you’d sought refuge in on moving into this house, you’d dreamt of lying in his arms, lazy morning breakfast, slow kisses when he would come back to you. To your home.

A home, however, is where you feel safe, warm, protected. You lived in a house with Charles. The man who would barely glance your way and after three months of your marriage, started coming home, smelling of rich perfume and lipstick marks littering his jawline.

The first anniversary of your marriage should have been special, even if he despised you in every known form to man. You’d woken up in your room, slipped on the silk robe which had been lying on the empty bedside and slipped out of the bedroom. In your heart of hearts, you knew there would be no significance of today; no flowers, no card, not even a simple text from your husband to signify the date in question. The only text you had received that morning, was a stern reminder from your father, that you were due to attend the Monza Grand Prix in less than one week.

A soft sigh emitted itself from your lips; it was a routine you knew all too well. Every few races, the more significant ones; Monaco, Silverstone, Spa-Francorchamps, Monza, you’d play the doting wife; cheering for your husband whilst dressed in soft summer dresses, a forged grin if he managed to battle his way into the points. On those rare days when he would obtain a podium position, he’d greet you on the barriers with a soft kiss. It was all fake; a routine which had been performed so many times. Yet, each time his lips met yours, you could dream he meant something behind the affection.

The train of thought had played through your mind for so long that you were unaware of the tears pooling on your lower lash line. So, what if Charles wasn’t at home for your anniversary? It was your thought for feeling any kind of emotion towards him in the first place. It was a business deal, after all. Did your husband enjoytreating you like this? His disappearance on that morning was a cold reminder that he felt nothing towards you. No sentiment, no adoration.

Despite the tears which had bade your eyes that morning, until the mid-afternoon, you had a productive day. Of course, leaving the house was out of the question; what would the media say if devoted wife of Ferrari’s driver was seen without him, on their wedding anniversary of all days?

Instead, you’d played soft music whilst re-organising your wardrobe, something you’d put off for a while now. Cooking a meal whilst lazily treading around the kitchen, experimenting with the spices that Yuki had gifted to you on your previous visit to a Grand Prix. The meal itself was too big to eat alone. Instead, you boxed up the remainders of what was left in the tray, carefully placing it in the fridge, knowing Charles wouldn’t actually eat it.

Your evening had been…less productive. You’d found solace in a glass of red wine, lounging on the sofa of the main living area; usually, you kept as far away from that zone as possible. Charles would spend his evenings in the couch, eyes flickering between the television and his phone, no doubt sending longing messages to his mistress whilst his wife was in the home.

The third glass had just about been drained. You were adamant upon gaining a fourth, no longer caring of any commitments you had the next day. Instead, you sat up abruptly from the sofa, hearing the gentle click from the front door.

He had come back to the house.

His green eyes barely took a second to meet yours, slipping off his shoes and placing them into the rack situated by the front door. A rustle of his jacket signified his option to stay. You saw him carry the garment over his arm as he trudged into the living area, set to lie in front of the television for some personal relaxation.

With his entry to the room, you suddenly remembered your position. You’d hastily stood up from the couch, collecting the half-finished bottle from the low table, holding the glass to your chest to draw the attention away from your beverage.

Charles said nothing; he’d unlatched the top two buttons from his dress shirt; faint purple marks nestled on the lower joint of his neck; a clear mark that his mistress had previously made, a sinful reminder of his adultery.

“I left you some dinner in the fridge.” You mumbled, voice barely picking up over the sound of the television. “There’s some clean loungewear on the end of your bed, too.” You finish your sentence. Your husband doesn’t even attempt to tell you he’s acknowledged your words, eyes transfixed on whatever news was currently playing on the television.

“Happy Anniversary.” You mumble, feet leading you back to the kitchen, the bottle of wine against your chest now seemingly the only attention you’d ever get.

Charles Leclerc is an actor.

The entire drive to the track had been bade in complete silence; not even the radio had been switched on to drown out the undeniable tension in the car. You had originally tried to make light conversation with the man; he couldn’t even be bothered to make a sound in response to any of your questions.

You couldn’t handle the harsh tone he had snapped at you with the previous time you had been in the car; instead, you watched the rolling hills and glistening sun of Monza. It was always one of the highlights of the year. If not for the racing, you would have come here in your own time, to bask in the sun and to enjoy the secluded section of Italy as an individual.

The incredible views soon began to fade out, instead replaced by expensive cars and adoring fans, leaning over the barriers in an attempt to see their favourite drivers; there was an uproar as your husband drove past the crowds; he was clearly the home favourite, as any member of the Ferrari crew would be in this location. Silently, you slipped on the sunglasses which had been resting in the pouch of your bag, knowing the paparazzi would be blistering your eyesight sooner rather than later.

Charles effortlessly parked his car in the allocated spot. Silently, he switches off the engine, removing the keys and shoving them into his jean pocket. The man doesn’t so much as register your presence as he opens his door, leaving you to venture out of the car yourself. You’d carefully adjusted the flowing fabric of your dress; the patterned fabric flowing gently around your calves.

You looked beautiful. You just wished your husband would care enough to tell you.

Instead, his priority is the cameras leaning over the barriers. He doesn’t even look in your direction, instead firmly grasping your hand in his own; an act the two of you had performed for the crowd oh-so-many times. He waves towards the crowds; neither of you miss the adoring sounds, the coos for many of the fan’s favourite ‘couple.’ To so many, his affection seemed to clear to you, and yours did to him.

Charles didn’t hold your hand with any adoration. His grasp was harsh, palms roughly mashed together, no intent to keep your grip safe against his own. You were certain that if you were to let go, he wouldn’t think to remedy the situation. Your theory is proven when you gently let go, instead keeping in step, just behind his figure; Charles’ hand seems as if it’s gone into idle mode. His eyes, however, stayed alert, vigilant. Silently, the two of you pass through the paddock security, pausing every few moments for Charles to sign a cap, take a photograph with a fan.

It isn’t until you reach the outskirts of the Ferrari Building that you see her. Soft hair around her shoulders, clothing exquisite, her eyes flickering to your husband, offering him a sympathising smile.

He may have been a devoted husband towards the press, to Ferrari, even to the majority of his team. However, the moment that the cameras were turned off, microphones pushed away, he was sneaking to his mistress, one he had shamelessly invited to so many Grand Prix’s over the past nine months. She was what he wanted; a fun and fancy-free lady, rather than the wife whom stood by his side. There’s a glance between the two of them, as if a whole conversation is had in that moment.

You stay silent as you follow Charles into the Ferrari Building. Instantly, you’re overwhelmed by the welcomes that your husband obtains; so many of them pass onto you. Upon the questions of how married life is treating him, he smiles, fakes a laugh as he pulls you into his side, one hand firmly resting upon your waist.

“Married life is perfect.” He insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, one which you falsely giggle about, ignoring the butterflies which were nestling in the pit of your stomach. “It’s even better when she’s standing right here, beside me.”

The entirety of the room buys the staged scene, all except for two people. The first, obviously, is your father. He’s always there, watching that the driver is performing well. He knows of his affair, but in his mind, as long as the affair is kept out of the light, and his marriage was still official, their deal continued. Besides, he would speak to you both sooner rather than later upon extending the family; that would seal both of your fates towards one another. Nobody liked a husband whom left a wife and child.

The second was Carlos Sainz; the second driver for Scuderia Ferrari.

The Spaniard was all too aware of the affair between Charles and his mistress; after qualifying from Baku, Carlos had found his teammate behind the garage, his hands with a firm grip on her waist, their kisses entirely formed of tounge and teeth. The man had furiously ripped Charles from the woman, bellowing in his face about the wife he had, whilst this woman warmed his bed. A deep blush had formed over both of their cheeks, Charles explaining that you were aware of his actions.

Carlos didn’t want to believe it; he’d frantically messaged you that evening, to which you had answered his question, confirming you knew of the affair. That evening, you had revealed everything to him, watching his eyes get glossier as the cruel details were flickered in front of his eyes. It pained him; he’d cared for you since the moment you’d first stepped foot into the paddock alongside your father. His heart shattered upon finding out that you had been betroved to Charles, that he had missed his chance, all that time ago.

He waits; waits until later in the day to approach you. By this point, you had made yourself comfortable in Charles’ driver room. Of course, your husband isn’t actually there. After a brief encounter with most of the members on his team, he’d excused himself. Carlos knew that he had snuck away from the crowds adorned in red to see his mistress, likely stealing kisses and rough fumbles between one another. Whilst that was happening, you, were sat in his drivers’ room, skirts spread across the soft lounger, eyes engrossed in a book which had been enclosed in your bag alongside your sunglasses.

You were the epitome of beauty in Carlos’ eyes. He could have stood at the ajar door to the room, watching you as you engrossed yourself in the story. Instead, he offers a light cough, drawing your attention from the book in your lap. He’s engrossed by your eyes, how the light reflected off them, the glow they offered. Your smile, how you presented your real smile to him so naturally, not the one you forged next to your husband on every single encounter.

“Good morning, Carlos!” You greet him with a bright tone, standing up from your position on the couch. You offer him a hug, feeling his warm arms wrap around your waist, his breath against your face when he kisses your cheek gently. ‘In another life,’ you always tell yourself. One where you were happy, free to marry a man who would return your affection.

“Good morning, Mariposa.” The nickname rolls of his tongue; one he had presented ever since you had once showed up in the paddock, the most beautiful butterfly-imprinted dress flowing in the soft breeze of that Monaco weekend. “You’re hiding out in here today, yes?” He teases. You offer him a small shrug, eyes not able to meet those sweet brown ones of the man stood in front of you.

“Charles is…busy.” You finish the sentence abruptly. Carlos knows not to question further; the two of you have a mutual understanding as to where he would be at this point during the day; wrapped up in the arms of another woman. “He’s probably on his track walk…maybe. I’m just…keeping occupied.” You motion towards the window, looking onto the first straight of the track. “Plus…it looks windy out there.”

“Well…” Carlos invites himself into the room now, looking down at your attire, seeing that your feet were enclosed with the brilliant white trainers you’d left home in that morning. The man shrugs off his own windbreaker, holding it in his arm. “If I give you my jacket, would you like to come on my track walk?” He offers, holding out the garment to you.

You knew you would probably live to regret that moment. However, if you stayed resting in Charles’ driver room much longer, reading the same line of your book whilst your thoughts trailed away to how he would be with his mistress, you would go crazy.

“I’d love to.” You finally respond, slipping your arms through the large sleeves of Carlos’ jacket. Offering you a pat on the shoulder, he motions towards the exit of the driver’s room, determined to keep you on his side whilst walking across the track loved by fans far and wide. He hopes that everybody misses the longing gazes and soft smile on his face every time you make a comment, or your hands brush a little too closely.

Charles Leclerc is a neck kisser.

It’s not as if you would know this. The only kisses you ever had were those for show. Cold, meaningless interactions between somebody who attempted to show unconditional love and one who could dream of being anywhere else in that moment.

You’d carefully unlatched the front door of the house, your wireless earbuds resting comfortably in your ears, unable to hear any other sound apart from the music playing. Slipping off your shoes, hanging up your jacket; your only intention for the afternoon was to go through some of the notes you had made regarding education courses in the area; sitting at home day after day was truly aggravating. You couldn’t pick up yet another hobby. Maybe some form of learning would interest you.

But first, you needed a drink to cool yourself off from the sun. You’d remembered the smoothie packs you made earlier in the week; one of those and going through your notes seemed a perfect plan for the current moment.

The second you rounded the corner into the open-plan kitchen, you wished that you could have taken the scenic route home.

His mistress was sat up on the kitchen island, back straight, legs wrapped around the waist of your husband, her hands grasping at the soft curls atop of his head. Charles’ hands slid across her back, soft grunts coming from his lips, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses along her slender neck. She was loving it, at least, that’s what you could judge from the noises leaving her mouth.

Before either of them could clock your arrival, both too wrapped-up in their embrace, you’d stepped out of the kitchen, hand over your mouth to silence the sobs which were threatening to escape. In a moment, you’re out of the hallway, letting your feet carry you up the carpeted stairs.

The only intention now embedded in your mind was to drink so much you would forget the scene unfolding in front of your eyes.

Charles Leclerc is a slow replier.

The smell of tequila and sweat is strong in the cramped hallway of the club. It was insane to believe that less than three hours ago, you had been cocooned in your king-size duvet, lips slightly parted as you strung a meaningless thread of text messages to one another; you didn’t truly care how one of your friends felt in that moment, the heartbreak shattering in your chest was stronger than any other emotion you could begin to comprehend.

No, your sole reason for texting was to leave this god-forsaken house. You kept telling yourself not to care. Charles’ eyes were all you could think about as you picked out your shortest, slinkiest dress; one which enhanced every curve and dip in the most elegant way. Charles’ dimples were all you could think about when your attention was drawn to outlining your lips with a deep red gloss. Charles’ lips were all you could think about, your foot sliding into the black heeled shoe, your feet finding no solace in being propped up within six inches of their life.

Your friend had messaged you the location of the designated club. How anybody could enjoy one of those places sober was beyond your comprehension. Instead, you had taken the route of every other supposed being in that club; one shot of a suspicious-looking liquid had turned into sixteen – his number, you couldn’t help remembering. That was the reason you had found yourself stood motionlessly in the hallway, trying to navigate yourself back to the bar. At least seventeen wouldn’t have been tied to any other emotion.

The plan, however, was short-lived when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Turning too quickly in your ridiculous heels, you’re met with the figures of Kelly Piquet and Max Verstappen, hands linked together, clearly nowhere near as intoxicated as you were in that moment.

Kelly moves first; you had always enjoyed her presence, spending time with her around the Paddock when you were bade to attend. Penelope was one of the sweetest three-year-olds you had ever come across, always greeting you with a toothy grin and a story of her and ‘Maxie’s’ escapades. When her mother encloses you in a hug, you can feel the tears fall, your drunken façade falling immediately. The woman simply cups your hand in her face, delicately wiping the tears from your lash line, making sure to remove any heavy clumps of mascara. She asks you where Charles is, where your husband is. You can’t make any sound which you believe is cohesive, something about him being back at the house.

Max by now, has his own arm resting around your shoulder. You were Charles’ wife, after all. He knew Charles would do the same for Kelly if she was ever to be found in this state. Something strange stabs at his chest; maybe he was too protective, but he would have never of let Kelly get into this state, at least, not on her own. The driver carefully fumbles in his back pocket, unlocking his own device and filing through his contacts to phone Charles.

The phone goes straight to voicemail, not even a dialling tone. Max tries a second time, a third time. Instead, he leaves messages. How on gods earth did Charles feel relaxed, knowing his wife would be out, probably on some form of alcohol, and not think to check that she would be safe returning home? If only he knew.

The duo moves to a second plan. You needed some fresh air before they could attempt to get you into a car and take you home; standing in the corridor of a nightclub was not an ideal situation, instead moving you to the exit. Your eyes widen, looking up to Max and Kelly as if you had shrunk right down to Penelope’s age, as if they would be the saviours to get you home. By the way Max was holding you by his side and Kelly stroking your hair behind your ears, you may as well been their daughter.

Conversations are had; neither of them is sober enough to drive you home, nor do they think it’s wise to try and sneak you into their hotel room when they had already issues when checking in a little too late. Their prayers are answered when a group of men wander past, one of them stopping to smack Max, his fellow driver on the back. His dark eyes, ones you know so well, widen when he sees your figure, looking so fragile in the light of the early hours in the city.

“Mariposa.” He murmurs, running a hand across your cheek, wanting nothing more than to hold your frame against his chest. Your soft eyes meet his own dark ones, glossed in concern for how on earth you could do this to yourself. The man murmurs something to Max and Kelly, ensuring them that he’d been the sober friend out of his group; promising he would get you home himself. The duo has no reason to not trust him, both of them leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before retiring to their own hotel.

As the couple walk away from the club, you can only feel the warmth of Carlos’ hand, still resting on your face. When he at last turns his attention back to you, he simply wraps a strong arm around your waist, supporting you to stand in those awful, heeled shoes. At the pace you’re walking back towards his car, you would get there just after the sunrise. Instead, he scroops you into his grasp.

The affection, the physical contact is all too much for you. It had been so, so long since anybody had held you, cared for you like this. Your clouded mind, now overwhelmed by warmth and alcohol allowed you to lean your head into Carlos’ sturdy chest. If you were sober, you’d be able to feel the way his heart raced when feeling you rest against him.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Mariposa?” He murmurs, settling you into the passenger seat of his car. He can’t help but remove his own jacket, wrapping the soft fabric around your arms, letting you nuzzle into the scent of his fabric softener and aftershave. Once settling himself into the driving seat, he begins the route back to the house, one hand gently resting atop of your leg, some form of comfort for the world in your mind which seemed to be caving in.

“I’d never do this to you.” He whispers, turning into the driveway that he had become accustomed to since the marriage.

Across the city, Max Verstappen is sound asleep. His phone, plugged in on the dressing table across the room buzzes once, notifying a text from his racing rival.

03:21: Charles Leclerc

Hey, sorry, was busy with something. Is everything good?

Charles Leclerc is a traveller.

You hadn’t expected anything to awaken you after the way your body had reacted to the previous night. A natural awakening, however, would have been a lot nicer than hearing the clicking sound of wheels against flooring. Whatever, whoever was outside of your room most certainly had a death wish to awaken you that morning.

It felt as if pins had been pressed into every square inch of your head, the task of even sitting up and forcing yourself towards the door of your bedroom, still dressed in your slinky garment and…somebody’s jacket? The night for you had truly ended as soon as you had that ninth shot of tequila; you thought you could remember Max and Kelly in the same location at some point, maybe that was your mind playing tricks on you, longing for people who enjoyed your company.

You were pulled back to the present when the figure of your husband appears at your doorway. He’s dressed already; loose hoodie and tracksuit bottoms cover his frame; his hand is clasping tightly onto a suitcase. There wasn’t a Grand Prix this weekend, you were certain. He would have left days ago for that. There was-

“I’m going to stay with…” He pauses, clearly trying to think of the correct way to word the fact he would be staying with his Mistress until further notice. Even in your state, you understand, simply raising your hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t want to hear her name, you didn’t want to know that he would be spending the next nights wrapped in her arms, because for once…you didn’t care.

They say alcohol causes dangerous mistakes, but in this moment, your hangover seemed to be your best friend. Every single time, you would think later, Charles would come back from seeing her, would leave to spend an evening by her side or sneak away during your paddock appearances…and you would be focused, your sole attention being on when he would return. Now? Your sole focus was on throwing up the remains of alcohol in your stomach, placing on a facemask and ordering some kind of comfort food to your home.

You didn’t care about him, not right now. Your actions relay this, simply offering him a nod before speaking, your voice surprisingly clear for how much your throat was weeping for a drink.

“Okay.” You pause. There’s nothing left to say after that. What does he want you to do? Wish him a happy time? Charles looks equally taken aback, usually expecting some kind of warm drabble on how he needed to stay safe. In that moment, he can’t help but…want it.

“I’ll be back on Wednesday to pack for Singapore.” He pauses this time, taking in your appearance, your face so…gentle, soothing. “You’re coming, yes?” He remembers a conversation had many a time; his wife should be there to support him as much as possible, even if he wasn’t a fan of the sly ways he would have to leave her in front of his team members.

He isn’t expecting a shrug of the shoulders, bringing a hand up to rest on the door, clearly ready to close it at any given moment.

“I’m not sure.” You offer him, sighing as you begin to close the door yourself. “My father said that race isn’t a priority.” That was the last sentence you offered him before closing the door. You obviously do not see it, but on the other side of the wall, Charles stands in confusion for a full twenty seconds before snapping back to his reality, his clutch on the suitcase a little tighter as he begins his decent down the stairs, wondering where on earth he had seen that jacket you were wearing before?

Your own priorities that morning was in full swing; you had placed your phone on charge, messages beginning to thread through as you stepped into the shower, the cool water savouring your skin. A fluffy robe is tied around your waist, brushing your hair around your back whilst your attention focused on rehydrating your skin, brushing your teeth and cleaning the dirt from underneath your eyes.

The silence is strong when you walk back into your bedroom. In that moment, you opt for some music whilst changing into some comfortable loungewear, easy to roam around the house in and let your hair dry naturally. Sitting at the end of the bed, you’re able to check notifications, seeing Kelly had sent you a photo of Penelope that morning, smiling for her favourite aunt. You see your most recent text had come through from none other than Charles’ teammate, following one which had been sent early that morning.

03:45: Carlos Sainz

Sweet dreams, Mariposa. Let me know if you need anything please.

11:51: Carlos Sainz

Just seen on Twitter Charles is at the airport, he’s not off to see her, is he?

His message brings so many emotions to you, and also answers the question of who’s jacket you had been wearing that morning. Your heart can’t help but soften, knowing already that Charles is on his way to see...her. You think back to your mindset from earlier, how it was the last thing you wanted to care about. Why on earth would you care about them, when you could be focusing on ordering your favourite food and calling your nail technician to come to the house? That would make you feel better, better than he ever had.

You first drop a message to Carlos in response, wanting to let him know you had woken up from potential alcohol poisoning.

12:25: You

Yeah, he is. Didn’t seem so happy that I couldn’t care less. Thank you for the jacket last night, I hope you had a good evening.

12:28: Carlos Sainz

All the better for seeing you. Hoping the hangover isn’t too bad today.

The messages spring backwards and forwards between the two of you for the afternoon; you’re smiling whilst you go through your favourite meal, the taste of it filling your mouth in the best way possible. There’s still a smile on your face when your nail technician arrives, painting some delicate designs into your fingers and toes, subtly asking who on earth has you smiling that much.

It isn’t until that evening; you’re sat in front of the television, a series you had watched one-too many times playing, your eyes glued to the storyline as if it would change again. The notification on your phone instantly drew your attention away from the screen, looking down to see a text on your screen.

21:03: Carlos Sainz

Why don’t you come and stay in Madrid for a few days? I’m sure we could both do with the company.

Charles Leclerc is a stalker.

Well, maybe stalker was too strong of a word. However, his intentions were identical, having watched your latest Instagram story three- no, four times. Since leaving the home several days earlier, his mind could not stop thinking about the fact you truly could not care less about where he was going. This wasn’t you, was it?

He’d arrived at her house, being temporarily distracted by luring himself into her bedroom, an afternoon of escapades and touches until she had rolled onto her side, telling him she was going to shower, and he would be more than welcome to join her. Instead, he pulled out his phone, seeing if you had done your usual; texting him to check that he had arrived safely, asking when he could be coming back to the house.

There’s no messages, no notifications. Huffing to himself, Charles instead pulls up your Instagram, seeing that you had posted a new story that evening, a suitcase in hand, an emoji of an aircraft and a Spanish flag. You were off somewhere, and hadn’t told him? No, no. You always told him where you were going, you always-

“Are you not joining me, then?” Charles’ mistress’ voice suddenly draws him out of his trance, a towel wrapped around her body, hair around her shoulders. It was nowhere near as soft and as gentle as yours was, he realised in that moment. He eventually nods, pulling himself from his phone and following her into the en-suite.

He’s so…distant for the remainder of his visit. When the two of them go to a secluded spot for lunch, when they go for a drive in a car they had hired for the afternoon. When she’s lazily pressing kisses along his neck, trying to grind into his crotch, desperate for his attention. When she finally falls asleep, Charles pulls out his phone, looking through any of the photos you had posted from that day. The soft sands of the beach, a hugestrawberry ice-cream cone, a mirrored selfie of yourself in the most beautiful sundress, hair curled and clearly ready for an evening in the Spanish sun.

The routine continues, he sees your adventures, day after day. You’re touring small markets, trying local delicacies. One day, you’re simply lounging by a pool for the afternoon, a fat paperback resting on your stomach, clearly engrossed by the story which was resting on your stomach. Each time he sees a post, he can’t help but be drawn to how he wants to know how you’re doing. Maybe that’s why he drops you a text message, trying to gain some sort of traction from how you were doing.

23:54: Charles Leclerc

Are you home? I’ve got a flight tomorrow afternoon.

You don’t respond; now, your phone is at the bottom of your bag, resting on the inside cabin of Carlos’ boat. For your final day in Madrid, he had insisted on taking you for a boat ride. You’d shyly mentioned earlier in that week that Charles had never taken you on his own boat, despite the fact that you were indeed married.

The sun began to set over the rolling waves of the ocean; the boat is gently rocking, the sounds of water lapping over one another was music to your ears. You were sat at the edge of the now stilled boat, contemplating dipping your toes into the water. Your attention is so drawn to the scenery that you don’t hear him step away from the wheel, crouching next to you.

“You could just go in.” He teases, “rather than staring at the water. You know how to swim.” The taunt causes you to roll your eyes, simply looking to the Spaniard on your right-hand side.

“What? And have you speed off without me?” You retaliate, using your shoulder to nudge his body. Carlos clicks his lips together, mumbling something incoherent, before he’s suddenly scooped you up into your arms; despite your sounds of protests, he simply holds you against his chest tighter. His dark eyes flicker between yours and the ocean water below the two of you. Before you can say anything, his feet have made their own choice, jumping off the edge of the boat, both of you tumbling into the sea. Your briefly submerged entirely, before your head pops out of the waves, blindly reaching around until two strong arms encircle your waist.

Both you and Carlos laugh for a moment, in pure awe that you just did that. He moves first, one of his hands releasing from your waist, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. There’s a silence between the two of you, where the only sound emitting from your surroundings is the gentle waves of the sea. In that moment, Carlos Sainz wants nothing more than to lean forward, pressing his lips to your own. They look so…soft. He craves to give them the attention they had been longing for so long. But…you’re married. And even if your marriage is loveless, to a point where your husband is openly in an affair, he would never do that to you. Instead, he settles for resting one hand on your cheek, gently kissing the top of your forehead, murmuring some Spanish wording you would never remember.

If you did understand it, however, you would have known that he said there and then that he would always be devoted to you.

Charles Leclerc is a loud shouter.

His voice seemed to travel for miles, you were almost certain the entirety of the secluded neighbourhood could hear him at this current moment. The man had returned home from his secluded stay with his mistress to an empty house; at that point, you were still in the depths of Madrid, packing up your own suitcase, wishing Carlos luck on the Singapore Grand Prix. You had intended to return to the house after Charles had left himself; the heartbreak of seeing him littered in love-bites, his eyes transfixed to his phone from her messages was too much for you.

However, if you had been at the house when he had arrived home, you would have seen his neck clear, phone shoved into his back pocket as he called out your name, wondering if you had returned home yourself. Charles notices your trainers haven’t been left on the shoe rack; there’s no music to signify your afternoon relaxation. A light knock to the door of your room signifies there’s nobody home. The house feels empty.

Maybe, Charles Leclerc was beginning to understand how you felt.

His first instinct is to message you. Surely, you would have seen his text from his previous message by now; what would it hurt to check in once more. The man feels against his rough jean pocket for the device, swiping away from the multiple notifications from his mistress, instead scrolling to your contact’s name, seeing you hadn’t been active in almost twelve hours. You hadn’t even opened his message.

His thumb hovers above the keyboard, not entirely sure what to say in this situation. Instead, he opts to call your number instead; you had always picked up to him; whenever he needed you to stay away from the house, or to remind you to be ready to leave at a certain time. The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, your voicemail comes through the speaker, signifying him that you were too busy to pick up the telephone.

Charles didn’t grow concerned during the evening; he grew angry. You were his wife. You were supposed to be at the house to greet him, to welcome him with open arms, ask about his day. Even if…even if he had chosen to ignore your welcoming’s and kind heart for over a year. The man found a distraction in going through the information that Scuderia Ferrari had sent him for his journey tomorrow, making sure his passport was in the correct place. He hadn’t needed to pack; you had made sure to do that for him before your own departure, making sure his comfortable clothes were packed and sunglasses safely secured in the pouches of the case.

It was late, late for you when the door finally opened, signalling the arrival of a second being. Charles immediately sits up from his slouched position on the couch, stepping up from the sofa, almost ready to give you a piece of his mind. Upon reaching the hallway, he sees you, slipping off your trainers, leaving the suitcase next to the front door. Even underneath your jumper, he can see your skin is glowing from the Mediterranean sun, yet your eyes are watering, tears leaking from your lower lash line.

“Where on earth have you been?” He snaps, not actually wanting to hear an answer. You open your mouth to respond, but the man cuts you off before you can speak. “I am your husband. You’re supposed to wait for me!” His temper is getting the better of him, green eyes flickering with anger.

At this point, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed from the news you had received on your drive home, and for this man to question your loyalties to your marriage? You can’t help the scoff which falls from your lips, the emotions building a little too much.

“You’re my husband?” You mock in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise my husband was around at long last, not wrapped in the arms of another woman!” Your temper flares, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, grasping the suitcase to take upstairs and repack.

“You didn’t pick up your phone once.” Charles retaliates. Oh, the cheek of-

“Like when you pick up your phone when I call?” The tears are beginning to flow freely now, wanting nothing more than to get upstairs and completely ignore what has been happening. “You don’t Charles. You’ve done nothing to show that you’re my husband in the past twelve months!” You can’t help yourself now. Instead of seeking the new suitcase, you simply turn around on the step of the front door, slipping your trainers back onto your feet.

“Where are you going?” His voice is now laced in concern; you couldn’t leave yet, surely? You’d only just returned; you wouldn’t be safe to drive in this condition. Why on earth did he care now? His question is answered, but not in the way he desired.

“Like you would care.” It’s the last thing you say before the door to the house is slammed shut.

Charles Leclerc is an investigator.

When arriving in the Ferrari Garage of Singapore, there’s already an eerie feeling through the air; there are no smiles, sympathising looks thrown towards the back end of the garage. The driver isn’t stupid, he knows something must be wrong. He’s unsure of who to ask; who would know what is going on?

His original plan was to ask Xavi, maybe during their morning briefing, until he is told that his flight has been delayed and wouldn’t be there until the late afternoon. Eventually, he spots his racing partner, nestled in the corner of the garage, his eyes flickering across his own phone screen, rapidly typing a message to somebody he would rather not admit to.

“Hey.” He speaks softly, not wanting to startle the man. Silently, Carlos looks up from his device, offering his teammate a small nod, not wanting to prolapse the eye contact for too long. Charles can sense he knows what has happened, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why is everybody so…quiet?”

The look on Carlos’ face signifies he’s said something wrong. His eyes darken, shaking his head in disappointment rather than fury. It correlates to the kind of look his father would give him during a long talk, when he had broken something and not admitted to it. The Spaniard isn’t sure he should even tell his teammate what had happened. Instead, he changes his phone application to the Emails App, handing the device over to Charles. His eyes flicker across the screen, taking in the information.

Ferrari’s biggest benefactor, your father, would not be attending the race weekend after the untimely death of his wife. Your mother. It suddenly correlates; how the night before, you had seemed inconsolable, despite the fact you had obviously had an incredible vacation. You’d tried to simply walk away, to let yourself grieve without bothering him. Instead, you had found comfort in Carlos as he had driven you to the airport, whispering sweet words of comfort, promising that everything was going to be okay.

Charles feels his blood run cold, he feels sick. The look on the man stood in front of him tells him enough; he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Murmuring an excuse, he leaves the garage, stepping to the secluded back area, the realisation that he is everything his mother never wanted him to be, hitting hard. He still had the ability to run to her, to ask for her advice. You didn’t have that anymore. You didn’t have anybody, least of all your husband.

The first thing he does in that moment, is pull out his phone, scrolling to the contact of his mistress.

10:09: Charles Leclerc

We need to talk.

Charles Leclerc is a phone call away.

The past day had been filled of tears, clinging to your father, to your younger siblings, to your elder cousins. How on earth your mother had left this world early was beyond you. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. Your mother was the one whom had been your rock for the past miserable year of your marriage. If not for her, you were almost certain that you would have thrown your silvery key to the house down a drain so long ago.

Without her guidance, without her tutoring, you felt like bird trying to fly individually for the first time; surrounded by fears and almost certain you’d fall into compromising position.

You hadn’t rested. Not since you had arrived at the bleak family home. As customed, every curtain was drawn close, doors to each room sealed, no natural light emitting to the large house, making every shadow and crook of the building seem more terrifying. Eventually, your father had retired to his own bedroom, your younger siblings tucked into their beds, butterfly kisses pressed against their foreheads, a silent promise you were only down the hall if they so desired you.

The bedroom you had grown up in remained almost identical to the one you had painted in your mind; pale pink wallpaper, a luxury bed lined with a rosebud-patterned quilt set. The vanity you had last used to get ready on your wedding day remained pristine, the perfumes and scents which had been your favourite still sitting atop of your shelf. And the photographs. A polaroid of your two closest friends from your childhood; one of your sisters on her christening day, the entire family dressed so elegantly; Charles is in that photograph, off to the side alongside his brothers; you had no idea there and then that boy with the ocean eyes would become your estranged husband.

You could have continued going down memory lane, if not from the buzzing which was coming from your bed. The phone you had carelessly thrown atop of the blankets when first entering the room had finally got some service, a thread of text messages and missed phone calls beginning to filter through. Silently, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, eyes flickering across each message. Some are from members of the Ferrari team, others from family members you hadn’t heard from in what felt like centuries.

There’s one. One from the man whom you had spent the previous week with. The one who had consoled you whilst travelling to the family home. Your husband’s teammate.

23:05: Carlos Sainz

Mariposa, please let me know how you are doing. I’m so worried about you. Let me know if you need anything at all.

23:31: You

Thank you, C. I should be heading home tomorrow, with a bit of luck I’ll be able to swing by and say hello.

You hadn’t expected anything else that evening. You were settled, ready to focus on yourself for the remainder of the evening; in your eyes, there was a high likelihood that your siblings would be burrowing into your blankets later. Once dressed in nightwear, the makeup that had stained your cheeks removed, you noticed the soft glow of your phone screen. Another message had just been received, and in your wildest dreams, you could not have imagined whom it was from.

00:24: Charles Leclerc

I heard about your mother this afternoon; I am truly so, so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I mean it.

Your eyes had barely had time to view the message which had just been received, before your phone screen changes, taking the message away from your sight. The message thread is replaced by a photograph of your husband, his name lighting up on you phone screen. You don’t even think; instead, your thumb swipes across the screen, pressing the green button and holding the device to your ear.

“Charles.” You speak one word, hearing your husband visibly relax on the other end of the line. You realise it’s the first time you’ve said anything coherent in hours; the tone of your voices echoes around the room. Did you always sound that sad when you spoke to him?

“Hey.” He isn’t too sure what he wants to say; the lack of conversation between the two of you means he isn’t aware if there are any boundaries, anything you wouldn’t discuss with him. No, he just wanted to speak to you, to check in. In reality, he had realised how lonely the house was as an individual. His mistress was gone from his contacts, not inviting her around to fill the void had made him realise how you had felt for oh-so-long.

“How…” He pauses, not sure on how to finish his question. He doesn’t need to, because despite the lack of understanding of one another, you know he’s trying, trying to make you feel better.

“I’m…yeah.” You can’t find the correct words to say; ‘sad’ is an understatement, ‘fine’ is a rude response. Neither of you can find the words, but in that moment, you crave somebody who isn’t mourning the loss of your mother as heavily as you are.

“We have some new neighbours.” He’s trying to find anything to create some conversation. It’s almost as if he knows the quiet of the room is making you feel uncomfortable. “They left us an invitation to join them for a tennis session- not that I’m any good.” He laughs to himself, remembering the previous time he’d attended a tennis game alongside his fellow drivers; he’d had to step out after a few minutes, completely terrified he would end up breaking his hand.

He doesn’t hear anything from the other side of the line but continues to talk. “Are you…” He catches himself for a moment. “Are you coming back soon?” His voice turns into barely a whisper, as if saying the wrong thing will cause you to hang up immediately. He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, taking a gentle sigh and awaiting your response.

“Yeah.” You pause. Are you doing this? Are you having a conversation with your husband? “I’m going to fly home tomorrow afternoon. I think my father wants space.” Your sentence closes, looking around your room. The silence is deathly; in that moment, you don’t care about everything that’s happened. All you want is for somebody to hold you in their arms and tell you it would be okay.

“I’ll come and get you.” Charles has spoken before his mouth has had time to catch his brain. Your eyebrows quirk in confusion. The only time your estranged husband ever drove you himself was on your endless journeys to races; you would sit silently, curled away from his figure, eyes transfixed as the world passed by around you. The man not only offering but wanting to pick you up from the airport was a new-found curiosity.

“It’s okay.” You don’t let him continue. If previous standings have taught you anything, it’s that behind those mesmerising eyes cannot be trusted. You knew the secrets that lied beyond the ocean settled in his eye. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt you.” Part of your heart is craving to bring up his mistress; how she would probably be warming his bed in the current moment, walking around the house which you ached to find comfort in.

“You wouldn’t.” Charles is quick to respond; in his heart of heart, he knows getting you to trust him again would be a monumental task. He’d do anything to prove he would be the husband who would look after you. Who would love you unconditionally; the husband you deserved.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve landed, okay?” It’s your final compromise. The woman whom you had been twelve months ago would love nothing more than to run into Charles’ arms; whether he cared for you the way you did; you would always desire his attention and affection. You’d had to learn through the months that some of life’s biggest temptations had to remain untouched.

Charles Leclerc is your husband.

Landing back in the country was almost eerie; despite being away for only a miniscule amount of time, you felt changed; changed by the loss of your closest companion, changed by the fact your husband had been the one to call you, and not to throw some crazy request down the telephone line.

Arrivals, as always, were completely smothered; couples reuniting, children screaming at the sudden change of scenery. After obtaining your own bag, your eyes flicker through the never-ending crowds, desperate to find some recognition.

Standing apart from the crowd, looking effortlessly rugged in his athletic shorts and hoodie, hair pushed underneath a snapback. His eyes are trained on you, as if he had sensed your presence into the room in less than a moment. The breath catches in the back of your dried throat, a pair of eyes that you trusted undoubtedly. Stumbling, your feet carry you over to the arms of your favourite Spaniard, your head instantly finding solace in the joint between his shoulder and neck, the cologne you were used to from his attendances around the paddock creating a cloud of comfort.

Carlos’ hands effortlessly lock around your torso, pulling you tighter into his chest, one palm rubbing up and down your back. It was the first time, the first time in a long time that anybody had offered you this sort of affection. Mindlessly, the soft tears begin to pool at the bottom of your lash line. Soft snuffles emitting from your lips cause the man to hush you gently, pulling your face away from his body, cradling your head between his larger hands.

He mumbles something quietly, something about taking you back to the house. If it was him, the man would bundle you into his car and drive to his own home. He’d nestle you under his bedroom blankets, dress you in one of his hoodies. Instead, his rough palm finds your soft fingers, intertwining your hands together. Carlos takes your suitcase in his free hand, guiding you to his car parked outside of the airport.

Not much is said during the shortening journey back to the house; the tears glossing your eyes reflect the streetlights, transfixed on the roads which you had left for a few short days. The tears will continue to fall; her loss had taken a part of you that you would you never thought would return. The man to your right, eyes focused on the road can sense your heartbreak. He doesn’t wait to push you; he had spoken to you shortly after the news had originally broken, in that conversation, you had barely been able to say ten words before your voice cracked. Instead, Carlos rests a warm hand on your leg, a silent promise that he will be there no matter what.

The journey feels too short; eventually the driveway to the house rolls into sight, Carlos slowing down the car. When it comes to a halt, he steps out immediately, obtaining your suitcase from the rear of the car, placing it down on the wheels. By this point, you’d wiggled from the seat, ready to wheel your case into the house. However, before you can move, his arms engulf you once more, clinging so tightly, your feet began to lift from the floor. You had clung back just as tight, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek; a silent ‘Thank you,’ for everything.

The embrace ended, Carlos awaiting until the door had unlocked, nodding when he saw you safely enter the house. The building is practically silent; no television sounds, no gentle music, not even the whirr of Charles’ simulator in his downstairs office. Ears pricked, you could hear the jets of a shower from upstairs, the assumption that he must have been in the shower. Paranoia threads your mind, she wouldn’t be showering alongside, would she?

You don’t let your mind wander; instead, you focus on lugging the suitcase along the staircase, silently glad you had gotten further with it since your trip to Madrid. Beelining towards your room, the suitcase rolls behind you, resting it in the corner of the room, a silent promise you’d wash everything tomorrow. However, a delicate bouquet of soft, pink and fresh flowers decorated the vanity of the room; you knew you hadn’t bought flowers since Madrid, and these…They looked as if they’d been placed mere minutes ago.

Overthinking had always been dangerous; instead, you keep yourself busy, wiggling your skincare bag from the suitcase, padding into your bathroom with that and a fresh set of long pyjamas; the late-night breeze had begun to tickle your skin since removing yourself from Carlos’ warm arms. The relish indulges your body, shampoo trickling through your hair, body wash bubbles tickling your body. You’d stepped out a few moments later, changing into the soft clothing, sitting in front of the mirror, brushing your hair out as carefully as you could have.

Silently, your feet carry you from the en-suite towards the main bedroom. Standing at the head of the doorway, is none other than your husband, hair own hair damp from his shower, dressed in soft tracksuit bottoms and a tight tee-shirt. He’d seen your suitcase nestling in the corner of your bedroom, your phone had rumpled the blankets of your bed. Charles had been the one to hear the shower this time, deciding to wait, just to see your soft eyes.

They’re bloodshot; you look so…frail. The years of heartbreak littered across your face. Charles’ heart practically breaks; before you can say a word, he’s across the room, arms pulling around your torso, pulling your head under his chest. Your instinct tells you to fight it, why on earth would you accept some form of affection from a husband who had openly destined you for so long?

And yet, you subcome to his affection, hesitantly holding your own arms to his chest. His scent, his warmth.You felt as if you were dreaming, eyes wet from the overwhelming care, feeling gentle kisses press to the top of your head.

You don’t remember when Charles scooped you to his chest, tucking you into your fresh blankets before nestling in behind you himself. You remind yourself; this is a one-off. You’re almost certain that by tomorrow, he’ll be back in the arms of his mistress, your moment tonight will be an absent moment to your husband. You’ll take it; if it’s one night in his arms, feeling his breath against the back of your neck, tip of his nose pressing into your back, one hand pressed against your stomach in comfort, you’ll take it.

Some point during the night, your phone buzzes, the sound barely audible on the blankets of your bed. You groan slightly, the bubble of yourself and Charles giving you a true form of sanctuary, a true form of home. Curiosity in the night takes the better of you, lifting the dying device to your eyes, slightly blinded by the glow of the screen.

Despite being wrapped in the arms of your husband; you can feel your blood turn cold when you read the one sentence which had been left for you to find.

01:46: Carlos Sainz

I’m in love with you.

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