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javiscigarette · 3 months

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Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time”

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pussy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort.

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along famously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies.

It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea.

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.”

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way”

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.”

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.”

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.

“I sure do.”

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him.

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

6K notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 9 days

Note

HELLO

Please PLEASE make a fic about the songs church- chase Atlantic!!

It's my latest obsession, next to enha ofc

leading you on | l.hs

♱ plot: from the shy boy you first met at church camp who your parents once adored to their biggest fuckboy nightmare, you and heeseung reconnect on an online platform where you became a popular streaming duo together, leading to some steamy (and eventually forbidden) connections between you two…

loser!streamer!heeseung x fem!streamer!reader

♱ contains: SLOW BURN, swearing, sneaking out, mentions of bulges (multiple times), oral and fingering (f. r.), slight corruption kink, y/n stripping in front of a large audience (on camera), unprotected sex + virginity loss, y/n deliberately disobeying her parents, angst-ish, ft. other kpop idols, roughly 7k words

a/n: this is my first time writing a one shot all about Heeseung so hopefully I did our favorite loser boy some justice in this fic... have fun reading!

Heeseung. He was always just so... flirty with you.

Not emotionally, that is, but physically.

Leaving lingering touches on your thigh during Bible study, whispering dangerously close to your ear in that bedroom voice of his, or texting you random pictures during the day with his bulge obvious in almost every single one.

Two little voices battled in the back of your mind whenever you were around him, one voice wanting him to take things further while the other found it strange how he did such things so shamelessly.

The boy's got sex written all over him, your friends would warn alongside your Christ-converted step-sister Giselle who'd had her fair share of 'guys like Heeseung' in the past.

But you didn't see him that way. Despite his flirty tendencies, you figured those were just attributes that made him who he is.

Who you've always loved him to be.

However, those Holy, Holy, God Almighty church days were long gone by now, being no more than a distant ninth grade memory to you and most of everyone else who attended back then.

Everyone except Lee Heeseung, who could never shake his adolescent infatuation with you... ____, the girl who accepted his flaws and eventually stole his heart.

You and Heeseung reconnected a few years later by chance, the same day of your one year anniversary on your streaming channel.

Initially, your content consisted of one-hour long broadcasts where you'd just talk with random strangers, hearing out their problems and giving righteous advice.

However, Heeseung became a recurrent visitor on your streams, coaxing you to speak on topics more interesting than whether its modest to wear glam makeup or if kissing should be saved for marriage.

Your channel amassed a whopping 20,000 new followers in the first month of Heesung partnering with you, and its part of what led him to becoming an anticipated guest to your growing fanbase.

A dynamic duo, some commenters would call you two... and much to your parents chagrin, at that.

Off camera, things were the same.

You and Heeseung had grown closer than ever, sacrificing sleep to text each other all night, doing fuck-all on your web streams for hours, and even considering meeting up in person for a broadcast after he shared with you that he still lived in the city.

But then... something changed.

Or more accurately, your overly controlling mother put her foot down.

|Messaging| 💬

Heeseung: So we're not allowed to hang out together this Friday ?

You: Not alone... and honestly, not on the streams anymore, either...

Heeseung: Don't tell me its bc ur shyyyy

You: Nope… pArEnTs ^^

You'd say your mom had it out to get Heeseung more than your dad ever did, resenting the mere mentioning of his name at weekly church gatherings.

"That daughter of yours has gained quite the audience on social media," one womann would say, "too bad she seems to be losing her Faith to that poor Heeseung boy..."

"Such a shame," another would agree, adding to the heat-bubbles boiling in your mother's blood-

"Our faith teaches forgiveness and kindness," you defended yourself, just as your mom gave you maybe her third lecture this week on why you should cut ties with him.

"It also advises caution and wisdom when it comes to who we allow into our social circles," she hummed back, taking a sip of her morning coffee, red lipstick staining the rim of the white mug, "I'd be no better than a fool to sit here and support this meaningless friendship between you and that... man."

You internally rolled your eyes at her words, thinking of something, anything to say in order to change the subject right now.

"Well, I have plans with some friends from church tonight, if you don't mind-"

"Will Heeseung be there?"

"What? No," you lied, and not for the first time, either.

It helped you to feel less guilt whenever you blamed it on the little voice in your head, "Just me and the girls," you clarified.

"Mhm," she smiled facetiously before continuing, "I'm afraid I still can't trust you to go, though... especially not after that little stunt you pulled online..."

Your hand halted at the kitchen countertop as her words settled in your mind, "What stunt?"

FLASHBACK

It all started with a picture.

A stupid picture you got dared to leak by an anonymous tipper who offered a $1,000 donation in exchange for a steamy photo of Heeseung.

Chelbear03: God, he looks so THICK

Chelsea, one of your viewers said in the streaming chat, practically moaning at the photo of Heeseung, biting her lip as if she could feel him inside her just by looking at the screen.

Chelbear03: PAINFUL 😩

pucca_princxss: Need a tissue for your drool, Sea-Sea? 🧻

Danielle, another fan joked.

Chelbear03: Okay, FIRST of all, I have drool coming from TWO holes rn- Secondly, I'd rather just have him lick it up 😔

Chelsea typed back, a nuance to her words that you couldn't tell was meant to be either comical or serious.

"Lick up what?" a curious voice asked from the screen.

That's when your hand flew to cover your mouth, eyes going wide at the sight of Heeseung coming back into frame after saying he'd be "afk for a bit while showering."

His hair was still a bit damp from what you could tell, a towel draped lazily around his neck as your eyes unfortunately fell to the lump hiding behind his pants.

Oh God-

"N-nothing! Uhm... it's not important," you chuckled dryly, only adding to the awkwardness everyone was starting to feel from behind their screens.

pucca_princxss: OOP speak of the papi-

Chelbear03: Please forgive me, Hee-man 🧎‍♀️ ... bc I am disrespectfully foaming at the mouth as we speak-

Chelbear03 has left the stream

A notification of Chelsea having left the stream popped up in the chat almost immediately after she sent that message.

"What was that all about?," Heeseung smirked with confusion, looking between both you and the server comments displayed on his screen for an answer that never came.

"Fine then, keep your secrets... its not like I can't just rewind the stream highlights anyway," he added, just as you felt frantic emotions overcome you.

"Heeseung, you really don't wanna do that, just let me explain-"

His jaw dropped, not necessarily in shock, but with intrigue, the raunchy photo of his semi-hard cock through his sweatpants being displayed on the screen, right before his glossy deer-like eyes.

The same picture he'd only ever sent to you.

"I guess this is my mini Drake moment then," Heeseung chuckled to himself, a heavy sigh escaping your lips at his fortunately chill reaction.

"I did it for 1k, Heeseung, I'm sorry," you whined, pulling your knees up in your chair before burying your face behind them.

"Don't be... everyone already knows I'm your slut at this point," he said in a deeper voice, making you freeze once again as your eyes shot up to view the screen, almost in denial that such words even left his mouth.

anonymous tipper: worst thousand $$$ I ever spent... how abt I multiply the price by two for a sexy picture of the lady ?

yxstar3ject: ooo, but i was thinking maybe a double feature instead ? would luvvv to see how she treats this little slut of hers 🤭

Heeseung snickered so loud, you almost felt it on your skin, watching his facial expressions change with each suspicious message that filled the chat box, throughly entertaining him

"Guys, cut it out before I end the stream," you giggled shyly, revealing your full face that looked a little less flustered than earlier, "Heeseung isn't my slut either, okay? Just a good friend, I swear..."

pucca_princxss: you two need to stream in the same room one day bc this long distance sexual tension thing is so not the vibe :|

"Maybe one day..." Heeseung's voice faded off as he turned off the lights in his room, getting ready for bed...

"Maybe~~," your mother repeated in a mocking tone at the memory of your "filthy fest" of a stream that day, disgust displayed all over her before she took the last sip of her coffee as if it'd soothe her.

"Hope that refreshed your memory sweetie, but either way, my answer's no. Not with that slut on the streets and especially not without my supervision..."

“If you’re referring to Heeseung with that vulgar comment, I’m sorry to correct you, but it’s not right to just bash him with words like that,” you went on, leaning your elbows over the counter.

“Please, any guy who sends raunchy dick pics, let alone to a girl he’s not even dating, is a slut, ____,” your step-sister Giselle voiced while walking into the kitchen, dressed in athletic wear as she filled up her water canteen with a lemon flavored electrolyte packet, “not to mention those other weird things he says about your relationship on the stream.”

Despite how much your family claimed to dislike Heeseung, they had no problem with bringing him up every five seconds in a conversation.

You glanced at her through a side eye, shaking your head at the fact that she was just eavesdropping on your conversation, “That was hardly a dick pic, and you should know that better than me, Jizz-elle,” you retorted, putting extra emphasis on the first syllable of her old nickname.

“Yeah, real mature, ____… you can slut shame me but not your little online boyfriend?”

“Ladies!,” your mother raised her voice slightly, pursing her lips at the tension built up between you two, “that’s enough of this discussion…”

You noticed the way your mother’s eyes lingered on your step sister for a moment, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the gym,” she answered shortly, walking past your mom and out of the kitchen with haste.

You scoffed out loud, “Not gonna interrogate her like you did to me?,” you said, laughing as if humored when it was really just a way to mask how irritated you were.

“No,” your mom said with a delayed reply, “Giselle is not my blood… I must take her word for what she says to avoid conflict with your step-father… you, on the other hand, will—”

“—abide by your rules… got it,” you finished for her, knowing better than to continue going back and forth with her in this matter.

You left the kitchen, going up to your room and plopping yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling as you entered into a deep thinking space.

One in which you'd strategize on how to successfully sneak out of the house to hang out with Heeseung tonight.

|Messaging| 💬

You: So, you want me to meet you where again ?

Heeseung: Just take a hard right past the first stop sign from your place and a few steps past that one brown house (pls ignore my Dora ass instructions rn 🗿)

You: ok ok 😭, smart tho !! … that way, none of my neighbors will see your car :D

Heeseung: Exactly. U sure u still wanna do this, tho ?

You: Yeah, ofc ! Had enough of my mom nagging me all day ☝️ I need a release BIG time

Heeseung: Haha, okay then ! I’ll see you at 10:30pm

You: Cya ! 🐒

THE LAST TIME you and Heeseung met in person was back when you were both young teenagers, navigating hormones and puberty while aiming to keep God at the center of it all, so to speak.

You didn’t know what to expect from meeting up with him, and especially not under such circumstances.

Still, you had a pretty good feeling that all this trouble wouldn’t be for nothing.

It was currently 10:34pm as you turned off all the lights in your bedroom, wearing an all black outfit to ensure you weren’t seen.

You double checked to see if you had everything with you before leaving: phone, spare cash, and a well-rehearsed story in case you got caught.

Opening your bedroom window, you stuck out a leg, suddenly feeling thankful for your step-dad giving you the bedroom on the first story of his home.

Both your feet were on the floor now, your hands finding the window sill as you closed the window back, careful not to accidentally lock it back so you would be able to get back in later.

You then followed the instructions Heeseung outlined in your texts, walking a few blocks down and taking a right turn once you reached the stop sign.

That’s when you caught sight of his dimly lit side profile under the lights of his car and through the tinted windows.

His eyes were on his phone until your figure blocked the streetlight that shined in his car, drawing his attention to your face as a smile spread over his own.

His eyes lit up like you were the candle to his soul, stepping out of the sleek black car to come around and give you a hug.

“Oh- hi,” you chuckled shyly, hands hesitating to wrap around him before he pulled away, looking you up and down while bracing your shoulders.

“Hi,” he smiled back, “I was just about to text you when you showed up at my window… nice black fit, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said in a playful voice, watching as he opened the car door for you to get in.

“Would it be wrong of me to assume your panties match, too?,” he asked teasingly, joining you in the vehicle before pulling out of his parked position and cruising out of the neighborhood.

“Wow, you’re really representing this slut persona of yours, huh?” You teased back, putting on your seatbelt.

“Mostly because I can’t help it,” he shrugged, flashing you a smile before looking back at the road, “the fans ship us anyway, so we might as well commit to it, right?”

“Righttt,” you answered suspiciously, poking his thigh before looking back out the window, “gosh, this is crazy…”

“What is?”

“How long we’ve known each other and still happened to maintain a solid friendship despite the distance.”

“Yea,” he agreed, turning down a lane decorated with flowers that somehow still shined in the dark of the night, “We’d be fools to give up this bond we share, though… fools not to explore it further.”

He pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, showing you around his place before leading you to his bedroom, a familiar sight to you thanks to the streams.

“Oh- you’ve still got your monitors and mic set up?,” you asked curiously, noticing how the screen of his computer was on the streaming website.

“You remember what Danielle said on our last live? About us broadcasting in the same room together sometime…” he started shyly, pushing out another gaming chair for you to sit in.

“You really think it’s a good idea to stream right now?,” you rationalized, watching as he joined you in the nearby seat, “I mean, I’m obviously down for it, but what if my mom sees it again? Or Gisel—”

“I’ve already blocked your mom's account, ____, we should be fine,” he smiled, “and… if not… I’ll exchange another photo with your anonymous tipper for some forgiveness cash,” he shrugged, pouty lips making you melt a little inside. "Deal?"

You always knew that Heeseung was cute, but you didn’t think it was possible for him to get any better looking from behind the screen.

“Okay then,” you agreed with a sigh, hoping that your nerves would calm down once the broadcast started.

Almost instantly, 100 viewers joined when Heeseung pressed the “stream” button.

You both began with greeting everyone, trying to get past the chat’s excitement about finally getting to see you two in the same room together.

yxstar3ject: OMFG YALL ACTUALLY DID IT ❗️ this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤧

Chelbear03: holy fucking fuck, how is she so CALM NEXT TO HIM 😩

mrloverl0ver: everyone in favor of them playing truth or strip for us, spam the chat with W’s

pucca_princxss: hoon, you raging perv- WWWWWWWWWW XD

Chelbear03: ✨ W ✨

laylaspapi: W no homo wait, why's my name pink now ;-;

yxstar3ject: I took orange the other day ~ sawwy Jakey W <3

You watched as the chat box started to flood with W's and other random comments, feeling Heeseung sat a hand on your thigh as if to make you feel more comfortable.

"Alright peeps, chill out with the chat spamming, we see it," Heeseung said, laughing off some of the tension, "It's not like you guys didn't get a free show the other day, anyways," he added.

"I don't know..." you started, voice and logic trailing off as more letter W's filled the screen, "it might be fun?"

"____," Heeseung said more seriously this time, "it's a pointless game, y'know? We're honest with the fans... they already know most of secrets, so its silly to do truth or strip..."

"Great. That'll only make it more challenging for them to get our clothes off then," you smiled, suddenly feeling excited about playing, a bit of your competitiveness rubbing off on the initially cautious boy.

"Fine then... we'll do it," Heeseund said, eliciting a few viewers to send gifts to your broadcast, "I'm gonna need a drink for this first, though."

Heeseung was doing a good job of making it seem like he wasn't totally down for this, even though on the inside, he was mostly concerned with making sure you felt comfortable, too.

He left the room for a moment before coming back with two canned cocktails in his grip, placing them on his desk in front of you two.

"I'm guessing you don't drink much," he said, popping open a can of sugary fizz with his teeth while making eye contact with you, "so take it slow with this, yeah?"

"Sure, dad," you joked, taking a sip from the can, hoping that the alcohol would maintain your fleeting confidence, considering that you'd just agreed to strip in front of hundreds of people online.

Chelbear03: alr, first question heheh, starting easy !! :))) when was the last time you got upset and why

Chelsea was the first to initiate this little "truth or strip" questionnaire. Heeseung read the question out loud before humming to himself in thought.

“Hmm... maybe when I overcooked my ramen this morning?”

"Who eats ramen for breakfast?" You asked with a dry laugh.

"Don't judge me because I have good taste, ____," he replied, shoving your thigh with his knee a bit, "and you're dodging the question..."

"Oh- right," you chuckled shyly, thinking of what to say and whether to be honest, until you remembered the consequence would be to remove a piece of clothing.

“It was um... over some stupid things my stepsister was saying about a friend of mine… also this morning...”

"Does that friend so happen to be me by any chance?," Heeseung asked knowingly, giving you a look that you quickly brushed off.

"Moving on, next question!"

anonymous tipper: name the last person you hooked up with $100 donation on the line here, btw... plus someone's modesty 🙈

Oh God, you thought to yourself, dreading how this anonymous tipper knew you'd do almost anything for money.

It was really a bad trait of yours...

"Wow, just jumping to the extremes, aren't we?," Heeseung mumbled between a sip of his drink, the wet condensation drawing your attention to his glistening digits for a quick second.

How were you just now noticing how thick his fingers ar-

laylaspapi: uh oh someone looks nervous ...

pucca_princxss: mission accomplished 👹👹👹

In all honesty, you didn't really have an answer to that question, but to avoid coming off as prudish, you opted to take a pair of clothing off instead, lifting your hips in your seat to pull your pants down.

"____, what the-" Heeseung started before choking a bit on his drink, not just at your sudden boldness, but at the sight of your lace panties hugging the natural curves of your hips, pants getting bunched up at your ankles before you kicked them off under his desk.

yxstar3ject: 😭😭😭😭 DEFINITELY wasn't expecting that, oml-

Chelbear03: your turn, hee 🙏🙏🙏

Something about how frazzled your usually calm and collected best friend became at the simple act of you undressing before him gave you a feeling of exhilaration.

By now, your top barely covered the flesh of your thighs, a few commenters saying things about "wanting to take a bite" before Heeseung cleared his throat, hoping that they'd stop making things worse for him.

"Well uh, I'm not willing to strip a layer just yet, plus I could use the $100, so I'll be honest..."

The chat stalled momentarily as if everyone watching paused in eager anticipation of who and what Heeseung was going to say.

"It's been a while, I'll admit," he chuckled dryly, staring off as if envisioning it behind his sparkly eyes, "but it was around a year and a half ago... with a girl I'd rather not name, but she was a bit older than me..."

"Oh?," you accidentally said out loud, a strange feeling of happiness washing over you now that you knew he hadn't been with any girl since you two met reconnected. You're not sure why this information made you happy... or maybe you're just not ready to admit how you truly feel about him to yourself yet...

"How'd you two meet? Wait- why am I even asking that," you cringed at your own inevitable curiosity, Heeseung taking delight in how his timidness somehow rubbed back off onto you.

"Nah, it's okay... I'm sure the viewers wouldn't mind a little storytime-"

He adjusted his posture in the chair, eyes scanning a few new comments before he spoke, "I met her during my bad boy stage, I guess you could say... we bonded over the fact that we were both born in October until we eventually started smoking together at a friends house of mine every now and then... she and I were both going through some divorce drama with our parents and uh... we thought fucking would be a good emotional outlet? I don't know, maybe it was more of a distraction, I guess..."

Heeseung didn't expect himself to ramble the way he did, but he wanted you to know the main details, even though he left out a few parts for another time and conversation.

Chelbear03: what would it take for me to be that girl ? just for one night 😔

maindancertypeshit: pretty sure Hee just confirmed he's into older girls, Chels ... and ones with daddy issues at that-

You nearly snorted at the sudden comment, up until you realized who the last one came from.

"Excuse me, but what the hell is a toddler doing on this stream?" Heeseung asked sarcastically, obviously referring to Niki.

pucca_princxss: LMAO, looking for his mommy ofc 🤱 (😏)

maindancertypeshit: ayo, wtf??? so dani's allowed but I'm not?? hmph >:{

maindancertypeshit has left the stream

You sighed while laughing slightly, taking a sip of the drink as water droplets now dripped unto your thighs, Heeseung's eyes doing a terrible job of not staring.

"I say we do one more round before ending the stream," you offered, looking at the time as you knew you'd wanna spend more private time with Heeseung before having to run back home.

yxstar3ject: BOOOOOOOO :(

Chelbear03: im too pressed abt riki rn to give a damn bro did NAWT have to dish me the truth like that 😭😭

mrloverl0ver: ok ok, let's make this last question worth it then hmmm ...

Sunghoon typed in thought, just as the bulb in Heeseungs side lamp suddenly shattered, the loss of light coupled with it's piercing sound making you jolt in your seat, half of your canned cocktail spilling on your shirt and chest.

"Shit," Heeseung swore under his breath, happy that none of your drink or any glass from the lightbulb got on his streaming equipment.

That's when he noticed you shivering a bit, the cold liquid contrastingly with the warmth of your body.

"C-can you grab me a towel please?," you asked softly, Heeseung taking the can from your grasp and leaving the room with haste to grab a damp and dry cloth for you.

"Here," he offered when he came back, hooking his hands at the hem of your top and pulling it over your head in one swift movement, making you gasp out loud.

You were now half-naked in front of your best friend, not to mention the tons of people watching from their digital screens.

"Heeseung, what're you-"

He was now taking off his own shirt, holding it in one hand while he wiped your chest down with the cloths he held in the other.

There was something about the way his eyes looked while wiping down your boobs, coming off as romantic despite the awkward nature of the situation.

"Put this on," he whispered so quietly you almost missed it, snaking your head through the head hole of his T-shirt while he flicked the ceiling light on, your mind running in a hundred different directions in this moment.

You're not sure if it had something to do with the alcohol, but your skin still tingled in the spots where his fingertips grazed your flesh... just like old times...

You don't think you ever put on a T-shirt faster in your life, wanting to cover up as fast as you could despite how everyone had already gotten a free show from the both of you.

laylaspapi: B👀BS ?!?!? caught in 4k? just like that !?!??!????

mrloverl0ver: guess that means the games over now since y'all started stripping regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pucca_princxss: I think Heeseung's house might b haunted :'0

Chelbear03: HEESEUNGS FUCKING ABS RN- IS HE TRYING TO KILL ME !??!?

yxstar3ject: 👁👄👁

The chat was going crazy at this point, their flood of comments honestly being the last thing on your mind as you sat bottomless in Heeseung's gaming chair, wearing his T-shirt as he searched for another shirt somewhere behind you.

A billion emotions were coursing through your veins, still trying to grasp how you went from sneaking out your bedroom window, stripping in front of an audience, and getting flustered from the mere presence of Heeseung now.

"Alright guys, this was fun but we're gonna call it a night for now," Heeseung said as he came back into frame, not even bothering to sit back down as his right hand found the mouse, moving it towards the end stream button.

"Yeah, I think my streaming career might end here," you added jokingly, making Heeseung chuckle a bit at your words, his bright smile doing nothing but make your stomach flutter all over again.

What was going on with you?

"Who knows? Maybe we can work on starting an OnlyFans together ..."

"Heeseung-"

"I'm kidding," he laughed again, looking at your face from the screen, not even aware of how he bit his lip before speaking, "you look pretty on camera though, for what its worth."

The all-too familiar tune of the livestream ending rang in your ears, the screen displaying stats of the broadcast engagement, which surpassed any and every stream you've ever filmed before.

"Wow," Heeseung marveled, just as he shut his computer off.

"I know," you added, stretching your back while sitting, "we don't even reach stats like that in a week..."

"I wasn't talking about the ratings, ____," he returned, the room seeming much more quiet now that the computer was off, even though it's been this way the whole time.

"Enough about that, though," he started again, taking your hands in his to pull you out of the chair, "I haven't been a very good host to you this evening... making you work first thing before properly treating you... allow me to make up my lacking..."

"I mean... you gave me a nice seat and something to drink... you even lended me one of your shirts after I made a big mess of myself," you replied while giggling, feeling silly as he held both of your hands while speaking formally all of a sudden.

"Yes, yes, but I'm serious," he continued, now guiding you down to the rug lying in the middle of his bedroom floor, "you still like candy, right?"

ALMOST ANOTHER HOUR had passed and it was somewhere around midnight give or take, you and Heeseung hardly feeling tired as you sat on the mat together, alternating between eating orange slices and gummy bears.

You were propped up on your elbows, a glow still present on his face from the laughter you've shared together so far, even though there was something less innocent you wanted to get off your chest.

You were feeling completely reckless already, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt for you to push things a little further.

Besides, it’s not everyday that a girl like you gets an opportunity like this just placed in her lap.

It's just like Heeseung said, you'd be a fool to give up this bond you two share and not explore it further...

Plus, you weren't sure how much longer you could hide behind the good girl act.

Giselle was right: Heeseung had sex written in full length parables all up and down his six-foot-something body, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.... if you said it didn't reel you in, like a burning desire to explore what's corrupted.

To be ruined.

"Heeseung," you started, making him look down at you as he sat with his legs crossed, hair messy from the amount of times he ran a hand through it, "can I ask you something?... It's... kinda personal..."

He popped another strawberry flavored gummy bear into his mouth, "As long as it isn't about your period, I should be good to help you then," he chuckled slightly.

"And what makes you think that I need help with something?"

"Hmm… maybe just that way that your nails keep picking with my wrist watch right now," he answered quietly, drawing your attention to your fingers which tend to get busy whenever you were nervous.

"Oh- I... I didn't even realize...," you laughed at yourself, shying your hands away before sitting up and hiding them in your lap.

"Well go on," he urged, looking back at you with warmth in his eyes, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, "What'd you wanna ask me?"

You let out a breath, clenching your thighs a bit as your sight fell between his legs.

Fuck, did he just laugh? God, he definitely noticed your peeking... you fucking perver-

"I don't really know how to word this but..." you chewed on your lip in thought, "Sometimes... when it's just you and me alone like this... even when we're just video chatting... I feel," you looked up at the ceiling as if it'd help you divulge, "I don't really know what to call it."

He blinked at your words, adjusting his sitting position on the ground, "Are there certain things I do or say that make you feel... whatever it is that you can't explain?" He asked, tilting his head at you, just as his hand inched closer to you on the rug, but not quite touching your skin yet.

"Its a few things, actually-"

"Like what?" His hand was now on your thigh, eyes glued on your shaky figure even though you avoided eye contact, lost in the veins that trailed the pretty skin of his arm.

"When you touch me," you whispered so quietly, the only reason he heard you was because he read your lips, thinking in his own mind what it'd be like to taste them, "like that."

"Speak up for me, I can hardly hear you," he urged, almost as if cooing at you.

"I can't," you said shakily, chest expanding slightly with each heavy breath you took in and let out.

Your idea of being bold was starting to backfire... if only you could stop being so awkward about this for one second-

"It's just me, ____," he whispered with a slight chuckle this time, your hands finding the fluffy rug beneath you as your skin still stung from where he'd last touched you, "be as honest with me as you need."

"Maybe it's best we just pretend I never said anything," your voice trailed off, regretting having looked into his dark eyes that stared back at yours because you felt as though your shield had faltered, his energy coaxing your mind to wander.

"Would you mind if I took a guess?," Heeseung offered with an expression you couldn't read, but you nodded anyway, just as his hand traveled further up your thigh, your breath hitching in your chest as you felt his finger tips meet your core.

"You feel something in here, don't you?," he whispered again, "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Like hunger pains, you answered in your head, finding his shoulder as half of you thought to push him away while the other half just needed to touch him.

You nodded shyly in response, thankful that he didn't move any further so you could catch your breath, already too effected by his actions.

"I feel it sometimes, too. The aching... but I'm sure you're old enough to know there's only one way to get rid of it."

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was implying, feeling tempted to give in to whatever this urge was.

He was right though. It did ache, and so badly, your own core tearing up with a need you never intended to entertain.

That's when his touch creeped closer to your core, your thighs closing around his hand as you struggled to think clearly.

You almost couldn't in a state like this.

It baffled you how the energy was starting to change, but it was only a matter of time that you'd be able to sit bottom less in front of Heeseung looking the way he does before something sexual would happen.

"Are you willing to let me help you?" He asked, gripping your flesh between his hands as a shy sound fell from your lips.

You were having second thoughts.

"As much as I'd like to, Hee, it just doesn't seem right anymore..."

Even though this was all your idea to begin with-

"But doesn't it feel right?" he pressed, feeling his hands gently pry your thighs back open, but its not like you were putting up much of a fight either, "Besides, you wouldn't have told me if you didn't want me to do something about it..."

In this moment, you couldn't care less about maintaining that fleeting sense of virtue all the elders in your life harped on growing up.

You were simply young, horny, lovesick, and in need of a release.

Before you knew it, your legs were parted for him, your back against the rug as his head got comfortable at your heat, fingers barely grazing over your now bare cunt before he started leaving plush kisses against your sweet spot.

The ache was definitely still there, but having him this close to you made it feel better.

Almost too good, honestly…

“Heeseung-” you cried out, clamming your thighs around his head as you felt his thick and warm tongue enter you.

Hooking his hands at your knees, it helped to open you back up for him, feeling your stomach tighten as he continued to lick you down.

“I’m still here, baby…” he cooed, looking back up at you, just as your phone started to ding, "relax for me, alright?"

It was a few random messages here and there, you being too pleasure-drunk to give a damn as he continued lapping at your slick, alternating between one and two fingers as he teased your hole, only making you want more.

“Fuck…s- someone’s calling me,” you whined, propping up on your elbows with tired eyes as you reached for your phone, seeing none other than Giselle's contact number as Heeseung left your core, getting on his knees and unbuckling his belt.

"What're you-"

Your words were cut off as he leaned closer into you, his bulge resting in between your folds as he looked into your eyes and said, "Answer it."

He was already rocking against your pussy as you struggled to stay focused, his boxers being covered in your slick just from how wet you'd gotten, even though you nodded no.

“You want me to help you, don’t you?” He continued, completely aware of your stalling and hesitance as the phone continued to ring, your breathing only getting heavier as he kept grinding against you.

You bit your lip, clenching around nothing as his fingers cascaded over your sensitive spot. Heeseung practically drooled at the sight, your tight little cunt all slick and messy for him.

"Hello?" Giselle asked over the phone, "where the hell are you right now?"

Fuck.

You watched nervously as Heeseung pulled his boxers past his hips, his thickness springing up now that it was finally free to breathe.

"What're you talking about, I was just in my room," you lied terribly, watching Heeseung with pleading eyes as he lined himself up with your entrance, bracing a hand on you lower abdomen while glaring back at you, a glint of playfulness in his doe eyes.

Oh, the way you wanted to smack him across his pretty face right now-

"I wasn't born yesterday, ____. I checked your room an hour ago and you're still not here. Tell me where you are," she continued, voice cracking a bit as you winced through a bitten lip, thanks to Heeseung somehow having slid his thickness inside you.

Well, most of the way, at least...

"____?"

"Y-yes, I'm listening, just- don't worry about me, I'll be back in a bit-"

"That still doesn't answer my question, ____..."

Thud.

You accidentally dropped your phone beside your head once Heeseung pushed all the way in now, leaving a few kisses along your neck to help you calm down.

His hips were still, but for some reason, your breathing remained shaky beneath him, your step-sister still awaiting your reply on the other side of the phone.

"Call you later," you said in a squeaky voice, reaching over to hang up the phone as Heeseung started to move again, your legs trembling a bit as the nerves in your mind traveled through your whole body.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked sarcastically, hand following a trail from your waist, over your boob, then to your neck, goosebumps sprouting on your skin as you suddenly felt cold, your body internally shivering.

"Hee," you said with a whimper, feeling his grip loosen around your neck before he started thrusting into your walls, your slick providing just enough lubrication for him to slide in and out easily.

You couldn't even think in your mind at this point, his actions already becoming more than you could handle given how new everything was.

How nice he felt.

"C'mon, don't get quiet on me now, baby, I just started," he teased, slamming his pelvis against yours to hopefully reel a moan out of you, which obviously worked, your hand flying up to grip the fluffy rug over your head as it became harder to hide your sounds.

He hissed at the feeling of you clenching around him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked into your eyes.

"So either you like it when I'm rough with you or when I call you baby..." he started in a low voice, "which is it?"

"M-maybe both... now can you stop trying to turn me on with your words for one fucking second?," you asked with labored breaths, feeling your orgasm creep up on you a lot sooner than anticipated.

Sure, this was your first time, but you were glad he didn't treat you like a baby during the whole thing.

There was just something about the way his voice sounded in this moment, the way he was rutting into you like a horny teenager that took you over the edge.

And he was being such a tease, trying to make you talk knowing that your sentences would be broken and whiney thanks to how rough he was going.

He wanted to hear you falling apart underneath him.

He let out the most attractive chuckle you'd ever heard at your words, "But I can tell it's working," he smirked, bracing himself against the floor so you could wrap your legs around him better, "now quit your complaining and keep taking me like a good girl, alright?"

You're sure your clit started doing backflips at the pet-name, coupled with the pretty sounds he was very intentionally humming beneath your ear.

He found your wrists on the rug, sliding up to your hands and interlacing his fingers with yours,

“Stop trying to act tough, I can tell this is all new to you…. don’t even know what to do with your hands, huh?” his said, watching as your eyes get lost in the view of his shaggy hair.

He snickered, “you can touch it if you want…”

Fuck, you thought to yourself. You don’t know why you felt the need to put on some act for him… maybe it was because you assumed a competition between yourself and other girls he’s been with, even though in reality, you’d been the only girl on his mind for a while now.

“I…,” you started with a stutter, “I can’t.”

Your fingers were still interlaced with his, but your inability to touch him had less to do with the fact that he had you pinned down, and more so to do with your nerves.

As badly as he wanted to keep toying with your head in this moment, he could you were getting closer from how your breath kept hitching, so he didn’t have much time to play.

Releasing his grip from your hands, he brought a thumb to your chin, tapping at it for you to open your mouth, “I’m gonna speed up now then, okay?”

He choked out, his own head becoming a little fuzzy as you parted your lips obediently for him, the sight of your tongue laving at his fingers being enough to make him feel like cumming.

He knew you had to get home quick now, but he still wanted to give you the best orgasm of your life.

Once he collected enough of your spit on his fingers, he slid his hand down, circling your swollen bud while looking into your eyes, your hands automatically flying to his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Fuck, Heeseung~,” you cursed with furrowed brows, whimpers that almost sounded like high pitched hiccups falling from your lips as you felt your hips chase his.

There was so much energy coursing through both of your bodies that it could charge your dying phone on the floor right now.

“It’s okay baby, you’re almost- shit, you’re almost there,” he grunted weakly as he continued fucking into your walls with his fingers at your clit, his own eyes closing at how good your tightness felt around him.

You never heard yourself sound like this before, getting all whiny just as he whispered the words “Come for me” against your neck, sealing the space with a kiss and retreating his hand from your core, holding you in place as your orgasm hit like a flood.

You were squirming so much, walls pulsating like a drum as he kissed you down, your hands finally being brave enough to grip at his hair while he rode out your high.

You could tell that he didn’t finish inside you, but he was nice enough to slow down and not fuck you completely stupid.

“I can’t even believe we just did that,” you mumbled mindlessly, eyes staring back at him as he started to gently caressed your cheek.

“Wasn’t too bad for a quickie though, right?,” he asked jokingly while still inside you, not quite yet ready to pull out of your comforting warmth.

To say goodbye to the you he brought out in this sex-filled space.

“No… it wasn’t bad at all,” you smiled back, words sounding somewhere in between a shocking realization and sincere compliment.

“Then I guess that means we can look forward to doing this more often-”

“Heeseung-”

“Kidding,” he whispered softly, meeting your lips in one last kiss before leaning back up to adjust his pants, “now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for home before your mom has me crucified.”

“Okay,” you said while laughing slightly until he pulled out of you, your legs trembling a bit from the missing fullness.

From the feeling in his chest, Heeseung came to fully accept that he was 110% in love with you, not giving a flying fuck about the naysayers who’d disapprove of your now-even-more-complicated friendship.

You on the other hand, came to realize that Heeseung was worth much more than being judged by a bunch of hypocrites, and that you now had the courage to make a lot of your own decisions now, even if they’re solely for the sake of pleasure.

”Still,” you continued, watching as he stood up from the ground to grab a pack of wipes from his desk, “I just remembered that I locked my bedroom window when I left.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He asked while parting your legs, wiping your sweaty thighs down with your panties hunched up in his other hand.

You admired the view of him cleaning you up with adoration flooding your heart, your limbs letting themselves relax as feathery words fell from your lips, “It means I might have to spend the night at your place for a little longer…”

Fin…

♱ Thank you beyond words to everyone reading this right now! I teased the release of this fic a while ago but ended up changing almost everything that I’d originally written because it was kinda shitty 🥴 but hopefully you all enjoyed this fic anyway! Also, masterlist is here !!

♱ tag list: @fakeuwus @adeoluhh @zerasari @anonant @yaatrickyaaa @depressedandobsessed666 @woninluv @moonshoon @imjakes-wifeofc1 @heesbee @kaykay11sworld @wannieepisod @ilikekpop-c @heesoo11 @idkdykilr @seungjiseyo @nctislifue @ro-diaries @heesushiii @jakehooni @babygirlmarshmellow @jaysdze @princeseung @flowerbe0m @skzenhalove @rayofsunshineeee @wonsbaer @namdeyuoi @tasnim10 @cheruluv @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @yourmomscuntis2tighy @ashgonedash

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #enhypen hard hours #heeseung fic #heeseung ff #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fanfic #enhypen ff #lee heeseung #heeseung hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #heeseung smut

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forteafy · 8 months

Text

You Think, You Know | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Some bridges are due to burn, whilst others are destined to mend. Charles wants to lead you into a traditional happily-ever-after, whilst Carlos is still adamant that he can always treat you better. Part 3 of ‘A House, A Home.’

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: angst, shouting, a lot of swearing, mentions of cheating and divorce. SMUT. Non-protected sex, oral (M&F receiving,) squirting, degradation, aftercare always.

Note: Thank you all so, SO much for being so patient with me. I really wanted this to be something special and I hope you all enjoy it. Please don't get mad at me because this one is emotional. A massive thank you to my biggest cheerleaders, @oconso, @formulaforza, @a-distantdreamer & @silverstonesainz - I love you all so much.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

You loved your sleep.

There was never too much that could wake you from your slumber. Currently, with the combined sensations of crisp sheets tucked across your frame, soft sunlight drawing through the transparent curtains of the bedroom and snug, strapping arms encircling your waist, it would have to be some form of miracle to awaken you.

The form of this came in the body pressed tightly into your back; smoothly, a pair of lips are drawn to your cheekbone, satin kisses being dropped against your skin. Was it possible to awaken to such a soothing interaction? Your face is drawn to the feeling, turning in his interlocked arms, the side of your face nuzzling into the cushion as your eyes meet the deep, dark pools of his.

“Good morning.” Carlos whispers, joyful at your rise from shuteye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there himself, simply basking in the pleasure of holding the girl of his dreams against his firm body. The man was constantly on a lifeline; each time you interacted with him, he’s certain it would be his last, that one day, you’ll be violently ripped from his arms and his heart.

Suspended in thought, the Spainard is drawn back to reality with the glowing touch of your palm on his skin. Immediately, one of his arms draws away from your waist, resting his own larger hand atop of yours. You look alluring like this; sleep still decorates your eyes, hair tangled from the deep sleep, yet perfect in every sense of the word.

“Morning.” You respond, allowing yourself to set your gaze upon his face for a little longer. It’s a sin, settling in your stomach at how that same face had lifted from between your leg’s mere hours ago, the remanence of your arousal ever-present atop his stubble. You were certain he had a mouth crafted by the angels, the way his lips had toyed with your most sensitive parts and the way they currently pulled into an enticing smile in the present.

Two bodies, two souls were entwined in that bed; you weren’t too sure how long you lay there alongside him, reveling in one another’s morning appearances. All you know in that moment is Carlos is overtaking your mind, sprinting through every vein in your body. Every unanswered question from the previous night rendered numb as the man leant forward in your touch, his lips gaining space on your own.

There’s a sudden, sharp buzz from the other room, causing you both to retract from one another, bodies deep in the king-size mattress. A chuckle leaves his own mouth, running a heavy hand across his face, heart still pounding from the sudden jump of sound in the silent apartment. Something in your heart told you that buzz was for you. Whining from the sudden loss of warmth, you remove yourself from the bundle of blankets and body heat, bare feet padding into his living room, aware of your mobile phone, resting atop of the counter.

The device gave a heavy buzz once more before you had the realization to pick it up, the battery barely there. You absent-mindedly call out to the man in the bedroom, asking if he had a phone charger you could borrow for a little while. There's clutter from the other room, clearly trying to find a space for your own phone. Whilst that incurred, your eyes flickered across the darkening screen, skin turning cold upon reading the text notifications.

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

02:53: Charles Leclerc

I’m so sorry she was there – I had no idea. She’s gone now, can I come and collect you? Where are you?

03:25: Charles Leclerc

Please let me know you’re safe as soon as you can. Can I come and see you in the morning, please?

08:47: Charles Leclerc

Good morning, my love. How are you feeling today?

Guilt washed through your stomach, not for the interaction you had shared with Carlos; Charles had done substantially worse to you for the past twelve months. No, you knew what it felt like to have no response from somebody you cared for, terrified for their well-being. Even when Charles hadn’t cared for you, you had still nursed him, waiting up for his return in the early hours of the morning.

With the remainder of your phone battery, fingers fly over the keyboard. Did you want your husband to come and collect you, specifically from his teammates home? He was aware of your building friendship with the Spainard, even if it wasn’t entirely platonic. There wasn’t a huge choice; you especially didn’t want to demand or pry a lift off Carlos, especially after he had come to collect you so late the previous night.

08:58: You

Good morning, I’m at Carlos’ place. I’d really appreciate a lift back to the house, if that’s okay.

The message barely had time to send before it’s marked as ‘read’. Immediately, the blue speech bubble pops to the lower corner of your phone, signaling a response was being formed.

09:00: Charles Leclerc

You don’t need to even ask. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes was not enough time to conceal everything which had happened in the previous hours. Feet now cold, legs now littered in goosebumps, you’d scrambled back into his bedroom, the man now on his own feet, those damn gray jogging bottoms hanging on his hips, a visible outline ever-present. It took your entire soul to remain strong, knowing how tempting this man could become in a matter of moments.

“Charles is on the way.” You state, suspecting that it would cease all his movements, and allow yourself to get ready for your husband’s arrival. Instead, he’d stepped closer to your frame, leaning his toned torso towards you, locking you in his muscled arms, hiding his face in the skin he’d licked and bitten across the previous night. His mumbles are incoherent, littering across your neck in broken Spanish. He’s saying something. Something you can’t understand but is undeniably a plea for you to stay in his arms.

Carlos stays pretty much attached to you the entire time you’re preparing for your departure; his body is pressed against yours, littering kisses to the crown of your head whilst you brush your teeth. His scent is so dominating on the hoodie he insists you borrow, slipping that atop of your frame whilst pulling on the bottoms you had wiggled out of the previous evening. The man’s heart explodes upon seeing you bundled into his clothing, a possessive streak striking through his body and soul.

When your bag is packed, face washed and phone charging, now on the counter of his kitchen, you spend the last few minutes waiting for your husband’s adamant arrival by bundling into Carlos’ side on his plush sofa. It feels entirely natural by this point; his arms encircle your waist, letting you lie against his sternum, soothing yourself to his naturally steady heartbeat. A snippet of your heart desires to take this sole moment and capture it for a lifetime. Safe. Warm. Happy.

The moment is wafted away from you both with the sudden rapping of knuckles on the front door. Whining, your eyes trail on the Spaniard, focused as he presses a final, fleeting kiss to your temple, pulls himself up from the couch and paces towards the hallway. Your own ears strain to hear the latch lift of the front door, Charles praises for looking after you the previous evening falling over his lips, two pairs of footsteps drawing into the front room.

Your husband, despite his usual god-like appearance, looked terrible. His hair pushed to the front, clearly in need of a wash and brush. His skin was rubbed raw, face bloodshot; clearly, he hadn’t got a single moment of sleep the previous night, still dressed in the clothes he’d traveled home in the previous night. Despite the heavy lids of his eyes, they still light up when falling onto you.

“Good morning.” He gives you a smile, only you. You can feel Carlos’ disappointment, even if you can’t see his eyesight at that moment. A pocket-sized smile from your own lips is offered in return, pulling yourself up in that moment, reaching for your bag which remained on the floor, slipping into your soft sneakers.

“Are you ready?” You’d asked softly. Charles’ mouth opened, hesitating before he spoke. He was thinking clearly.

“I just need to speak to Carlos quickly. Something…private.” He tries to explain his standings, tries to make you feel less awkward as he reaches for the car keys resting in his hoodie pocket. “Are you okay to wait in the car?” He asks softly. He feels in no power to demand your movements, yet he requires one private word with his teammate.

Your eyes don’t bother to meet Charles, instead immediately flying to meet the dark ones of your unofficial lover. What on god’s earth was your husband about to ask, and why did he want to do it out of your earshot? The look that you give the man says a thousand words, asking if he needs you to stay, hold your ground against Charles. The warm eyes of him give everything you need, silently promising he could handle this man. An entire conversation through looks alone, a skill the two of you had developed so naturally.

Silently, you take the keys from Charles’ outstretched hand, skin flinching when being pressed against the cool metal. You don’t so much as glance in his direction when you’re walking to the counter, picking up your phone and stuffing it into the pouch of your borrowed hoodie. When turning on your heel, you pace back to Carlos, pressing a surprising kiss to his right cheek, murmuring a ‘Thank You,’ just for his hospitality, of course. You had done all the thanking for the number of orgasms you were granted the previous night.

The walk towards your husband’s car, the SUV rather than his identifiable Pista, your mind clouded, clotted with an array of questions. Why did Charles need to speak to Carlos alone? Was he aware of the relationship the two had been sharing for an undefinable amount of time? Who on earth was the blonde woman giving you a death stare as she walked up the pathway to the complex, red lips practically hissing at your appearance, storming past you within half a second?

When you turn back to take in her appearance from behind, a sense of sickness settles into your stomach. You’d seen the back of that blonde head before; not in person, but rather on a phone screen. Your phone screen, held between white knuckles as you’d watched the man you had begun to fall for wrap his arms around another woman's lips meshed in a private nightclub, unaware of the multiple cameras capturing their searing moment.

That was the same woman, identical in her mannerisms. You felt your tummy curdle into pain, into your vague realization that the only reason Carlos had offered you a place in his home, and subsequently his bed that evening, was because he was trying to fill a void until she returned to the scene. Your stomach wanted nothing more than to empty its remaining content in sheer shock. Instead, you breathe deeply, unlocking the door to the car, climbing into the passenger seat and closing your eyes, relaxing into the plush leather of the upholstery.

You’re not sure how long your husband takes, eyes growing heavy as you await his return. It’s only realized when the driver’s door clicks open, rolling in your seat to watch as Charles climbs into his own, a frown resting at the bottom of his face. However, it’s immediately vanquished when his eyes latch onto your own, grinning at your presence, so close to him. A warm hand reaches out, brushing over the back of your head, sheerly enjoying the comfort you radiated. He'd been lost without you for the past twelve hours.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, though you’re determined to get through the car ride alert, even if the soft scent of his cologne and the gentle lulling tunes from the morning radio are drawing you back to your previous state. Instead, you think of that woman. No, not the mistress you had grown numb to; the blonde woman, the one pressed against Carlos’ chest and lips mere hours after you had been. The glint in your husband’s eye is telling as you go through your endless thoughts, he knows something.

“The blonde lady going into Carlos’ apartment.” Your voice is completely out of pocket, echoing through the front of the SUV. “Who was she?” There’s no beating around with the question you had asked; there’s no trying to sugar coat what you needed to know. Charles knows it, too. He knows he can’t hide the truth from you, you’re too smart for lies and manipulation, a year married with a mistress had taught him that.

Instead, he emits a deep sigh from his lips, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road. “Natasha.” The name falls from his lips, he can’t meet your gaze, not when speaking about another woman to his wife. “She used to work for Ferrari’s PR but left just under a year ago. Carlos and her used to-“

“Date?” You’d cut him off without realizing, eyes widening when he’d shaken his head.

“No, not date.” He responds. “They just had…a thing. Something.” He finished his train of thought, still not mentally ready to turn to you. In a comforting way, you were glad he hadn’t; Charles was unable to see the tears pooling at your lower lash line, the desire to rip off the hoodie now suffocating your body. You learnt in your heart that moment, you were apparently nothing special to Carlos. No, he had a thing. Something, with any woman who passed his way was as a wandering fancy.

The tears decorating your eyes and desire to relax into the leather seat eventually overpowers your emotionally drained body, pulling you back into a slumber.

You loved the sound of music.

A faint tune, one you were certain you’d never heard before lured through your ears, drawing you back to consciousness. You couldn’t remember getting home, let alone getting out of the car and tucking yourself into the comfort of your own bed. Groaning, you’d sat yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching the twinge in your back simultaneously.

The music wasn’t coming from your room; the sound was beautiful, you just needed to locate its source. Your feet twinge when they touch the floor, cool floorboards easing the temperature of your socks. Opening the ajar door to your bedroom, the music grows louder, sound clearly emitting from downstairs, your feet carry you to the staircase with no hesitation. However, when reaching the top of the staircase, eyebrows crease together in confusion, taking in your once-ragged appearance in the crystal mirror.

Your hair had been braided, albeit not elegantly, but at least out of your face, something you did almost religiously before sleeping. Your attire had changed, too, once you were dressed in Carlos’ sage hoodie. Now, your body was engulfed by Charles’ charcoal jumper, sleeves too long but an entire comfort for your drained mind. Is this what it felt like, to be nurtured and cared for by your husband? The pit of your stomach felt airy; this had been everything you desired for so long. And yet, now you had experienced somebody else, despite the heartbreak, your mind was utterly torn.

Music grows louder, your mind is suddenly focused back on its original target. With no hesitation now, you began to walk down the flight of stairs, noting your bag and phone resting by the front door. Even with as many notifications as you’d missed in your time asleep, priorities overtook, making your way towards the lounge, eyes transfixed on the figure by the French windows.

Charles Leclerc sat, comfortably and quietly, gentle fingers dancing over the keys of his piano. The soft lights of the room illuminated the figure, a tune you had never heard was fluttering around the open space.

Of course, you had heard him play the instrument multiple times; during his time spent at the house rather than on the track, he remained transfixed, creating new songs, finding some way to pour every emotion into some kind of melody. You’d lost track of the times you’d come downstairs to get a drink, put the washing into the machine and had instead pushed your body into the doorframe, eyes fixed upon your husband as he created the most beautiful sounds.

The last time you’d done that, his mistress had been present, leaving over the piano as Charles played her an elegant tune. When she had gone to lean over him, her own fingers wanting to press down against the keys, he’d rested a firm hand on her arm, insisting that she sit on the sofa and listen, instead. The sweet moments of silently viewing your husband had turned sour; you’d silently vowed that day you would never enter the room when he was playing again.

You’d broken that promise mere seconds ago, eyes transfixed upon your husband. You can feel the tension beneath his fingers, as if he’s trying to take the sheer thoughts of everything that had been embedded into his mind in the past twenty-four hours and mesh them into some kind of audible release. Underneath the layers of music, your footsteps can’t be heard as you hesitantly walk towards the end of the living space. His tune reaches a climax, but before the piano can take any more notes, you cough lightly, Charles’ hands ceasing in mid-air. Arching his body weight, he sees your frame standing next to his piano, eyes still sleepy from awakening mere moments ago. The breath catches in the back of his throat; did you always look so perfect in his soft jumpers?

“I’m sorry.” He eventually offers, taking in your sweet, soft appearance. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no.” The reply tumbles from your lips before you even realize. “It was…beautiful, actually. Is it a new piece?” You ask, entranced by the music which had been flowing freely.

“I’m not sure yet.” He can’t help but smile at the end of his sentence. “I just sort of started playing and this is what came of it.” The explanation is valid; like many creatives, sometimes a free flow form was the simplest way to go. His next movement is almost a shock to your system. “Why don’t you come and help me?” The offer is completed when he shuffles up on the piano stool, patting on hand on the available gap. There’s hesitation in your movement, before his hand trails upwards, leaning to clasp one of your own, guiding you towards the stool.

There’s an overpowering smell of his cologne, a scent you were slowly drawing yourself towards. The body heat from his frame radiates into your own. Shyly, you reach out, pressing down on one of the piano keys, a tone spouting from the instrument. Charles can’t help but smile upon your interaction, eyes questioning as you analyze the instrument.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks gingerly, watching as you shake your head in response. His actions exchange, resting one of his warm palms over your own. The next moments are filled with your husband guiding your hands over the piano, teaching you the tune to old nursery rhymes. When you reach the end of the piece, he cheers in delight at the achievement.

“Play me something now.” You ask carefully, head becoming heavy, heavy enough to rest on your husband’s shoulder. When you feel his body tense, you immediately sit back up, convinced you’ve overstepped a line. That thought is soon relinquished when Charles’ hand flies out, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you back down to his shoulder, your breath hot on his neck, it’s enough for him, hesitant to overstep the boundaries you were adamant upon currently.

His fingers move back, continuing the song he had been conducting earlier. The piece had started out slowly, almost sad-like, before building, building towards a romantic counterpart. In his mind, it was the perfect song to punctuate the relationship he maintained with his wife. They both sat there, barely any moment as the music was the only sound present in their house.

When the song finishes, neither of you move, relishing in the soft touch you’re both sharing. Charles’ own head falls atop of your own, letting his cheek rest against your hair. There’s no form of time between you both, simply enjoying being alive, alive with one another. It’s interrupted when you feel Charles’ take an exaggerated breath, removing his keys from the piano. One of his hands rests upon his side, the other slides between the minute gap between you both, wrapping a toned arm around your waist. The movement causes you to lift yourself from his firm shoulder, catching those beautiful eyes from your glance.

“I’m traveling to Monaco tomorrow.” He says it so casually, as if it’s as normal as entering or leaving the building. You can feel his heart race in anticipation of what he was due to say, his body temperature raising dramatically, radiating through his hoodie. You offer him a warming smile. You really didn’t want him to leave, not when you were growing so unnaturally fond of his presence.

“Oh really, what for?” Is the eventual reply. In this moment, you simply can’t hold his eye contact, he’s staring into your soul, it’s as if he can sense every thought which is currently trekking through your mind; does he know how much of a hold he has on you, even if your marriage was entirely staged, at least in his eyes.

“I’m off to see my mother” He clarifies. “It’s been a while and I just want to check in.” It’s a lie. You can tell from the way his body language changes; his hands are suddenly clenching tighter, his grip on your waist firm as if he’s terrified, you’ll run away. He can’t admit it, he’s not strong enough. If you step away, he will fall back to the way he was the previous night; eyes bloodshot, unable to sleep unless he knows you’re safe.

“Give her my best.” The response is blunt, short. You’re on entirely different wavelengths, different planets. He never told you of his reasoning for things; a golden rule you had learnt at the beginning of this era. Just…you’d never question him; you would simply co-exist. What he says next makes your blood run cold.

“Why don’t you come with me? I’d really appreciate it.” Why on earth would your estranged husband want you to come on his travels, presumably when the entire point was to spend the entirety of it wrapped in the arms of another woman. Yet, a feeling in your stomach settled. Did you actually want to spend hours in this empty house alone? Now that Carlos was no longer a welcome distraction, anything would be better than wallowing in your silence.

“I will.” You eventually respond. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” His eyes are wide, so willing. He’d scooted tighter towards you, as if he could hold together this entire conversation, stopping the whole world from crumbling around you. You must be the one to take a deep breath this time. You had to remain firm with your choices, with what you needed to know.

“What was in the white envelope that your mistress gave you yesterday?”

You loved the glow of candlelight.

Having never entered Charles’ study, his fingers interlocked with your own as he guided you through the heavy door, you didn’t realize how many candles he had resting around his office. They laid upon his windowsill, on his desk, he even had a mulberry-scented candle resting next to his racing simulator.

There was only one candle which was lit, he had obviously forgotten to extinguish it whilst you were deep in your slumber. Despite the fact you hadn’t ever been given access to this room, you’d have to make a mental note in order to check for any fire hazards the next time you were in the building alone.

The envelope resting upon the desk stuck out like a sore thumb; his computer, stationary, it was all a cool gray tone whereas the envelope stuck out in a bright white glow.

“I need you to know before you look at this, it’s a lot worse than it comes across.” Even in the candlelight, his face had turned pale, barely able to keep his fear from dancing across his emotions. You need to remain strong. You need to see what was left in the envelope.

Staying firm, your grasp reaches out towards the desk, taking the card into your own hands. “I want to see it.” You clarified, letting your finger trace under the flap of the envelope.

You don’t let your husband’s words overpower you, distract you in any way. Instead, your hand reaches into the envelope and grasps around a stack of…something. It feels like multiple pieces of paper pressed together, though one side remains glossy, as if printed onto a special sheet. Hesitantly, your hand pulls from the envelope, eyes immediately widening upon seeing the content in question.

It's photographs. Multiple photographs of Charles and his mistress. Some of them are casual, taken from her phone, smiling selfies and dinner dates. Others are…compromising, verging on pornographic. You can feel the lump in your throat tightening, tears are forming on your lower lash line, but you must keep strong. You cannot show any weakness when you ask to see this.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Your voice betrays you, weakening as your words continue. “Your…girlfriend.” You don’t want to use the other word; it’s clear from these photographs it was more than sex, it was more than just an escapade.

“She’s- she’s not anymore.” Charles pauses, his eyes don’t focus on the photographs, only on you. His wife, who he has hurt so badly and now must see the pain littered across her face. “She hasn’t been since your mother passed away.”

Your heart stops at the mention of your mother, a sharp spike of longing for the woman suddenly danced through your chest. Then, you were angry. How dare he pity you, you didn’t want it, not from him. But…you still wanted him. He’d clouded your emotions, nothing was black-and-white with your husband, just a cacophony of colors.

“That was your reason for dumping her. Sympathy?” You don’t care how harsh your voice comes across, instead just aggravated you were growing to care about his reasoning. Life had been simpler weeks ago, when you simply stayed at home, minding your own business whilst he got on with his. By the look on Charles’ face, he wasn’t expecting the hostility, either.

“No! I dumped her because it was wrong, because I have a loving wife who I would give anything for.” The room goes silent, giving you time to process the words that had come from his lips. You had been so certain for so long that he didn’t care about you; that everything he did was for his own gain and pleasure. Yet…he had given up his mistress for you. He’d given up something that made him happy because you were not.

Stressing, you run a hand through your hair, placing the photographs back into the envelope, speaking to your husband as you place the card back onto his desk. You feel sick. These photographs exist and it was a perfect way to destroy the two of you, it was perfect ammunition to a metaphorical pistol. “So, what does she want you to do with these photographs?”

“Nothing.” Charles leans over your own body, reaching for a second stack of papers resting upon the desk, one you had considered would simply be notes from Scuderia Ferrari. Warm seeps through your body at his close contact, one hand almost trailing against your back as he grasps to the stack of crisp sheets, barely touched. “She’s threatened to publish them if I don’t sign…this.”

You took the stack of ivory papers into your palms. It was sprawled with a size twelve font, you were uncertain of where to begin until two words in bold took your attention, printed formally across the top of the page.

“Divorce Papers.” Your voice is barely a whisper, heart dropping to your stomach.

“That’s the other reason I’m going to Monaco.” He’s explaining his own status now, eyes glassy with the fear of you walking straight out of the office. He wouldn’t blame you, of course. He couldn’t blame you for anything anymore. Charles reaches out to your grasp, wiggling the paper from your fingers and placing them back against the desk. “I’m filing for a lawsuit against her, a restraining order for manipulation and stalking.”

A scoff falls from your lips; the mere contrast of the events from a few weeks ago compared to now. He truly intended to file a lawsuit against a woman who he’d happily let warm his bed whilst you went to bed each night with nothing but regret and bloodshot eyes. “Do you…do you want a divorce?” You can feel your voice cracking. “I mean, if she’s sent you these, you must have mentioned wanting one-”

“I did.” Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “I mentioned how I didn’t want a divorce because despite everything…I do care for you.” The room goes silent, not even the flickering of the candle or the soft wind from the French windows can pierce the tone of the room.

A huff escapes your lips, arms resting by your side as you formulate a response; “You had a really weird way of showing it.” Your response is blunt, it clearly warrants the sad look on your husband’s face.

“I know. That’s why I’m going to make it right. Please come to Monaco with me. She won’t be there; you don’t have to come to the lawyer with me. But…I need to be able to come back to my wife.” His hand reaches out, cradling your own in this moment. Gently, he lifts your palm to his cheek, resting it upon his stubble and letting his lips trace a kiss across the soft skin.

He truly does know how to make your heart flutter, despite everything.

“Okay.” You eventually respond, focused on his gaze when his eyes turn wide in anticipation.

“Yeah?” His heart is picking up in happiness, reaching to hold you in his own grasp, but instead falling short when you raise a finger, ceasing his movements towards your body.

“But…you need to give me tonight, alone. To process that.” Gently, you take a step forward, leaning gently towards him. You can’t leave him, not before you gently press a kiss to his cheek, turning on your heel, your figure illuminated in the corridor by the soft candlelight. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

You loved the feeling of warm water.

There is only a slender picking of moments in your life where you have felt truly relaxed; sitting by the lake in the rolling fields your family had owned for generations, lounging in the bed of the Madrid-Based apartment your friends had hired for a holiday in the early spring morning.

You had never thought one of those relaxing moments would be as your mother-in-law massaged her hands through your locks, lathering an expensive shampoo into the roots of your hair. She was gentle; no tangles fell through her fingers as her rhythm stayed perfectly relaxing, hitting all the spots which would send a flood of relief through your scalp.

You’d arrived in Monaco early that morning, immediately being transported to the luxurious hotel your husband had booked you into. Most of the trips he’d book you wouldn’t attend, and when you did would be ignored by him altogether. This time, he’d remained present, willing. Your hands had entwined the moment you had left the privacy of the jet, nestling into the back of the car, eyes heavy from the early rise.

Not much is remembered after you’d arrived outside the opulent building; bags were removed and transported to your room by the bellhop, both you and your husband were given hotel cards, an older lady at the desk explaining the functions dotted around the high-end establishment. All you could remember was the door to the room opening, your tired body making a beeline towards the emperor bed, nuzzling into the soft furnishings with sleep overtaking you in a matter of moments.

Charles hadn’t been able to help the tug on his heartstrings as he’d seen you tumble into the mattress. You’d been so thoughtful; dropping everything back at your house and accompanying him to Monaco, promising to be there for him as he promised to fix the wounds from his previous mistakes. He’d give anything to crawl into the bed alongside you, wrap his frame around your own and fall back into his own slumber, one he had despised the night before simply because he wasn’t able to hold you in his arms. He was learning to respect your wishes; after all, he had a lot of repairing to do-so. Even after recent conversations with his Ferrari counterpart, he could never bring himself to hate you.

His phone buzzes from his back pocket and upon inspection he sees the reminder, he’s due with his lawyer in less than forty-five minutes, but he doesn’t want to leave you, not alone. A thought sparks into his head, fingers flying through his contacts and dropping a message to one, asking if they could take you over to his mother’s salon later in the afternoon. By the time he’s returned from changing in the en-suite and brushing a comb through his hair, the responses from both Joris and his mother had lit up his screen, confirming his plans for later in the afternoon.

Your husband had allowed himself one more look at you, so peaceful wrapped up in the comfort of the bed. Silently, he leans over your frame, running a gentle hand across the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring his sweet words to your sleeping form.

When you’d awoken, there was a message clarifying that Joris would be taking you to his mother’s salon a little later and he would come to collect you once he was finished with his lawyer. That’s how you had ended up walking into her salon earlier that afternoon, her delighted smile present after seeing her daughter-in-law.

Pascale wasn’t stupid, that much was clear. She was aware of the strain in her middle son’s marriage, just not to the extent that he had been toying with a mistress for the better part of a year. However, she had grown to adore you; your mannerisms, laughter and the fact that you clearly held a candle for Charles, despite the dwindling flame of the marriage. If she had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like you.

“Are you and Charles up to anything this evening?” Her voice is gentle, motioning for you to stand up from the basin chair and walk towards the mirrors, resting yourself in one of the seats. Your reflection bores back into you, focused as Pascale adjusts your head slightly, brushing the tendrils of hair through her comb.

“I’m not sure.” You respond. “I know he has some business this morning.” It’s an understatement. When Joris had collected you from the hotel, he’d tried to give you what information he could – Charles had arrived at his Lawyer’s office, ready to file the case against his mistress. He wasn’t too sure how long it was going to take, though he had told Joris to be on hand for anything you needed when he couldn’t.

“You make him happy; you know?” Pascale mentions, tilting your head to angle your hair correctly. “I know he hasn’t always been…the greatest.” You’re not sure if she’s aware of everything, but her tone seems to stand where you need it to do so, “but you make…such an impact in his life.”

Not much else is said whilst the woman continues to trim your hair, adjusting your face as she does so. It was nice, not to be cooped up into a hotel room for the entirety of the day, nor to be sitting in Charles’ driver room whilst he walked around, finger entwined with his mistress. You’re so engrossed in Pascale drying your hair, setting the locks into soft rollers that you don’t realize when the door chimes open, another figure entering the quiet salon. The woman’s eyes brighten, and you hear her cooing before your own face turns, taking in the figure of your husband in the doorway.

Charles looks breath-taking. He’d clearly showered and changed since you had last seen him bundled in his travel gear that morning. Your deduction would be correct; the man had hastily returned to the hotel to jump into the shower, changing into a power blue shirt and white trousers. His hair, free of styling products curled in an unruly way, one that made his whole face structure elevate.

In his hands, he held both a soft white dress over his arm, one you had packed in your case fleetingly the evening before; it had been steamed and washed, the fabric clear and petticoats of the skirt floating gently. In his other hand, a vibrant bouquet of roses. His smile never faded, walking over to his mother and pressing a kiss to each of his mother’s cheeks. Once his attention turns towards you, his eyes only brighten.

“Hello, beautiful.” You can’t tell whether he’s playing up the affection in front of his mother, or whether it’s genuine. However, when one hand comes to rest on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s being respectful; making sure not to cross a boundary.

“Hello, handsome.” The response falls from your lips without realizing, the grin on your husband's face only rising. Fuck. Did you mean to say that? Regardless, you had done, and by the look on his face he not only didn’t expect it but had instantly grown to love it. Charles had completely forgone the flowers in his grasp, only remembering them after your eyes had darted down towards his palms.

“Oh-“ His mind finally catches up with the present situation, raising his hand to present you with the flowers. They’re colors are soft, delicate, as if etched by crayon. You can’t help but smile at the gesture, even if it was entirely a false pretense in front of his mother. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling, seeing her son present to his wife in such a sweet manner. Now, your gaze isn’t fixed against the flowers in your grasp, but the dress from your suitcase.

“Something tells me that won’t fit you, Charles.” You tease the garment laying over his forearm, only to cause a smile to appear on his lips again.

“I want to take you out for the afternoon. If that’s okay with you.” His voice is low now, hoping to avoid any prying of the conversation from his mother, though her attention was now turned to locating the hair dryer, still needing to complete your own treatment. “Would that be…okay?” He’s nervous. Fearful that after everything, you could now reject him and feel no remorse.

You’re not a cruel person, it has never been in your nature. Instead, you match his own smile, nodding as you take the garment from his grasp, Charles’ eyes widening in confirmation.

“Trust you to pick out my favorite dress, too.” You mumbled.

You loved the sound of the ocean.

You loved everything about the sea, truly. The reflections from the moonlight caused shards to reflect over Charles’ boat; the new yacht had barely had time to stretch the waters, though it seemed to float as if it had been nurtured its entire existence.

The afternoon of a late lunch had expanded into expensive, late-night wine on the boat as your husband had guided you into deeper waters. He knew what he was doing, after all; the waters of Monaco were a comfort to him, a lifetime had stretched out from jumping into the ocean as a child to yacht parties during the Grand Prix.

You’d seemed entirely at home, and it made his heart warm. Charles wasn’t a stupid man; he saw how you kept yourself small, your setup at the house barely spanning over two rooms. He’d wanted nothing more than to break the walls you had put up for oh-so-long and entwine your lives together.

Then he would reprimand himself, remind himself he was the sole reason those walls existed.

Conversation had spanned naturally into the events of the day; you thanked him for thinking of you, he’d responded with a mention of you deserving that form of treatment every single day. Your mind can’t take the anticipation; when your lips lift from the glass of wine, you can’t help but ask what his lawyer had recommended about his mistress. Your husband’s grin had fallen a little, running a hand through his dark curls.

“It’s a difficult one.” He explains. “There’s enough there for a case, considering we haven’t had contact in a while. But…” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; you do for him.

“The photographs are counted as evidence.” You finish, and he can only nod. He’s created such a mess, something he could never forgive himself for doing so. A web of lies and mistreatment surrounded you both; he so wanted to break each thread and simply cradle you, be in a bubble for the rest of eternity.

He’s expecting you to stay silent, then. Maybe that’s where the evening should have ended, with silence upon the realization that this case will not be easily solved. Instead, you place the glass of wine down on the ledge of the stairs, easing his own glass from his grasp. Charles is confused, even more so when you walk back towards him, wrapping your arms to close around his neck.

“What are you doing?” He whispers. His hands raise hesitantly, as if touching you would break you into a million pieces. His grasp only falls to your waist when you press closer towards the man, resting your gaze on his own eyes. He’s hurt you, broken you to such an extent, and yet you can’t help but draw closer to his touch, to his eyes.

“Being your wife.” You respond, before pressing your lips to his own. This is the first time, the first time in so long that you had been the one to initiate a kiss. Naturally, Charles’ hands wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you into his chest, deepening your touch, your kiss. This. This is the moment he wishes to bottle forever, to live in the comfort of his wife’s touch, no outside means, no other commitments being hung over his head.

You’re not sure how long you both stand there, wrapped in one another, hands fleeting over each other, desperate to find some touch, some form of skin. It isn’t until your fingers reach to unbutton the top of his powder-blue shirt, that his own come to rest atop of yours. He knows he’s made a mistake when he sees the look you shoot him, immediately assuming the worst.

“No, no.” He promises, both hands flying from where they had grasped yours, cradling each side of your face. It feels…warm. It feels so similar to the way Carlos had cradled your head once, when you were both on a boat, much like this. You think of those dark eyes, the whispers drawn into your ear as he had sharply thrusted into you that evening. Then, you think of the blonde appearing outside his apartment mere hours after you had been tangled in his arms.

“I want to.” Charles’ words draw you from your endless train of thoughts. “Sweetheart, I want to more than anything, but I need you to know how much it means-“

You don’t let him finish; instead, you press your mouths back together, forcefully. There are whispers from your own lips, pleading that he take you, that you want nothing more than to feel your bodies atop of one another.

And who is he to deny his wife?

You’re not sure when he scoops you up into his arms, guides you inside of the boat and to the soft bed that had been freshly made mere hours ago, but he never lets your lips leave one another for less than a moment.

He’s everywhere; he’s pressing into you in the most delicious way, he’s drawing your body of the most intense sounds, and then you’re coming, harder than you ever thought was possible, it hits you in the most delicious way.

Your fingernails pressed crescents into his skin as he continued to push into you with that perfect rhythm. Feeling your hot breath dance against the shell of his neck, the sweet whimpers of your overstimulated orgasm falling from your lips. Charles feels you clench around him, dragging you into him deeper, and it's all over.

His head immediately falls into the joint of your neck and shoulder, his pants getting heavier, thrusts rougher as he chases his own release. Teeth escape from his lips, biting down atop of the red marks he'd left earlier in a passion; the gasp you let-out, the roll of your hips against his own pushes him over the edge, a moan falling out from his own lips, hands flying to grip at your forearms pinned above him. You can feel every inch of him buried inside of you, warmth spilling into you.

Heavy hips press into yours, your thighs still pressed around his waist when he lifts his head from the warmth of your skin, pressing one final deep kiss to your lips, a profanity of words escaping from his mouth.

He kisses you again. And again. He keeps doing it whilst slowly rocking his hips, still jittering from his own orgasm. Senses come through, those eyes you had been entranced in so many times fixing to your own, drinking you in, looking so beautiful underneath his own frame.

"You still want somebody else?" The teasing is natural, almost, inflicting you to roll your eyes and playfully push his arm. God, your laugh is the most adoring sound in the world to him, it had been so long since he'd heard it, even then, it had never been due to his own actions until recently. The adorned look in his eye is soon replace with confusion when he feels you wiggle underneath him, soft blankets rubbing against your back.

"Are you going somewhere?" He questions, one hand coming up to trace against your jawline. You want to lean into his touch, it's something you'd been attracted to recently, though the mess between your legs and sweat trailing down your skin seemed to tell you something different.

"I need to clean up." You whine, pressing your body into the plush mattress. "I'm all gooey, Charles."

"I've got it." He murmurs, pressing one soft kiss to your cheek, another to your neck. You expect the weight from above to release you, but the warmth radiating from his body remains. You feel lips trace against your chest, his untamed curls tickle your stomach as he traces down a direct line.

"What are you doi-" You never get to finish you question, the fourth word cut off with a soft gasp, those lips which had pressed to yours, now pressing down against your clit, a soft praise towards your body whilst his tongue traced around the sensitive bud, drawing a slice through your wet lips, pressing deeper and deeper into your entrance.

The room is illuminated with your whines, hips bucking against his stubble as he fulfills his promise of cleaning you up.

You loved the feeling of being held.

You’d been unfathomably happy to walk into the paddock that evening, fingers interlaced with Charles’ as he guided the two of you through the fans and photographers alike, buzzing to be starting on Pole Position when his wife would be watching in awe of his achievement.

You hadn’t been there on qualifying day; you were still trying to keep your distance where you could, to prove to your husband he couldn’t instantly win you back overnight. It had only been when he’d come into the en-suite of your room the evening before, hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, pleading you came to watch him race the following night.

“I’ll win.” He promises, voice quiet as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll win it for you.”

His sweet words had not only lured you to the race track the following day but had also drawn you to sleep in his bed that evening, curled up into his toned chest as he murmured words of appreciation in French; only a few you were able to pick up and understand the meaning of as you drifted into a comfortable sleep, arms cradling your body underneath the bed sheets.

There was a collective, loving aura that evening when the two of you had stepped into his garage, the team in awe of seeing that their Prince of Monaco and his beloved Princess had been reunited, here to support one another. However, one figure remained quiet, eyes transfixed on your every movement. He felt his knuckles turn white when Charles had changed into his race suit, placing his cap atop of your own head and had lovingly pressed two kisses to either of your cheeks.

Carlos Sainz was a jealous man; he’d been infuriated when his blonde fling had appeared on his doorstep, instantly realizing the kind of man he must have been made out to be when you’d seen her appear on your departure. He’d hoped and prayed you hadn’t seen her, but from the radio silence he received over messages and calls, to the way you had purposely avoided speaking to him when arriving in the paddock, he could tell you were not that naive.

Emotions had played a heavy part on both of the Ferrari Pilots during the start of the race. One, determined to keep his promise and win whilst his wife was present. The other was so clouded with sadness and rage that all he wanted to do was push his counterpart off the track. The lights snapped off, 20 engines revving in unison as the cars blitzed down the first straight.

It doesn’t take long for emotion to overcome; Charles’ P6 soon creeps towards a P3, whilst Carlos begins to drop. A violent turn into Oscar Piastri not only takes the young rookie out of the race, but the Ferrari driver, too. Nobody misses the swears as he switches the engine off, nor the scowl on his face as he removes the steering wheel, ready to be escorted back to the garage.

When the blur of red comes through the paddock, you can’t help but feel guilty, telling yourself that if you had spoken to him, he would have been able to keep a cool head. Silently, you slip the headphones from your temple, murmuring about going to the bathroom before taking a direct beeline towards Carlos’ room, catching the door just before it’s due to slam closed.

He was seething. Pure rage flicked across his eyes; the warm smile reserved for you replaced with a harsh scowl. This may have been a mistake.

“What do you want?” His words are venom, spit towards you. He cannot stand to see you right now.

“I just-“You pause, clearing your throat. “I wanted to check if you were okay.” It’s a pathetic answer, really. One that didn’t sit right in your mouth, even after you had spoken.

“I’m alright?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You ignore my calls, go away and fuck that pathetic man and then come back to me?” He’s pissed, undoubtedly so. “You whore. I understand it all now.” He shakes his head, missing the fire which had begun to burn in your own stomach.

“You have no right!” You’d shrieked so loudly you’d startled yourself; one finger was still pointed into his infuriated face, your finger mere millimeters from the bridge of his nose. Hot air engulfed both of your bodies, the only sound present was the deep and heavy breathing flaring from your nostrils.

Without a thought, Carlos had slapped your finger away from his face, lunging forward dramatically to seize your face into his rough palms. His lips are on yours, roughly seeking the wet trace of your tongue. You can’t fight him; not when his lips feel so flawless against your own. A rough palm encases the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he holds your frame tighter against his own.

Your breath barely had a moment to catch when he forcefully pulled his lips from you, emitting a white from your breath. That innocent sound is soon replaced by a sharp gasp, his fingers tightening against your scalp, pulling on your locks.

“Don’t fucking whine.” He spits, ghosting his lips over your own, never letting them touch yours. Warm breath tickles the shell of your ear when his grip pulls tighter onto your hair, tiling your ear to meet his mouth. “I’m sick of your whining, about your horrible excuse for a husband. I will treat you how you should be treated.”

There’s no time to react as his pink tongue pokes from his lips, a stripe tracing from the corner of your ear, across the sweetest spot of your neck. You’re reveling in the wetness, the sinful way his words litter through the air before teeth sink into your skin. He doesn’t bother to cover your mouth, mute the sweet sounds falling from your lips. There’s no decency anymore, Carlos doesn’t care who sees the marks he engraves into your skin. The ring on your left hand means nothing more than a reminder that he could be better.

“Carlos-“ You struggle to connect the two syllables together, hands gripping through his hair, pulling at the brown locks in your fingers. “Fuck-“

“What did I just say?” He grunts from the valley of your neck, one hand sliding from your waist and flying out, smacking on your clothed butt. The shock simply causes you to gasp out loud, pushing your own throbbing crotch into his hard one. A smirk forms against your neck, clear as day when the man pulls himself from your neck. His lips are wet, saliva from his own mouth tracing around your lips.

One hand finds your face again, grasping at your chin tilting your head backwards to hover below his own. A single finger taps at your lips, signaling for you to open wide for him. He’s sinful as he lets his spit fall across your lips, eyebrows raised as he wraps a hand around your throat, clearly overpowering your stance in this moment.

“Swallow.” He commands, hand resting on your cheek firmly. The tone of his voice sends a shock of energy down your chest and between your legs, cunt throbbing at his words. Of course, you comply, swallowing the remanence he had given you. “Good girl.”

The sweet nicknames in this moment have evaporated; Carlos is nothing short of animalistic, his presence all too understanding as one hand takes its place around your neck, the other grabbing firmly onto your wrist as he guides you backwards, softly falling onto the sofa of his driver’s room. The pitying looks the man gives you sends a thousand messages through your brain.

“No, no. Dirty little girls don’t get to sit on my sofa.” He teases, both hands clasping your waist, sliding you off the plush furnishings and resting on the cold floor, kneeling for the Spaniard. “You need to be on your knees, you need to be taught how to behave.”

Eyes widen as his tanned fingers pull at the knotted arms of the fireproofs resting on his waist. Even through his underclothes, the shape of his hard length is clearly visible, even more so as he removes his underlayers and briefs, letting himself spring freely, one hand rubbing his shaft a few times, the other knotting in the back of your hair.

He loves this; cock in his hand as he taps the tip against each of your cheeks, trailing himself against the parting of your lips, having to hide the shiver from his own body when the wetness of your mouth. His eyes are sparkling when he uses his firm cock to press through your mouth, relishing in the warmth of your lips wrapping around his length.

“That’s it, be a good girl. Take it.” He coos as you struggle to take more of his length, attempting to give small, tentative licks to his cock whilst he slides between your lips. It sends him feral, wild. He thinks of nothing else as both hands grip tightly in your hair, shoving your face into his crotch, your gags music to his ears as he continues to take control of the situation.

When your eyes adjust, look up from his groin, he almost feels sorry for you. They’re wide, glassy, snuffles falling from your lips as he continues his forceful attack. One hand slowly removes itself from the strain on your locks, tracing over your cheek, thumb rubbing underneath your eye, removing the salty tears as your breath remains heavy through your nose.

“Oh, poor baby.” He teases, pace never relenting. “This is what you need, someone to put you in your place, remind you what you deserve for teasing me, making me jealous.” He can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic sound coming from your lips. He can feel his stomach tightening, the warmth drawing an imminent release from his cock. This isn’t how he wants to finish, he can’t yet.

Your mouth feels empty when he pulls out, giving you no warning, the gasps falling from your lips at the sudden gain of air. He doesn’t give you time to respond, a heavy hand pushing your front to the floor, lifting your hips, ass straight back in the air. No warning, the skirt of your dress is lifted, the wetness of your cunt seeping through your panties. The anticipation kills you, until a warm finger slides into your folds with no warning. Your body can’t help but react, clenching around the warmness without even realizing. You also don’t realize the sounds you’re making, until the finger removes itself, a palm harshly smacking on your behind.

“What did I say about noises?” He grunts, leaning around to push the wet finger into your own mouth. “Do you like it? Taste what I do to you?” Hurriedly, he presses his finger in and out of your lips a few times before returning it to your wet hole, wiggling in the air. This time there’s two; stretching you out, your palms trying to find anything to grip, to hold on to as he carelessly thrusted, tickling a sweet, sweet spot deep in your stomach.

“I- Carlos I can’t-“ You whine through raspy breaths. He can feel you clenching, swelling around his fingers, and is rewarded when he hastily pulls them out of you, a long moan and a squirt of arousal pushing from your cunt. A sheer shock of arousal floods between his own legs, rubbing his fingers against your wet folds, letting your wetness trail onto the tips of his hand.

“Oh, your husband can’t make you do that, can he?” He’s proud; proud he’s able to draw such a reaction from your body. “Come on, baby, up we get.” His arms are suddenly firm, present around your waist as he pulls you to stand on two shaky legs, still reveling in the feeling he had granted you moments ago.

Hands retract from your waist and come to hold your face, pressing kisses to your scarlet lips as he guides you from a standing position towards his couch, finally allowing himself to sink into the cushions. You want nothing more than to join him, feel his warmth and aura around your own body, but by the finger he’s raised as he situates himself into the sofa, you can tell you’ll have to wait.

The moment he sits down, a tanned hand comes to his crotch to rub his length a few times, your eyes widening as you plead for it; mind clouded by lust, all you want is for something warm to fill you up, make you feel as good as he had done so many times before. Carlos’ finger beckons for you to join him, and you know what he’s insinuating.

Your movements are commanded by the Spaniard; immediately, there are two firm hands on your body, pulling you into his touch and sinking you down onto his cock. You don’t miss the way his lips quirk into a grin, oh-so-happy to see your reaction to the pleasure he had granted you. It’s no match for when he starts moving, bouncing you up and down on his lap, fallen gasps from your lips as your faces draw closer and closer.

You were sinking into one another’s skin; he wanted nothing more than to entwine your bodies for eternity. One hand was firm around your waist, guiding your movement with the strength only he could. The other guided a gentle trace across your face, pulling you closer, closer to his own face as his thrusts got faster, erratic.

“You’re mine.” He grunts, never once breaking eye contact as his hips grew tighter, his cock making your cunt squeeze in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. “You’ve always been mine, tell me you’re mine.”

His eyes go soft, thrusts pausing for a second as he notes the tears pooling in your eyes from the sheer euphoria running through your body. A whine falls from your lips as you feel his strong hand tug at your neck, pressing your foreheads towards one another, hips slowing for just a moment, letting your breath catch up to your aching body.

“I’m yours.” You’d whisper, mind clouded. You were his. There could be a thousand cars, an ocean or a wedding band between the two of you and you would still always find your way back to Carlos. Whatever that relationship would form, you would always be a part of him.

The murmured confirmation was enough to send a shot of energy through his spine, his thrusting becoming deeper, passionate. It barely takes five thrusts before he’s groaning, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan as he spills himself into you. The warmth is enough to send your cunt into flutters, clenching so tightly as your body falls into his chest, whining as you feel a gush of wetness drip onto his crotch.

Undoubtedly, Carlos Sainz is now a part of you. Time seems to flicker between seconds and minutes, at some point you’ve shifted your weight, turning around to fix your eyes onto the television screen of his room, eyes wide as you watch your husband continue to battle out on the track. It felt almost sinful; watching Charles battle for his podium whilst his teammate stayed buried inside of you.

His touch goes soft; one hand remains tight around your waist, though your back is warmed by the way you’re pulled back into his skin. Feather-Light kisses dance across your shoulder, he’s never been this soft, cradling you as if the world would be held together by your content. If the universe was to implode, he would be happy with the fact you were pressed into him in that very moment.

The laps of the race begin to dwindle; a promising second-place is looking pretty much secured for Charles. You’re certain that your silver trophy will be sitting proudly in the hotel room later that evening, until Max Verstappen suddenly begins to slow down, commentators beginning to roar as an unexpected engine issue splutters into the RB19.

“Holy shit.” Carlos murmurs, sitting up from his relaxed position, both arms now tightly around your waist as he shifts the balance of your bodies. “What happened to Max?” His voice becomes a murmur, your attention drifts, focused on the cars beginning to pick up their speed against the current world champion.

Goosebumps litter your skin, you immediately pull away from the warmth of Carlos, eyes wide as you see the scarlet red car glide into view. He’s going to overtake Max. Not only that, but your husband is about to win the entire race.

An audible groan comes from both of you when you slip yourself off his length, searching around for the panties which had been discarded oh-so-long ago; the man rests a hand on your shoulder, one hand tracing across your jawline as the other reaches down, gently smoothing the skirt of your long dress.

“We’ll find them later. We need to go and congratulate your husband, after all.” You can’t miss the cockiness in his voice, still content with the fact his cum is buried deep inside your pussy, panties are left in his driver’s room as a sheer prize for being able to make you feel euphoric. A tinted blush decorates your cheeks as he slips into his old jeans and a Ferrari polo shirt, one hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you out of his driver’s room, never once bothering to fix his hair when you had been the one to grab onto it so tightly.

People wouldn’t think that of him, after all.

You love to be loved.

Your eyes are brimming with tears as you reach Parc Fermé, Carlos finally catching up with you, standing right behind you at the barrier, eyes transfixed onto his teammate, standing atop of his livery, cheering towards the endless roars of the crowd, passing a congratulatory message towards his fellow drivers, Lewis patting his back, Lando cheering on his behalf.

He’s already removed his helmet when he sprints towards his team; the losses don’t matter, not when he can celebrate the win he had been craving for so, so long. There are praises passed, pats on the back as he works his way down the winding line of his team, red in their clothes and their cheeks, it means the world to everybody.

And then, Charles is facing you, his wife. He’s so transfixed upon your gaze, the sheer elation you have for his victory that he doesn’t stop to think when he takes two of his hands on either side of your face, cradling your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, grinning into such a sweet kiss that you can’t help but kiss him back.

“I told you.” He whispers when he pulls away from you, resting a gentle hand on your cheek for just a moment. His eyes finally turned to where his teammate was standing. Both of them have to forge a smile as they reach out to clasp hands, a firm grip in celebration of scoring points for their team.

You don’t see him again, not until he’s left the cool-down room and is bounding towards the podium. Carlos, having not been called to his post-race interview yet, still stood behind you, though one hand had snaked its way around your waist, as if it had to be there. Nobody notices, of course. The team is too focused upon their driver lifting his golden trophy, in awe of the achievement they had built for seemingly the entire season.

Charles doesn’t miss it, of course. Maybe that’s why his gaze is so fixed on you when he releases a splash of champagne, purposely aiming his bottle towards the man behind you, his heart only crushing further when he sees the Spaniard pull your frame behind his own in protection.

And then, it’s all over. Both Carlos and Charles are rushed away to complete their post-race interviews. You’re left alone, simply taking a slow walk towards the Ferrari Hospitality. Even as you pace through the crowds, you can’t help but feel…sick. Dizzy. Out-of-body.

You cared for your husband greatly, and somewhere during it all, you believed his apology was genuine, that he truly wanted to fix the previous mistakes of the year. But how long would his tether last until his mistress came trailing back, regardless of a court ruling?

And Carlos. The sweet man who had proved to you time and time again, you were worth more than a simple name on a piece of paper. He’d been your soul, you truly were set to drop an entire marriage to live in his arms until his blonde counterpart came along, a knife to the chest after one of the most intimate nights you could fathom.

Your breathing gets faster, the world begins to turn on an axis. From somewhere, you hear a voice asking if you’re okay, if you need help getting back to the hospitality. And then, the world goes black, your body slumps to the floor of the paddock, with only one sentence drifting through your unconscious mind.

Who do you love?

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xhoneygirlxx · 8 months

Text

Watermelon Sugar

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

summary: Eddie shows you the eight wonder of the world. his mouth.

warnings: reader and eddie are 18+, established relationship, fluff, Eddie being a munch. nicknames/pet names used (baby, honey, sweetheart, etc.) MINORS DNI 18+ smut: fem oral receiving, blowjobs mentioned, talks of past sexual experiences, praise/body worship, swearing. *Skin Color/Ethnicity not mentioned! not proofread, spelling errors and horrible writing.

if I miss anything plz lmk!

a/n: hello my loves! thank you all for the kind words and reactions on my last couple of posts! as you all know smut is not my forte but I felt the need to write this. am I projecting??? maybe but we’re gonna pretend that i'm not :)

The low hum of Steve Nicks’ voice plays through Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of your makeout session with your boyfriend. Orange glow from the late afternoon sun comes through the window, an angelic glow casting around the frizz of the mentalhead’s hair.

It started as an innocent day, hanging out together in a comfortable silence in his room. Him doodling in his notebook and you flipping through one of his old comic books. Somewhere along the way a featherlight touch turned into shared giggles, sitting in his lap turned into a chaste kiss, and it ended up with him in between your parted knees, kissing like his life depended on it.

A curtain of curls block out the skylight, tender lips on yours like melted honey, and big hands roaming down the expanse of your body. When Eddie moves away from your mouth, he takes the oxygen from your lungs with him and you whimper at the loss.

"Gonna let me have a taste of you, pretty girl?" Big doe eyes shine down to you, way too eager and excited. Your stomach twists into knots, the training you put yourself through in case of this moment, has all been for nothing. What do you say to the man that hovers over you with so much love in his eyes?

"How about I suck you off instead, hmm?" You try to come off as sensual but instead you sound scared.

It's an offer that you've made so many times over the short course of your relationship with Eddie. This was your first real relationship besides the eight grade love affair you had with Simon Willard. That only lasted a week.

You weren't anywhere near a virgin, that so called sacred part of yourself is now in the possession of a random boy you met on vacation before your senior year. Hookups weren't uncommon to you but what was uncommon to you was the affection you received during the sex.

People you've hooked up with never really cared to get you nice and ready the way Eddie does, prepping you with two or more fingers, working you open so that it doesn't hurt going in. Guys didn't care if you got off or not, they were just looking for a hole to fill and someone who wouldn't get clingy.

You had guy friends, including Eddie before you started dating, and you heard the horror stories they had of going down on a girl. It was never in mean spirit, although the discussion should've stayed in the bedroom, but it still scared you shitless. How one girl didn't properly take care of herself, causing the smell to be rancid. This girl didn't wipe the right way, leaving scraps of toilet paper down there. And the one that really settled itself into your brain, was how good or bad a girl tasted.

Of course you, and all of your guy friends, knew that girls didn't taste like ice cream, or strawberries, or candy. It was made up, another bullshit beauty standard for woman to worry about.

You had paid attention to the way guys would ask you if you wanted it done. The way they would sigh and roll their eyes like it was the biggest task of their lives. You would end up telling them that you're more of a giver than receiver, and that you just weren't interested in that whole thing. When they would release a breath of relief you would fill with shame, almost like you were the one who requested it to be done and had been turned down. The embarrassment of rejection you didn't even ask for.

So when you and Eddie first had sex as boyfriend and girlfriend, you made it your mission to never let that horrid question come from his mouth. You always made sure to offer him head first, and if it looked like he was about to ask, you'd simply tell him you couldn't wait anymore.

Now here you are, under him, ready and willing to take him in your mouth, and he's gotten the question out before you could beat him to the punch.

"Ya know I will never say no to that, sweetheart. But-"

Uh oh. That's the word that comes before a life or death sentence. It's hanging heavy over you, the once comfortable silence is now killing you. Squeezing all of the air out of your body, limbs going numb with the loss of circulation, all the while your ears ring like an explosion has gone off.

"I want to return the favor." It's so sincere when he says it and it makes you want to cry. A boyish smile taking over his mouth, deep dimples appearing on the fat of his cheeks.

You must look like you've seen a ghost because the pretty smile that was written on his face is now taken over by worry.

"I mean, I don't have to. It's just- I feel like," Eddie's a panicked mess, backing his face further away from your own. The small bubble of love that the two of you created has now been popped with your own doubts and fears.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I just thought I could make you feel good s'all." The confident man that you know all too well is now reduced to a fumbling and anxious person. His fingers work at the chunky silver ring on his finger, twisting and twisting and twisting it around.

"You just always, I don't know. It just always seems like you never ask for head and I just wanted to offer it to you, I guess."

The whiskey eyes that never left your gaze won't even look at you anymore. Focusing on that damn ring that goes faster and faster the longer you wait to respond. You want to run and hide. Dig a deep hole and never come out. Your lovely boyfriend who's done nothing but treat you like the queen of the goddamn universe, now thinks he's made you uncomfortable.

Embarrassment rushes through your veins, throat closing with the grip of shame making it harder to breathe. Tears prick your eyes, hot and heavy, ready to fall at the drop of a dime. You feel so guilty for not just telling him the truth, for not saying all the concerns that you had. Even before you started dating Eddie always confided in you, telling you the deepest secrets that kept him up at night and you couldn't even tell him this one thing.

"I'm embarrassed." It comes out in a sniffle, lip wobbling beneath the teeth that hold it down, trying to make it go away.

"I'm just embarrassed I won't be good. That I'll be another conversation for you and the boys to drink to. Will I taste good? Do I smell weird? Does it look pretty? All of these questions circle my brain and I'm so fucking scared that you won't like me anymore." It comes out like word vomit, so fast and uneven in tone that you're not sure if it even made sense.

You don't have time to think it over anyway, Eddie's too quick putting his hands on your cheeks, gently making you look up at him. The same kind eyes that you always see meet yours. Thumbs gentle swipe the fat tears off of your face, his cold hands extinguish the flames of your skin.

"Honey, I promise you I would never, ever do some dumb shit like that. What the guys and I talk about is irrelevant, half the time they don't even know what they're talking about. I felt the same way when you wanted to suck me off the first time, every single question you ask yourself is what I ask myself." Eddie's eyes are searching yours, looking and waiting to see the dread leave your head.

"Like I said before, I would never want you to be uncomfortable but if you're okay with it, I'd really," He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, "really," he continues to place more delicate kisses around your face, "really love to make you feel so fucking good."

When he's done, he looks back down to you with a dopey smile, he's low and hazy drunk off of you. A smile tugs on your own lips, so warm and fuzzy off of him. You know he means it and you feel sad that you even questioned him. Childish laughter rings out between the two of you when he pinches your sides, tickling out the stiffness in your body.

When the laughter dies down, he asks you again by cocking his eyebrow up in question. Nodding your head, you give him a confident yes, something you didn't feel the first time he asked.

Moving down your body, trails of kisses are left on your skin, mapping out his journey to your center. When he reaches the hem of your pants, he looks up to you once more waiting for a reply. Encouraging him to go further, his chilled fingers douses the warmth radiating off of you.

Leaving you only in your polka dot designed panties, Eddie teases you by running his fingers up and down your thighs.

"I gotta say bub, I love the pink dots. Top notch fashion if I don't say so myself." Eddie jokes and it makes you giggle. Swatting lightly at him, he returns the laughter.

"I'm not lying, I swear! If only you know what you do to me." As much of a joker Eddie is, he was never one to joke about your beauty. He found everything you did, said, and wore so fucking breathtaking and flawless, he'd probably get hard from the sight of you in a Tin Man costume.

"If you, at any time, want me to stop just tell me. I won't get mad, just let me know, okay?" Eyebrows scrunched with seriousness, Eddie makes sure to be loud and clear with his instructions.

"I promise, Eds." You say and he takes that as the green light.

Eddie's index finger teases your cloth slit, running up and down so slowly it feels like torture. When you lift your hips looking for more friction he snorts lightly.

"Patience, my love." His fingers continue to dance over your panties, running back to the top of the band and pulling them down in a swift motion.

When the cool air hits your wet seat, you whimper slightly at the feeling. Eddie has seen your pussy multiple times, but when he spreads it with his fingers, you can't help but feel shy, closing your legs around his arm.

"Don't go shy on me, baby. I just wanna see the prettiest picture I've ever seen." His eyes are still trained on the glistening of your sex, glimmering like bright pools of water.

It feels like an hour of no movement from Eddie before he goes to change his position between your legs. Shuffling back on his knees, he picks your thighs up to place on his shoulders as he lays on his stomach.

Still having doubts, you lean up on your elbows, watching your boyfriend to see what his reaction is. To your surprise, he looks like a kid in a candy store, awe and wonder swimming around in the big brown pools of his eyes.

When an obscene sniff rings through the air, you can't help but cringe a little. Waiting for him to look repulsed, you're again astonished when all your met with is a feral look.

Very tentatively, he runs his flat tongue from your hole to the top of your clit. Moaning deeply, he moves his gave up to you. A smirk breaks out on his features, so devilishly and mischievously.

"Oh baby, you have no fucking clue how good you taste." There is no questioning in his cadence. It's smug and cocky and it makes you shiver with need.

Repeating his motions from before, you mewl at the feeling, lifting your hips again. The chuckle that comes from Eddie vibrates off of you, make you move you squirm. Reaching his strong hands around your thighs, he holds you in place with his firm grip.

When the wet muscle breaches your needy hole, you fall back onto the bed moaning out in pleasure. He works your open with it, flicking it in and out efficiently.

Pulling out of you, he moves up to your bundle of nerves. Starting slowly, he circles around once or twice, before working it in figure eights.

You melt into the bed like a popsicle on a hot summers day. There's not a single thought in your head other than the feeling of his mouth. You're a livewire come to life, so sensitive and lost in the haze of pleasure.

You think this is the precipice of ecstasy but then one of his thick fingers enter you and his mouth sucks hard on your pulsing clit.

It feels like fireworks on the fourth of July, bright and explosive, big loud bangs ringing out into the night sky. It's like the feeling of going down the big drop on a rollercoaster, tingling deep in your belly and a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins. It's like winning first place, heartwarming and shocking all at the same time.

You feel all these things at the same time, every single one of them caused by the actions of your boyfriends mouth. It's overwhelming and so fucking delicious but you can't say anything than cry out in bliss.

Letting go of your clit with a pop, Eddie's head pokes up at you like an excited puppy. "S'it feel good baby?" You want to answer, you really do but the way he sneaks a second finger into you and crooks them at the perfect angle makes you lose all motor skills.

"Awe, honey" he coos mockingly, "Is it that good?"

"S'good Eds, so good." You're a blubbering, crying mess. So hooked on the feeling of him, hooking on the feeling of how he made you feel.

He doesn't say anything else, too busy pushing his face back between your legs. His motions go faster, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside of you that he only managed to find, his mouth switching between motions, driving you closer to the edge as he does.

The string in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter, barley hanging together by a thread. You're a thrashing, sweaty mess on his bed, gripping the pillow underneath your head that your knuckles will probably be stuck in that position. You don't care, not when he's moving his head back and forth, slurping up your wetness like a handmade milkshake.

It's filthy, down right dirty the way it sounds. The noises that carry out into his room echo so loud the neighbors could probably hear. The squelch of your wetness being pounded into by his hand, the way he's drinking you up like a dehydrated plant, the moans that escape out of your parted lips.

"Eddie, please. FUCK, please." You're blathering at him, not even sure at what you're asking for.

Separating himself from you again, he continues working his fingers deep into you.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl? S'that it? Wanna cum all over my fingers?" You moan louder in response, clenching around him harder as you do.

"Go ahead, be a good good and cum for me. Come on, honey. Cum for me." That's all you need to hear before you're hurtling off the edge of your release.

You release with a silent cry, all the air being punched right out of you. Your body feels weightless, like you were thrown up into the clouds and not being able to come down.

Your whole body shakes, tears streaming down your face, all while your hole pulses and quivers around Eddie's fingers. A gush of wetness coats his fingers, a big puddle under your ass, leaving another stain on his bed seats.

He watches in awe as you hit your peak, how your back arches off of the bed and how you look so fucking perfect like this. The shy girl that never got experience this kind joy, now swims in the ocean of euphoria of the climax. He feels so lucky to witness this, to be the first and last person to ever see you this vulnerable.

Eddie wishes he could paint this moment, make a portrait of the way your kiss bitten lips form the perfect O, make the brushstrokes of your hair and some of it sticks to your sweaty face. You're so beautiful and he doesn't know how blessed to be yours.

When you float back down to earth, to the springy mattress of Eddie's, you take a moment to catch your breath. When he removes his fingers from you, you weakly hiss from movement and he offers a quiet sorry.

Moving back up to his knees, he hovers over you and smiles brightly down at you. Smiling weakly back at you, he uses the hand that's not supporting his weight to place it on your jaw. His thumb brushes back and forth and you melt right into it.

"How was that?" Pink tints his cheeks, grinning ear to ear.

You chuckle weakly, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I think I went to outer space for a second there."

A booming laugh leaves his chest and it makes you smile even harder. Your heart feels so full and so happy. You're so in love with him and it makes you delirious. You want to see him like this for the rest of your life, big smiles and even big laughter, so pretty and delicate only for you.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself there, space cadet." Leaning down to press his lips to yours, your soak in the feeling of it. When he moves away you pout at him, and he bops you on the nose with his finger.

"I was thinkin' I could return the favor, big boy." You whisper seductively.

"Oh baby, that sounds wonderful but-," He makes eye contact with you, "I need to be in you like yesterday because that, right there was the hottest thing I've ever witness."

"I happen to be a romantic. So I shall wait until my fair maiden is okay to resume our activities." Closing his eyes with pride, he places a hand on his heart.

Hiding your face with your hands, you bust out laughing at his little antics and when you peek between his fingers you see his teeth flashing back at you. Removing your hands from your face, you tuck a loose tendril behind his ear.

"You're a dork, but that sounds good to me."

Thank you all for reading! I loves you all and hope you enjoyed!!!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic

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writingseaslugs · 2 years

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Diasomnia NSFW Headcanons

Me: Don’t give Malleus a breeding kink, don’t give Malleus a breeding kink…EXTRA BULLET HE HAS ONE! I really cannot contain myself…I don’t apologize. Also might’ve been a little drunk while writing this, so I will not be taking criticism. I drank a glass of Moscato midway through Malleus, a shot of fireball/rumchata at Sebek, and a second shot midway through Silver. So you know…I did the best I could while under the influence of my bad decisions.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series is aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post. This post also has explicit content. If you’re under the age of 18, or are uncomfortable with this form of content, please skip this post. Content Warning: Marking, Edging, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, Body Worship, Soft Sex, Consensual Somnophilia.

NSFW Headcanons

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is the biggest student at NRC…and not just in the height department. He’s pretty well endowed, and the anatomy might not be totally human, so be prepared to feel like you’re being split in half when he’s inside you. This bodes well since he has a size kink, and being a bigger presence to his lover is a huge turn-on. Watching his lover squirm when they see his size for the first time as he assures you it’ll all fit as long as you let him prep you for a while. The size kink goes both ways as well; if he has a lover who is somehow taller than him, he’s going to love being manhandled by them.

Fae have stamina for days, which means it’ll be hard to catch up with him. There’s likely never going to be a moment when he’s on top that you can keep up with his stamina. He will always manage to outlast you as he overstimulates your body until it’s almost at the breaking point. He’ll give you a break, though, and never judges since he knows you are simply a child of man. If you happen to be on top that night, though and drag him to orgasm time and time again until he’s twitching under you, you might be able to outlast his stamina. Maybe.

He is a switch, despite what others may think. Outside around others, he keeps his appearance up, but when it’s just the two, you’re on equal grounds at all times. If you want to be dominated, then say no more. He’ll have you screaming his name until you lose your voice; fucking you dumb is a fun pastime of his. If you want to be on top, he’ll let you play with his body to your heart’s content. He still is in charge during those moments, though, unless you manage to really overstimulate him or edge him until his brilliant green eyes are starting to tear up.

It’s not unheard of to leave his room with a few new bruises and scratch marks. He’ll heal them for you instantly if you ask, but honestly, he really likes how well-marked up you are. It’s never on purpose either; he just kind of loses himself sometimes and forgets how delicate humans are. He’ll apologize and kiss every inch of skin he might have injured and promise to be more careful moving forwards…unless you’re into that kinda thing.

When the mood strikes him, he’s going to have his way with you. Doesn’t shy away from public sex at all since he will be able to tell if someone is nearby and take the appropriate measures. If he wants to absolutely ravish you while he’s in class, the moment the bell rings, he’s going to find you and drag you somewhere and fuck you against the wall. Be careful what you wear around him as well. You have something on that he wants to tear off you like a present; he will with no remorse. Even if it’s your favorite underwear, he swears he will buy you fifty more of them later.

Bonus Bullet: He has a breeding kink. Not only from being a dragon fae but from being royalty and the thought of one day needing to produce an heir. He’s going to have you in a mating press, chest against his, as he tells you how good you’re taking his cock. Coming inside you several times as you go into overstimulation, fucked dumb by him, all while he wipes away your tears and tells you you’re doing so good for him. Watching his cum flow out of your abused hole and maybe even plugging you up after. Even if you are AMAB or on birth control, he’ll still do this. Seeing you so thoroughly fucked full of his cum makes him absolutely feral.

Lilia Vanrouge

There is no doubt about it, Lilia has experience when it comes to being intimate with someone. Whether you’re experienced or not doesn’t matter to Lilia, he can still show you a thing or two. In fact, he’ll be begging to show you what he knows, using techniques that have made past partners squirm. He will have you begging for more by the end of it. His mouth isn’t just good for smart quips, after all.

Very open to kinks and honestly has probably partaken in them once or twice. If you name a kink that’s new, he’s going to be intrigued and want to test it out and see if he’s into it. If you’re really into something and bring it up, he’s more than happy to show you. He has a pretty extensive kink list that he’ll sit you down and go through to see what you’re down with trying. Biting his partner is definitely one of them, and he’s had several partners in the past swoon over his sharp teeth. If you’re willing to let him mark you with bites and hickies, he’s going to be a very happy man.

You get the best of both worlds when it comes to Lilia. You can have him be small and breedable if you want, fucking your cock or strap into him while he’s moaning and whining mess, begging you for more. Or he can take on his more mature and taller form, looking over you while your wrists are tied as he drives his cock into you. He’s happy with being a top and a bottom and will be happy if he has a partner willing to indulge with both sides. Not to say he won’t be submissive in his taller form and dominant in his smaller form. He is versatile and enjoys making his partner or himself a mess in whatever way possible.

Lilia loves to tease his partners in friendly, romantic, and sexual ways. He’ll be between your legs for hours if you let him, bringing you so close to coming only to lift away and tap his slick-coated chin, pondering out loud if he thinks you deserve to cum. If you return the favor, expect him to be overdramatic about it. He’ll be so loud with your lips around his cock, begging you to let him cum with tears flowing down his red face. Some of it’s just for show, but damn, it’s easy to rile you up even with that sight. He’s also going to edge both of you, taking his cock out of you as soon as the two of you are almost at the edge while leaning down and kissing your cheek and neck, saying, “One more time, and we can cum together.”

He’s going to adore teasing you between classes. Coming over and whispering something dirty in your ear as you pass by him. Putting his hand a bit too high on your leg while at lunch. Maybe dragging you to an empty classroom for a heavy make-out session before parting and telling, talking against your lips, that you should head to your next class. It’s a fun game of his to see how far he can take it before you’re the one grabbing him by his arm and dragging him to an empty broom closet and begging him to make you cum before you go crazy. Depending on his mood, he might just use his hands while calling you a needy little slut to get you to cum and then leave you in your messed-up underwear until after school.

Bonus Bullet: Make fun of his height, and he's going to see that as a challenge. Either he's going to take on his larger form that towers over you at 6'8" (203.2cm) and tell you how tiny you are compared to him now as he impales you on his cock. Or he's going to drag you to his room and tie you up and fuck you in his short form, edging you for hours while saying you should be nicer to short people judging by how well they can wreck you.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is…sadly, not well-versed in sex. He knows how babies are made, but his fae mother probably never sat him down for the bird and the bees, he probably never spoke to his father about it, and Lilia had just assumed he knew. Not to mention the lack of friends his age, and well…there’s some explaining to do. He’s not clueless; he knows what to do. He just doesn’t know about all the technical things, like foreplay. So it’s going to be fun to teach him all those things and watch as his face goes red when you tell him he needs to use his hands to stretch you out before he can stick his dick into you.

It might be a little awkward because he will be asking to ensure he’s doing things correctly. What kind of man would he be if he couldn’t even please his partner? So as he’s first exploring your body, caressing every inch of skin he can, he’s going to be asking what feels right. It’s almost going to be sensual as he gropes your chest, tweaking your nipples and watching as your back arches up into his touch, and he smiles, asking if that felt nice. The moment his hand goes between your legs, he’ll be a bit nervous but hearing you moaning out his name breathlessly is going to encourage him to keep at it.

His composure is going to be lost pretty fast when he’s fucking you. For once, he might be speechless as he watches your face morphing in pleasure. His entire face will be painted scarlet at the sight as he stops thrusting to admire you. When you ask him why he stopped, he’s going to stutter out an excuse before giving a harsher thrust. His hair is going to be disheveled, and the fluffy locks might even be in his face. He’s going to look absolutely wrecked when he feels your walls convulsing around you, and if he had any thought to pull out, it’ll be lost as he’s coming hard in you.

He will worship every inch of your skin. Every mole, freckle, blemish, scar…you name it. If you have curves, he’ll pinch them between his fingers and tell you how beautiful they make you. Expect to be bombarded with praise. You think his obsession with Malleus is bad? He could talk about your body, what noises you make, your expressions…he could go on for days. Just make sure to inform him not to accidentally slip up around friends when discussing you. The last thing you need is Sebek telling everyone how you are in bed and how last night your moans went a pitch higher than normal when you came, and how you left scratches all along his shoulders that he swears he’ll wear with pride and hopes they scar.

He’s a service dom to the max. He’ll always want to be on top because, again, “What kind of man would I be if I hogged all the pleasure to myself by letting you do that?”. He can be convinced, though. Ask if you can suck him off, and he might tell you it’s not necessary, but if you give him the puppy dog eyes, he’ll oblige. Watching as he bites his knuckles in an attempt to be quiet before breaking and moaning loud enough for the entire school to hear is ethereal. He’ll never ask you to do those things, but if you offer, he’ll allow it since you want to, and he has a hard time telling you no.

Bonus Bullet: No public sex. He is far too loud, and you will be caught instantly. There’s also no sneaking when you two are having sex. If it’s in Ramshackle, make sure Grim is out because even he can’t sleep through that. If it’s at Diasomnia, the dorm is going to hear you two. Lilia will chuckle and congratulate Sebek, which will make the boy beam. Malleus won’t say anything, but Silver will be visibly annoyed. Lilia might suggest that you keep your affairs at Ramshackle next time…or he could always let you borrow a gag for Sebek.

Silver

Since Lilia raised him, he was given sex ed like a normal kid would when they reached puberty, but Lilia had drilled into Silver the importance of protection and how he didn’t want to be a gilf anytime soon. Silver took the protection part to heart and will be using a condom unless you tell him it’s okay and he doesn’t need to. He also knows a thing or two from overhearing people talk when they thought he was asleep. He’s not clueless, but experienced is another thing…thankfully he’s a quick study.

Generally, having sex with Silver isn’t really “Fucking” but more of “Making Love.” He’s going to be gentle and make you feel wanted like you’re the only thing that exists at the moment. It’s almost suffocating how the air sometimes changes when he begins having sex with you. You’re going to feel cherished and secure in his arms. He’s going to kiss you all over your body and murmur sweet nothings to you as he slowly brings you to an earth-shattering orgasm. Your entire body will feel like a live wire as you feel every vein of his cock rubbing inside you.

Silver tends to sleep over at your place more often than not, as long as Lilia assures him Malleus will be fine. So if you wake him up with kisses, he’s going to slowly reciprocate before groping your body and pulling you close enough to feel his morning wood through his pants. Slowly riding him with the morning beams of sun coming in through the cracks in the blinds is going to be the best wake-up call he could ask for. If you get tired of doing that, he’s more than happy to flip you onto the bed and slowly grind his cock into you until you’re both coming. Just be careful not to fall back asleep after that.

When the mood strikes him, he can be a bit more energetic in bed. Especially if you request him to go a little bit harder next time, he’s happy to oblige. He’ll keep fucking into you until your legs are turned to jelly. His hands touch every inch of skin as he roughly thrusts into you, pulling each orgasm out of you until your brain is short-circuiting. He might be the number one sleepy boy in the school, but his stamina is nothing to scoff at. He’s still a trained knight, and his body is up to par because of it. He can also try a lot of different positions with you, even fucking you against the cool tiles of the shower without worrying about slipping at all.

Sex with Silver is amazing, in all honesty, but the best thing is after. He’ll make sure you’re both cleaned up and then cuddle you. Normally he likes to be the big spoon so he can wrap his arms around your midsection and pull you against his chest. You’re almost like a stuffed animal for him. He’ll leave kisses along your shoulders and tell you everything he thinks about you and how much he adores you. He’ll keep this up for a while until suddenly, he drifts off and is quiet. It’s a clear sign he fell asleep, and his grip will loosen enough to turn around and face him to see his peaceful sleeping face.

Bonus Bullet: He’ll only be okay if it’s discussed beforehand and it's in a private location, but he is okay with you using his body while he’s asleep. He knows he’s got a condition of some kind, and that might leave you feeling needy at moments while he’s asleep. Not to mention he might get tired midway through sex and just fall asleep. So if you have discussed it, he doesn’t mind you using his body to pleasure yourself. If he wakes up to you riding his cock and moaning lewdly, he’ll think he died in his sleep and went to heaven somehow. Remember, though, it has to be consensual. He probably wouldn’t appreciate you doing it if it hadn’t been discussed.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Lilia Vanrouge #Lilia Vanrouge x Reader #Lilia x Reader #Silver x Reader #TWST Silver #Twisted Wonderland Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader #Sebek x Reader

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freyito · 7 months

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ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ + ᴀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ-ꜱᴛᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

this ones super self-indulgent, simply cause im in a bit of a mood and i need comfort. so why not write little drabbles with my HUSBANDS!!!! sorry im still working on requests! my schedule is packed and thursdays are about the only days i get to myself, so im working on them, i swear!!!

for more context, there's a couple different ways people can be touch-starved and how people react. i know some people seek out touch actively, but im one of the people who has an aversion to it. that's why it's written like the reader doesn't quite enjoy it!

also, this was kind of inspired by Kocham Wolność by Chłopcy z Placu Broni

cw: male reader, just fluff really, bonus, proofread

-Johnny Cage

Johnny's flashy, touchy, and over-the-top. Of course he is, he has to be. With his status, he wants everyone to know exactly who you are and show you off. You're all his, and only his, and he needs every single one of his fans to know.

So when you shy away from his touch, dodge away from his hand, or even keep your distance the very first time, his heart shatters. He doesn't quite know how to handle it. But he doesn't go with the same approach. He doesn't give up, either.

He's a sucker for physical touch, and if he's denied it, he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He quite literally looks down at them and wonders what he can do.

His first thought is that you dislike him, actually. That you hate him. He has a deep-seated fear of rejection, and for his beloved to turn away from his warmth and love, it stings. He overthinks, and he reacts as such.

Johnny is a 50/50 with being logical. It depends where he is and what environment he is in. However, with love, where he is completely and utterly vulnerable, giving his all to his boyfriend, logic does not take place with his emotions. He does not think that you do not seek the touch he seeks, he craves.

But, before he can let that vile, horrid, agonizing feeling in the back of his throat take hold, there's slight reassurance. A soft gaze that mends his broken heart, if only for a moment. That's when he finally rationalizes.

You don't even need to tell him at that point, he silently understands. Besides, he has other ways he can show his love for you. Spoils you rotten, tells you all he loves about you. See, he can find ways to make up for the lack of physical touch!

Johnny makes sure to ask you before any physical encounter. He asks to hold your hand, asks to hug you, asks to hold you, asks everything. And each time you say yes, he has the biggest grin on his face.

One night, while you two were sitting on the hood of Johnny's car by some cliff,- like those stupid romantic scenes in movies- you lean over to Johnny and rest your head on his shoulder. Your arms are touching, his shoulder provides a comfortable pillow. You feel safe. Gazing at the very few stars scattered in the sky, the night sky's beauty stolen by the city below (and by you, Johnny says). Johnny's beaming. He's trying so hard not to show it, he's trying to act cool. But he can't. He's almost vibrating because of the butterflies in his stomach. He's proud of you, he's in love with you, and god, he's so happy. He leans his head on yours, and whisper all sorts of sweet things, 'I love you', 'You mean so much to me', 'You're the most beautiful man I know', and 'Thank you'.

-Kenshi Takahashi

Since Kenshi focuses on touch mainly in the relationship, he has to re-evaluate how he goes about this without touch. He doesn't start off with it, like Johnny does. But he slowly builds up to it. And when he tries to place a hand on your shoulder, feeling you completely dodge him almost feels humbling.

He's at a loss. But unlike Johnny, his first thought is the right one. Perhaps you aren't ready, you aren't comfortable. And that's okay. He's going to think of different ways to seek out your affection, even though physical touch is the only way he really understands love.

But, he also understands. He knows what it's like to dislike touch, after years of hollow touch and forced affection. And he understands if you just don't trust him enough, he's empathetic.

He'll wait for you, however long it takes. He isn't afraid to admit it's a bit disheartening, but he understands and he loves you and he will always wait for you. He still cherishes your time together, and it isn't spoiled one bit. Besides, he can tell you just how much he adores you. He doesn't have to rely on touch every time.

Like Johnny, he will always ask. But he does prefer that you make the first move, at that point. Any little touch, he also cherishes. Even if it's your hand accidentally brushing against his while walking. You always catch a small smile from him when that happens.

He's happy as is, really. The lack of physical touch doesn't take away anything from the relationship or from you. Simply basking in your presence is enough for you. He adores you, and he knows you're his as much as he's yours. That understanding is really the only thing he craves in the relationship.

He relishes in every little touch you give him, however. Simply holding hands is the most intimate thing to him. He isn't big on PDA, but he loves holding your hand anywhere in public. Even if Sento offers slight guidance to him, he loves knowing you're there to guide him.

The night you finally initiated contact, he fell deeper in love with you. It was quiet, alone, still. In your room, you lay next to him, simply enjoying the pleasures of the mundane. You reach for his hand, and gently trace the ink on his hands. He's calm, collected, but inside burns a fire so bright, that you can feel his body temperature rise. He slowly turns his hand, opening his palm to you. For a moment, your fingers linger, tracing the creases in his hand, before finally intertwining your fingers with his. He turns his head to you, a soft and inviting small on his face. He breaks the silence, whispering an 'I love you, so much', before the silence lay over you two once more.

-Bonus! Johnny Cage AND Kenshi Takahashi

They both agree not to smother you and take their time with you and your comfort. Since most dates and activities will always center around all three of you, they're specifically gentle with you, and are rather hands off with both you and each other (as hard as that is for them).

Just because they are comfortable with each other and each other's touch, doesn't mean they are going to flaunt it. Kenshi believes the ideal is to slowly incorporate you into events. To suffocate you with the idea of touch is too much.

And they do just that. Johnny follows Kenshi's lead, really. Neither of them can live without your touch, and the idea of turning you away is a mutual fear.

When you found yourself between Kenshi and Johnny, simply "watching" a movie from Johnny Dearest, you ended up placing your head in Kenshi's lap, and your legs in Johnny's. You were tired, that was all. Just so happens you had the most comfortable men to lay on. Johnny gave Kenshi the most bewildered look, before realizing the man was still blind. But regardless, Kenshi almost shared the sentiment. However, Kenshi didn't waste his chance. He places his hand on your head, scratching at your scalp. While Johnny just revels in the fact that you've finally warmed up to them.

#*ੈ✩ freyito #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x male reader #mortal kombat x male reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x male reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi x male reader #johny cage x reader x kenshi takahashi

567 notes · View notes

onesidedradiostatic · 2 months

Note

I think if Val found out Lucifer was doing the commissions, the money would bother him first. Until someone points out to him that Lucifer is at the hotel. With Alastor. And likely can get more accuracy due to actively seeing the guy in person. Val would get so big mad about this. Malding. Seething. It’s not fair, he has a reference right in front of him! How is Val supposed to get that level of accuracy, the thing Vox is being so fussy about! (And as an artist myself, if his attitude towards his art is anything like mine, there’s a level of pride and perfectionism in there too. No it has to be just right, I’m putting so much effort into this so it has to be perfect or it’s not good enough!). So now I can imagine Val going ballistic about it, blowing up Angel’s phone with demands for photos of Alastor taking a bath, malding even harder when Angel tells him “I don’t have a death wish”, and needing Vox himself to calm him down.

I swear, at some point Velvette could just start playing a drinking game. She’s gonna need a drink being surrounded by these two when they’re like this.

(kinda referring to this ask)

HELP NOOOOO???? somehow I completely missed the second part of this ask when I first got this in my inbox I'm crying. vox nitpicked so much val got mad. vox now having to deal with one love interest asking for nudes of his OTHER interest. I think vox would be malding about that too like that is the biggest loss he could suffer, his on-and-off man going for his hate-crush, taking val's attention away from him. on TOP of the guy that he's commissioning beefing with his hate-crush, also taking his hate-crush's attention away from him. what the fuck. then vox is called up by velvette again to solve the problem he caused which he has to do while malding himself. velvette orders a drink.

#ask #osrs.txt #another older ask #radiostatic #staticradio #staticmoth #voxval #the vees #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette #lucifer's commissions saga #I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS HAS TURNED INTO

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alonetimelover · 10 months

Text

My love, we were in Paris

pairing: Harry Styles x tennis player!reader (fem, she/her)

summary: After winning her third French Open title, YN was excited to call Harry, not knowing he had rather big surprise already waiting for her.

warnings: a few swear words and just fluff!

word count: ~1,7k + a few social media posts!

more of a tennis player!reader here: masterlist ask, come say hi, request!

She won.

For the third time in her life she won the French Open.

After the second set and the first half of the third one, when she was ready to give up. It was all foreshadowing her eventual loss. At least she felt like it. Her serve somehow lost its force, the precision she always praised herself to have got forgotten in the middle of the match. For the audience it must have looked like she was done with it, unbeatable YN YSN finally defeated on her favourite court.

Well, it was all wrong. Not knowing how, the precision she craved, came back. Her serve felt like it doubled in force and the confidence sprung like flowers in the spring. When she defeated the break-point going for 3-5 in games for her opponent, she said to herself ‘you got it’.

And she won.

Now, squatting down on the ground, crying tears of joy she couldn’t believe it. Third time champion in Paris sounded proud and surprisingly good.

Her mind, though, was just made of two things right now: ‘you won’ and ‘call Harry’.

After receiving congratulations from her opponent and speaking to her briefly about the match, she stood in the centre of the court clapping for the crowd. The squeals and whistles were overwhelming, but being there in the middle, acknowledging all of it was the first move to thank all of the people for their support.

Moving swiftly to her bag, she unlocked her phone and chose ‘Harry💜' from her favourite contacts. It was so loud, she knew she wouldn't be able to hear half of the things he was going to say. But she called anyway. She promised him last night, when they were speaking through FaceTime.

“Call me right after the match,” he said, yawning.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead. Right after? So from the court?”

“If you’re allowed to then why not? I want to hear it from you, whatever it’s going to be.”

Harry knew she would win. And at the same time he knew that saying ‘I want to hear it from you “I’m the champion.”’ would put too much pressure on her shoulders. She was stressed enough and what he could provide was his lifelong support.

“I’ll call you. I promise.”

After four long signals, the smile on her face was slowly but gradually diminishing. She quickly remembered that the eyes of all people interested in tennis were on her, and put that smile back on.

In a few hours Harry was playing one of the biggest shows in his life, a concert for 80 000 people to be exact. She shouldn’t be mad and wouldn’t be. Maybe sad, but she would allow it after getting back to her hotel room.

Tossing her phone back to the bag, she ran towards the box where her coach and loved ones were sitting. Getting closer and closer to the stands she finally looked up as to plan her way to her family.

She stopped in her tracks. Right next to her parents was one and only person she was thinking about for the last hours. Person, she was unwillingly (deep down) mad at not picking up her call just a minute ago.

He was here. Harry was here. His beaming smile, brightening her mood in seconds. He was clapping his hands then whistling on his fingers, and repeating the process. The white hat matching hers, and a simple black t-shirt so as to not draw attention towards himself. But she would recognise him anywhere, in the dark, in the place full of people, at the end of it all. She would know him because nobody had his divine smile and kind-hearted eyes.

Eventually, she sprung to jog up the stairs and around a few corners. In what felt like seconds she was at the stands. People were reaching for her, saying and shouting ‘bravo, YN’, ‘you did a good job!’ and all the congratulations. But she couldn’t bring herself to care right this moment. There was only one person’s opinion she cared about.

When only a few steps were between them she jumped into his arms, embracing him, wanting to never pull back.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered into his ear.

“What d’you mean?” Teasing smile was growing on his face. “I came here to watch my girlfriend win her third title in Paris. You know when she’s startin’?”

She pulled back a little to swat his shoulder playfully, “stop it!”

He just smiled, looking at her lovingly. Pride and happiness just swelled in his chest, making him all warm and fulfilled.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She laughed at the absurdity of the situation. In her wildest dreams she wouldn’t have thought about Harry coming to her match just hours before the concert he was playing in another country. “What are you doing here, really? You play in, what, six or seven hours?”

Harry brushed one unruly strand of YN’s hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek.

“You really thought I would miss this match?”

“Yeah. You said it yourself, didn’t you?”

“Well, if I didn't, you wouldn’t be this surprised. Also if you knew I was here, you would think about it too much.”

“Because you’re such a distraction?”

“You said it,” he teased her back.

YN was looking up at him, still trying to comprehend that it was, indeed her Harry embracing her and caressing her cheek and waist. It wasn’t a dream or a fantasy. He actually flew over to Paris to support her.

How could she not love him?

“Thank you,” she said, tears in her eyes, daring to fall down her face.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

They kissed softly. Knowing, in the back of their heads it would draw so much attention, but they couldn’t not do it. It had been a week without seeing each other. They missed it.

“I am so proud of you, lovie. So fucking proud. You’re unmistakingly the best player out there. And don’t argue with me. Take it in. I’m so proud. I love you,” Harry whispered into her ear, squeezing her even closer to him. “Now, go. You have a trophy to accept and a speech to make. Go be the best out there.”

After stealing one more little kiss from Harry and saying ‘I love you’ back, YN hugged every member of her team and her parents. Then she ran back on the court where the podium was placed.

She was going to accept the cup for the third time in her life.

“Woah, thank you so much and sorry for breaking the cup,” She started her speech with a laugh. “Ah, there are so many people that I’d like to thank. My team - my coach, my psychologist, my physiotherapist - without you guys my body wouldn’t be able to pull any championship. To my family, my boyfriend tha-” she needed to stop because of the cheers erupting around her. Yes, people loved Harry everywhere. “Thank you all for believing in me, bringing me joy and so much support, I’ll never be able to pay you back. Thank you! And thank you to all of you here, the fans. For your support and kind words. Thank you! Je t’aime Paris!”

***

It took them two hours to finally get to the hotel. Harry closed the door behind them, placing a card on the table in the corridor.

“When do you have a plane back?” YN asked, while looking for some clean clothes to wear after the shower that was calling her name.

“In about two hours.”

“Fuck, give me 5 minutes to shower and I’ll ride with you to the airport, okay?” She said in a rush to get ready as quickly as possible.

On the way to the bathroom Harry stopped her, gently catching her by hand. “Wait. What if you pack a small bag and come with me?”

“Come where?” YN asked with a laugh.

“Dublin. And then Slane for the concert.”

“Wha- but, well. I have a media day tomorrow from 11 a.m. And a dinner tonight with the sponsors. Harry, I can’t miss it,” YN answered with a frown on her face.

Harry smiled mischievously, “what if I told you I already talked to your coach and team? And they said it was okay for you to go with me as long as you come back for tomorrow's photoshoot?”

“No way.” She shook her head in disbelief.

Harry nodded his head, taking YN’s clothes in his hands and throwing them on the bed.

“Yes way. I’m very convincing when I want to be.”

“Oh, are you really?” YN mirrored Harry’s smirk, placing her hands around his neck.

“Oh really. You are coming with me.”

He pecked her lips.

“I am coming with you to Slane. And then what?”

“Then I’m playing the concert in front of 80 000 people. But-”

“But, what?”

“I think I’m gonna care about only one person there.”

YN shook her head with a smile. She knew him for more than three years now, but he still could make her blush. He was still so smooth with all the flirty comments and compliments. She was sure, she wouldn’t be able to find any other person who was as appreciative and thankful as Harry. Not like she wanted to.

“You wanna know the plan for the next few days?”

“Tell me all about it,” she encouraged him, pulling her hand through his curls.

“Mhmm, we’re flying back here in the morning. You have a photoshoot and a media day. And then in the evening I’m taking you to my favourite restaurant here to celebrate our achievements so far this year. Aaand the day after that we’re going by train to London.”

YN’s eyes lit up at the mention of the train ride. “Did you buy tickets for the train already?”

“Yes, I did. I know how much you wanted to try that route.”

“Do you know you’re the best boyfriend I could ever ask the universe for?”

“You can remind me of that from time to time. Feed my ego,’ he laughed, hugging YN.

“Thank you. I love you, Harry.”

“Nothing to thank me for.” He tightened the embrace. “I love you and I am so proud of what you did today and the days before.”

——————————————————————————————

harryismyfriend

liked by harryfan11, harrysfan202 and 810 others

harryismyfriend I saw Harry in Paris this morning!!!!!

view all 1 021 comments

harryparis I've met his as well and he asked not to upload any pictures! please take it down!

harryupdates he's there to surprise yn, please take this down

hArrysbtch dont spoil the surprise!!!!!

ynupdates delete this, please

harryismyfriend im so sorry, im deleting it right now!

this post has been deleted

——————————————————————————————

tennisworld

liked by ynupdates, harrystyles and 2 201 830 others

tennisworld You hear it first here! TREBLE French Open Champion - YN YSN! Congratulations!

view all 92 201 comments

ynupdates THEE champion!!!!

harryupdates the best player out there!

ynshands i love this woman

ynsmybestie god is a woman after all

hArrysbtch i don't know her personally but im so proud of her, i wish i could hug her

harrysmoustache did you guys see harry cheering????

⤷ hArrysbtch oh god, yes! he was so cute

⤷ ynsmybestie that man clapped and whistled more than me during his concert

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 58 301 others

harryupdates YN AND HARRY AFTER SHE WON THE THIRD FRENCH OPEN IN HER CAREER!!! It seemed like Harry's presence was a surprise for YN!

view all 9 201 comments

ynupdates i love them

ynupdates and im so proud of yn. she overcame so many obstacles during today's match

ynshands 😭i😭love😭them😭so much😭

hArrysbtch this man is playing the biggest concert in his lifetime in 4 hours and he's not even in the same country right now

⤷ hArrysbtch and before all of you start hating on me: i love that he found time to support yn during one of her most important matches this season

harryandynforever im gonna sleep on a highway tonight

tennisyn THEE couple, ladies and gentlemen

——————————————————————————————

harrynews

liked by harryupdates, ynsmybestie and 23 301 others

harrynews Harry and YN landed in Dublin just two hours before the start of the show in Slane. The ride from Dublin to Slane takes about 40 to 60 minutes. I hope they'll be there on time!

view all 3 201 comments

ynupdates she went with him to Ireland?????

ynsmybestie they are so supportive of each other, I can't

harryupdates this man loves living on the edge

harrysmoustache outfit repeater!!!!!

ynsfan101 so she won't have a media day today? i hoped to meet her 😞

⤷ ynsmybestie i think she'll be back tomorrow. she needs to do a photoshoot in front of the eiffel tower

⤷ ynsfan101 oh, that's reassuring! i hope to get an autograph or even a photo!

——————————————————————————————

ynupdates

liked by harryupdates, ynsmybestie and 93 301 others

ynupdates HARRY DANCING FOR YN VIA HER IG STORIES!

view all 18 301 comments

harryupdates i-

harryupdates wow, just wow

ynshands if that was my man, i would post it too 'see, world? and that's all mine!'

ynsmybestie girl..... don't throw it in our faces like that, we know

hArrysbtch 🫠

hArrysbtch what do you mean it's the same harry scared of performing life just few years ago????

harrysmoustache unhinged, both of them

harrysfan82 why is he so hot and cute at the same time

ynupdates can we take a moment to appreciate their support for each other? harry went to Paris event hough he had a show tonight. and yn went to Slane even though she has a busy day tomorrow in Paris. amazing, just amazing how they can cooperate and work with their busy schedules

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, taylorswift, annetwist, ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 4 392 027 others

yourinstagram 🎶my love, we were in Paris🎶 ... and then in Slane and in Paris again. And then no one needs to know where 🗺

view all 72 302 comments

harrystyles we were somewhere else

⤷ yourinstagram 💜

⤷ hArrysbtch not you singing Taylor, Harry!

⤷ ynsmybestie yn turned you to the bright side, i see

⤷ ynshands and he finishes what she sings???? 😭

⤷ harrysmoustache harry is a swiftie, confirmed!!!!

taylorswift Congratulations on your third French Open title, YN! I hope to see you on one of the concerts!

⤷ yourinstagram i'll be there, wherever and whenever it is, i'll be there

⤷ ynupdates talk about being a committed swiftie

ynupdates posting a pic from Harry's concert before hers with a trophy??? medal for the best girlfriend goes to yn

harryupdates enjoy your free time!

wimbledon See you soon, yn!

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #tennis player!reader

677 notes · View notes

loaksky · 1 year

Text

— 𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

✮ 𝙟𝙖𝙠𝙚

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

gimme sugar, lover

↳ neytiri's his first love, but you're his forever...he swears.

✮ 𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙮𝙖𝙢

— [oneshots]

the hearts that bind us | 7.6k

↳ in which you, a quiet healer in the tribe, have the biggest crush on the upcoming leader. sometimes you think the feelings could be mutual. until one night in the glowing forest shatters that.

— [drabbles]

invisible threads | one ✦ two ✦ three

↳ a series of drabbles and deleted scenes from the hearts that bind us, presented in no specific order.

spirit sister

↳ the one where you suffer a great loss and neteyam’s there to ease the pain.

my love

↳ the one where neteyam screws up and he notices the distance between you.

like blood despite water

↳ the one where you witness a tragedy and the sully's are there for you.

all mine

↳ the one where you and neteyam are a sure thing.

like a diamond under pressure

↳ the one where you're breaking and neteyam picks up the pieces.

warm hands

↳ the one where neteyam is shackled by appearances, but you couldn’t care less.

by the grace [make no mistake]

↳ the one where neteyam is too blinded by duty to realize what he has right in front of him.

by the grace [make no mistake] ii

↳ the one where neteyam is dangerously close the losing; but maybe you two are meant to be.

✮ 𝙡𝙤'𝙖𝙠

— [oneshots]

in full bloom | 10.2k

↳ in which lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

— [drabbles]

everything is blue | part one ✦ part two

↳ the one where lo'ak misunderstands your friendship with his older brother.

one of us is dead

↳ the one where lo'ak makes a grave mistake.

yellow

↳ the one where you and lo'ak are too stupid to be in love.

under the moonlight, we kindle

↳ the one where you and lo'ak are words apart, but not a thing can come between you.

wilting flowers

↳ the one where you can't help but want lo'ak even though he's in love with someone else.

✮ 𝙠𝙞𝙧𝙞

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

. . . coming soon!

✮ 𝙖𝙤'𝙣𝙪𝙣𝙜

— [oneshots]

pull of the tides | 7.1k

↳ you are a warrior of very few words, yet oftentimes your gaze betrays you. this widens the rift between you and the eldest sully, but will seeking refuge with the metkayina soothe the burn? especially when the alleviation comes in the form of a certain ocean boy?

— [drabbles]

bashful creatures

↳ the one where you’re shy and ao’nung’s got a crush.

i wanna be yours

↳ the one where you're madly in love but ao'nung doesn't want a thing to do with you.

✮ 𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙮𝙖

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

. . . coming soon!

✮ 𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙭𝙤

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

. . . coming soon!

#neng's housekeeping ༄

1K notes · View notes

natashxromanovf · 4 months

Text

Forever mine

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1301

WARNINGS: slight fighting (verbal, very mild), mentions of food, one swear word

REQUESTED: {x} by @arkofblake

SUMMARY: Yours and JJ’s relationship, from the day you met to the present time and what you learnt about each other throughout those years.

A/N: Thank you for requesting this babes! I loved writing it so much, I hope you enjoy reading it as well <3

You vividly remember the first time your eyes laid on JJ Maybank. It was a sunny afternoon amid September, the weather surprisingly summer-like. Walking inside a restaurant, you were supposed to meet a friend of yours for brunch but she bailed on you at the last second, leaving you standing on the street all alone. You thought about going back to your dorm but decided otherwise. You were really hungry, already here and to be honest, you could use some peace and quiet to gather your thoughts.

“What can I get for you?” a blonde boy questions you, giving you a warm smile. As you look up at him, the breath you were about to let out hitches in your throat and the words get stuck in your mouth. A moment passes by and you finally collect yourself again, already feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh a bit, looking down at your hands. “Could I please get some pancakes with maple syrup?” you politely ask, returning him the smile.

“Of course, ma’am, coming right up,” the guy says as he leaves, leaving you speechless. The blonde couldn’t have been much older than you, maybe a year or two but not more. And the fact that he’s really gorgeous didn’t slip past you either, because that is one of the finest men you have ever seen in your life.

Before you know it he comes back with your food, placing a plate in front of you. You flinch a little when the plate collides with the table, as you aren’t aware of your surroundings. You quickly snap out of your thoughts though, as he starts speaking.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Oh, no thank you, I think I got everything I need,” you reply, looking up at him once again. He nods and starts to walk away, as you gather the courage to do something the girl you were a week back would never do. “Except maybe,” you start, catching his attention once again. “What’s your name?”

He smirks before answering, letting you know that he was waiting for that question. “JJ,” he answers. “JJ Maybank.”

“What’re you thinking about there, babe?” JJ questions as he tucks your hair behind your ear, a gesture he learned you love very much.

“About the day we met,” you honestly answer a small smile appearing on your face.

“Oh, you mean about the day when you were literally at a loss for words when you first saw me?” he says cockily, earning a slight smack on the arm from you.

The two of you were currently lying down on his couch, watching your favourite TV show, trying to unwind from your morning classes. “Do you remember the day when you first kissed me?” you ask, grinning wildly as the memory flashes across your mind.

“Of course I do,” JJ replies. “We were sitting on the beach in Outer Banks. It was the first time I took you there, to meet my best friends from high school. They all left and we were watching the sunset, it was particularly beautiful that day. You were talking about how much you like them all and I just decided right then and there that I wanna spend my whole life with you,” he finishes and you turn around, pressing a deep kiss against his lips. When you part you just stare at him for a few seconds, the biggest smile on your lips. He mirrors your expression, his fingers caressing your arm, barely touching you but still erupting goosebumps all over your body.

“I love you,” you finally say, him returning the words. After that, you give him another pack and then you stand up, grabbing some clothes from the drawer in his bedroom. You stop for a second and realise you have your drawer at his place. You don’t know when it officially became your drawer, it just sort of happened. I mean, it was just a matter of time to be fair, you’re barely at your dorm anymore.

“Where are you going?” the blonde shouts from the living room, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“To take a shower,” you exclaim, closing the drawer. “I’m meeting with Amanda later,” you remind him, blowing a little kiss at him before closing the bathroom door.

“What’s going on?” asks JJ as he enters the apartment, placing his keys on the cupboard near the door.

“Bills,” you simply answer, your face still scrunched with confusion and a bit of anger. This has been a repeating problem for the past few months, something the two of you can’t get rid of. The apartment lease has gotten higher just around the time you started having money problems and the stupid landlord won’t give you a few extra days to pay for the place. “I get my pay in a couple of days,” you state as a matter of fact, more to yourself than to the man now standing next to you.

“Yeah I know but that bitch downstairs just doesn’t wanna give us a day or two more,” he almost shouts, silently praying your downstairs neighbour heard that.

“Jesus JJ you can’t just scream like that!” you suddenly snap, catching him by surprise. He takes a slight step back, trying to figure out what the problem is right now. He has done this multiple times already and you always laugh at it.

“Y/N,...” he starts but you shush him with your hand, taking a breath.

“I just can’t deal with this right now,” you say, grabbing your car keys and throwing the door open. Once you're outside you stop for a second, taking a deep breath of fresh air, trying to stop the tears that will inevitably come. To your surprise JJ follows you downstairs, stopping just a step or two behind you.

“Y/N what is going on?” he finally asks, stepping just a bit closer.

“I don’t know,” you honestly reply, the first tear starting to roll down your cheek. “I don’t know, J, nothing’s wrong, everything’s wrong,” you murmur, a sob escaping your lips.

“Hey, hey, darling, shhhh,” he says as he wraps you in a tight hug, making you press your head to his chest. “We’ll figure this out, I promise,” he swears, softly caressing your back. You finally let yourself breathe, really breathe and take a moment to relieve some of the stress that has been building up in you for weeks now.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you start, your voice a bit muffled by his shirt. “I had a terrible day at work today and college is just too much right now and my Mom just called me with another one of her problems and now I saw the bill and I just,” you ramble, meanwhile JJ comforts you in the best way he knows how. “I really need to take a break,” you finish, finally letting go of the blonde. As soon as you look up at him he presses a reassuring kiss to your forehead, the forgiveness for shouting at him hidden in that gesture.

“I know Y/N, and I will make sure you get the rest you need. And remember, just because we fight doesn’t mean we won’t work things out. We’re not your parents, love,” he whispers, pulling another sob out of you but this time a sob of relief.

“I know, J, I know. I guess I just need a reminder from time to time,” you smile up at him. He softly wipes away your tears and when he’s done, he guides your lips into a comforting kiss.

“Good. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever been mine,” he mutters, putting his hand around your shoulders, and guiding you back inside the apartment.

outer banks taglist: @hallecarey1 @lovelyjj @ilyjohnb

jj maybank: @velvetcloxds @tenaciousperfectionunknown

hope you enjoyed this! don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment, it really helps writers with motivation <33

taglist form

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #taja writes #fanfiction #taja’s 202 4 the plot

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devieuls · 11 months

Text

The way of love pt.I

Neteyam Sully x Tayrangi Fem Reader (Na'vi)

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Dom Neteyam x Fem Reader; SMUT; ANGST; FLUFF; Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; Blood; Spit; Power Play; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; Enemies (because of you, Neteyam treats you well). Aged characters: Neteyam 19 y.o / You 18 y.o SERIE

Synopsis: After a great loss happened in your family, you are forced to take a role that before did not belong to you, following a path that you will feel like your only in time. Just when you thought you were finally overcoming the loss, your clan shows up with those you blame for the great offense received. You are the daughter of the first Olo'eykte of all clans and are about to take your mother’s place to lead the Tayrangi clan, but first you must follow Neteyam (the eldest son of the man you detest with all your heart) To train him, despite your contempt for the Sullys and everything about them, you inevitably bond with the boy, unknowingly falling in love with him.

CHAPTER WARNING: Just free hate for Neteyam from you.

Lenght : 2.1k

Notes: This series will be one of my biggest BOP or FLOP, it’s a long time I wanted to write about Neteyam because... GOSH, BUT YOU HAVE SEEN HIM?! BTW. All characters will keep the age difference but will be aged eg: Neteyam 19 y.o; Lo'ak 18 y.o etc…

" y/n te Skxumew Ikeyni'ite" is your surname, means Y/n surname daughter of Ikeyni

NA'VI WORDS: PARULTSYIP: Children. KARYU: Teacher. VRRTEP: Demon. IRAYO: Thank you. OARE: Moon. 'ITE: Daughter

PART: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 ; 6 ; 7 ; 8 ; 9 ; 10

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

The first time the Sullys visited the Tayrangi clan, you were suspicious. You weren’t a big fan of Toruk Makto, there were rumors about him, rumors that you didn’t like him and that you were looking down on the Omatikaya family. Unlike your mother, the Olo'eykte Ikeyni, one of the few women to be clan leaders and Tsahik at the same time, you did not believe that you should be on the side of a man from another world. It also bothered you that the Sullys left their eldest son to be trained by your father, who, ironically, loved to teach young people the art of hunting.

You rolled your eyes as the girls of your clan looked at the son of Toruk Makto as if he were a living legend, a god among Na'vi, to you he was simply a na'vi with demon blood. You still remembered how your clan had offered shelter to the fleeing or homeless na'vi because of the war brought above all by the father of that Omatikayan. You growled slightly as the boy walked over to you, then turned around and walked away from him, taking a seat next to your parents, checking out the Sullys.

"My daughter. The future Olo'eykte of the Tayrangi Clan and healer of the village. She will be the guide of your son Neteyam, showing him the arts of this clan and our way." Your mother’s words stabbed you in the back, and you looked at her like it might change her mind, which it didn’t. You looked at your father, Tsentey, who, though he looked back, made you think he agreed with your mother.

You took a deep breath and walked away, trying to stay calm. You hated the idea of being the leader of that half-demon, but you couldn’t help but disobeying would put you in a position where the clan would look down on you and in Eywa’s eyes you would be undeserving to be Olo'eykte.

When evening came, your parents returned to your house and looked at you slightly disappointed.

"Ma 'ite… I know it's not something that brings joy to your heart, but it is your duty as next Olo'eykte" said your father, placing a hand on your shoulder, smiling gently, while your mother looked hard at you.

"There is no time for whims. This is the will of Eywa. An Olo'eykte is already weaker than an Olo'eyktan man. If you do not help the future Olo'eyktan of Omatikaya, someone else will and you will be just a Na'vi with a lower title" Your mother said, approaching you. " Ma 'ite. You are strong. You can do it and when the day comes, you will lead this clan, show them who you are" continued and then lifted your face from your chin. "You're a warrior. Remember who you are y/n te Skxumew Ikeyni'ite. You'll be the second Olo'eykte of all Pandora and everyone will know your name. More than Toruk Makto. But you have to make sacrifices, put pride aside. You have a goal Ma Oare" Your mother put her forehead on yours and you both closed your eyes, then nodded.

"I will." You said with conviction to see your mother smile, she was right. This was just one of the trials to reach your place in the clan.

The night passed quickly and the next day you were ready to face that demon blood, you just had to train him and then after a few months send him back to his house, to the Omatikaya. Your mother encouraged you when she saw you awake as you walked past the tree house, then headed to where Neteyam was staying, finding him already outside.

"Follow me." You hissed, then walked through the village to get out and into the woods. " What weapon can you use?" You continued without turning around to see where Neteyam was.

"Knives and Bows." He replied by keeping the pace "However I am-"

You stopped him, you stopped yourself, and then you turned around and looked him in the eye.

"I know who you are. Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan" You said to then observe it. " Bows and knives? Your arms are weak" You said approaching him, touching his arm. " Your chest tight, but you have a good posture." The boy watched you turn around and talk about him. "Do you have an Ikran?" You look him in the eye when you talk to him.

"Yes, I have one." His voice was still, as if the words you used didn’t hurt him at all.

"Can you swim?"

"Pretty good" Neteyam looked at you enchanted, smiling slightly

"Tsk. You’re like a parultsyìp. I have to teach you everything." You said sighing and then continued walking until you got to the cliff that provided a wonderful view of the sea.

"The Tayrangi clan is famous for being skilled riders of Ikran, the best. We interpret the wind, understand the sea and respect the great predators and the Ikran. You have to learn to fight with more weapons, to swim, to understand the wind and the animals that surround us" You said and then sit on the cliff, breathing in the fresh air.

"I’m here for this… what’s your name?" Neteyam’s voice was sweet as he sat next to you.

"You’re not here to make friends or get to know me. Call me Karyu." Your detached and disinterested voice made Neteyam smile, who already found you interesting.

"Karyu? So you won’t tell me your name?" he said, slightly laughing.

"Not relevant for training. Now silence. Listen to the wind"

That day you taught Neteyam the basics of understanding the wind, explaining in detail how to use this to fly better, to understand when it will start to rain or other natural events. The boy, different from what you thought, listened to you interested, asking questions and coming to understand what you were explaining. You couldn’t deny it.

"For today we are finished, tomorrow we will start with the proper guidance of the Ikran, the Omatikaya use strange methods to approach the banshees" You said, Going from the cliff and stretching you.

"Did I do well?" he asked curiously, as he stood up.

"Discreetly, you are not completely Skxawng." You shrugged, indifferent. " These are things that our children learn after a week. Half a day is something"

"Something? Does that mean I can now know your name?"

"No. Why do you care so much?" your voice was sore.

"Just curiosity" Neteyam smiled and approached you

"Hmm… if you can get back to the village before the eclipse, I’ll tell you my name. Good luck" You said, and then you went into the forest, going home alone, about an hour before the eclipse, it was impossible for her to return in time, not knowing the way back. You prayed that a Palulukan would tear him to pieces, not to have him back but you could not wish this on a son of Eywa, after all even a Palulukan deserved a better meal.

Some of your companions gathered to wait for Neteyam after hearing about that little challenge, you smiled satisfied when the eclipse came and Neteyam was not back yet. " What if he’s dead?" " Maybe he found a Palulukan." "Or he got lost" Voices like this filled the air, you shrugged and turned to leave. At that moment you heard the girls cheering and shouting the name of Neteyam happy, seeing him unharmed.

You turned and looked him in the eye, after all he still lost the challenge, so the victory belonged to you. Neteyam came up with a flower.

"There’s already been an eclipse. You lost, so I don't-" You stopped when Neteyam put the flower behind your ear, smiling at seeing you with it in your hair.

"I would have won, but I saw this Sun Lily and it reminded me of your eyes, so I looked for the most beautiful, wasting time" He said smiling, shrugging. " I’ll discover your name one day, ma Karyu"

You observed him without saying anything, you did not expect such a thing. He had preferred to lose the challenge to pick a flower to give you and did not seem upset by this, indeed, he smiled carelessly. You did not understand at that moment why your heart accelerated the beat, or why you did not immediately remove the flower, or why now you looked at it without disgust or repugnance. You recovered from your thoughts when you heard some girls being jealous of you for that little gesture made by Prince Omatikaya. You clenched your jaw and looked at him.

"You still lost." you said with the little coolness you had left.

"I did, but does it matter?" He replied promptly, and then continued, "It was worth it, the flower suits you very well."

You bit the inside of your cheek and then you turned around and left "See you tomorrow." You said dryly before saying goodbye and going home.

"She’s beautiful, isn’t she?" Neteyam said to some of the clan’s boys.

"Bro, shs's the type of na'vi who eats you alive." one of the guys laughed.

"I know, and I like it." Neteyam concluded

You reported to your mother and she immediately noticed the flower in your hair.

"It’s very nice, where did you get it?" she asked, placing the flower in your hair.

"Just a stupid gift." You confessed before you took it off and left it in your mother’s hand, going to a more secluded place on one of the tree branches.

"skxawng. just a vrrtep skxawng." You said to yourself while leaning your body against the tree. " Ma Eywa, please, Great mother, make sure he learns quickly and walks away." You asked as you watched the starry sky. " Give me a sign to bear him, because he’s a vrrtep," you said before you heard a woodsprite landing on the same ear where Neteyam’s flower used to be and then seeing it not far under the tree where you were sitting. You felt mocked, Eywa today was having fun putting everything against you, otherwise you won’t explain these coincidences.

The coup de grâce came when the branch broke, dropping you into Neteyam’s arms. If you could confirm that, Eywa was trying to make you do all these things. You sighed annoyed, crossing your arms when Neteyam looked at you to see if you were okay.

"Are you hurt? Is everything okay?" he asked concerned, checking you and clutching you accidentally.

"You can let me go. I’m fine." You answered a little sour.

"A thank you is welcome, Princess Tayrangi," Neteyam laughed, and then left you standing on the ground, watching you.

"Irayo…" you whispered quietly, turning your head to the side

"I don’t understand, can you repeat?" he said smiling

"what a skxawng…" you whispered softly. " I said Irayo." This time you said fast

"I still don’t understand, I really think you’ll have to repeat it," Neteyam laughed a little.

"Are you- Irayo." You said it out loud so he’d get it in his head, and then he’d snort right after.

"You are even more beautiful when you get angry, you know?" he said spontaneously, leaning against the tree, admiring your beauty.

You swirled your eyes, restraining yourself from splitting his nasal septum or something, but for the umpteenth time Eywa sent a signal, a woodsprite on Neteyam’s shoulder. You looked up and laughed frustrated.

"Listen carefully, I don’t know why my path is intertwined with yours. I don’t want to put up with you any more than I have to. This means that if you see me falling from a tree, let me fall, if you find flowers that remind you of me, leave them where they are, if you see me for the village avoid me" You said pointing your finger at Neteyam’s chest. "The only thing keeping me from completely avoiding you is my title and my parents. You’d be meal for Palulukan if it were up to me."

Neteyam opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him. "Don’t answer, it’s already decided. Learn quickly, I want you out of this village and away from me or my people. I don’t know why my parents sympathize with your family, but I don’t agree with them. Now, if you understand that you have to stay as far away from me as possible, nod."

The boy nodded, smiling amused, watching you get nervous.

"Good. See you tomorrow Neteyam." You said saying goodbye a second time to go home.

At that moment, all you wanted was for Neteyam to disappear, him and his manners, and take away that beautiful smile and those golden eyes. Fuck, no. You don’t have to think about it. You hate him, you hate his family, you must hate him… Do you hate him?

#neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #avatar #avatar smut #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam fanfiction #ThewayofloveNeteyam #Mel's Neteyam Garden #Mel's Avatar Garden

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sugaflake · 1 year

Text

Poison | myg [m]

One.

Summary: A dark stranger with an even darker secret crosses your path.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 4312

A/N: The biggest thank you has to go my best friend, @jeonsjiddies for always encouraging and pushing me to write. This has been the first fic I’ve actually put out and posted out of the countless ideas I’ve rambled off to her and stored away. Her fic Toxic is ultimately what sparked this idea - please go read it, it’s amazing. She’s my forever beta reader and editor, and I can’t thank her enough <3

Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, degradation, fingering, handjob, exhibitionism, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, cream pie, piercings (male genatalia), porn with *some* plot, dirty talk, dom!yoongi, rough sex

“You need to actually get out and meet some new people. You need to get out of this musty-ass apartment.” Your best friend since childhood, Morgan, and the biggest pain in your ass right now threw open the curtains in your bedroom, allowing some natural light to stream in. “And when was the last time you showered?”

“No, I don’t want to,” you whined as you threw yourself back against the pillows, pulling the covers over your face, “I’m perfectly fine in my musty-ass apartment with my pain in the ass friend who just let herself in, rude by the way, and I showered yesterday, not that it’s of any concern of yours.”

Morgan ripped the covers from the bed and off of your face.

“You never do, not anymore. Not since your breakup.”

You shot her a glare. You wanted to say something, you opened your mouth to, but quickly closed it before pulling your knees to your chest and buried your head there. You didn’t want to look at how depressing or destroyed your room looked. No longer did it share memories of you and your boyfriend. No longer did it have any warmth or love. All it harbored now was loss, angst, ripped pictures and T-shirts, and lost echoes of remembrance. You felt the bed shift as Morgan took a seat beside you, pulling you into a hug. “Y/N, I know your breakup with Minho has been really hard on you.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say. Jimin would never cheat on you.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” You looked up at her, eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“The point is, you need to try and put it behind you. I know it’s hard. It’s not going to be easy, but you’ve got to try.”

“I don’t want to. I’ll just die alone and lonely. I’ll never find someone or be like you and Jimin.”

“You’re right,” she said with a little laugh, “you won’t be like me and Jimin. You’ll be like you and whoever you find. You’re you and I’m me. Besides, you like all that weird kinky shit, you need someone who can satiate that weird,” she waved her hands in your general direction, trying to find the right words, “whatever it is you’ve got going on in that funky-ass brain of yours.”

You both laughed.

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” she said as she got up and headed to the closet, throwing the doors open.

“I suppose.” You watched your best friend rifle through your closet looking for the skimpiest thing possible to wear. “So where exactly are you wanting to drag me off to?”

“There’s this new club that’s downtown! It’s apparently really exclusive and it’s really hard to get into. Jimin knows the owner, so he managed to get us in!”

“Of course he does and of course he did.”

Jimin was right, this new club wasn’t like any of the others you’d been to. It definitely was more high class than any of the ones you’d ever visited. The name, Venom, seemed to clash with the vibe the club was trying to go for, but was likely just right for the seedy underbelly type of people that would frequent.

You leaned into the large cushions of the booth you’d been thrown into by Morgan and Jimin, fruity drink in hand. You sighed as you watched the two blissfully and drunkenly grind each other senseless on the dance floor, not a care in the world. You pulled your phone from your clutch and went straight to Minho’s Instagram page. Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images of him looking happy, arm looped around another girl’s waist. The girl he’d been cheating on you with. The girl you stupidly believed was “just a friend”. There was a part of you that wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry. But there was also a part of you that wanted to set his house on fire with him and that little bitch inside of it.

Groaning, you downed your drink, about ready to wave the waiter down for another one. As much as you didn’t want to really be at the club, at least Jimin managed to get you guys in the VIP section with unlimited drinks you didn’t have to pay for. If you were going to be forced to be here watching your best friend and her boyfriend be gross and not think about your stupid ex and his stupid bitch, you weren’t going to be sober.

Yoongi leaned against the bar, swirling his whiskey in his glass, eyes scanning the room. He didn’t see what the big deal about this club was. It seemed like every other club he’d ever been to. Bored assholes with too much money bribing their way in, drugs on their lips and in their veins, cocks hard for drunk girls who can barely stand up.

He watched as couples humped each other drunkenly, stumbled across the floor, and made their way to private rooms. It was all typical behavior.

Except for one.

One girl caught his attention. One girl with curls falling down her bare shoulders. A girl sitting by herself looking as though she were absolutely miserable and waiting for the ground to swallow her whole.

Yoongi downed his whiskey and motioned for another one before he slowly walked a little closer, tilting his head to the side, watching the girl scroll through her phone.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” she seethed, continuing to scroll, “she’s not that pretty… I mean I guess she is, but whatever. I hope you’re fucking happy, you douchebag and little bitch. I could just fucking… ngghh!”

She threw her phone back in her bag, chugging the pink drink the waiter had just given her. A smirk crept across Yoongi’s lips. ‘Now she seems like she could be some fucking fun.’

Dark eyes continued to watch the girl as she sat alone. His eyes traced over the small tattoos that littered her shoulders, He continued to wait a little while longer to see if anyone would join her. He could tell she hadn’t come alone, having spotted another purse. After several minutes of no one joining her, Yoongi decided to take this opportunity to make a move.

Your eyes scanned the dance floor, having totally lost your friends somewhere in the haze of lights, fog, and music. Your head started to feel a little fuzzy after the last watermelon margarita you deep throated in negative three seconds. So far the night was a bust. Your friends had abandoned you to be horny teenagers, which you couldn’t blame them (even though you wanted to). You’d wasted a clean pair of clothes and a shower. You honestly were ready to call it quits and crawl back into your bed in your musty-ass apartment.

Just as you were resigning yourself to gather your shit and go - a hot, scratch that, a very hot tattooed man with piercings, dark hair and dark eyes slid into the booth beside you. “I think you might be at the wrong table.”

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. His hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “I saw you from over at the bar. You looked bored.”

“I got ditched by horny love birds,” you rolled your eyes with a withering smile.

“We love that.”

“No we don’t,” you laughed as you tucked some hair behind your ear.

The man with dark hair leaned close to your ear, his dark hair falling in his eyes, “why don’t we ditch your horny love birds and make our own fun?”

He wrapped his arm around the back of the booth, ringed fingers lightly touching the skin of your shoulders. The sultriness of his voice and the heat of his touch caused you to shiver once more. And that wasn’t the only thing beginning to shiver. You cleared your throat and crossed one leg over the other. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

A smirk crept across his lips, exposing his gums. He reached his other hand over and began slowly drifting lazy figure eights with his fingers up your bare leg, slowly working his way from up your knee to your thigh. Your cheeks began to feel warm, and it wasn’t too long after a waiter came by and dropped off six shot glasses of varying colors, filled to the brim. He leaned in close again, planting his lips by your ear, “I’m sure you’re a smart enough kitten to figure that out,” he cooed, licking his lips.

The tip of his tongue grazed the curve of your ear and you leaned into him with another shiver, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep the moan that threatened to escape. He was warm and fuck did he smell good. You cleared your throat once more and reached out and touched one of the shot glasses, trying to focus on anything besides the growing heat between your legs.

Had it really been that long since you’d had any physical touch since your breakup? You’d tried to recall, not even remembering you having the willpower to please yourself. ‘Depressing.’

The dark haired stranger reached his long tatted arm out and pointed at the shots. “Three for you, three for me.”

Your eyes looked at the varying colors of the glasses. You weren’t always a fan of shots. You always managed to pick the nastiest, most bitter ones.

“What are they?”

“This one’s Strawberry Starburst,” okay, sounds fruity, you didn’t mind the sound of that, “this one’s Buttery Nipple,” it had a thick layer of cream on top, surely it was good, “and this one’s a Wet Pussy.”

Your eyes widened, flicking up to meet his. He looked down at you hungrily, dark hair covering his face, wicked grin creeping across his lips. That was all it took for your core to tighten.

“So what do you say, kitten? Have some shots and some fun with me.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the sounds of the club fading away briefly. This wasn’t the type of girl you normally were. You liked to build and take things at a decent pace. But he - whoever the hell he was - swooped in like a raven in the night and knocked that wall down. Jesus Christ on roller skates he was hot as hell. And it had been so long.

Fuck it.

“So ho-“

“Yes,” you cut him off before he could finish. Fuck it. You wanted this. You needed this. Maybe it would help you get out of your little funk and you could go back to living a normal life.

“Well all right, then.” The dark haired stranger pulled the first pink shot glass towards the both of you. He wrapped his veiny hand around the small glass and slightly lifted it from the table, waiting for you to do the same. Your heart pounded in your chest, as you took the same shot in hand.

“Bottoms up,” he said, bringing the glass to his lips.

You had no idea just how literal that term would become.

The fruity alcohol sent a warm heat down your throat as you kicked back the first shot. It was good, better than expected. Without much prompting, you grabbed the second glass and waited for the stranger to do the same.

“Eager little one, aren’t you?”

You clenched your legs together a little tighter, your cheeks heating once more. You both had your shots in hand, each tossing them back like the first. The second shot tasted even better than the first, and a wobbly heat began to come over you, settling in your legs.

You looked up at the stranger, sweat damp curls pinning to your neck. “You seem more eager than me, plying me with drinks.”

You could tell you were slurring ever so slightly, the words leaving your lips at a slow pace. You could handle your alcohol somewhat decently, but the addition of three strong shots one right after another would be the tipping point.

A sultry, deep growl washed over you as the stranger slightly traced his tongue along the shell of your ear, “don’t start something you know you can’t finish, kitten.” He ever so lightly grazed his lips against your neck, only causing the pesky throbbing between your legs to strengthen.

He pulled the third and final shot glass towards you. He wrapped his large calloused fingers around yours and brought the purple drink to your lips. “This kitten,” he cooed, pressing his lips to your neck once more, “this is how I’m going to leave you.”

FUCK.

He ran the sticky rim of the glass against your bottom lip with one hand, while the other slowly snaked its way to just beneath the hem of your skirt. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat. Some of the drink dribbled down your chin and chest. “Such a messy little girl you are,” he chided with a smirk. He moved his hand from the hem of your skirt to wipe the alcohol from your chest before popping his fingers in his mouth, “mmm, sweet.”

“Mmnf…” you whined as you clenched your shaking legs as close as they could get, rubbing them together to get some mild semblance of relief. Who the fuck was this guy, and what the fuck had he done to you in such a short amount of time? You clenched your free hand into a fist, nails digging into the soft flesh of your palm. Your chest rose heavily as you took a ragged breath. It took all the self restraint you had from shoving his hand between your legs right then and there.

Fuck it.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it back towards the direction of your skirt, pushing it beneath the fabric and slowly towards your now dripping core. Your eyes desperately searched his begging for his touch. You were sitting in the middle of a busy nightclub with a random stranger all but tipsy on however many drinks you’d had previously, two shots and one more to go with his hand you’d shoved up your skirt, begging for him to finger you and you absolutely didn’t fucking care. Heat and hunger radiated through your body as you looked down at the strained but clearly thickly tented erection growing beneath the tight black jeans.

The dark headed stranger swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, that damned sexy smirk appearing once more as he lightly ran his middle finger up the once dry lace. “You really are a messy little girl, aren’t you?” He pulled his hand away once more, the action extracting a mewling whine you hated yourself for making. He licked the wetness from his finger, “I’m not sure what’s sweeter, the drink or you.”

You squirmed beneath him, feeling like you might explode at this point if you don’t get something - anything. For the briefest of moments, your ex came to mind. Not once in the four years of your relationship had he managed to reduce you to a whimpering withering mess without even touching you like this random stranger had.

“Please…” you whined, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, your nose falling into the crook of his neck. The smell of him absolutely intoxicated you. The faint smell of cigarettes lingered on his breath and clothes mixed with a cologne that had a biting freshness and some kind of animal sensuality that you were finding very hard to resist. Morgan always said you were gross for liking the smell of cigarettes, but you didn’t care. You loved it. You breathed deep, dying to sink your teeth into the vein that throbbed.

A deep, throaty laugh escaped the stranger as he lifted your chin with his finger. He leaned in close, eyes level with yours. Your pupils were blown wide, chest heaving, legs practically wide open for the entire club to see. “Good girls finish their drinks first.”

In the haze, you’d all but forgotten the last shot that left sticky remnants on your lips and down your chest. You nodded like the good girl you were and bit your bottom lip. You looked at the glass that he still held. The purple liquid taunted you, your head already dizzy. Honestly thinking you wouldn’t have the strength to hold the glass, you stupidly parted your lips, eyes stuck on his.

“Mm, yes, that’s a really good little girl.” He pressed the glass to your lips and tipped it back, pouring the sweet liquid down your throat. You leaned your head back some to swallow, eyes never leaving him. He curled his lips into a wicked snarl exposing his teeth and gums that left a devastating pang to your already tightly wound core. He picked up his shot and knocked it back with ease, tossing the glass on the table.

His lips enveloped yours, tongue fiercely pushing its way in. The taste of alcohol washed over you as you sucked on his tongue desperately, whining into his mouth. Without warning, he slipped his hand beneath your skirt, past the ruined panties and straight into your soaking heat. You gasped in his mouth from the sudden touch, but definitely wasn’t prepared for the feel of two very strong fingers pushing their way in. He gagged you with his tongue, pumping his calloused fingers in and out with a harshness you weren’t used to but desperately craved.

Your body shook as you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down onto you, blocking you further from any prying eyes. But at this point, you honestly didn’t care. This stranger could splay you out for all to see and you’d be perfectly fine with it.

He pulled away from your mouth, a string of saliva pulling between the two of you, “you like this, don’t you, kitten? You like that I can get you off and so wet with all these people watching. You like the fact that I got you off and didn’t even touch you, you little slut.”

Your whine was a little louder this time, your entire body shaking. You planted your face into his neck again, fingers making a mad grab for the arms of his tank top.

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes…”

“Yes what?”

“Sir… Yes sir!” you croaked as you pulled your hands from his top, trying to cover your embarrassment with your arms.

“Nah.” With his free hand, he pulled your hands from your face and over your head, “I know you like this, you little exhibitionist. I know you like the idea of me fingering you into submission right here in this booth.”

You hated the fact that he was right. You hated the fact that this was turning you on in a major way. What sort of witchcraft had this stranger performed on you to make you such a whimpering little simp? You were never like this with Minho or any other boyfriends for that matter. This was never something you’d imagine ever doing. But right now, there was a dark excitement that filled you, and you absolutely were living for it.

A few more rough pumps and you were practically screaming, shaking, convulsing almost, hips bucking into his hand and riding the wave of white hot euphoria that washed over you. The only saving grace being the loud music cutting the two of you off from the rest of the club.

You tried to steady your breathing as you shifted in your seat, cum dripping from your soaking cunt and ruined panties. You looked at the abandoned glasses littered on the table many toppled over from your greedy fit of needing to be touched. Your eyes turned back to face the dark haired stranger. He smirked, popping the fingers that were just inside of you in his mouth and sucking on them. Yet another whine escaped you while you watched him. You’d have assumed you’d be spent at this point, but some kind of hunger had been awakened in you, and you needed more. Shaky hands pawed at him as he pulled his fingers from his mouth.

“What?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side. Knowing full well what you wanted and needed. You bit your bottom lip and glanced down at his growing erection that was just dying to be released. You yourself were dying to know what else was in store for you. One of your hands slid to the bulge and you lightly squeezed it, keeping your eyes on him for his reaction. The guttural moan that left him was all it took to invite you for another squeeze, this one a little rougher than the last. “Remember what I said, kitten. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he growled as he bit the side of your neck.

“I’ll be a good girl…”

That was all it took to yank you from the booth and harshly and quickly pull you towards the bathroom, your bag with your fucking phone and keys completely forgotten. The only thing on your mind was where he was leading you. You watched as one guy came out of the single use bathroom and shoved the other guy who had been waiting out of the way. “Move.”

You tried to not make eye contact with him as the stranger pulled you into the bathroom and locked the door behind you. His mouth immediately crashed into yours, your back roughly being pushed against the door with a thud.

Your hands scrambled, trying to make quick work of the belt that held his pants tightly around his toned waist. He pulled away from you just enough to unbutton and unzip his jeans, sliding them and the dark gray boxer briefs partially down his thighs. His cock sprang up against his stomach, precum seeping from the swollen head. It was soft and pale like him, but long, thick, and veiny. The one thing you hadn’t expected was that it was pierced. Three horizontal bars consisting of a frenum ladder. Your mouth dropped open for a second. That would be a new experience.

“Like what you see?” Your only answer was a nod before your hand immediately found purchase around the trunk of his cock, dragging your hand up and down, using the friction to your advantage as more precum dribbled down the sides. “Ff-fuck,” he growled, one of his hands twining through your curls.

Core instantly throbbing, you pumped your hand several more times before moving your hand and all too gently tracing your finger down the length of his fully erect cock. It was your turn to smirk this time, but you were stupid for thinking you had the upper hand. You should’ve known better.

“Oh, no, no. Dirty little girls like you don’t get to be in charge.” Reaching his hand between your legs, the stranger ripped the lacy panties in half at the crotch with absolute ease. The fabric flapped uselessly by your thighs, cum dribbling from your cunt. You opened your mouth to say something but were cut off by his hands wrapping themselves under your ass cheeks and lifting you to just above his eye level. “Bad little girls have to be punished for thinking they’re too big for their britches… or lack thereof.”

That wicked, wicked smirk plastered across his lips once more as he rammed his hard dick deep into your wet pussy, using the door at your back to his advantage.

You yelped, grabbing onto his back for support, nails digging into his bare shoulders. With the music muffled from the bathroom, your squelching sounds were much easier to hear, and it would’ve almost embarrassed you were you not being thrown into a stupor. Your back rammed into the door as he pounded into you and your legs wrapped around his waist, one heel falling from your foot from the intensity.

“I-I nnff…!” You bit onto his shoulder, feeling yourself tighten around his cock. With each movement, you felt the bars effortlessly slide along the sides of your walls, making it very hard for you to last much longer.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled in your ear, “show daddy how good your little slut cunt can be…”

You shuttered as one last drag and pound of his cock was all it took to throw you over the edge, creaming down the length of him. He took your mouth in his and kissed you through his own wave, bucking against you as he shot his load into you. He pulled himself from you, leaving you a dripping, wet mess with your ass and pussy exposed to the open air. You whined as you the felt the balls of the piercings slide from you, leaving you empty.

“What a pretty little mess you are,” he cocked his eyebrow, licking his lips as he lowered you back to your feet. You stumbled for a second or two as you tried to gather yourself and quickly put your dropped heel back on your bare foot. Your core ached with overstimulation, but was so desperately begging for more. The stranger tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, pulling them back over his hips and buttoning himself back in.

Like that, his conquest was over and he was about to turn on his heel and leave, but you reached your hand out and grabbed his, pulling him back. “Wait…” His dark eyes looked your face over as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes even in your heels. “Take me with you.”

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