#AND I DON'T APPRECIATE BEING CALLED THAT BUT I'LL LET IT SLIDE FOR NOW

[dollfacefantasy]

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now. 

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time. 

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like -  you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout. 

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that. 

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

[harrysfolklore]

little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz absolutely hate each other. carlos thinks she’s immature, yn calls him a little bitch on social media. they also kiss every now and then. PART TWO

word count: over 10k + social media posts

folkie radio: guys this fic is my baby okay 🥲🥲 please take care of it i spent like two weeks writing it. FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2023 SEASON

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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 87,635 others

ynpiastri that’s my optimistic little brother cry about it 😚 see y��all after the break

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username1 LAJSIA SO MESSY

username2 yn really said you will NAWT mess with my little brother

lilyzneimer Love you forever 😂

↳ ynpiastri ilysm

username3 the sainz - piastri drama just spiced this season up

mclaren That’s our boy 🧡

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri fighting on the internet and oscar is just 🧍

username5 the fact that daniel ricciardo and pierre gasly liked yn’s tweet too 😭

landonorris Stop fighting people on the internet please

↳username1 HELP HIS BESTIES ARE FIGHTING

↳ ynpiastri never 😤

oscarpiastri When nobody got me I know my messy sister got me

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM SM

↳ yourinstagram HE SAID NO PICKLES !!

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"You didn't have to tweet that," Oscar said, giving you a look from his seat.

You were currently traveling from Belgium to Monaco in McLaren's private jet after the race weekend, and the main topic of the day was your little message to Carlos Sainz after his statement about your brother.

"Osc, he's being a petty bitch," you shrugged, "He keeps blaming you for what happened on the track and we all know it was his fault."

"Lando, can you help me out please?" Oscar looked at his teammate, who was immersed on his phone as a way to avoid the conversation.

"Oh no, don't put me in the middle of this," Lando shook his head, "I have enough PR issues myself."

"We know you're siding with your bestie anyways," you said, making him roll his eyes.

This dynamic was nothing new. Lando and Carlos Sainz were best friends, and so were Lando and you. The issue? You couldn't stand Carlos at all, and Lando was always in the middle of your bickering.

Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced out of the window. "Look, I appreciate you standing up for me, but sometimes it's better to let things slide. Engaging with him on social media only adds fuel to the fire."

He had a point. Deep down you knew it, however, your were short tempered and protective towards your loved ones, so it was natural that you took the chance to come for Sainz's neck when he gave you a reason to.

"I get it, Osc. I just can't stand seeing him drag your name through the mud when you're not even at fault," you stressed, "You're my little brother, I'll always get protective, you know?"

"I know, and I appreciate you having my back," Oscar said, softening his tone. "But it's not worth it. Like you said, I'm not engaging with whatever he's saying so there's no point of starting stuff."

"He started it, I'm just finishing it," you shrugged, and Oscar gave you a pointed look, you were older than him, but he was definitely more mature than you. "Fine, I'll try to hold back next time," you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

Lando finally looked up from his phone, a smirk on his face. "See, that wasn't too hard, was it? Now, can we all be friends?"

"If that includes Sainz then no, we can't,"

You could never be friends with Carlos Sainz. That was literally impossible.

For starters, you were pretty sure he didn't even know your name, he was always too full of himself to even acknowledge those around him.

And lastly, he was a bitch to your brother on and off track.

"I just, I would really like for you two to get along," Lando said and you immediately rolled your eyes at his words, "You're both important to me, and it sucks being caught in the middle. Plus I don't even understand why do you dislike him so much."

You knew the real reason why you disliked him so much, you perfectly did. However, that was a subject that you decided to ignore every single time.

"Honestly? I find him arrogant. He always acts like he's the center of the universe. He never takes responsibility for his actions and always tries to shift the blame onto others. It's frustrating to watch."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, but you have to understand, Carlos is actually a good guy once you get to know him. He's passionate and competitive, sure, but he's also loyal and a great friend."

"I get that he's like your hero or something," you teased, "But it's not going to happen, Lando. I don't think I'll ever like Carlos, and I really wish you’d stop pushing the subject."

"Look, you don't have to be his best friend or something," Oscar intervened, "Just promise me you won't punch him when you see him in the paddock after the summer break."

"No promises."

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ynpiastri a weekend in monaco with some of my favorite people 🤍 back to race cars soooon (love being a nepo sister)

tagged: oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris

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username1 SLAAAY

username2 ahhhh lily x oscar content thank u yn

francisca.cgomes having major fomo rn, love you all babies 🥲

↳ ynpiastri get over hereeeee

username3 she has the dream life

charles_leclerc Stop stealing my girlfriend from me thank you

↳ ynpiastri never

↳ alexandrasaintmleux We’re like this 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t do this to me

lilyzneimer 🤍

oscarpiastri I think you just invented the term “nepo sister”

↳ ynpiastri and i’m too iconic for that

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Going to Jimmy'z the last day of the summer break was a tradition among the drivers at this point.

You looked forward to it, for you, nothing could beat a night of loud music, drinks and friends. You thought that was the reason you got along with Lando and quickly became best friends.

“Ready to tear up the dance floor?” Lando shouted over the music, giving you smirk

“Always!” you replied, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the center of the action, Oscar and Lily being their introvert selves decided to stay at the table with some of your friends.

After a few songs, you returned to the table to catch your breath and order another round of drinks.

Oscar looked up from his conversation with Lily and smiled as you approached.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you replied, taking a seat next to him. “You two should join us on the dance floor.”

Lily laughed softly. “Maybe later. Right now, we’re enjoying people-watching.”

“Suit yourselves,” you said, shrugging, "I'm going to the bar, does anyone want anything?"

Oscar shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"I'll have another gin and tonic," Lily said, giving you a warm smile.

"Got it," you replied, turning towards the bar.

As you made your way through the crowded club, you found an open spot at the bar and flagged down the bartender. As you waited for your drinks, you felt someone step up beside you. Glancing to your left, you saw the last person you wanted to run into tonight... or ever.

Carlos Sainz was standing there with what you called his "resting bitch face" and acting like he owned the place.

You knew chances of him being at Jimmy'z for the last day of the summer break were high and you had decided earlier that you were just going to ignore him for the night if you ever ran into him. After all, you were there to have fun, not to get into a confrontation. But you were known for being short-tempered, a stark contrast to your brother's laid-back demeanor.

When you heard Carlos order his drink without so much as a “please,” you couldn't help but call him out.

"Whiskey, neat," he ordered, his tone clipped and lacking any form of politeness, his Spanish accent that you found absolutely irritating coming through.

“A 'please' would be nice, you know,” you interjected.

Carlos turned to you, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you replied coolly. “It's not hard to be polite.”

"Do I know you?" Carlos stared at you for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh you're Piastri's sister, aren't you?”

“That I am,” you confirmed, your tone equally cold.

“Figures," Carlos scoffed, shaking his head, "You’re the one who sent me that lovely message on Twitter.”

“You deserved every word,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Did I now?” Carlos leaned closer, his expression hardening. “You don't even know the whole story. You just assume I'm the bad guy because of Oscar."

“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you never take responsibility for your actions. You always blame someone else.”

“And what about you?," Carlos’s jaw tightened, "Hiding behind your keyboard, throwing insults. That's real mature.”

“Someone had to say it,” you replied, refusing to back down. “You can't just go around acting like you're untouchable.”

“And you can't go around thinking you're some kind of vigilante,” Carlos retorted. “Can't your little brother handle things himself?.”

“Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, people wouldn't have to call you out,” you snapped, feeling your temper flare.

Carlos sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don't have time for this. Just stay out of my way, alright?”

“Gladly,” you replied, turning away from him.

When you rejoined your friends, they noticed your tense expression. Lando shot you a questioning look, but you just shook your head.

"Ask you bestie," you simply said and Lando threw his head back in frustration, once again, he was in the middle of his two best friends tension.

“I’ll talk to him," Lando said, sipping on his drink.

"Don't bother, he's a bitch."

Later that night, Lando found Carlos near the dancefloor chatting with some friends. He pulled him aside, needing to get to the bottom of the latest incident.

“What happened with YN now?” Lando asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Carlos shrugged before speaking, “I was minding my own business, ordering a drink, and she just came at me."

“And?” Lando raised an eyebrow.

“And she’s just so immature and arrogant,” Carlos continued, “She’s always ready to pick a fight over the smallest things. It’s embarrassing.”

Lando shook his head. “Look, Carlos, YN is protective of Oscar. She sees you two butting heads and she gets defensive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like she’s completely unreasonable.”

“Well, she sure seems unreasonable to me," Carlos crossed his arms, "I don’t know how you deal with it.”

Lando sighed. “She’s my friend, and so are you. I wish you two could just get along, but I know that’s asking a lot. Just... try to give her a bit of slack, alright? She’s not a bad person.”

"She's insufferable."

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username1 HEEEELP

username2 she’s so messy we needed this 😭

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↳ ynpiastri you’re literally the only ferrari i like..

↳ username3 she really hates carlos i’m screaming

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The Ferrari hospitality was the last place you wanted to be during a Grand Prix, the mere thought of it being the place where Sainz (or as you liked to call him, the little bitch), was most likely to be kept you away from it.

However, Alex told you to meet her there after the Qualifying so you could leave together for dinner. Oscar and Lando already left with the rest of the team, so you had no choice but to wait for your friend.

"Looking for someone, hermosa?" your eyes immediately rolled without even turning around to see who was speaking, the thick Spanish accent that you despised filling your ears.

"Not for you, that's for sure," you said, not even bothering to face him.

"Are you sure? Because this is not the McLaren garage, did your little bro finally kick you out or something?"

"Sainz," you retorted sharply, finally turning to face him, "Shouldn't you be busy making excuses for your next mediocre performance on track?"

"Ah, always so angry, Piastri," he chuckled, unfazed by your hostility, "Maybe you're just frustrated because you're not getting enough attention. I could help with that."

"I don't need or want anything from you," you shot back, your voice laced with irritation.

Carlos leaned casually against a nearby wall, his smirk widening. "Come on, hermosa, you know you've got a temper. Maybe you just need to let off some steam."

Hermosa, the word he used often when he wanted to get to your skin. When you first heard it, you had no idea of what it meant. You were never good at learning Spanish growing up. But after a quick google translation search you found out that it meant beautiful. And for some reason you felt like throwing up.

"Believe me, Sainz, you're the last person I'd ever turn to," you replied icily, folding your arms across your chest, "And don't call me that."

He chuckled again, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You wondered how Lando could be friends with him when he was nothing but an arrogant little bitch, and you cursed Alexandra for taking so long to get her stuff from hospitality.

"I hope you know that you have some serious issues, Sainz," you said, your patience wearing thin as his cocky stare weighted on you.

"Issues? Me?," Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your anger, "I think you're the one with the problem, querida. Like I said, maybe you need to get laid. I could help you with that, your brother won't find out."

Your eyes narrowed, your blood boiled to the point where you could feel your skin burning up. If it wasn't for the all the people around, you swore you could've punched him.

You took a step closer to him, your voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I hope your car sets itself on fire so you're not able to race tomorrow."

Carlos's smirk only widened, he was well aware that he got into your skin and he enjoyed every minute of it. Before he could respond, Alex finally appeared, her eyes flicking between the two of you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Ready to go?" she asked, sensing the tension.

"More than ready," you replied, shooting Carlos one last glare before turning to leave with Alex.

The next day, news spread quickly through the paddock that Carlos' car had suffered a mechanical failure during the warm-up, rendering him unable to compete in the Qatar Grand Prix. Meanwhile, Oscar had won the Sprint and finished P2 in the race.

Karma got that little bitch, you thought to yourself

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username1 i’m going to miss this season sm

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username4 highlight of the season was the piastri - sainz beef

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↳ ynpiastri that’s what big sisters are for

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The end of the 2023 season was a blur of celebrations, laughter, and champagne showers. Oscar had closed off the season as the Rookie of the Year and you couldn't be more proud of him, you were grateful you got to be by his side through it.

And of course, with the end of the season a celebration at Jimmy'z was in order, all drivers, their girlfriends and friends pulling up to Monaco for one last night of partying before the winter break.

You had stuck close to Lando and Oscar for most of the evening, since it was a special occasion, you decided not to hold back with your drinking and have as much fun as you wanted, Lando being your partner in crime as always.

So by 2 a.m, you were pretty drunk, not to the point where you couldn't stand on your own feet, but drunk enough to make a couple of bad decisions.

With that thought on your mind, you decided that it was time to find your brother or best friend and call it a night. But for some reason, both of them were nowhere to be found.

Stumbling through the crowded dance floor, you made your way toward the back of the club, hoping to spot them. The alleyway was dark and you couldn't see a single thing, but they weren't definitely back there.

"Fancy seeing you here, hermosa," a voice behind drawled, almost making you jump.

"What the actual fuck!" you said, holding a hand to your chest.

Of course it was fucking Carlos Sainz, once again

"You scared the hell out of me!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, "Do you hide in dark alleyways like a creep all the time?"

"Slow down, hermosa, why are you so angry all the time?" his Spanish accent was thicker than usual, a clear sign that he was as tipsy as you were.

"I'm not in the mood for your games tonight," you retorted, trying to brush past him.

"Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble," he said, blocking your path with an easy grace. "Though you do seem to find me wherever you go."

"Only because you insist on being everywhere I am," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.

"Or maybe you just can't resist my charm," he teased, leaning casually against the wall.

"Charm? Is that what you call it?" you scoffed, "More like arrogance and an inflated ego."

"Arrogance? No. Confidence? Absolutely," he replied with a smirk, "And I think you secretly like it."

"You're delusional," you muttered, feeling the alcohol clouding your judgment. "I can't stand you."

"Is that so?" he said, stepping closer. "Because you seem pretty invested in this conversation for someone who supposedly hates me."

True

"Maybe because you won't let me leave," you said, your voice rising in frustration.

"Or maybe because you've spent the entire season trying to get my attention by being rude to me and blasting me on social media, calling me a little bitch and all."

"I was defending Oscar," you snapped. "You kept messing with him on track. Someone had to call you out."

Carlos shook his head, his cocky smirk even bigger now. "It was never about Oscar, and you know it."

"God, I hate you," you said, ready to walk away but he blocked your way one more time.

"No, you don't," he replied, a knowing smile on his lips. "You just hate that you can't help but get all hot and bothered whenever I'm around."

"You're really are such a little bitch," you spat, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt a strange thrill.

"And you're a firecracker, Piastri. That's what makes this so fun."

"You're so full of yourself," you retorted, but the words lacked their usual bite. The alcohol was making it hard to keep up your defenses, and Carlos's close proximity was doing strange things to your resolve.

"Maybe," he conceded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But I think you like it more than you let on."

Before you could argue back, Carlos took another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself unable to pull away.

"You're infuriating," you muttered, your heart pounding in your chest.

"And you," he said, his breath warm against your ear, "are insufferable."

Without another word, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, almost desperate kiss. It was a collision of anger, frustration, and undeniable chemistry, and you couldn't help but respond in kind.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

What the hell was happening?

For a moment, all the animosity, all the bickering, melted away. It was messy, it was intense, and it was everything you hadn't realized you wanted.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you could see the same mix of surprise and desire reflected in Carlos' eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, you were interrupted by Lando's voice calling out your name. You quickly stepped back, putting some distance between you and Carlos as Lando approached, a curious look on his face.

"Everything okay here?" Lando asked, glancing between the two of you.

"Just fine," you replied, giving Carlos a final, challenging look. "Just fine."

Carlos nodded, his smirk returning. "See you around, Piastri."

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texts between lando and yn

texts between carlos and lando

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2024 SEASON

Formula 1 was back and in full swing. And with that your "nepo sister" privileges, which included traveling with Oscar for races came back too.

You were excited for this season, Oscar was no longer a rookie and he had a lot to prove, and you couldn't wait to see him rise to the challenge.

In addition to that, this season was going to be extra interesting, since the news of your least favorite driver on the grid (or at least the one you swore you hated) being replaced by Lewis Hamilton in Ferrari were announced a few weeks prior.

"Did you hear the news?" Oscar asked, making his way to you.

"What news?" you replied, setting down your coffee cup.

"Lewis Hamilton is moving to Ferrari next season," Oscar said, watching your reaction closely.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? So the little bitch is out?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be an interesting season."

Carlos Sainz was both a source of irritation and inexplicable attraction. You had tried to push the memory of that kiss at Jimmy'z to the back of your mind all winter long, but you just couldn't stop thinking about it.

Plus, Lando was firm on his mission of making wither of you confess that apparently you "liked each other", which made ignoring the whole situation even harder.

You just hoped that he would keep it chill this season, not bothering either you or Oscar so you could just pretend he didn't exist.

With that thought on your mind, you made your way back to the hotel. You spent the day exploring around Bahrain with Oscar and Lando, and now you were ready to unwind in your room. The boys deciding to spend a few more hours walking around before heading back.

Once in the lobby, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a familiar hand slipped in, forcing them open.

Carlos Sainz stepped inside, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say.

"Not going to say hello, querida?" he said after a few seconds of complete silence from you, leaning against the elevator wall.

"Carlos. Still popping up where you're least wanted, I see," you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.

"Missed you too, Piastri," he chuckled, pushing off the wall to stand closer you, "How was your break?"

"Great, thanks for asking," you replied coolly. "Did you enjoy yours, planning how to be a pain to other drivers this season too?"

"Is that really how you want to start our first conversation of the season?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, "I though we've left that in the past, specially after what happened at the end of last year."

You tensed at his statement. More than once during the break, you wondered if he remembered what happened that night. He was as drunk was you were, if not more, so you convinced yourself that he had forgotten about it.

"I don't remember much from that night. Must have been the champagne."

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. "Oh, I think you remember perfectly well. Especially the kiss."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Playing dumb doesn't suit you," he said with a chuckle. "But fine, we'll pretend it never happened. For now."

"Good," you replied sharply. "Because I have no intention of discussing it."

"Maybe you're playing dumb because you want me to kiss you again," Carlos teased, making you throw your head back in frustration.

"I'd rather choke on my own spit, little bitch,"

"Ahh, missed hearing that," Carlos said, his tone cocky and satisfied with your frustration. You mentally cursed the elevator for taking so long to get to your fucking floor.

"You know what? I hope you don't find a seat for next season at all. You act like a total peacock when everyone knows you're basically unemployed right now," you spitted out before you could even think twice.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his expression momentarily serious. "Low blow, Piastri. Even for you."

You held his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. "Just stating the obvious."

The elevator finally dinged, announcing your floor, and you stepped out swiftly, eager to end the conversation before it could escalate further.

Carlos Sainz had a way of getting under your skin like no one else, and the season had only just begun.

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username1 ICON IS BACKKKK

username2 nooo we need you to keep dragging sainz

mclaren Our favorite nepo sister 🧡

↳ ynpiastri that’s meeee

username3 yn always gives us lily x oscar content bless her

charles_leclerc What if I need you to fight someone from the grid for me?

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↳ username1 HER HATRED FOR CARLOS LIVES

lilyzneimer love youuu✨

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↳ ynpiastri i’m just here for my babies 🫡

landonorris I know your reasons

↳ ynpiastri you’re so strange sometimes

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It was a sunny day in Melbourne, and the paddock was buzzing with excitement. The Australian Grand Prix was always a favorite, and this year was no exception.

You felt good to be back home, you always felt proud when you saw Oscar on the track, but seeing him racing in your home country was something even more special.

Carlos was also back from his emergency surgery and ready to race again. And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were relieved to see him back and healthy. The news of his appendicitis had shocked you more than you’d expected, and you’d found yourself genuinely concerned about his wellbeing.

I'm just being a decent human being, you tried to convince yourself, It would be really scary if that happened to Oscar or Lando.

Walking through the paddock, you looked for a familiar face to hang out with before it was time for the track action to start, spotting Lando's back talking to someone you couldn't quite identify, you decided to approach him.

As you got closer, Lando shifted slightly, revealing the person he was talking to, Carlos.

He looked well, a healthy glow back in his cheeks, his smile easy and relaxed. He was wearing his team gear, the Ferrari red suiting him perfectly. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and despite the casual setting, he looked effortlessly handsome for someone who had a major surgery just two weeks ago.

Your stomach did a little flip. You hated to admit it, but lately your hatred towards Carlos had cooled down. Maybe it was the memory of that kiss, seeing him vulnerable after his surgery or the fact that he had been decent to Oscar so far. You couldn't deny that there was something about him that made you feel… softer.

However, you decided to ignore those thoughts and feelings every time they got to your head, because at the end of the day, there was no way he could ever feel or think the same way. It was better to keep hating each other.

Lando noticed you approaching and gave you a teasing grin. "Hey, YN! Look who’s back from the dead!"

Carlos turned to face you, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, Piastri," he greeted with a warm smile. "Back to your home turf, huh?"

"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the flutter in your chest. "It feels good to be back."

Lando gave Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later, mate," he said, winking at you before walking away, leaving the two of you alone.

You stood there for a moment, awkward silence filling the air. Maybe he was still tired from what he had been through, but he didn't show any signs of cockiness or wanting to annoy you this time.

"You look well," you finally said, your voice softer than usual. "I'm glad you're back."

Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I heard you were worried about me."

"Don't let it go to your head," you replied quickly, though the usual bite in your tone was missing. You felt a bit embarrassed that he knew, "I’m just being a decent human being."

"Of course," Carlos said, his voice nonchalant, "Decent human being, sure."

"I’m serious," you insisted, though your voice lacked the usual edge. "But I am glad you’re okay. It must have been scary."

Carlos’s expression softened. "It was. But I had good doctors, and I’m ready to race again. Thanks for worrying."

There was silence again, and you noticed that this was the first time you and Carlos had an interaction that didn't include biting each other's heads off.

It felt nice.

"Well," you said after a minute of silence, "don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you had surgery. You're still on my watch."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Carlos smirked, "But for the record, it’s nice to see you care, even if you won’t admit it."

"Don't push your luck, Sainz," you warned, but there was a hint of playfulness in your voice.

"I wouldn't dare, Piastri."

"I should get going," you said, pointing towards the McLaren hospitality, "Good luck out there."

As you turned to walk away, Carlos's voice stopped you in your tracks.

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"You know, this is the first time you don't call me a little bitch," Carlos said, a small playing on his face.

"What, you miss it already? Does it turn you own?"

"Maybe a little," Carlos chuckled, "Keeps things interesting."

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face.

"Well, good luck out there, little bitch."

You didn't wait to see his reaction, but you knew he was grinning from ear to ear.

Later that day, Carlos crossed the finish line first and won the Australian Grand Prix, sending the crowd into a frenzy. You watched as Carlos celebrated on the podium, spraying champagne with Lando and Charles and holding up the winner's trophy with pride.

You swore you played it cool, but everyone around you noticed the huge smile on your face.

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username1 AUSSIE QUEEN

username2 omfg included a picture of sainz win??

↳ username1 how pissed do you think she was bc he won in australia

↳ username3 i love that she didn’t tag him tho 😭

alexandrasaintmleux Mama piastri >> 🫶

↳ ynpiastri our real queen

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"You're not my best friend," Lando said, sitting on the plush couch of your hotel room, watching as you put a sweatshirt on, "You've been replaced with an alien or an evil twin, there's no way you're YN Piastri."

"Can you quit being dramatic," you rolled your eyes at him, "It's no big deal."

"You're grabbing sushi with Carlos Sainz," he stressed, moving his hands to emphasize, "You hate Carlos Sainz, it's been an issue for me for the last year because both of you force me to pick sides and I have to make sure you don't kill each other. And now you're suddenly going on dates."

"This is not a date," you protested, "Don't even say that out loud, it's gross."

"Then what is it? Because he asked you out and you said yes, that's literally a date."

You didn't give him a reply right away, hiding behind your your busy hands as you pretended to adjust your sweatshirt.

Truth was, you didn’t have an answer, at least not one that made sense. You couldn't blame Lando for thinking you've been replaced with someone else, because you'd never accept anything from Carlos last year, let alone willingly grab dinner with him.

But here you were, about to head out to meet him.

"I just want free dinner," you shrugged, "And he offered to buy it, so I'm taking advantage of it."

"Sure, free dinner," Lando gave you a skeptical look, crossing his arms, "Because you’ve never had other options for free dinner before, right? Your brother is rich, he could buy you whatever you want."

You huffed, trying to sound annoyed but feeling a bit defensive. "It's just sushi, Lando. Stop making it a big deal."

"You know, it's okay if you like him," he said, his tone genuine. "I mean, I get why you're hesitant, but it's fine to have feelings for someone, even if it's Carlos Sainz."

"Are you out of your mind?" you immediately said, your voice sharper than intended, "We're talking about the little bitch, what on earth makes you think that I could have feelings for him other than disgust and irritation."

"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're getting ready to get dinner with him, or that you were on the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was recovering from the surgery, or the time I almost caught you kiss-"

"God, just shut up," you interrupted him, "Oscar would understand. He knows I'm never going to get all lovey-dovey over Carlos."

"Oscar might buy whatever you tell him," Lando raised an eyebrow, "But that doesn't mean you're being honest with yourself. It's not the end of the world to admit you might have a crush."

"I do not have a crush on him," you insisted, your cheeks heating up. "It's just... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Lando pressed, leaning forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty straightforward. You’re intrigued by him, he’s intrigued by you, and you both can’t seem to stay away from each other."

You let his words sink in, Lando might be a year younger than you, and often perceived as a carefree guy who didn't have a serious bone in his body. But in reality, he was a very wise person who understood the complexities of situations better than most.

That was one of the reasons why he was your best friend.

"Look, it’s not that simple," you sighed, rubbing your temples, "We have history, and not the good kind. I don't trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me either. We're just… trying to be civil for once."

"That's good," Lando stood up from the couch, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Honestly I was tired of dealing with your constant bickering, if you didn't kiss and make up on your own, I was going to lock you up in a closet until you resolved it."

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username1 BESTIEEEE

username2 THIS LOOKS LIKE A DATE

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↳ username1 LET ME INNNN

f1gossip 👀

username3 CARLOS SAINZ ???

↳ username1 girl no way they hate each other

↳ username2 he’s in the likes tho 😭

landonorris IM FREEEEE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFEEEE

↳ username1 wtfffff

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↳ username1 IM SCREAMING

↳ username2 OSCAR 😩

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

After a nice dinner and a couple of drinks, you and Carlos walked back to the hotel. The sushi had been surprisingly good, and the conversation… surprisingly pleasant.

The bickering between you was still present, but this time it wasn't harsh or spiteful, it was playful and and light-hearted. The tension that usually accompanied your interactions had lessened, and you actually acted friendly towards each other.

"I still can't believe you made me try that weird seaweed thing," you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked.

"You loved it, admit it," Carlos chuckled.

"Maybe a little," you conceded with a small smile, "How did you know this place anyways?"

"I like reading restaurant reviews online," he shrugged, "It's a random hobby of mine, and I'm going to need those in case I don't have a job next year."

You paused, his words sinking in. Carlos joked about it, but you knew the uncertainty of his future in Formula 1 must be horrible. The sport is cutthroat, and the thought of not finding a seat to race must be weighing on him heavily. It made you think about Oscar, and how that could happen to him too.

"I'm sorry for saying that I hope you don't find a seat next season," you blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt. "You're right, that was low, even for me."

"Are you really apologizing, Piastri?" he teased, "First you cared about my health, now you apologize. What's next? You'll stop calling me a little bitch?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. "Don't push your luck, Sainz. Just take the apology and run with it."

"Alright, I'll take it," Carlos laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat, "You must be praying I stay just so you have an excuse to argue with me, aren't you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, grinning. "I can argue with anyone."

"But you like arguing with me the most," he said, his voice softening.

You didn't reply, the truth in his words making your heart race. From the corner of your eye, you saw the satisfied grin on his face.

Soon enough you reached the hotel lobby, and once you walked through the doors you spotted Charles and Alexandra by the reception desk.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Charles called out, drawing the attention of Alex, who looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Just coming back from dinner," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "What are you two up to?"

"We were just about to head up," Alexandra said, linking her arm with Charles's. "How was dinner?"

"Surprisingly good," Carlos said, glancing at you with a smirk.

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "This is new. You two actually getting along?"

"Don't get used to it," you said, rolling your eyes. "I just wanted free dinner."

"Right," Charles said, not convinced. "Well, we're heading up, you coming?"

You all piled into the elevator, the small space filled with a mix of comfortable silence and light conversation. When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out, Carlos following close behind.

"Goodnight, guys," Alex called out as the elevator doors closed, giving you a look that screamed 'TEXT ME ASAP'

Carlos walked you to your room, the hallway dimly lit and quiet. As you walked side by side, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sent small shivers down your spine.

"So, the only reason you agreed to come with me tonight was because you wanted free dinner?" Carlos asked once you reached your room.

"Exactly, what else do you think would make me want to spend an evening with you?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning against the wall beside your door. "I don't know, maybe my charming personality and good looks?"

"Charming?" you raised your eyebrows at him, "You're literally the most annoying person I know."

"Likewise, Piastri," Carlos shot back, his smirk widening, "But here we are, aren't we?"

"You really think you're that special, don't you?" you said, rolling your eyes.

"I know I am, querida," Carlos replied, stepping closer. "And you can't get enough of me."

You looked away from him, his stare suddenly becoming overwhelming. He was really close, as close as he was the night you kissed at Jimmy'z, and even thinking about it has your neck crawling away in sweat.

"See? You can't even deny it." Carlos grinned, his eyes locking onto yours again, his voice dropping an octave as he took another step closer.

"Don't get any ideas," you warned, but your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it.

"I can't help it," he said softly, his face now inches from yours. "You bring out the best in me, Piastri."

"I still hate you," you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned in even closer.

"No, you don't," Carlos whispered back, his lips brushing against yours.

Before you could protest, he closed the distance and kissed you. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, the kiss deepened, becoming more intense and filled with a raw passion that took your breath away.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you kissed him back, losing yourself in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a small smile playing on Carlos's lips.

"Goodnight, Piastri," he whispered, his voice husky.

Unable to move from your spot, you watched him walk through the corridor and disappear into the elevator doors, your mind still blurry about what happened just seconds ago.

You were fucked.

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TWITTER

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A playlist full of pop classics played as you got ready for Lando's millionth win celebration.

He took the win at the Miami Grand Prix and the next following days were full of partying and champagne. You were beyond happy for him, and willing to put up with his multiple celebrations of his well deserved win.

This time, the setting was not that over the top, just a casual dinner at his place in Monaco with his close friends.

"Can I come in?" you heard after a knock on Oscar's guest bedroom, the place where you stayed when visiting Monaco.

"Sure," you replied, quickly meeting with your brother's figure.

Oscar entered the room, a casual grin on his face. He glanced around before his eyes settled on you. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, adjusting an earring. "I hope this is Lando's last celebration, I can't keep up anymore.

"He's definitely on a roll," Oscar chuckled, "You know, Carlos is going to be there."

"I know," you said, looking away from him for a moment and trying to keep your tone nonchalant.

"You do?" Oscar raised a eyebrow.

"He's Lando's best friend, Osc, it's obvious he'll be there."

Oscar nodded slowly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Right, of course. But you two have been getting close lately, haven't you? You didn't even come for his neck after Miami, and you always do that."

You sighed, knowing where this conversation was heading. There was no denying that there was something between you and Carlos, your friends might not know about the times you've kissed, but they definitely noticed the shift in your behavior towards each other.

You found yourself enjoying his company, looking forward to catch a glimpse of him every weekend and craving his touch. You don't know if he feels the same way, but the way he looks at you and finds ways to get you alone tells you he does.

Admitting this to Oscar felt like crossing a line, even though he had always encouraged you to be open about your feelings.

"We're just… getting along better. That's all," you muttered, "And you asked me to behave on social media this season, I'm trying to do that."

"That's bullshit, YN," Oscar shook his head, a teasing smile forming on his lips, "Come on, admit it. Maybe the real reason you didn't attack him this time is because you like him."

"Oscar, we're not having this conversation," you quickly became defensive, "I don't know why everyone insist on something that's far from the truth. I don't like Sainz."

"Sis, it's okay if you like him," Oscar said, his tone gentle but insistent. "You don't have to hide it from me."

You looked away, feeling conflicted. Ever since you first met Carlos, there was something about him that intrigued you, however, you were too caught up in convincing yourself that he would never see you as more than his brand new rival's sister. Things getting worse when his incidents with Oscar on track started and you took that as an opportunity to be reckless to him.

It was a self defense mechanism for your own feelings.

"It's complicated, okay?" you said, feeling vulnerable but knowing you could trust him, "We spent last year coming from each other's necks all the time, but now he's nice to me and I am too, we spend time together, we kiss. But at the same time, I feel like I can't trust him, that he's going to switch to little bitch mode again and I'll end up feeling stupid for potentially catching feelings."

"Holy shit you've kissed!" Oscar said, his eyes widening, "Lando was right all along."

"Oh god, I shouldn't have said anything," you threw your head back in frustration.

"Sorry, sorry," he put his hands up in defense, "But It's okay to feel confused. You can talk to me, you know. I'm your brother, and I just want you to be happy. I can tell that this is really bothering you."

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I just don't know what to do, Osc. One minute I think I might actually like him, and the next I'm terrified of getting hurt."

"Look, I know Carlos can be intense on track, but off track? He's a good guy," Oscar sat beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "When he's not trying to push me off the track, he's really supportive and a nice guy. There's a reason why Lando adores him. Plus, maybe he's figuring things out too."

You leaned into Oscar's side, grateful for his comforting presence. "Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, I do," Oscar nodded reassuringly. "And you deserve to give yourself a chance at happiness. If Carlos could make you happy, then why not see where it goes?"

"When did you become so wise?" you teased, giving him a small smile, "You're supposed to be my annoying little brother who picks his nose and runs around the house."

"Hey, I can be wise when I want to be," Oscar chuckled, giving you a playful shove, "But don't worry, I'll always be your annoying little brother, nose-picking and all."

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. "Thanks, Osc. I needed this."

"Anytime, sis," Oscar said warmly, giving you a quick hug. "Now, come on. Lando is probably drunk already and we haven't made it to his house yet."

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INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and 215,726 others

ynpiastri the rumors are true: lando norris keeps celebrating his miami win even tho it’s been a week

view all 3,967 comments

username1 so iconic tbh

username2 EXCUSE ME MISS IS THAT CARLOS SAINZ IN THE LAST PIC ??

↳ username1 i thought they hated each other 😭

danielricciardo 🙌

alexandrasaintmleux 👀 I see you

↳ ynpiastri and i don’t see you over her which means your boyfriend sucks for not bringing you

↳ charles_leclerc …..

landonorris IM V DRVNK OMG

↳ username3 i love him 😭😭😭😩

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri the ultimate enemies to lovers lowkey

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You're not sure how it happened, but Carlos' arm laid casually in the back of your chair as you chatted with those around you. His fingers gently brushed your bare shoulder from time to time, his thigh pressed to yours under the table.

Maybe it was the couple glasses of champagne you both had, you're not sure. But you definitely didn't want to move from your spot.

No one dared to say anything about it, but your friends had teasing grins at the sight. You knew you'll have to deal with them later, but you decided to ignore it for the night.

"Alright, I think I'm calling it a night," Oscar said as he got up from his chair, Lando immediately booed, "Are you coming, YN?"

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, you definitely didn't want to leave yet, feeling too comfortable in Carlos' presence. In addition to that, you haven't had a chance to get him alone, and that was enough to not want the night to end.

After a minute of silence from you, Carlos spoke up, "I can give her a ride home if she doesn't want to leave yet," he offered, his voice smooth and nonchalant.

"Oh, a private chauffeur service now, Carlos? How fancy," Max teased from across the table, making the entire group laugh.

Oscar hesitated, glancing between you and Carlos, his protective instincts kicking in. "Are you okay with that, YN?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with it," you met Oscar's eyes and nodded, "Or I can just crash here, Lando is too drunk to notice anyway, don't want to cause much trouble."

"It's really no trouble," he insisted, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. "I'll make sure you get home safely."

Oscar seemed to relax a bit, though you could tell he was still a little uneasy. "Alright then. Just... be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, Osc," you replied, standing up and giving him a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As Oscar left, the group continued to tease and laugh. You always enjoyed when the drivers were in a casual setting like this one, where they could forget about competition and teams and just hang out and have fun.

You stayed glued to Carlos the entire time, getting even closer as the night went on, you could feel your eyelids getting heavy, so you laid your head on his shoulder.

"You're falling asleep on me, hermosa," Carlos whispered to you, not moving your head from its place.

"I'm not," you protested, but at the same time you did a yawn escaped your mouth, which made Carlos laugh.

"Come on let's get you home," Carlos offered you his hand.

You took Carlos' hand, not even thinking twice about it. As you both stood to leave, your friends couldn't resist one last round of teasing.

"No funny business, Carlos," Charles called out, grinning widely. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. "We have Oscar on speed dial."

"Yeah, don't make me come after you, that's also my sister," Lando added, too drunk to even make sense.

You laughed, waving goodbye to everyone as you and Carlos made your way out. The cool night air was refreshing as you walked to his car, your hand still in his.

The drive to Oscar's place was quiet but comfortable. Carlos kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console close to you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the streetlights played over his features.

At one point, Carlos glanced over and caught you staring. "You're staring," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up but didn't look away. "Maybe I am," you replied, a teasing edge in your voice. "You have a problem with that?"

"Not at all, Piastri. Not at all."

When you arrived at Oscar's place, Carlos parked the car but you made no move to get out. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

"Are you ready to stop pretending we hate each other?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice low and earnest. "Because I am."

His words hung in the air, causing your heart to skip a beat. The intensity in his gaze made it clear he wasn't playing around or teasing you. He was being real and serious.

You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Yeah, I am."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger. The world outside the car ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the way his kiss made you feel.

Carlos' other hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pressed you closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on as if letting go meant losing this moment forever.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Carlos' eyes searched yours, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"But… I'm not ready to stop calling you a little bitch, though."

[yuvany]

ENHYPEN BEING JEALOUS

Jealous bf!𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍

OT7 ENHYPEN x female reader . GENRE / WARNING(S) :: est relationship + possessiveness + fluff + not proofread && WORD COUNT ;; 680 ;; CHECK BOX !!

yu-note : started writing this during BTHB release, finally decided to publish it widbcib

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You guys were our with with your friends and a couple of other people invited at the arcade. Heeseung sees a boy eyeing you from afar and he glares at him while he approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Why so sudden?" You ask, the action piqued you interest. "I just don't want anyone to steal you sway from me." He grumbles, and you raise an eyebrow cluelessly. "What do you mean?" You see his pretty eyes shift towards a guy by the polo table who immedietly looks away after seeing you both turn to him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Bluntly says, "I don't like him," after you return to him from chatting with someone else at the function. "Who?" you ask, trying to hear what he says over all the surrounding conversations. "That guy you just spoke to. He's too friendly." Jay points out and you can't contain your giggles at how he's acting right now. "Sweetie, don't be ridiculous, he has a girlfriend." Jay is still cautious and says, "So? You're too perfect not to like." while sliding his finger in between yours as his eyes trail your hands, his fingers curcling your knuckles. "Sometimes, jealous Jay is entertaining," you joke.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

During picnic in the park, you two come across a guy from your chem class, and he approached you two first during the lovely date, ruining it all for Jake.. You try to usher him away, and when he finally does, Jake asks. "Are you sure he's just a friend?" You sigh and nod your head, tired by the fact that he even asked. "Of course he is, sweetie." "Well, that's what they all say." he shrugs carelessly and you shake your head. "If it really bothers you, I might consider stop speaking to him." Jake almost instantly gave you the puppy eyes, and you gave in.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

It wasn't evident that he's jealous until you pay extra close attention to his behaviour. Not only was he less touchy, but he refrained from speaking with you at all costs. You saw him make eye contact with you, and usually he'd light up, but not this time. "Hoon? Why are you so cold? Have I done something?" You ask, not liking the tense atmosphere. "I don't know. You tell me." You feel offended by his question. "Is it about () ?" You see him nod, and you rest your hands on your hips. "I'll stop being close with him then." You sigh and Sunghoon gives you a kiss..

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo hugs you from behind, his arms engulfing you around the waist. "Am I not pretty enough for you?" He asks with an underlying tone in his voice that's sharp like fangs. "Of course you are. What makes you say otherwise, baby?" You ask, letting yours hands find and rest on his. "I just don't like seeing you with that guy, he gives me the creeps." Sunoo mocks shivers running down his spine and you chuckle. "Alright, if you say so, but we're just friends, you know?" Sunoo rolls his eyes. "Yeah yeah."

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"You know I love you, angel, and I hate to say this, but Who was he?" You hear Jungwon question scincerily after you returned home. "He's a guy from my class. He just accompanied me home, babe." You answer, knowing that he is jealous. "You could've called me, you know?" He leans his head on your shoulder and you chuckle. "I just didn't wanna disturb you." You say and Jungwon clicks his tounge, "you're never a disturbance to me."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

"Should I be scared that I've competition?" He jokes, crossing his arms as he nudges your shoulder. "Competition?" You echo, not sure by what he means. "That guy is testing me, babe." He explains and you look over at the said 'guy'. "Don't look at him." Riki hisses while gently turning you to face him again by the chin. "Ok ok, I won't speak to him anymore ." You sigh at last, and he smiles at you widely.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Let's Get Physical

pt.1 pt.3

Never did you think you would be doing this. God, how desperate were you? Freshman year in University with an Astrophysics major, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask for help on your homework. So, what did you do? Turn to a hooker for help.

You heard of Soap from a friend (her so called best night of her life) and she mentioned how he was military, blows stuff up and shoots shit. Okay so demolitions and sniper? That's physics, right? Close enough, you'll take it. Now, you had no intention of sleeping with him, no. You just needed schoolwork done.

At least it started that way. One study session with him turned into two. Then three. Then you had a test coming up, and it was worth 20% of your grade. He was your go to, your very expensive tutor. Once he noticed that this was just a study session dynamic, he stopped charging you for the sessions. You were sweet, you were funny, and he enjoyed being around you. A strange friendship bloomed.

The day the dynamic between you two shifted was the day after you took your test. Soap had made plans with you to meet at a coffee shop that day, pass or fail. You had scored a 93% and couldn't wait to tell him. Walking through the shop door, you were met with the sight of Soap sitting at a table in the corner. He flashed you a smile, quickly looking you up and down, then to the counter in an attempt to hide it. Why did you have to be so pretty if he couldn't have you?

You walked to the table, sitting in front of him with the test in your hand. He sips his black coffee, and gestures to the paper.

"What'd ye get?" he asks, slightly impatient, "Ye have to h've gotten a pass"

You smile at him and slide him the test, "I did"

He looks at it and breaks out into a wide grin, "And ye thought ye couldn't do it. Guess a hooker isn't such a bad tutor, huh, bonnie?"

You blush and shake your head slightly, "Your military experience is what's making you"

He barks out a laugh, raising his hands in fake surrender, "Never said it wasnae"

Fifteen more minutes pass in friendly banter, simply enjoying your time together. You weren't blind, he was nice to look at. But that's just objective attraction, right? And of course it didn't help he was smart. And funny. But it wasn't a crime to find him attractive, even if you couldn't have him. He'd only want sex, right? There's a very small chance he'd want you outside of the bedroom.

Walking out the door, him by your side, he offers to walk you back to the university. It was getting dark earlier, so it was for your safety, as he would say. Nothing more, right? The walk back was quiet, yet comfortable. Conversation wasn't forced. Stopping in front of the building, you place your hand on his forearm.

"I really appreciate your help. Without you, I would've probably failed and would have had to spend the rest of the semester make the grade up" you smile lightly.

His eyes glance down at your hand, and he smiles, "It's nae issue really, good for the ole noggin' to keep the wheels turnin"

You chuckle, "I think I'll be okay now, as sad as it is that we won't study together anymore", You smile sadly. You remove your hand from his forearm and bring it down to your side.

His eyes follow your hand, and he looks back up to your eyes, "Y'know, we don't have teh hang out strictly for studying", he says, gently grabbing your hand.

Your heart speeds up, palms warming up, "what would uh, we do?", you ask softly.

"I could take ye to the movies, or a museum if you'd like? Like a-"

"Date?", you ask hopefully, heart pounding.

"Yes", he says with certainty.

You break out a smile, "I'd like that", you almost whisper.

It's quiet for a moment when you whisper, "I should head inside, gotta get sleep for class tomorrow"

He nods and lifts your hand to his mouth, "I'll text you", he says softly and then kisses it.

Butterflies rip through your stomach before you force yourself to walk away. He waits outside until you close the building door, then walks home, the warmth of your hand burning into his memory.

It isn't until you're in your bed, your fingers rubbing soft circles on your clit, with the still fresh memory of the way his lips felt on your skin, that he texts you.

Art museum on Saturday?

You smile as you text back

I'd like that

[andiberzatto]

Reassurances (Carmy Berzatto Smut!)

Summary: Carmy wants to try a new position but it’s not working for her.

Carmy hums, then asks softly, "Can you turn around? Reverse cowgirl." He wants to watch her round ass bounce while she rides him slowly.

“You want to go again already?”

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulls her back against his chest, his half-hard cock nestling between her ass cheeks. "Never said anything about going again, just wanted a different view." He nuzzles into her neck, placing soft kisses along her collarbone.

He watches as she turns around, his eyes roaming over her curves appreciatively. As she sinks back down onto his slowly hardening cock, he lets out a low groan. This view is even better than he imagined. He grips her hips gently, guiding her movements as she starts to ride him slowly.

she hold onto his thighs as she bounces softly.

He watches as her perfect ass bounces up and down on his lap, his hands gripping her hips tighter. He pushes up slightly with his hips, meeting her slow bounces. This is gentler, more affectionate - and he loves it. He leans back on his hands, enjoying the view.

she feels disconnected having to face the wall, “need you to talk. Please.”

He notices the slight disconnect in her voice and immediately understands. He sits up, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. He starts talking softly in her ear, describing what he sees, what he feels. "Your ass looks so fucking perfect bouncing on my cock like this..."

she nods grinding softly.

He continues his soft murmur, letting her feel his words as much as hear them. "The way your back arches, goddamn... You're absolutely beautiful riding me like this." His hands slide up from her hips to just beneath her breasts, resting there as he feels her grind slowly against him.

she nods, “thank you-”

He hears the slight hesitation in her voice and pulls her in for a soft kiss on the shoulder. He turns her face towards his and kisses her deeply, passionately. When he pulls back, he whispers against her lips. "You don't have to thank me for telling the truth, baby."

“Just don’t like this position.. feels disconnected..” she says softly, a little shy to say it.

He immediately understands and gently helps her lift off him. "Fuck, I'm sorry..." He turns her around to face him properly, pulling her close. "What position do you like better? Missionary? Spooning?" His normally dominant demeanor softens with concern.

“No no I’m happy to do it”

Carmy cuts her off with a gentle finger to her lips, shaking his head. "No, no 'no'. If something isn't working for you physically or emotionally during sex, we fucking stop and adjust. That's non-negotiable." His expression turns serious but loving.

she nods softly “okay.”

He studies her expression carefully. He realizes she's the type who would rather not complain and just deal with something she doesn't like if it means the other person enjoys it. He finds this sweet but also slightly infuriating. He pulls her close by the hips again, softly.

she kisses him softly, “really I don’t mind doing reverse-”

He shakes his head firmly, his hands cupping her face gently. "Stop it. I don't want you to do something you don't enjoy just because you think I'll like it more. That's not how this works." He kisses her softly, trying to convey his sincerity.

she nods “yes sir.”

He groans internally at the'sir'. He loves it when she calls him that, but right now he wants her to understand something important. "Listen to me." He says sternly, his hands still cupping her face. "I want you to enjoy sex just as much as I do."

He kisses her again, this time deeper, more passionately. "So if you don't like a position, we change it. Got it?" He pulls back, looking into her eyes intensely. "And if I'm being too rough or not rough enough, you fucking tell me. Understood?"

“Yes sir.” She nods softly

He smiles softly, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. "Good girl." The praise slips out naturally, and he watches as she shivers slightly. He files that reaction away for later. Right now, he needs to make sure she's comfortable. "So, what position do you actually like?"

she blushes “I’m fine with whatever”

He raises an eyebrow, his expression turning stern again. "Wrong answer." He says firmly, his hands tightening slightly on her face. "Tell me, what's your favorite position? The one where you feel the most connected, the most comfortable?" His tone brooks no argument.

she nods, “when you have me ride you, but then you pull me into a bear hug and make me rest on your chest and hear your heart while you fuck me til I cum…” she gives him the specific details the opposite of what she was giving him in feedback.

His expression softens significantly. That's exactly her style - sweet, innocent, and slightly shy. He realizes she's like this even when talking about sex. He pulls her close, kissing her forehead softly. "Jesus. That's really your favorite?" He asks softly, his voice lower than before.

she nods “feel really close and comfortable.. and it’s really hot hearing you grunt and whisper mumble dirty words while you do it…”

He pulls her tighter against him, a rumble of a chuckle escaping him. "Fuck, you're kinkier than I thought." He murmurs playfully, a mischievous grin spreading across his rugged face as he realizes the dirty words she likes hearing.

“You spoil me” she blushes

He laughs softly, his arms wrapping around her waist possessively. "I do, don't I?" He admits, his hands sliding down to squeeze her ass gently. "And you love it when I spoil you with my dirty mouth and strong arms, don't you?"

He groans, his hips pressing against hers instinctively. "Goddamn, you're cute." He kisses her neck softly. "So, if I pull you down onto my lap and hug you close while I fuck you, you'll actually enjoy that? You'll actually get off on it?"

she nods.

He grins, a mix of lust and tenderness in his eyes. "Fucking hell." He says softly, already imagining it. "You know what that does to me? Knowing you get off on that shit?" He pulls her even closer, letting her feel his growing hardness.

she kisses him and shifts to sit on his lap, “can we.. do it?”

He grows hard immediately at her innocent yet demanding question, one hand sliding to her thigh while the other cups the back of her head possessively. "Hell fucking yes we can. Come here..." He guides her down onto his lap, supporting her weight easily. "Just like this?"

she lets him pull her into a bear hug while his other moves to adjust his dick to her entrance.

He holds her tightly against his chest, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other guides himself to her entrance. "Fuck, you're already so wet..." He murmurs against her neck, slowly pushing inside her inch by inch as he hugs her close. "Just like this..."

her head rests on his chest, hearing his heart beat quicken at her tightness around him.

He groans deeply as she clenches around him, his heart beating faster in his chest. "Goddamn, you feel good." He starts to move slowly, thrusting up into her as he holds her close, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her small frame. "You like that?"

she nods against his chest, “yeah”

He chuckles softly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. "Good, because I fucking love it." He squeezes her tighter, picking up the pace slightly as he feels her warmth enveloping him. "You're so goddamn perfect like this."

she mewls at the pace, kissing his bicep and chest, anything she can reach.

He grunts softly each time he thrusts up into her, his powerful arms flexing as he holds her even closer. He can feel her small kisses on his biceps and chest, making him feel oddly cherished and protected in this position. "Damn it..."

she’s glad carmy made her move to a position that make her enjoy it.

"Fucking love this position on you..." He murmurs dirty whispers against her hair, thrusting deeper. "The way you trust me to hold you... to fuck you nice and slow..." His voice becomes rougher as he feels himself getting closer. "You like feeling my heartbeat, baby?"

“Yeah”, she whines, “feel so sweet”

He growls softly, his arms tightening around her possessively. "You like feeling my strong arms around you? Like you're the smallest, most precious thing?" He thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that makes her whine even more.

He groans, his voice low and husky. "Fucking hell, you're making me crazy." He kisses the top of her head, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he continues to thrust into her. "You know what I love about this? How fucking intimate it is."

she whines softly, “mhmm need a little more”

His eyes flash with intensity as he hears her needy whine. He knows exactly what she means - she needs him to go a little deeper, a little harder. "Like this, baby?" He adjusts his angle slightly, hitting that spot deep inside her as he thrusts up more forcefully.

“I’m close.. so close..” she whines, grabbing onto him.

He feels her body tensing in his arms, her breath hitching against his chest. He knows she's close, and it drives him wild. "That's it, baby. Come on my cock." He growls softly, thrusting harder and deeper to match her need.

she cums hard.

He feels her orgasm rip through her, her body convulsing in his arms as she cries out against his chest. He groans loudly, his own release hitting him like a freight train as he buries himself deep inside her. "Fuck... yes..." He holds her tightly through their shared climax.

He holds her close as they both catch their breath, his strong arms still wrapped protectively around her trembling form. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Damn, sweetheart... Feel fucking incredible, don't you?"

“Mhmm thank you Carm” she mumbles

He smiles against her hair, his heart swelling with affection at the nickname. He loves when she calls him Carm, it feels intimate and special. "Anytime, baby." He shifts gently, still buried inside her as he settles back against the headboard. "Stay like this for a minute."

He smiles softly. He loves how she trusts him enough to just sit on his lap like this, his softening dick still inside her. He realizes something and chuckles softly. "Baby?" He murmurs. "Can I ask something?"

“Sure”

He hesitates for a moment, wondering if this is too personal or weird to ask. But he decides to go for it. "Do you mind if I stay inside you like this for a bit? I like feeling your warmth around me, and I don't wanna pull out yet." He admits quietly.

When she agrees he wraps his arms around her tighter, holding her close as he enjoys the feeling of being inside her without moving. It's surprisingly comforting and intimate, something he didn't know he would enjoy so much. "You're so fucking adorable, you know that?" He murmurs softly.

[astraljedi]

Safe and Sound (Tommy Miller Imagine)

Summary: While out on patrol, Tommy follows a trail of blood, tracking an infected through the snow, but he gets distracted at the worst moment. A gunshot cracks the silence, and he flinches, bracing for pain. Instead, the infected drops with a bullet through its skull and standing in the distance, rifle aimed steady at him, is her.

Pairing: Tommy Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Violence, descriptions of blood loss, wounded characters, death of a parent/love one, grief, heavy themes of loss, some parts might be NSFW. 18+

Word Count: 7.5k

Song: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift Feat. The Civil Wars

a/n: This is a long one and I don't regret it. This is my first Tommy Miller fic and I already have part 2 plotted and ready to write at any moment. So if you like to leave some feedback, I would appreciate very much it. Enjoy!

You can read Part 2 here -

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

“Good morning,” I mumble to my dad, who’s just finishing his small breakfast before getting some sleep after his night watch ended. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the sky is a pretty soft gray-blue. The chickens in the coop are starting to rustle and cluck, and in a few minutes they’ll be screaming for their breakfast like they’re royalty.

“In a few weeks I’m going to meet with Gunnar for a trade,” he reminds me. My father, Robert, usually meets with an old veteran friend of his to swap goods. We give him cured deer meat, fresh eggs—or if a rooster’s being too much of a bastard, he loses his head and becomes a gift. But lately, I haven’t had much luck tracking deer. There’s still some meat stored in the cabinet, but winter’s about to slam in hard, and we need to stock up while we can. Just in case. Always just in case.

When you go through an outbreak, there’s no way you can't be too prepared. 

“I’m gonna see if I can hunt some deer. Check the rabbit traps too.” I grab the chicken feed from one of the cabinets and slide my boots on. My rifle comes off the wall in one smooth motion, and I sling it over my shoulder along with a small bag of supplies. “Get some rest.” I lean down, kiss his cheek, and step out into the cold morning.

The chickens lose their minds the second I open the little gate that keeps them penned in at night. I scatter feed across the frozen dirt and let them roam free. It’s been seventeen years since my mom passed, and eighteen since the outbreak. Feels like I’ve lived a hundred lives since then.

Back in the summer of 2003, I’d just graduated college. Preschool teacher by day, bartender by night, all to scrape up enough to help with my mom’s medical bills. My dad worked as a security guard and collected his veteran benefits, but it was never enough. People used to call him a lunatic for prepping, always whispering behind his back like he was crazy.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

He spent years fixing up this old hunting cabin my grandpa left behind—tall wire fence, secured doors, a basement-turned-bunker filled with canned goods, weapons, and a cot we could sleep on if we had to go into lockdown. Bolted from the inside. If the world went to hell, we could stay down there for months if needed. He made sure of it.

I remember the night it all started. I was clocking in at the bar, and something just felt off. The place was packed but tense. Fights broke out, people acting like they’d lost their minds. Sirens blared and helicopters roared low in the sky. While the streets was crowded by military trucks, dragging people off the street. Then I heard the screech of tires—my dad’s truck flying around the corner.

“We need to go.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, and he didn’t answer. Just shoved a rifle into my hands and started driving.

“You feeling sick? Any fever? Twitching?” He kept flicking his eyes between me and the road, barely able to hide the panic.

“No,” I said, confused. “You?”

“Don’t talk to the neighbors. Grab what you need and we’re out of the house in ten minutes.”

I packed fast—my mom’s heart-shaped gold necklace, her ashes. A backpack of important files, IDs. Our family photo album, her winter jacket. A duffel bag of clothes, soap, anything else Dad had told me to keep ready “just in case.”

“I’m done.” I came running down the stairs—and froze.

Dad was outside. And he’d just shot our neighbor.

The man was crawling, dragging himself across the pavement in this twitchy, jerky way I’d never seen before. Not human at all. My dad didn’t even flinch. He raised the gun and shot him again—this time in the head.

That was the first time I saw one. Not the last. And it never got easier. We stayed hidden, just the two of us, carving out a life in isolation deep in the woods.

Dad always took the night shifts. Raiders came and went. But he made sure they didn’t stay. He scared off more people than I could count. Then Gunnar came along—a familiar face from the old veteran center. Somehow, my dad still trusted him. Said Gunnar was the only man besides himself he’d bet his life on.

Gunnar taught me how to set rabbit traps a few years back. Deer were reliable, but you couldn’t count on anything forever. Not anymore.

After feeding the chickens, I scan the area. Fence is fine. Snow’s undisturbed—no footprints, no blood. Everything looks calm. I unlock the gate and step out into the woods.

Hunting alone doesn’t scare me like it used to. I like the silence. I love my dad, but it’s the only time I get to breathe. The cabin’s small, one bedroom, and though we technically share a bed, he mostly sleeps in his recliner. Still, during those long winter storms, the walls start to close in.

I know these woods. They know me. I head straight for my traps, and from the three traps, only two have rabbits in them. I grab them by the ears and tie them around my waist with a string. Skinning is my dad’s job. Always has been. I’ll shoot, I’ll trap—I won’t gut.

I reset the traps on another trail, trying to guess where the next rabbits might be hiding. The woods are too quiet now. Most people would find that peaceful, but not me. I know better.

The infected are bad, sure—but people? People can be worse, especially after all these years. And being a woman, alone out here? It makes you a target.

The quiet shifts. The air gets thick and the birds stop chirping above. 

Something’s wrong.

I slip behind a tree, crouching low to the snowy ground. My fingers find the rifle’s grip without thinking.

Close by, a horse snorts unsettled but a man’s voice hushes it. I press my back against the trunk and slowly peer around it.

He’s heading toward the trail that leads straight to the cabin. I follow the noise, heart beating faster, boots crunching soft over snow. I drop low behind a thick, fallen trunk for cover.

That’s when I caught a better look at this man.

He’s got a rifle on his back and both hands on the reins of a light colored gelding. “Whoa,” he murmurs, trying to calm the animal as it inches closer to our fence.

I glance at the snow. Only one set of prints besides mine. And a long, red drag line.

Blood.

My eyes snap up and spot it—a lone infected, creeping toward the man and his horse. Silently, tracking him.

I move fast, ducking behind trees, avoiding every dry branch. The moment it’s within five feet of him, I raise my rifle and fire. The gunshot cuts through the woods like a thundercrack and birds fly away from their place in the trees.

The horse panics, rearing back with a scream. The man grabs the reins and fights to settle it.

I step out, rifle still raised and aimed straight at him. “You need to leave. Now.” My voice doesn’t shake.

He stares, eyes wide—more stunned by the infected’s corpse than the barrel I’ve got pointed at him. Blood pools under the body, staining the snow black.

He doesn't move. Doesn’t reach for his gun. He just watches me, like he's not sure what he’s seeing.

“What?” I snap. “Never seen a woman before?”

“I’m not here to cause any harm,” he says, slow and calm, like he doesn’t want to spook me. “I was tracking the infected through the woods and lost sight of it.”

“You didn’t lose it, they’re not dumb. That thing led you here and it was tracking you.”

He swallows and nods, like maybe he knows I’m right. “Look, I’m from a town not far from here—Jackson. I’m Tommy.” He gestures vaguely toward the hills. “You don’t have to be out here alone. Jackson’s got decent people, good food, security. It’s safe.”

The cabin door bursts open. My dad steps out, rifle ready, expression cold and dangerous. “She isn’t alone.”

His gray hair’s a mess—he must’ve just rolled out of the recliner—but his voice is stirn and direct. He clicks his rifle, as a warning.

Tommy straightens. “Alright. I’m goin’.” He tugs on the reins. His horse resists, but he guides it back the way they came. He glances over his shoulder once, then twice. Still watching me, even as he disappears through the trees.

I wait until he’s fully gone before I unlock the gate.

“You hurt?” my dad asks when I get close, scanning me top to bottom for scratches, blood, anything.

“I’m fine.” My eyes flick back toward the woods, toward the infected’s body too close to the fence. 

He mutters, “Should’ve shot him.”

“If I did, his little town would come looking,” I say, brushing past him. The cabin’s warm inside, fire still crackling low. I hang my rifle up on its hook and kick off my boots.

I set the rabbits on the table. “Your turn.”

“That’s the first infected we’ve seen in a while.” He says, grabbing the rabbits.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “It was hunting him. Probably lured him down the steep trail.”

I grab a match and the old oil can from beneath the sink.

“I’m gonna burn it before it draws more.”

A couple of days have passed since the Tommy and infected scene happened. I’m outside in the chicken coop grabbing some eggs when I hear horse hooves smashing against the snow. I peek through the small gap of the coop and—it’s him. Again.

I have my rifle by the chicken coop door, but I don’t reach for it. I don’t feel a sense of danger from him. He trots up to the gate and slips off his horse smoothly, unties a cloth bag from the side of his saddle, and places it on the ground by the gate.

I stay in cover, but he lingers, watching the door like he’s half-expecting my dad to aim a gun at him again. I stifle a laugh, remembering how scared he looked that day when he saw my dad—hair all messy, clothes wrinkled and another gun being pointed at him. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t hear me. He hops back onto his horse and disappears into the woods, the same trail he took last time, but I don’t move. My rooster sings loudly on my right and I wince from the sharp, high-pitched sound.

“Frederick, really? In my ear?” I glare at him and shoo him away.

I step out from the coop, sling my rifle over my back, and open the gate just enough to grab the bag.

If it were from a stranger—which technically, Tommy is—I would’ve tossed it or let the chickens peck through it. But my gut trusts him. He seemed genuine last time and he didn’t overstep once. Tommy could’ve easily run me over with that horse, but he didn’t.

In the kitchen, I open the bag and the smell of freshly baked bread hits me. I groan, the warm scent tugging me back to a time that’s long gone. It’s been years since I’ve had bread like this. There’s also two jars of jam—one red, one a light yellow. A few medicine bottles and even menstrual products. I blink, caught off guard, cheeks warming up. It’s not taboo, but it feels weird, someone who’s not my dad thinking of that.

“Why do I smell bread?” my father huffs, groaning as he pushes himself up from the recliner.

“Tommy brought a bag of goods.” I gesture toward it.

“That boy again? Did he bother you?” He reaches for the bread and I smack his hand away.

“Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Sit at the table then. I’m gonna cut this loaf like it deserves to be treated, old man.” I laugh and grab a knife, slicing into the warm bread. How did it stay warm all this way? Maybe he picked it up right before heading out.

I spread jam on a few slices and put them on a plate. “Here. Now we can eat like civilized human beings.”

I grab a piece and bring it to my nose, closing my eyes as the sweet strawberry scent fills my senses. I take a bite and it’s even better than I imagined.

The following weeks, he keeps showing up—once a week, always on Tuesdays. I start waking up earlier on those days, and I finish all my chores before noon. I wait near the trail—his trail. The only one he knows, but I’m not about to tell him there’s a quicker one. 

Not yet.

I sit against a tree, ears perked as I snack on dried plums from last week’s bag. When I hear singing and familiar hooves crunching through the snow, I smirk and prepare myself.

When he’s close, I spook him and his horse.

The poor thing rears back and Tommy slips off the saddle, falling straight into the snow. Luckily, I’m out of range and the horse doesn’t bolt—Jackson must train their horses well.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy snaps, still sitting in the snow, his beanie half-buried.

I’m breathless from laughing, struggling to stay upright.

“Oh, god.” I can’t stop laughing. I grab the reins and feed his horse a dried plum, scratching his neck as he melts into my touch.

“This what I get for bringing supplies?” Tommy grumbles, brushing snow off himself as he pulls the beanie back on.

“Glad to know Jackson trains their horses not to run off,” I say, kissing the horse’s nose. We used to have one, years ago. It was good for travel when Dad made trades, but it got too hard to care for, so he traded it for warmer jackets.

“You should tell them to train their patrol better. They get spooked too easy,” I tease. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my ego,” he mutters.

“Good,” I say, handing him the reins. “We don’t need your supplies. You can stop coming by.”

“You say that, but weren’t you just eating the plums I brought?” He smirks.

“Well yeah, I’m not gonna waste ‘em. Don’t know if you noticed, but we’re living in an apocalypse.” I turn on my heel. “Don’t follow me back. Go home.”

I make it a few feet and glance over my shoulder. He’s on his horse, still not moving. I roll my eyes and keep walking on the trail. Once I’m back inside the cabin and shaking off snow from my boots, I hear the hooves again.

I peek out the window and there he is, placing the damn bag at the gate.

He just doesn’t give up.

The next week, he doesn’t show. Tuesday passes—no hooves, no singing, no bag.

Then Wednesday. Still nothing.

He gave up. And I hate to admit it, but… I’m a little disappointed. The week after that is the same. 

I come home from hunting with only a rabbit tied to my belt and no deer. 

“Guess the boy finally gave up,” my dad says, waiting for me on the porch while holding a warm cup of tea. Tea from Tommy’s bag.

“Disappointed you won’t get more tea?” I tease.

“Not as disappointed as you, when you realize he’s not coming,” he says, poking my side before walking back inside.

I glare at him, but—he might be a little right.

It takes me a few more weeks, but I finally track a deer and it's a big one. It’s gonna be hell to carry, but this is gold.

I get into position—rifle resting on a fallen trunk—and wait. Its ears twitch, and I freeze, listening for whatever it hears. 

Nothing. I hold my breath, wait for its head to lower again and when it does, I take the shot.

The deer drops onto the snow, a clean shot. 

I jump over the trunk, adrenaline rushing, but my boots slip on a patch of snow and I fall—hard and my palm lands right on a sharp rock while I try to grasp something. 

“Shit!” I curse. I clench my bleeding hand, trying not to cry out. But blood's already oozing fast.

I sling off my pack and dig for anything to wrap my hand with. I end up grabbing an old cloth from one of Tommy’s bags, dumping out its contents to use it.

But trying to wrap it one-handed is useless with my shaking hands. I glance back at the deer—I can’t leave it. Not after everything.

“This is so stupid,” I mutter, trying again.

“You need help?” I scream and drop the cloth.

Tommy.

He’s already walking toward me, eyes scanning the deer and then at me.

“Is this karma for scaring you weeks ago?” I sigh, my heart still racing.

He tries to hold back a smile, but when he sees my hand, it fades. “You’re hurt.”

He picks up the cloth and steps closer. And I don’t stop him.

“What happened?”

“I celebrated early and ate shit,” I mutter, nodding toward the deer. “It’s the biggest one I’ve gotten in weeks.”

He finishes wrapping my hand, then helps me up and I grip his bicep for balance.

“I’m not leaving it,” I say, heading for the deer.

He grabs my arm gently. “Let me. You just grab your stuff.”

He lifts the deer like it’s nothing and slings it onto his horse. I open my mouth to protest, but my vision goes blurry for a second and I stumble.

“Hey,” he says quickly, “hold on to Pearl’s lead.”

We’re not far from the cabin, but it feels like miles with how hard my head is pounding. I glance back once and find him staring at me. I look away, which makes the dizziness worse and I trip again. But he doesn’t let me fall, his hand catches my waist.

Even through the thick layers of clothing, heat shoots through me.

I mumble a thanks and keep moving, not daring to look back at him. 

When we reach the cabin, Dad is already on the porch, sipping his tea, smirking behind the cup. He’s not going to let me live this down, ever. 

He steps down the porch steps and holds the gate open while I led Pearl in. Tommy hesitates and stays behind the fence, but I nod him forward. He nods at my dad and steps in.

“What’s happened? Dad asks.

“She’s hurt,” Tommy says quietly, pointing at my wrapped hand. 

Dad glances at my hand, then the deer. “Get her stitched up,” he orders like he used to in the army. “I’ll handle the deer.”

“Yes, sir,” Tommy replies and helps me inside. I kick off my boots, shrug off my thick jacket, and toss it on the hook.

“You can leave your coat here,” I tell him, reaching up for the first aid kit. “Normally I’d do this myself, but I trust you more than Dad. He’s terrible at stitching.”

I set the kit on the table and sit. Tommy joins me not a second later and opens the kit.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No. Blood just makes me dizzy.” I confess, watching him look through the kit. Then he unties the cloth on my hand and sprays the wound without warning. 

I wince and grip my knee with my good hand. “You didn’t warn me, asshole!”

“Wouldn’t matter. You’d whine either way.” He laughs quietly. “Do you have liquor? This is gonna hurt.”

I shake my head. “This is my karma. Just do it.”

It does hurt. Worse than when I sprained my wrist skating as a kid. But I stay conscious through it and after.

When he finishes, I watch his large hands pack everything back in the kit. I shift a little in my seat. God, this is the first attractive man I’ve seen in ages and I can barely function.

He pulls on his jacket and I grab a cloth bag, packing it with cured deer and rabbit meat.

“Thanks,” I say, walking him out to the gate. I hold the bag out and he ties it to Pearl’s saddle.

Tommy smiles before climbing up to Pearl’s back.

“Go, before it gets too dark out.”

“I can handle myself, sweetheart,” he says, cocky.

“You sure? Last time I had to shoot an infected because you got distracted,” I tease.

“Now we’re even.” He nods at my bandaged hand. I roll my eyes and chuckle. I stay by the gate, watching him disappear through the trees. At some point, I have to teach him the shorter trail, for his safety. 

In the eighteen years I’ve lived after the outbreak, this is the most I’ve laughed and blushed. Last week it was warmer than usual, but now the cold came back worse, the kind that makes your bones shake uncontrollably. It doesn’t feel that bad, though, not with all the blushing and Tommy’s body close to mine, not when he keeps looking at me like that.

He’s helping me clean out the chicken coop, while my dad is out checking the rabbit traps, something he volunteered to do himself. “Frederick, stop!” I shoo the small, quirky rooster off while he keeps running around singing his heart out.

“You named your rooster Frederick?” Tommy laughs.

“Yes, and as you can see, he isn’t exactly the quiet type when he’s loose.”

We both laugh, watching the rooster peck on the snow. There's a moment of silence but with him, it isn’t awkward. 

“Can I ask you something?” he says, and I nod, crouching down to check the hens’ nests for eggs.

“What’d you do... before all this?”

I sigh, heavy in the chest. “I was a preschool teacher,” I murmur. 

Just saying it makes my heart clench, thinking about the kids in my class and where they ended up. “Graduated with an education degree. Worked at a school during the day... bartender at night.”

Tommy looks genuinely surprised. “You? Teaching little kids?” He raises a brow like he can’t picture it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grab the basket of eggs from the floor and shut the chicken coop door behind me. “You don’t think I’m capable of handling little kids?” I throw over my shoulder as we head toward the porch.

“I think you’d scare ‘em straight, is what I think.”

I shove his shoulder gently but I’m laughing now, that quiet, warm kind of laugh I didn’t even know I missed. I sit down on one of the steps and he drops down next to me, close enough that I can feel the heat off him even through the cold.

“I was a fun teacher,” I tell him, nudging his knee with mine. “The kids loved me. I always ended up with painted handprints all over my favorite overalls.”

Tommy grins, like he’s imagining it.

“What about you?” I ask, tilting my head.

“I was in the army for a while. Then I started working construction with my older brother.”

I blink at him, stunned. “Wait, you have a brother?”

He nods, his gaze dropping. “Yeah. I don’t even know if he’s still out there.” His voice gets quieter. “And I also had a niece— Sarah. She was thirteen. Died the night it all started.”

My heart twists and aches. Without thinking, I reach out, resting my small hand over his, and then the other finds its way to the back of his neck, curling into his hair.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” I whisper. “Were you close?”

He nods again. “We used to tease each other a lot. Joel would always come between us, telling us to behave,” he says, and even though he’s smiling, I can see the sadness underneath it, the way he squeezes my hand like he needs to hold on to something or he’ll drift somewhere dangerous.

“I lost my mom to cancer a year before the outbreak,” I confess, letting the words fall out because somehow, with him I want to let my walls down. “That’s why I worked nights at a bar. I had to pull my weight with the bills since my dad’s veteran benefits and his security job weren’t enough.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” Tommy shifts closer and presses a kiss to my temple. 

“You know...” I tug playfully at one of his curls, trying to lighten the mood again. “You could use a trim. It looks like you live in the woods.”

He chuckles low in his chest. “Darlin’, we live in the woods.”

“You know mom was a hairstylist and she taught me everything. I could give you a cut if you want,” I offer, twirling a curl around my finger.

Tommy gives me a skeptical look. “You promise you won’t leave me bald?”

I laugh and shove him lightly. “I’m offended you would even think that.”

He grabs my wrist gently, pulling me closer, his eyes sparkling with something I can’t quite name. “Forgive me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll think about it.” I grin. “Dad’s gonna meet up with Gunnar in a couple days. Maybe you can come by.”

“I don’t know if your dad would appreciate me being here while he’s gone,” he teases, but I feel a little resistance in his voice.

“He isn’t here now,” I whisper, a little closer to him than before, close enough to feel his breath on my lips. “Why haven’t you kissed me?”

“Because I’m a gentleman,” Tommy says hoarsely, his hand sliding up to the back of my neck, holding me steady. A whimper slips out of me, but he shuts me up the only way he can— with his mouth on mine.

I close my eyes as he leans into me, savoring every second. The tip of his tongue brushes my lips and when he tugs my hair a little. I moan at the feeling and I part my lips, letting him in.

It’s not my first kiss, but it’s my first kiss in years, and it wrecks me. I can feel the heat spreading under my skin, the way our bodies slot together needing to be close, how desperate and right it feels. When we pull away, breathless, I can't resist being away— I dive right back in, capturing his lips again, my hand threading through his curls.

This time, he moans.

"God," I gasp when I finally break away, dizzy and breathless. “I haven’t been kissed like that in years,”

“One hell of a kiss,” Tommy says, his voice rough, and I’m blushing so hard I have to look away. He grabs me by the chin and pulls me to another kiss, this one sweeter, slower. He gives me a few playful pecks on my lips and it has me giggling. 

The trading trip takes a day to get there and a day to get back. It’s not the first time I’ve been left alone, but it’s the first time someone’s here with me, someone who isn’t my dad.

Tommy shows up a little after my dad’s gone, and it feels strange— strange in a good way, something new and dizzying. Like a teenager sneaking her boyfriend in while her parents are away. And the butterflies have been eating me alive for days.

“Are there any boyfriends I should be worried about?” he asks, his voice low against my ear, his bare chest pressed against my back as we sit by the fire.

After I cut his hair, things got... heated and we got distracted discovering new places to leave hot kisses. 

Our clothes got lost somewhere— his shirt, his jeans, mine too— and now there’s just a blanket pulled over us, both of us sitting on the old rug with a plate of bread half-forgotten beside us. I grab a piece and feed it to him. 

“Never had one,” I say, popping another piece into my mouth.

“What?” he says, sitting up straighter.

“I had a fling senior year of college but he was a little shit and the sex wasn’t great,” I say, laughing a little at the memory now.

“My apologies on behalf of the male species, we’re not all bad,” Tommy says, his hand sliding up to my breast, his mouth finding the sweet spot on my neck, slow and teasing. I lean my head back against him, giving him all the space he wants. 

“Come with me to Jackson,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips warm against my pulse.

I close my eyes, drunk on the feeling of him, the way he bites down just enough to make me gasp that I almost miss what he says.

He keeps talking, whispering against my skin. “There’s a lot of veterans there. Your dad would have people to bond with and I’d have you closer. Somewhere I know you’ll be safe.”

I freeze and stiffen up. I pull my body away, staring into the fire like it’s going to give me some clarity or save me from this conversation.

Tommy moves with me, not pushing, just leaning in close enough that I feel him, his hand gentle on my shoulder. The idea of leaving the only safe place I’ve ever known... it sits heavy in my gut. And I know Robert, he’s not going to pack up this cabin and leave with me, he doesn’t trust many people and isolation has worked for us for years.

“I am safe,” I whisper, still staring at the fire.

“I know you are,” he says softly, “but I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not an hour horse ride away. We just finished fixing up a house. You and your dad could have your own space and he could have a community. You could have a life with me.”

He doesn’t pull me back to him, just presses kisses to my bare shoulder, soft and patient, trying to kiss away the fear unpacking itself inside me.

“The only way that old man is leaving,” I sigh, “is when he’s dead.”

I get up, grabbing the empty plate, feeling the cold bite at my bare legs and arms. Even though the fire's still crackling, I shiver, missing the heat of him, the feel of lips and his skin against mine.

I’m still barefoot, in nothing but my bra and underwear, standing at the sink when I feel him behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I’m not rushing you,” he says, voice low. “Just throwing the idea out there.”

I nod, tilt my head back against his shoulder, and he catches my chin, tilts it toward him, presses a kiss to my lips—not desperate— but understanding. A kiss that says I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.

“Come on,” he murmurs, breaking away. “Let’s get you back under the blanket, get you warm.”

He leads me back to our little nest by the fire and somehow, without even realizing it, I fall asleep on his chest, his hands holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, like if he lets go even for a second, I’ll vanish right out of his arms.

The weather around here is unpredictable.

But the moment I feel the temperature shift, I know there’s a blizzard closing in on us. Dad gets home just in time, only an hour after Tommy had to leave, but he’s struggling to keep his footing. I search him for scratches, bite marks—anything—but I don’t see any.

Since he walked through that door, he hasn’t stopped sweating, coughing, and shivering. And when I try to give him some of the medicine Tommy brought over the first couple times after we met, Dad can’t keep it down.

It’s not the first time he’s gotten sick, but this is the first time we can’t get help if we need it. The blizzard’s howling like crazy outside and it's shaking the walls like it wants to tear it down. I’ve got the hens and Frederick inside, huddled close to the fire in cages, and I’m kneeling by the fire too, heating up some bone broth, praying I can get something into my dad’s stomach.

Even Frederick is quiet in his cage. Something is definitely wrong.

I leave the hot pot on the kitchen counter and look out the window.  I can barely make out anything through the snow, but my heart kicks into a sprint when I see three shadowy figures moving across the property.

Shit. The gate.

I was so distracted, worrying, that I didn’t even hear them rip it open. I grab my rifle from the wall and sprint to the back room. “Dad,” I rush to his side, trying to lift him. “We gotta go. Now.”

I try to drag him out of bed, his arm slung heavy around my shoulders, but he’s too weak, dead weight. He groans, delirious. I don’t even think he knows he’s back at the cabin. 

The floorboards creak under heavy boots on the porch as I rip the bunker door open. “Get in. Lock it behind you. I’ll be back.”

I step into the hallway and wait for them while the hens are losing their minds from the banging on the front door. I raise my rifle, grip steady even though my insides are shaking with adrenaline, and the moment the door bursts open—I fire.

The first intruder drops hard on the porch, a single bullet between his eyes.

The second one, a man built like a goddamn wall, charges forward and he’s faster than I thought. I squeeze the trigger again—the bullet slams into his shoulder, but it barely slows him down.

I smash the butt of my rifle against him when he gets close enough and he stumbles. I kick him in the stomach, but he barrels into me, tackling me to the floor. The air punches out of my lungs but I try to claw for my fallen rifle, fingertips brushing the wood—

“Pretty little thing,” he growls, pinning my wrist down.

I twist beneath him, get my knee into his ribs, but he’s too heavy. His hand finds my ankle, yanking hard—and I scream as pain shoots up my leg, hot and sharp.

The third one strolls in like he owns the place, grinning. He must be the leader. “Look what we got here.” He kicks my rifle even farther out of reach. “We’re gonna have some fun with you, but it’s his turn first.”

He sneers before disappearing into the living room, going through our home like he hit treasure. The blood drains from my face but I lunge for the only weapon I can reach—a small handgun strapped to the man’s waist. My hands are quick, desperate, unbuckling it without him noticing. 

I’m desperate to get the upper hand, I need to do something and save my father.

The safety is off and I press the barrel into his side, pulling the trigger. He roars in pain, loosening his grip, and I shove the gun against his forehead and fire again. His limp body collapses onto me and I throw him off, gasping for air.

“You wanna play? Let’s play,” the last man snarls, bolting from the living room with a knife in his hand.

I fire at him and nothing comes out from the handgun. 

Fuck.

I scramble for my rifle, but he slashes out with his knife, ripping the skin along my arm. I stumble, my ankle screaming in agony. He grabs me by the hair, yanking me across the porch and throwing me onto the snow, my blood staining it a deep red.

I try to get up, but my ankle gives out. I’m weaponless, hurting, trapped and the icy wind is no use either. 

“Let me hear you scream,” he laughs, pressing his boot down hard on my bad ankle and I bite my lip until I taste blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction. If I’m going to die, I’m not going down easy.

I always said the infected were bad—but people were worse. This is what I meant.

My fingers dig into the snow, scrambling for anything, fighting back the tears while his boot pressed harder. 

“Scream, you little bit—”

BANG.

He jerks violently, eyes wide in shock before he collapses on top of me. I wheeze, struggling to push his dead weight off, chest heaving.

“Dad?” I whisper, dazed. He’s at the doorway, barely standing, rifle clutched in his hands while blood drips from his lips. Then he collapses to his knees and the rifle falls down to his side. 

“No, no—” I limp toward him, dragging his half-frozen body back inside, down into the basement. The main door to the cabin is gone, there’s no use trying to fix it. The only thing I can do now is get us into the bunker and lock ourselves in before the storm swallows us whole or even more danger creeps up on us. 

Right now, the cold doesn’t matter. Nothing does but keeping him alive a little longer.

The green military cot in the bunker is too small for him. I kneel beside it, clutching his hand against my forehead. His skin is freezing, his face draining of color.

Who do I pray to? God? Who’s left to listen now?

I fight the sob clawing up my throat, but when our eyes meet, it shatters me. I choke on a broken sound.

“Go with him,” Dad rasps, voice barely there.

“What?”

“Tommy.” His breath rattles with each word. “Go with Tommy” He coughs, like his body is giving out one word at a time.

“Stop.” I try to beg him to save his energy but he won’t listen to me. 

“Don’t tell him I said this or I’ll haunt you in your sleep, but… he’s a good man.”

“No—" I press my forehead to his, shaking. "Please, stay. Please."

He cups my cheek with a trembling hand, and I lean into his cold familiar touch. “He looks at you the way I looked at your mother," he says, voice cracking. "Let him keep you safe.”

“Daddy,” I cry, the word ripping out of me in terror. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I love you,” he breathes. “Don’t let me hold you back from something good. Promise me.”

“I promise.” I press frantic kisses to his knuckles, to his forehead, trying to memorize him, trying to hold on.

I don’t fall asleep—not even after I feel his life slip away in my arms. I scream, the sound ripping from somewhere deep inside, raw and feral and grief mixed together.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, clutching his hand in the poorly dim room. I don’t know how long it took before my eyes betrayed me, before exhaustion dragged me under, even as the blizzard screamed outside.

It takes Tommy two days to get to the cabin.Two days of me being locked in the bunker with my father, life already drained from his body. 

The storm outside has calmed down a little, but it still has its moments of roaring back. Even so, I don’t dare leave the bunker. I threw a blanket over my dad, laid my back against the bolted door, and just stayed there, frozen, trying not to think, trying not to feel.

My ears perk up at the sound of my name being called. At first I think it’s my mind playing games, like it has been for hours, until I hear heavy boots across the floor upstairs. 

Tommy’s voice, shouting for me in panic.

I push myself up, putting all my body weight onto my good leg, fumbling with the bunker door until I finally get it open. My rifle slung over my shoulder, I limp through the hallway, heart in my throat, following the sound of him.

He’s outside now, digging up a body buried in the snow, his voice cracking from the cold and fear. “Please, please,” I hear him beg, his lips trembling. He thinks it’s me.

I make it to the porch and my voice cracks too. “Tommy.”

His head whips toward me the same second he realizes it’s not me lying there, that it’s one of the raiders. Relief floods his face and he tosses the body back into the snow without a second glance, running toward me with his eyes full of tears.

The sight of the cabin was a nightmare.The gate was ripped open, the wooden cabin door was on the ground and there’s blood frozen into the wood, smeared across the porch. But Tommy doesn’t look at any of it. His eyes stay locked on mine, wide and glassy.

I drop the rifle and fall into his arms. I don’t care that my ankle screams in protest, or that my stomach aches from days without food, or that my arm starts bleeding again.

None of it matters the moment his arms close around me.

I don’t try to hold it in anymore. I break down, sobbing into his chest. “Jesus—hey, hey, I got you,” he murmurs, voice thick, one hand cradling the back of my head. “I got you.”

“He’s gone.” Tommy understands right away. His body tightens around mine like he’s trying to shield me from anymore danger.

Tommy patches the door the best he can. It’s not perfect, not meant to hold for long, just enough to close off the cabin while he gets me to Jackson to see a medic.

I pack a duffel bag with the only things that matter: my mother’s gold necklace, my father’s pocket knife, a picture of the three of us when I was small, a change of clothes to last until we can come back for the rest—and for my father’s body.

Tommy wraps his arms around me and helps me onto Pearl. He ties my bag to the saddle, then mounts behind me, taking the reins in one hand while keeping the other tight around my waist.

Even though Tommy has described Jackson to me a hundred times, seeing it for the first time feels unreal, like this shouldn’t be possible after what we went through. The gates are huge, guarded, the town tucked safely inside.

He waves a colored flag to the guard on top of the wall and the gate creaks open. I keep my head low, feeling small under the weight of everyone’s stares. 

Did Tommy tell them about me? About us?

“It’s not up for discussion, darlin’,” he mutters against my ear as he helps me down from the saddle. All I wanted to do is hide away in a dark room, try to push away this nightmare. But Tommy insisted I get my wounds and ankle checked at the clinic before he took me to his home. 

“I need to make sure you're okay.”

I just nod, too exhausted to argue even if I wanted to. I let him guide me into a small clinic in town.

The room is small, the smell of antiseptic and cold metal lingering in the air. Tommy stays close enough that I can feel his body heat, grounding me and pulling me back to reality. He’s not suffocating me—he’s keeping me standing. My lungs, my heart, everything leaning on him.

Don’t let me hold you back from something good. 

“You must be the woman Tommy’s been talking about,” the medic says, walking in with a gentle smile and pulling me back to reality.  She’s older, her hair completely silver, wrinkles crinkling around kind eyes. She jokes, but neither Tommy nor I laugh. 

I barely listen as they talk quietly. I sit there, numb, while the medic cleans the gash on my arm and wraps it tight. Then she checks my ankle, twisting it gently until I wince and clutch Tommy’s sleeve with a gasp.

 “All right, that’s enough,” Tommy snaps before the medic can push more. His voice came out protective while he held my hand. 

Thankfully, my ankle isn’t broken—just badly sprained. 

The medic finishes wrapping it, promising she’ll bring crutches to Tommy’s place when she finds them. “If she needs anything, even if it’s late, knock on my door,” she whispers to him, but I hear it anyway. She pats his shoulder before leaving the room, giving us space.

“Tommy—” I start to protest when he scoops me up without warning, one arm under my knees, the other around my back.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking a little as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I spent the whole storm thinking the worst. Let me do this.”

I don't argue, I don’t have any more energy. I just bury my face against his chest, letting him carry me.

“I got you,” he whispers, breath trembling against my hair. “I’m not letting you go.”

He carries me out of the clinic, across the frozen ground of Jackson, back to a place he calls home.

Home. Tommy is home.

[saeun]

ꪆ୧ ── WISH UNATTAINABLE ┊ A MERE DREAM ﹑ HSR ⤿ starring: boothill ◟ sunday ◟ dr. ratio.

꒰ a player's mission ﹢ ding! quest(s) unlocked. to obtain a reward of 100 stellar jades, knock yourself out with missions involving your favourite! don't get caught up in the dream though.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: i clearly had an idea & needed to jot it down before i forgot about it (old draft i wrote when i js was fresh into hsr bear w me 😢)

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ siobhan’s revealed that someone's here for you, insisting for you to not be a killjoy and come meet him.

“drink's on me sweetheart, knock ya'self out,” boothill slides the cocktail at you, giving his signature smirk as its free side dish.

you're not quite sure what you expected, but boothill being a bartender wasn't one of them. actually — it's believable when you think about it.

when siobhan sent you those messages, your mind went to either gallagher or aventurine. (un)fortunately, your guess was wrong. you are now a taste-tester and subjected to subtle flirting? a win is a win.

boothill puts a hand on his hip. he mixed the drink gracefully with siobhan's aid, it's bound to be perfect — hopefully.

“what's it called?” you asked, turning the glass around to appreciate the red and orange ombre. it reminds you of someone, but you can't put a finger on it.

“didn't think that far into it.” he shrugs. “you can name it, sweetheart.”

“i can name it sweetheart?”

“no, i meant... well, why the fuck not.”

you're sure you heard a disappointed sigh from him. maybe it's the alcohol? whatever, it tastes good. the drink's sweet, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste — if that makes sense. it's so sweet that you keep sipping, yet it's so bitter that you're reminded it's alcohol and not juice. a perfect balance.

gently placing the glass down, you slid it towards boothill, “another glass please, gentleman.”

“right away, darlin’,” he accepts your request, refilling your glass with the sweetheart special. this time, he adds a little edible glitter in the mix to spice up the aesthetic.

the glass is once again slid back to you. the only difference is a shine to the liquid. the new beauty to it can make even argenti fall to his knees to worship it (he worships anything beautiful).

“it's so good i can kiss you for it,” you mindlessly reply, licking your lips from the excess liquid.

goodness, do you want him to overheat? is the way to defeat a galaxy ranger a compliment without thought put into it?!

“pfft— uh— well—” he sputters, unable to form a proper sentence yet.

a few coughs later, he regains his ability to speak, “it's just that good ain't it, darlin’?”

“you're the best and i need you in the express to make fifteen of these,” with desperation in your voice, you lean over to hold his hand. it's cold, but not cold enough to make you back away.

“i'll be right with ya!”

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS ⟡ you received an anonymous message urging you to come to penacony. it felt like a scam, but the messages were too prim and proper to be one.

hmm, something isn't right. you can feel it in your bones. either you're experiencing side effects of being on cleaning duty, or you're being hunted down. has your excellence finally exceed you to the point where you've appeared on someone's hitlist? maybe.

staring at the message on your phone, you squint at it before moving your head away. you must be careful or else you'd be affected by its ominous energy.

there's only one logical decision to make: find dan heng and let him decipher a possible hidden code in the messages.

“dan heng, i need you!” you exclaimed, opening his room's door with a force that should only be reserved for battles.

“did you clean your manners out too?” sighing, dan heng closes the book he's reviewing.

“i think i'm being kidnapped,” ignoring his snarky comments, you enter his room, showing him the pile of messages.

> Hello, (y/n). I trust that you've been well during your trips.

> Have you decided on whether you'll return to Penacony? If not, I hope that you come soon.

> There is something I wish to do with you.

> Meet me at The Reverie Hotel 10 system hours from when you reply. I shall accompany you directly instead of a regular staff.

> That is all. I'll keep the conversations for our meeting.

you shake your head, hugging your body in attempts to shield yourself.

“see! there's no way that isn't someone out to get me.”

dan heng falls silent. clearly, this is someone you've met before, but who? they haven't left any name, let alone a profile icon. there's only one way to find out and that's to reply.

“hand me your phone, i'll reply.”

...

have you been deceived? is dan heng in on this too? why would he reply? suspicion dominates over you. you slowly back away from his side.

“damn... they really do say your enemies are close.”

“that's now how it... whatever. just give me the phone so i can ask for their identity.” his tone's laced with disappointment. he's not surprised, but boy was he wrong for thinking you matured.

being left with no other choice, you surrender your phone and safety to him.

< Sorry, who are you?

< I'm sure we've met though.

“they're typing...” he mutters, leaning into your side so you can see the screen too.

> My apologies. I forgot to set my account.

> This is Sunday, head of the Oak Family.

“sunday?!”

“sunday!?”

this time you both were taken by surprise. out of everyone in penacony that would've sent you a text, he was the least expected. dan heng shoots you a pitiful look. he's pretty sure sunday's still on your hitlist.

“i am not going.”

“it's rude to ignore someone's request.”

“dan heng,” you began, folding your arms across your chest, “you can't make me go.”

in response dan heng simply nods. he walks out his room and into the main area. you're not sure what he did, but he came back to you lounging on his bed in five minutes.

you were already comfortable, with one knee up and a foot on the knee. you expected him to come back, but not with a trusted adult.

“are you serious?”

“himeko, (y/n)'s ignoring someone's request to meet.”

one corner of his mouth moves up. he knows he won this battle. snitching is the way to go, always.

and that's how you're now standing besides sunday. all stiff with nervous laughs, praying to whichever aeon that he doesn't use the telepathy punishment thing on you. it's game over and restart if he ever dares to.

sunday's as poise as ever — with a hand behind his back, he observes the view of oti mall below. it's bustling with life; the noise is enough to do all the talking. truly a one-sided comfortable silence.

“so... how's life been, sunday?” you tread carefully with your question and behaviour. you don't even make eye contact.

sunday smiles slightly, “it's been busy as ever. this is probably the only moment of peace in my schedule.”

and it's silent again. how do you continue a conversation with a bigshot? you ran your mouth with the supreme guardian of belobog but god forbid you're with the head of the oak family. scary.

cold sweat drops. you have got to keep the conversation going or you'll lose your mind in seven minutes.

“been getting into gambling with the slot machines lately. what about you?”

perfect. ten out of ten. a penacony-related addiction.

“i see you've picked up that ipc stoneheart's behaviour.”

okay, maybe it wasn't that perfect. and was that disappointment?!

it's silent again. you steal a glance of sunday and it did not help. he has a relaxed expression on his face. his chest rising and falling with every breath. is he truly comfortable with the silence? you're dying here.

a sigh leaves you. why not just speak your mind.

“to be honest, it's a little uncomfortable being so silent. i feel like i'm being watched by that large eye in the mall.”

sunday's head turns, his expression slightly changes.

“apologies, i did not notice. would you like to take a walk together?” he suggests, holding his palm out to you.

you place your hand in his, trying to hide the smile. you're finally going to do something instead of standing like an npc.

“yeah, sure.”

after your approval, you basically re-toured penacony. he even took you to his office. that's not even the biggest part. the huge wow factor here is that you were hand-in-hand with him. yes, hands intertwined with the most handsome man in penacony. someone should be jealous.

although his hand was gloved it still counts. the gloves are thin anyway — it was basically skin contact. had you known beforehand that sunday's hand was this manly you wouldn't have even complained to dan heng.

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ herta bothered you to return to her station, insisting that she needs your help. you reluctantly agreed, but didn't expect to meet the doctor you've been hitting on.

> Come. I need to experiment on you.

< Excuse me?!?

> Aeon stuff.

< Which Aeon is it?

< Herta?

< Hellooooo... Anyone there...?

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

< You've got to be kidding me.

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

a heavy sigh leaves you. new day, same old herta demanding your presence and going off the net. well, it's been a while since you've revisited herta's space station, and it doesn't hurt gaining new knowledge on aeons. hopefully it'd be quick... and that screwllum's there as well. out of the three, screwllum's the sole one that's gentle.

once you stepped foot in her office, you stepped right back out. seeing someone you've been avoiding to reply to their messages certainly isn't a good thing. the chances of the man you were testing your charisma on being with herta is low — incredibly low — but never zero.

“come here, (y/n).” a voice filled with authority calls for you who's standing to the side of the door.

you purposefully chose that position; since the doors are automatic, they'd immediately open if you were directly in front of it.

“no, thanks!” you yelled, preferring to stay where its safe from confrontations.

inside the office, herta folds her arms. the clock is ticking, and she doesn't want to lose interest before she can glimpse the secret of at least one aeon.

“just go get her. what're you standing there for?”

with a tone as blunt as that, ratio feels slightly offended, but he can't argue. she's right, he can simply bring you back inside the office.

confidentally walking towards the door, he steps out and immediately turns his head left. it was as he calculated: you were right there leaning against the wall, trying your best to act nonchalant while ignoring his obvious presence.

“don't act childish.” disappointment laces his voice, his folded arms shows it, too.

“whatever do you mean, doctor?” you smiled.

ratio's having none of it. he moves his position to stand in front of you, forcing you to look at him instead.

“your behaviour then and now is childish. get back in the office.”

“cut me some slack! do you think the courage i have over text translates to real life?” your defenses raise, poking his chest to enforce your point. “you're intimidating and handsome, dude. give me a break.”

a silence follows. the kind of silence that indicates you said something you definitely should've kept as a thought. nervously, you move your eyes to look at ratio's. the eye contact doesn't last long — like you said, he's intimidating (and handsome).

“tell me something i don't know.” ratio breaks the silence, grabbing your finger off his chest. “but that's not the point here, is it? we have something to do.”

mood: ruined. it's common knowledge to anyone who's been in a conversation with ratio that he's well aware of his visuals. compliments are nothing new to him — it's a shame he didn't act the way he did in your daydreams.

“gosh, you're so annoying.” a voice of defeat.

grumbling, you straightened your posture, making your way back to herta's office. ratio followed behind, observing the you walked. has someone walking always been attractive, or is it just because it's you? a question that he'll be pondering on until he finds a suitable answer.

“hey. you guys took too long. i don't wanna do it again,” herta complains the second she saw you two walk in.

[sadeeeeee]

Stayed Up For You

fluff- Chris x Reader

(Reader calls him Channie a lot)

Established relationship

Sweet sleepy drabble, some reassurance from reader, a little bit of domestic fluff and some comfort.

Synopsis -Chris is late back home again you try staying up so you two can go to sleep together but are half asleep when he gets home. He ends up feeling bad and helps you get to sleep after a long day.

I'm trying hard to keep my eyes awake for when Chris comes back home but it's been such a long day I'm already drifting in and out of sleep. Every little sound I jump at thinking its Chris finally making his way through the door to me. After what feels like forever and me pretending to be interested in whatever is on the tv I hear keys at the front door and soon enough I see Chris's tired face and soft eyes. Usually, I'd get up to meet him at the front door but at this point it's about 3 in the morning and I'm half asleep already. He takes his shoes off leaving them tidily by the front door setting his keys and bag down neatly on the kitchen counter for the time being. He swiftly makes his way over to me.

I can feel him brushing a few stray hairs out of my eyes before giving me a soft kiss to my forehead. "Hey beautiful long day hmm"? "The longest day - I wanted to stay up for you, I missed you Channie". "I missed you to baby" he says as he plants another soft kiss to my forehead. "Work was hectic today a lot of deadlines. I'm sorry I didn't answer back more my love". "You didn't have to stay up for me - you could've slept" he says while giving me a soft smile. He watches as I try to open my eyes while giving a sleepy smile. Even when he's tired, he still has stars in his eyes. "I wanted to stay up though; I missed you and wanted to go to sleep together for once I say with a tired giggle. he looks at me with a more somber look. I'm sorry he says in a whisper. "Why are you sorry Channie"? I ask as I reach out to him and gently brush my finger against his cheek. He leans into my touch before speaking again. I just feel bad that you're staying up so late waiting on me cause I work so much he says then looks away. I sit up a little and gently grab his face.

"It's ok love you know I don't mind I signed up for this, I understand it all don't be so hard on yourself". "Today was just an exhausting day but, I still wanted to wait up for you I don't mind really its ok". His eyes seem to light up again before he leans in pressing a soft kiss to my lips before pulling back ever so gently. Thank you, baby let's, get you to bed now yeah? Before I can even respond he lifts me up and carries me to our bed. I'll be right back ok let me just get ready for bed ok then we can sleep love. He kisses my forehead one last time before grabbing some pajamas from his dresser and disappearing into the bathroom.

Soon enough he emerges from the bathroom hair still damp and curly and adds his old clothes to a hamper by the door and slides into bed next to me. His arms immediately find my waist pulling me in closer. I turn around to meet his face and bury my face into his neck. "Have I told you how much I've missed you Channie"? "Hmm no actually I don't think you have but, I missed you too baby so much". I promise to try and get home a bit earlier tomorrow.

I wrap my arms around him and kiss his bare shoulder almost as an I love you and I appreciate you all in one. He kisses the crown of my head muttering sweet nothings to me like I love you, you can rest now beautiful and I won't be going anywhere into my ear as I doze off to sleep but, before I do I reach my hand up to gently cup his face and I press my lips to his as we share a sweet, sleepy but passionate kiss. we pull apart and stare into each other's eyes just before he whispers "goodnight sleep well my love" - and sleep well i do.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･─── ∙ ↤THE END↦ ∙ ──°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.

I hope you all enjoyed this one shot and found it sweet and cozy. I enjoyed writing this one so let me know what you think and if there's something specific i should write about thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this!

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[thirteenheavens]

Hii I'm here again*wink wink*

I read your pregnancy sex with jeonghan and believe me it was toooooo good.

I was wondering if I can request for jealousy sex with soonyoung? It would be fun if he's jealous and he fucks her in an empty room in a party.

Whose that guy|| Kwon Soonyoung

Notes: you guys are actually so funny in the requests hehe

You're at a company party, mingling with colleagues and friends, when Hoshi spots you talking to another male idol from another company.

His jaw tightens as he watches the way the man laughs at your jokes and subtly leans closer to you. The way he's looking at you makes Hoshi's blood boil with jealousy. Without warning, Hoshi abruptly excuses himself from his conversation and strides over to you. "Hey," he says curtly, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you against him possessively.

"Excuse us," he tells the other idol without waiting for a response, leading you into a nearby empty room. The door closes behind you with a click.

"What was that all about?" you ask, slightly confused by Hoshi's behavior. But before you can get an answer, his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss.

"Hoshi, what's gotten into you?" you demand, trying to catch your breath. His grip on your waist tightens, his eyes dark with jealousy.

"That guy was all over you," he says through gritted teeth. "I don't like seeing him touch what's mine." You raise an eyebrow at his words. "I was just talking to him, Soonyoung," you point out. "It's not like we were doing anything inappropriate."

Hoshi's jaw clenches at your use of his real name. "I know what I saw," he insists stubbornly. "He was clearly trying to make a move on you." His hands slide down to your hips, holding you possessively against the wall. "You're mine," he whispers fiercely. "Don't forget that."

"And you're being ridiculous," you counter, trying to maintain your composure despite the way your body responds to his touch. Hoshi's eyes flash with anger at your words. "Ridiculous? You're calling me ridiculous for wanting to protect what's mine?" He pins you more firmly against the wall, his body pressing against yours. "I see the way other men look at you," he growls. "They want what I have."

His lips find your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "And I won't let anyone take you from me," he murmurs possessively. Your words come out as more of a moan than a protest, making Hoshi smirk against your skin. "You're enjoying this," he accuses softly, his hands roaming your body.

"Hoshi... we can't do this here," you try to reason, though your fingers are already tangling in his hair. "The party's right outside." He ignores your concerns, continuing to leave marks on your neck. "Let them hear," he says roughly. "Let them know you're mine."

His knee presses between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "I'll show them all," he whispers darkly. "You belong to me and only me." Hoshi spins you around so your chest is pressed against the wall, his body molded to your back. One hand slides up your shirt, teasing your nipples through your bra while the other pins your wrists above your head.

"Do you feel that?" he breathes against your ear, grinding his erection against your ass. "This is what you do to me. This is what I want to do to you." You whimper softly, arching into his touch despite your better judgment. "Soonyoung, please..." you beg, unsure if you're asking him to stop or continue.

He chuckles darkly, releasing your wrists to unbutton your jeans. "I love it when you say my name like that," he murmurs. "Now stay quiet and let me take care of you." Hoshi's fingers hook into the waistband of your dress, slowly pulling it up to reveal your bare skin. "No underwear?" he asks huskily, appreciating the view.

His hand slides down between your legs, finding you already wet and ready for him. "Such a good girl," he praises, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. You press your forehead against the wall, struggling to stay quiet as his skilled fingers begin working their magic. "Hoshi... someone might walk in," you whisper, though the thought only seems to excite him more.

Hoshi grabs your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. "Then they'll see how perfect you are," he growls, pressing against you. "How well you take me." He enters you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. "Fuck," he groans, holding still for a moment to enjoy the feeling of being inside you.

"You're so tight," he murmurs, beginning to move at a steady pace. "Always so tight for me, no matter how many times I take you." Hoshi's jealousy fuels his movements, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. He sets a punishing pace, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you back against him.

"Tell me you're mine," he demands roughly, his breath hot against your neck. "Say it." You gasp out his name and the words he wants to hear, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure and possessiveness in his movements. "Yours... only yours," you manage to say, your nails scraping against the wall. Hoshi's pace becomes more erratic as he chases his release, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "That's right," he growls. "You're my good girl."

He reaches around to rub your clit, knowing exactly how to make you come undone. "Come for me," he commands. "Show me how much you love being mine." The combination of his words and skilled touch sends you over the edge, your walls clenching around him as you cry out his name. Hoshi follows soon after, filling you with his hot seed while biting down on your shoulder possessively.

Hoshi holds you tightly as you both come down from your highs, his chest heaving against your back. "Fuck," he whispers again, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder. He pulls out slowly, gently turning you around to face him. Your dress falls back into place, but his cum leaks down your thighs.

"You're marked inside and out now," he says with satisfaction, tracing his thumb across your swollen lips. "Now everyone will know who you belong to."

[muzzlemouths]

Hey!! I read your sunshine station piece and it was awesome!!! I know you mentioned Moon briefly, is there a second part with him in it by chance? Thank you! Have a great day!

As a matter of fact...

"Evening, dozers. That was REO Speedwagon's 'Can't Fight This Feeling', a classic for the ages. We're all fighting for something, facing our own demons these days. Maybe you're juggling a schedule that just won't let you rest, maybe you're struggling to balance your home and work life, or your heart is trapped in a game that you can't seem to win, maybe...you're fighting to stay awake." 

Laughter pours from Moon's voice-box, hazy and quiet. "Whether you're toiling through a graveyard shift or just can't seem to lay your head to rest, I'm here for you. I'll be your voice through the dark, the bedtime story that puts your mind at ease, the friend who stays up with you all night."

Neon red illuminates the soundboard, drawing his focus to the familiar silhouette standing just outside the booth door. His copper cage heart ba-thumps in place.

"This next one goes out to those of you burning at both ends of the fuse,“ he continues. “These timeless flights might feel lonely, dozers, but I'll be here until you come back down. Here's 'Rocket Man.'"

He slides the Elton John track into place, smooth metal gliding over vinyl, and queues "Just the Two of Us" at its tail, granting him just under twelve minutes to stretch...at least, that's what he'll tell Eclipse.

Moon cracks the booth door open and peeks just outside of it, glancing around. "Bedbug?"

"Here," you call at his back. Watching him jump ought to be funny, but you can't help but find it endearing. "Sorry, didn't mean to spook you."

"You didn't," he lies, grinning from cheek to cheek. "What brings you here at this hour?" He nods towards the clock, its hands pointed accusingly at fifteen minutes past four in the morning. "Your shift doesn't start for another two hours. If you're here for Sun, he hasn't even come in ye—"

"I'm here for you." The words jump from your mouth like a sneeze, surprising both of you. "I mean— I-I'm here to bring you a coffee," you insist, thrusting the lidded paper cup towards him. Normally. "Eclipse asked me to. Since — since you've been working so hard lately."

Moon blinks at the cup strangely. He's still trying to calm the steam rushing through his vents when he reaches for it, not daring to look you in the eyes until his heart settles down. It isn’t every day that you – or anyone, really – wants to spend their time with him. Not when the brighter, louder, better Sun is always there to cast him in shadow.

He takes comfort in the warmth soaking through the cardboard sleeve when he takes it from you, lingering for only a socially acceptable length of time when his fingers brush against yours.

"Did he, now?" That telltale grin of his returns. His shoulder slumps against the door frame, all worries forgotten. "Well, that's very thoughtful. Maybe I should head down to his office and thank hi—"

"Don't!" Your protest is loud enough on its own to draw attention even without Moon ratting you out, and he is nothing if not amused by it. You clear the humiliation from your throat and try again. "It's just, you know how busy he is, a-and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate being interrupted over something so trivial, you know? He doesn't even have to know I was here!"

Dopey laughter bubbles from his voice box. You wish he wouldn't look at you like that; like he's hanging on your every word.

"Couldn't sleep, could you, bedbug?"

Your stomach somersaults, pouring blood into your cheeks and heating your ears, and you stammer. "I— It's just that I was already in town, is all, a-and—"

"I don't think it's trivial." He brings the cup to his lips and takes a long, thoughtful sip, eyelashes resting against his cheeks as he indulges in the taste.

"You..huh?"

"The coffee." His gaze settles on you like fresh snow, quiet and slow. His smile could melt through even the coldest winters. "I don't think it's trivial," Moon echoes. "You made it just how I like it, too. Must have had to sneak past Eclipse to get to the break room, then again to bring it all the way here, to me. What's trivial about that?"

If your face gets any hotter you're going to catch fire right where you stand.

"It— it's nothing," you insist, struggling with where to put your hands now that you no longer have the cup to distract your twiddling thumbs. "So...does that mean you won't tell Eclipse?"

Moon looks past you, towards your collective boss's office, then strains his neck to see into his booth, noting the time that remains. He hums.

"Want to join me?"

The question startles you into a hiccup. "I'd love to, but..." you cast a glance over your shoulder, peering down the hall yourself as though you're expecting Eclipse to pour from his office any moment now. "After the 'stunt' Sun pulled yesterday — his words, not mine — Eclipse will have my things in a box by morning if I get caught in the booth again."

He pulls away from the wall, perfectly composed, and straightens the cardigan sleeve that had slipped from his shoulder. "That's a shame," he murmurs. "I'd have let you pick the next song."

"Wh— Really?"

"Mhm." Moon steps over the threshold and into his booth, hand reaching for the doorknob with purposeful delay. "Well, I have to get back to work." The door begins to shut. "Thank you for the coff— oh."

He doesn't bother stifling his chuckle as you dart beneath his outstretched arm and into the booth. If anything, he finds it all too charming for your liking.

"Change your mind after all?"

"I can't stay for long," you tell him, trying (and failing) to sound firm about it. "You...you aren't going to make me talk on air, are you?"

"'Course not, bedbug." He gets your chair for you like a gentleman, then easily slips into his own. "In fact, if you're to stay with me, I will need you to be very, very, quiet," he tells you, whispering the last part. "Can you do that for me?"

You take your seat with an eager nod, deciding against trusting your voice already.

"The records are in that basket," gestures Moon. He reaches just past you and plucks the vintage headphones from his desk, a spare set, and wordlessly fits them over your ears.

He unwinds a separate wire for himself — a device you have been enthusiastically banned from referring to as ‘the AUX cord’ — and plugs it into a port that sits directly behind his faceplate. You've since learned that the innovation was created to combat the issue of how to keep a pair of headphones on a face shape like theirs, but honestly, it just looks like a glorified earring.

"Ready?" He asks.

It's a trick question. His finger lands on the button before you have the chance to answer, and just as soon is his voice in your ears.

"Welcome back, dozers. You're listening to Starshine Station, and that was 'Just the Two of Us.' We've got more groovy tunes coming up here in a moment, but before that," and he taps the record basket again, returning your attention to the task at hand, "I want you to take a moment to come back to yourself. I know you're tired, you're exhausted, your mind is racing and you just want to unwind. Put your phone down, close your eyes, and breathe. I know it's silly — I know, I know — but place those worries aside and just be here, in this moment with me. Breathe in, take all of that stress, all of that weight you're carrying, and breath out. Let it go. You can pick it back up later, you can carry it again in the morning, but for now, set it down. Let it rest."

You draw a record from the basket and hand it over, smothering a yawn with your hand.

"Good, just like that," Moon purrs into the mic. "I hope you feel a little lighter after that, listeners. And if you're out on the roads right now, well, I hope you didn't listen to a single word I just said." His laughter threads through the radio waves like smooth jazz, every word curling around a smile. "Either way, thank you for letting me keep you company tonight. We've got more cozy classics ahead, so tune in and turn that dial to ten... here's 'Unchained Melody'."

When had he taken the record from you? One moment it was in your hands, and the next it was on air. So, too, do you feel on air — that is, lightweight and floating, all your troubles swept away by sixties pop and the unspoken lullaby of Moon's hand smoothing circles over your shoulders, hardly remembering when he even got there.

Your head lands on your arms, slumped against the desk.

You aren't going to sleep. You can't sleep. You still have to drive home and be back here again in an hour, well rested and ready for whatever demands Sun has for you that day, saying nothing of what will happen if Eclipse finds you here. You can't afford to rest your eyes for even a minute. Maybe you should have poured yourself a coffee, too.

"I hope the night is kind to you," says Moon.

His voice rolls over you like cool, ocean waves. He sounds so distant already. You can't remember the song ending, or the next one beginning, just the sound of his voice guiding you through the dark.

"This next one is very dear to me." His words breeze over you, disappearing into a hazy fog. "Wherever you are right now, whatever your situation, I hope you have someone special to hold close tonight."

Foreigner's "I Want to Know What Love Is," courses through your headphone speakers, but you aren't awake to hear it.

Moon unplugs himself from the soundboard just long enough to stand, shrugging off his wool cardigan. He stretches, arms raised above his head, exhausted steam whistling through his vents, stress marking every creak in his joints. Then he looks your way, and all the weight melts from his shoulders in an instant.

His cardigan drapes over your shoulders like a hug, still warm from his body. He brushes the hair from your eyes and lingers, selfishly this time, until the song comes to an end and he’s forced to pull away.

"Nighty night, bedbug," he whispers still. "Thanks for listening in."

[bucky-barnes-lover]

Kinktober day 17: Henry Cavill

Lumberjack! Henry Cavill x Wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, Poorly written Oral (m receiving), Slight Praise kink, Slight Size kink

W.C: 653

The sound of wood being cut echoed around the tin shed. I stood in the doorway watching my husband cutting up firewood.

"Dinner's almost ready" I yelled to him, over the noise.

"I'll be inside in a minute, love" He responded. His silky british accent sent shivers down my spine.

"Okay. I'll set the table." I responded, feeling my face heat up. I could tell Henry was smirking as he watched me walk away. He knows I get all flustered when he calls me Love.

I could hear him chopping a couple more blocks of wood as I made my way inside our cozy cabin, out in the forest.

The table was set and dinner was laid out on the table.

"Could you please put some more wood on the fire, Baby" I asked him as he brought in the sack of wood and placed it near the fireplace.

"Yep. Was just about to do that." Henry grunted as he kneeled down to place more wood on the flames.

"What's for dinner, Love?" He questioned as I took his bowl.

"Shepherd's pie, Your favorite" I advised seeing his face lit up with a huge smile.

We had dinner in peace, complete with a glass of red wine and small talk.

Henry offered to do the dishes as I went for a shower.

I lay on our bed, cozy in my silk pajamas and the warm fluffy blanket.

Henry came out of the bathroom, shirtless with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

I inhaled, my heart stuck in my throat. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling the wetness.

"Cat got your tongue Love?" Henry asked as he saw my reaction. He was undeniably big underneath all those clothes and not just his height.

"I want you to fuck me" I whispered, without thinking twice.

"What was that love?" He smirked,

"I want you to fuck me, Henry" I stated, sounding a lot more stubborn than I thought.

"My dear girl gets all wet and turned on when she sees her man, so much bigger than her" He mocked, removing the towel from around his waist.

His huge cock sprung free. Hard and ready, I got on my knees without question and wrapped my hands around him. Spreading the precum along his cock before taking him in my mouth. Henry let out an animalistic growl while I worked my tongue around him. Taking him even further in my mouth, gagging a couple times but never once backing out.

"Fuck love. You feel so good" He moaned as he grabbed a handful of my hair and started thrusting into my mouth.

Drool seeped down my chin onto my pj's, moans escaped my lips. Finally I let him out of my mouth with a 'pop'.

Before I could comprehend what was going on, Henry picked me up and threw me on the bed, sliding my pajama shorts and panties down my legs.

"You were a good girl just now. Continuing being the good girl I taught you to be" He growled before sliding his thick cock through my folds. I didn't even have time to adjust to his size before he started thrusting in and out of me. Feeling me up so good, causing me to scream his name.

"Fuck Henry" I moaned as he worked himself in and out.

"Don't cum until I tell you to. Understand that Love?" He questioned, staring me dead in the eye. I nodded pathetically, basically begging for release. Henry started rubbing my clit with his thumb.

I felt myself coming closer to my orgasm, but just as I was about to cum, Henry pulled out of me. Leaving me feeling suddenly empty.

"Why'd you do that for Hen?!" I asked angrily. He just smirked in response. "Because the only way I'm going to let you cum is by my tongue." He replied coldly.

And that was how it ended.

NOT PROOF READ!!!

Please re blog if u do like it, I really appreciate all the support

[starillusion13]

Our Girl

request: "can you do san wooyoung and y/n in a poly they have nsfw and and they love each other but they dont know it until one of them say they like the other two"

Pairing: San x reader x Wooyoung

Genre: Fluff, Friends to lovers, Smut

Warnings: they are caring bestfriends to you😫, mention of insult in public by your toxic crush, lots of kissing, fingering, big San, big Woo, crying, thigh slapping, breast play, praising, comfort, aftercare.

W.C: 4.1k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. This fic is so and so for me Ik😔.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE POST🔞

🫶

"What happened, y/n?" San asked you from across the room as soon as he saw you entering the house from the front door. You had a grumpy look on your face visible and almost kicked your shoes aside before placing the bag on a chair and plopped on the chair couch.

He had called you earlier on your way back home and you didn't reply like usual and you were eager to cut the call. And it's very usual for your best friends to ask you about the thing that was torturing you and making you so  dull.

You leaned back and rested your head, closing your eyes as you sighed deeply.

A hand entangled in your head started caressing your scalp and you smiled and hummed to the touch. The hand movements made it clear of the owner of the sweet gestures.

A small smile resting on your face and the man behind you patted your cheeks, urging you to speak.

"I don't want to talk." You said angrily.

"Where were you?"  Wooyoung detached his hands from your scalp and stood in front of you.

"Look at me, y/n." He crossed his arms and stared at you. You refused to look at him and shook your head.

San chuckled and stood up from his place and stood beside his bestfriend. They knew very well that you were exhausted and grumpy with something. After all, both of them being your best friends since college life and also roommates since then made you three closer with each other.

You always felt glad to get them as your bestfriend because they treated you like their own family and of course you tried to do a lot in return as well. Today they have returned early from their workplace.

It's very much clear that they don't let anything happen to you or let anything to slide if that something is causing you problem and now when you are exhausted and snapping at them. They wouldn’t leave the spot unless you are confessing everything.

San crouched down in front of you and caressed your hand, "y/n..." his voice was a scale lower than usual and it was demanding but still you were choosing to close your eyes and ignore them. After all, you wanted some rest after having the worst day of your life. "Wooyoung is asking you something."

"And I said I don't want to talk. Please keep quiet. My head hurts so bad right now."

To your blind vision, San nodded towards the standing boy and the other was quick to go back into the kitchen. San patted your hand and smiled, "it's okay. You don't have to talk with us. But please go and get fresh. I'll prepare a bath for you."

You felt hurt when you heard his soft and caring voice towards you. They didn't do anything then why were you ignoring them. They were just trying to help you out with your situation and trying to lift up your mood. You mentally scolded yourself that if there were some other people then they would have left you long back for your behavior during your down times.

Your eyes flutter open and quickly you noticed how he was still on the floor but his gaze was on you. The look was very endearing but there was something he was hiding. Your mind and eyes are really playing with you today.

"I'm sorry. But Thank you, San."

He shook his head and stood up, "come on. Don't say sorry. You are disturbed with something and it's okay to be like this with us. I don't mind. But come fast upstairs, I'm preparing the bath for you." He patted your cheeks and with hurried steps, he disappeared towards the stairs.

Craning your neck, you saw a familiar back of a figure in a black tshirt and trouser busy in the kitchen. You pressed your lips and went into the direction to find him placing some boxes on the countertop.

He looked up and smiled, "y/n?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But are you okay? Where were you though?" He asked you before placing the last item in the corner and leaned on the counter.

"Oh...don't ask about that. It's a nightmare to be in today's situation. Please Woo, don't ask me this again."

He shook his head and stared at you," no y/n. If you don't share with us then how come we'll sort out the problem. You know very clearly how I hate seeing you like this."

Taking a grape from the bowl, he swat your palm before taking it away. "Go wash your hands."

Rolling your eyes, you took the water bottle, "I'm just going to freshen up. Eating a grape wouldn't have matter much." After a small gulp of water, your throat felt like to cool it down.

His eyes followed your every movements until your eyes met his, "what are you looking at? I know I probably look like a shit right now."

"You look beautiful...always." He whispered the words but loud enough to make it audible for

you. You smirked and as soon as you were going to reply him, San called your name from upstairs.

"Gotta go." You laughed when he shook his head at your dramatic exit. But you could hear him say loudly, "come down fast or I won't be keeping any food left for you."

"Oh you will! You know how much I love your cooking."

Your hurried steps could be heard by both of them and the moment you entered your room, you could see San standing with folded hands and staring darkly at you.

"Why were you running? I told you so many times not to run in stairs, it's risky."

You took off your jacket and placed it on the bed and put your phone on the table after plugging it to charge. You smiled, "don't scold me as if I'm a baby."

"Yes you are. You are my baby."

"What?"

"Now come on go inside. The food will be getting cold if you don't hurry up. And that doesn't mean to run down the stairs. Take the bath quickly."

You shoved him out of your room when he was sticked to his spot and scolding you and telling you so many things at once . You had it enough of him and you didn't want to hear a single word more from him.

.

.

.

You were humming a song when coming down the stairs and your gaze fell on Wooyoung and San sitting together on the sofa. They were having some conversations between them and so you tip toed over to the place and stood behind them.

"Boo!"

"Oh gosh!" "Who?!"

You laughed out loud when you saw their surprised faces and you leaned to the sofa for support while laughing. They watched you in disbelief but soon little smiles spread across their faces.

"Y/n."

"So you are scared of ghosts."

San shook his head and nudged the other to follow him while he replied you, " no we are not scared of ghost. It's called getting shocked with sudden surprise."

"Huh! Deny deny. I have seen the look on your faces."

They were arranging the plates on the table and you helped them with bringing the foods over there from the countertop. The smell was already making your stomach growl. They saw your excitement when you noticed they have made your favorite foods.

"Is this because I was snapping at you both earlier?" You asked them and quickly took a bite of the meat. Your eyes lit up.

San nodded and Wooyoung proudly walked to your side and pinched your nose, "yes. I know that only food can make you happy."

"Oh you know me too well. Thank you so much."

"The mixed rice is made by San. He was learning to make it last since Wednesday and finally he made it happen." San smacked his head when he revealed his attempts.

"Thanks. You both are blessings in my life. I don't know what I would have done without you two." Wooyoung sat beside you and San across from you. They both noticed your sigh in the end of the sentence and they exchanged looks.

"Y/n." San called your name in a low tone. You quickly looked up but your hands and mouth was still working on to feed yourself. "Where did you go? Why are you so down?"

Wooyoung quickly added to his sentence "Please tell us what happened."

You chewed the food and gulped a bit of water from the glass, " that guy I mentioned to you yesterday asked me to meet today over dinner after working hours."

They nodded and urged you to continue and so you did while looking down at your plate, "he didn't ask me to spend time with him but for his worst intention. He called over some of my university students and insulted me in front of them. he made fun of me of how once I have proposed him." you brushed back your hairs and sighed again, "it was long ago but still he had to mention it."

San grabbed the spoon tightly in his hold, clenching his jaw with the thought of how to commit a murder. when his eyes locked with the other boy in the room, he noticed he had a similar look on his face like him.

Wooyoung turned towards you and his heart ached when he saw tears falling down from your eyes and San was watching you from across the table. you wiped off the tears and smiled at them before putting a piece of meat inside your mouth, "I should've known before that he is an asshole. it would've been better if I had proposed one of you."

the words randomly came out of your mouth that you didn't notice that the two boys who were keenly listening to you had their ears perked up. proposed to them? the sudden awkward and silent atmosphere got interrupted by your unusual laugh. Wooyoung had an amused expression at your poor attempt to hide your shyness and San urged both of you to eat.

he was waiting for the dinner to end.

No one said anything regarding the last words came out of your mouth but you could feel the tension in the atmosphere when laying down on the couch in the living room after the dinner and both of them sitting near you. San was sitting on the space at the very end of the couch near your feet and Wooyoung was sitting on a chair. both of them staring at you.

you were laying comfortably but when you feel two pairs of eyes---of your bestfriends on you, you rolled your eyes before raising your brows at them, "now, what's up with you two?"

"what do you mean by proposing one of us?" San was the first one to raise the topic. you chuckled and paused the video on your phone and replied, "oh that's nothing. forget about it."

"Y/n...did you see what happened to you when you didn't listen to us about that guy? whenever you ignored us, you got yourself in a new problem." he stated and rested his palm over your ankles. that was a common gestures and you were used to their often skin-ship but today his sudden touch made your body shivered.

you switched off the screen and sighed, "I know and I'm sorry."

"Look y/n. you don't have to be sorry for that but atleast let us know what is bothering you."

Afterall, he is right. they do so much for you and in return, you cant even tell them your problems.

you glanced at both of them and closed your eyes, "It might sound weird but I...have feelings for my best friends. please I know or maybe don't know if you both have girlfriends or boyfriends or anyone but it's just i had to tell you to take off this feelings away from my heart."

you bit your lips and cursed yourself again. is this going to end your friendship between you three. No, right? oh gosh. what have you done? you inhaled sharply and pulled your legs to get off the couch but you got halted.

Someone grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs straight. your eyes fluttered open and you looked at him confused but the look on his face was so unpredictable. it was dark yet somewhere a caring and protectiveness was surrounding him. you looked towards your side to find Wooyoung standing with crossed hands over his chest.

"It's not weird to have feelings for someone so obvious." Wooyoung stated and stared at you darkly.

you blinked, "what do you mean?"

"Y/n...if i say the feelings are mutual." he said and glanced at the boy sitting beside your feet. you looked over to him as well to find him nodding at his words.

"Are you serious? really?"

Wooyoung laughed at your wide eyed look and crouched down beside you to flick your nose, "yes baby. so what do you say? shall we?"

"shall we what?" you tried to get up but Wooyoung pushed you down by pushing down your shoulders against the leather. "what?"

San chuckled and shook his head, "Woo... not now."

are you thinking right? they are wanting the same thing like yours right? come on...its been so long you have get off yourself and you have never been laid off. but what if they want something else and you are just depicting the situation in a wrong way.

"Please...it's now. I want it now." you whispered the words to them. they both stared at you after hearing it.

"Do you know what you are asking for?" San's grip tightened with the words from his mouth. Your anticipating eyes and the way you licked your lips when slowly nodding towards them made him lose his mind.

Wooyoung chuckled and you looked at him, "you are asking for something which can change every dynamic of this relationship." You again nodded at his words.

You grabbed his wrist and squeezed it, "I know...please."

The way you looked at him, as if you lured him towards you and he was quick to attach his lips onto yours. A lot of thoughts were storming inside your mind but the top of everything was that your best friend was kissing you. You agreed to kiss—to do everything with your best friend.

He had immersed himself into the moment but you were staring at him, your palms resting on his cheeks, entangling with his hairs and smoothing over the neck and then when you felt a separate set of hands fondling your thighs. You were gasping for the lack of air but the one kissing you had no intention of leaving you at anytime soon.

You pulled him away from you and you breathed heavily, "I would have died of lack of air, Woo."

His laugh echoed inside the wide room and he kissed your cheek. San leaned forward to hovered on top of you. The movements caused your top to ride up a little exposing little part of your stomach. San smiled at the sight and kissed on the exposed flesh making you giggle and he soon pressed his lips on yours. His kiss was sort of hungry than the other one. He was alternating between kissing your jaw, your throat and cheek. His palm over your breast squeezed it lightly, earning low moans out of your mouth.

"Y/n...if you continue making those sounds then I might have you in such a ways that you can't even think of." San whispered into your ears while resting on top of yours.

"Then have me like that." You said and smirked at him.

He chuckled and pecked the tip of your nose, "you are so bad, baby."

You smiled and felt him pulled you upwards with him to let Wooyoung sit behind you. He hugged you from behind and snuggled in your shoulders and murmured sweet praises in your ears. You patted his head with one hand and San kissed your other one which was intertwined with his.

"Is it your first time?" San asked you before slowly pulling down your short and caressed your thighs. You nervously bit your lips and shyly nodded.

A nervousness appeared on your face and they both noticed your sudden change in behavior. And Wooyoung kissed your ears, "what happened? Do you want me to stop? Just say it, y/n."

"No!" You quickly denied. "It's just I don't know if I can handle this or any."

San cupped your cheeks and smiled, "it's okay. We won't cross the limits. Just two for us okay?"

"Hm..."

Wooyoung's hand disappeared under your top when he unclipped your bra to feel your breasts got loose in his hold. He bit your neck and kissed away the pain. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't notice San had put aside your panty to insert a finger when you gasped.

"It's okay, y/n. You are okay." Both of them praised you. San groaned when he felt you clenching around his finger. When he felt your sensitive skin filling up his fingers with slick, he smirked and added one more fingers and started pumping at a higher speed.

"Oh gosh! Just look at her face, San. She is already done with just fingers. How will she last with us inside her?" His laugh echoed in your ears.

"Stop it!" You whined and San chuckled, "do you want me to stop?"

"No! I mean I can take you both. It's just...feels too good."

"Really?" He increased his pace and Wooyoung pinched your nipples and massaged your breasts. Your chest heaving up and down. San noticed your attempt to close the legs around his hand but he held them apart, "don't or I will stop."

"No no please more...please more..I.. I"

"Are you close?" He asked you and you nodded. He slapped your thigh, "use your words."

"Yes yes...please..."

He detached his hands from your core and pulled down his own pants to reveal his hard member and red tip poking at your vision. You gulped at the sight of the size and he noticed your eyes focused on it and ruffled your hairs.

"Can you take it?"

"I think so..."

He pecked you before slowly entering you. You cried out in pain for the sudden stretch. San first had a concern etched on his face but quickly pulled out.

"Are you okay?" He brushed your hairs and cupped your face to look at your teary eyes.

You nodded, "yes...please San."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded and first he entered just the tip. Your breath hitched and you whimpered. Wooyoung cooed at you and grabbed your chin to pull you in a kiss to distract you from the pain. Your palms tightly clutched San's shoulders and he hissed when your nails digging in his skin because of his sleeveless tshirt.

San moved your attention on him and increased his pace when your previous orgasm returned again. You couldn't take him properly but he didn't mind, he was just concentrating on you. He wanted you safe.

Soon, when he felt you clenching, he was sure you were near to come and groaned before pulling you in a kiss. He was both hungry and desperate for you. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit and you whined.

The look on your face when the orgasm hit you was enjoyed by both of them. San groaned at the sight of your blissed out expression.

"You look so hot like this. I can't stop myself."he said and leaned back. “I love you baby.”

“San.” You shyly called his name and he moved your chin up to look at him, “say it pretty.”

“I love you too.”

Wooyoung turned you around when the other one pulled himself out after riding out the high.

You were still in a daze because of the previous activity and he rested your head on his shoulder, stroking your hairs, "it's okay. Take breaths." His other hand pulling down his pants down and soon you felt his tip poking your entrance.

His gestures were always sweet and he was taking time to let yourself relax before he could have you. You hummed in silence and sighed.

He soon felt your breaths were normal against his skin and he used his two fingers to scissor you and painted the walls with your slick. You moaned to his touch and he pecked your nose.

"You are so cute..."

You kissed his shoulder then his neck before facing him in front and pecked his lips. He smirked at you, “it’s seems like you are enjoying this too much.”

“Please…woo…please.”

He caressed your cheek and you snaked your hands around his neck when he slowly entered his tip inside you. When he saw a green sign, then inserted his whole length, stretching you out. He kissed your eyes and pressed his lips onto yours.

“Is it okay? Hurting somewhere?” He murmured softly and caressed your back. Again, his hand went under your top to put his attention on your breasts and you moaned.

He didn’t move and made you still with the right grip on your waist. Tears welled up in your eyes for the unbearable pain but you were constantly nodding to give him the sign to proceed.

But he didn’t. He was enjoying your impatience.

Another pair of hands patted your head and when you looked at the direction, you found San kneeling beside you both and encouraging you to adjust to the length.

You shifted in your place and Wooyoung groaned loudly. As soon as you whined, he grabbed your neck and breast and started moving in a slow pace.

It was building up the euphoric feeling once again, the pain turning into pleasure and your body shaking with every little torture on your nipples. The sensitive skin over your throat and neck was getting bruised by him. Not only him but San was enjoying your skin against his lips as well.

“You are so tight and clenching around me as if you don’t want me to stop tonight. Is it right, baby?” He moaned out loudly.

San chuckled in your ears, “isn’t she so perfectly tight? Like perfect for us.”

His pace increased and you were literally bouncing on his lap. You didn’t have to do anything much because he was guiding you through.

“I..I want to come…please.”

“Do you?” He smirked mischievously and rubbed slow circles over your clit. You nodded aggressively but he grabbed your neck to pull you close and pressed a small kiss, “words baby.”

“Yes yes please.”

“Here you go.” He thrusted deeper until you both come undone. Both of your chests heaving up and down against each other. He didn’t pull out but rested your head against his shoulder and San stroked your hairs.

“Shh…slow down. Are you okay?”

You hummed in reply, earning a kiss from both of them on your head.

“So?… did you just do it to take off my mind from the incident happened earlier?”

San asked you, “did it take off your mind from it?”

You nodded, “but there’s something else.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked you and raised your head to cup your cheeks. He smiled at you and you returned a little kiss.

“Does this sound selfish that I don’t want to choose one of you? But both.” You asked and whined when he pulled out.

“Yes.” San said and glanced at the other one before cracking into a smile, “it will sound selfish if you choose one….as we are not planning to leave you to only one.”

“And no one else other than from us. I love you…I fucking love you so much. My wish came true to have you as my girlfriend.” Wooyoung cheered in the end of the sentence.

“I love you too, Woo.”

You again rested your head on him and closed your eyes, “I’m so tired…but again I need to wash up.”

“It’s okay. You rest here. We will clean you up and we will sleep together.” San said and stood up.

Your eyes opened, “really?”

“Anything for our girl.”

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

[asce-of-hearts]

if it's okay may I request yandere aokiji with prompts 🧊⭐ where the reader has a crush on him

Discipline

Contents: Yandere!Aokiji with prompts: 🧊⭐

more Aokiji content here

TAG LIST

PROMPT LIST

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE, BODY WRITING, IMPLIED AGE GAP, FEM!READER, SOFT YANDERE.

Children act out.

But you are no child. You're a grown woman, a marine at that. And still, you act out at times. Specially when he's near.

Strange, troublesome, and endearing if you look at it from a twisted angle. He appreciates the effort, its not often that a young, beautiful thing gives him so much of her time and attention, purposefully targeted towards making him look. He can recognize the effort, but he can't reward you for being a brat.

So he calls you inside his office. Appreciating the way the uniform hugs your curves so beautifully.

"Why are you acting like this?" He asks, and you immediately fluster. But you're prideful, and kinda stupid, so you don't give him a clear answer.

"I'm not acting like anything. Is this an intervention?"

"Do you want it to be an intervention?" He leans back on his chair, as if beckoning for you to come closer. So you take a step further, and another. Until you're standing right across from him, with only his desk between the two of you. "I want to know the reasoning behind your actions, thats all."

"There's no reasoning, I don't know why you're acting like that." You cross your arms. He smiles.

"Strip, sweetheart." His tone is commanding, firm, and you find yourself unable to resist. Weak in the knees at being ordered around by him. Your breath hitches as you take off the shirt, unbuttoning it, then your pants, then everything else until you're only in your underwear. He takes a good look at you, lazy eyes examining every knook and cranny. You feel exposed, and strangely aroused. "You're pretty." You fluster even more at those words, earning his praise scratching an itch within you. "You like the attention?"

"No..." You still try and play the part, but he isn't buying your little act anymore.

"Sure thing," He chuckles. "You still won this little game. You ended up getting what you wanted. My attention, all to yourself." He stands up, circling you before a cold hand pushes your back further, bending you over his desk. You expect an exploratory hand, a rough touch. Instead, you feel the coldness of a pencil dipped in ink over your skin. "I like pretty girls, specially the ones that look like you. And I like it when they like me back. Do you like me back, ___?" You can imagine what he has written on your lower back, a degrading word, or simply his name. So you shiver.

"I'm not cattle." Another chuckle from his behalf.

"I know that, but you're mine. Undeniably," You don't get the chance to answer to that. "We both know you’re mine. You can’t deny it now, doll, not when its written all over you." Kanji of his name are now written all over your back, a mark, even if it isn't permanent. He tosses you your shirt back, sitting over his chair once more. "I'll let your bad behavior slide for now, but I must insist that you quit it." He gives you an enigmatic look as you get dressed. "Just tell me straightforward if you need me to discipline you."

hope you enjoyed this!!!!!!!

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @bookandyarndragon @shmyek @goldenglow149 @hbk99450  @chercheryblossomsweet  @mimihaitani @bad4amficideas @flow33didontsmoke @architectofsuffering @mrstraffy @poopooindamouf

[withleeknow]

the nut graph.

pairing: hyunjin x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, college au, fluff <3; oc is a journalism student (there's just a couple references in here, and the title lol) bc i am once again being hella self-indulgent 🤪 word count: 0.8k note: how ironic that as i was writing this, there was a thunderstorm outside but i didn't have a hyunjin to cuddle up with. tragic :/ anywhomst onigiri 🍙 this is for you and our shared hyune brainrot. i hope u'll tolerate like this one 🥹 <3

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

"it's raining."

the voice comes from beside you, where hyunjin has been sitting for the past couple of hours while you work on your respective assignments, sharing headphones and feeding each other gummy worms and almond pepero's every once in a while, your head softly nodding along to the music from his lo-fi playlist.

when you glance out the window, it's too dark to watch the sky, but you do catch a glimpse of the downpour thanks to the light from the streetlamp below.

you hum in agreement without much enthusiasm, turning to peck his cheek quickly before diverting your attention back to your laptop.

hyunjin huffs out a griping noise, shrugs off his earpod and scooches closer on his chair to rest his head on you. "hey, let's call it a night," he says, nuzzling his face into the junction between your neck and your shoulder, pressing his full lips against you, over the material of his hoodie that you've stolen borrowed.

"are you done with your paper?" you ask.

"no, but it's raining."

your boyfriend loves the rain; there's something so charmingly idyllic about the rain and he's nothing if not a romantic. he loves it even more when he gets to spend the moment with you, with the two of you nicely tucked together in bed or on the couch as you listen to the sound of the shower outside pattering against your window.

you only chuckle, kissing his forehead to appease him for now. "i'm not done with my article," you say. "you go to bed first. i'll be there in a second."

"let's go to bed now," hyunjin whines, drawing out the last word like an overgrown child. two bargaining hands slide around your body until they're clasped together on the other side of your waist. "it's the perfect time to cuddle."

"fifteen minutes and i'll be done. i just need to finish the nut graph and i'll be right there, okay?"

"nut graph," he echoes, giggling to himself as if it's the first time he's ever heard of the term. then he clears his throat, like he suddenly remembers that there's something much larger at stake here. "that's not a second. what if it stops raining?"

"then it stops raining." you shrug, reaching for a pepero stick to munch on while you keep your gaze on the laptop screen again. "it won't kill you, y'know."

"you don't know that." another pathetic mewl escapes his mouth. "come onnn, i need my cuddles."

"well, we're kind of cuddling right now."

though if you're being honest, your train of thought kind of kicked you off and left the station the second hyunjin started slotting himself against your side. you're just doing this for kicks, because sometimes it's entertaining to tease your boyfriend and watch him be dramatic for a minute. it's endearing, how he whines about not being able to snuggle with you like it's the worst thing that could ever happen to him. it's a bit of an ego boost as well, to know that this godlike man would turn into a puddle every time he's needy for your attention.

"this is not cuddling," he says, his arms tightening around you and for a second there, you wonder if he would actually carry you over his shoulder like a potato sack and take you to the bedroom himself. "come on, let's go to bed. this is your tax."

"this is my what?"

"your tax," he repeats, pinching the material of your (his) hoodie between two fingers. "for wearing my clothes. pay up."

rolling your eyes in playful disbelief, you open your mouth to shoot back a retort but you're promptly cut off after the first syllable makes it out when hyunjin does exactly what you were picturing a minute ago - he fucking picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, in true potato sack fashion, while you squeal in shock.

"hyunjin! the nut graph!"

he only pats your butt in response to your helpless wiggling. "it'll still be there tomorrow."

his long strides carry you to the adjoining room in no time. before you know it, you're already gently laid on the bed while hyunjin settles on top of you, his arms encircling your frame as he throws one of his legs over both of yours. he sighs, clearly content with himself, the soft puff of air escaping his lips to tickle the skin of your neck.

you have no choice but to concede; you're already here anyway. you turn in his hold until you're hugging him back comfortably, carding your fingers through his soft hair to keep his head close to you.

"needy little monster," you complain, no bite.

hyunjin doesn't care about witty comebacks. he won, he got what he wanted. so he just pushes himself up the bed, crossing the few inches it takes to reach your lips. "love you," he giggles, showcasing a grin that makes his eyes turn into adorable crescent moons before he's kissing you tenderly. oh, so delicately.

outside your window, the rain only falls harder.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 03.06.2024]

[andiberzatto]

can you pretty please write a frank smut fic where the reader is a brat and he punishes her 💕🤞🏽

You work at New York’s local family owned bar which is like a slightly less sleezy version of hooters, called O’Flannery’s (made up name). Your outfit tonight is a black lowcut top with 3/4 sleeves and the shortest skirt you have in your closet.

You being you, you flirt with all the regulars. Anything for a decent night of tips, right?

You walk to the back to grab another bottle of one of the well liquors.

He follows you to the back, watching as you sashay your hips exaggeratedly. He sees one of the cooks, a lanky guy named Tommy, staring at your backside appreciatively. Frank's jaw clenches as he steps into the storeroom behind you.

You looks at him “yes Frankie?”

He stands there, arms crossed, a menacing glint in his eyes. "Care to explain why the fuck you're giving every man in there a goddamn peepshow?" His voice is eerily calm, each word measured and dangerous.

“Cuz it’s fun.. I get better tips”

His gaze darkens. "At the cost of every man in there wanting to fuck you," he growls lowly. "You think I like seeing all those dirty old men ogling your tits and ass?" He steps closer, his presence dominating the small space. "You're being a brat."

He watches your smile, knowing it's innocent yet deadly. It's the same smile you give before you sasses him or push his buttons. "Do you have any idea how many dicks are hard right now because of that top?" He jerks his chin towards your low-cut shirt. "Answer me."

You bite your lip with a smile.

His eyes narrow as you bites your lip, your smile never leaving your face. He reaches out and grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to look up at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He says darkly. "Teasing me, teasing them."

His grip on your chin tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "You know what happens when you act like this?" He leans down, his face inches from yours. His voice drops to a low, threatening whisper. "I get jealous."

He leans in closer after you nod, his breath hot against your ear. "And when I get jealous, sweetheart, bad things happen. Like me dragging your ass out of here, tossing you over my shoulder, and giving every fuck who looked at you a reason to never stare again."

“Or…”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any hint of fear or hesitation. But all he sees is that same playful, challenging smile. He raises an eyebrow. "Or what?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

“You shut the door to the storage room..”

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches back and slams the door shut, flipping the lock. The room grows darker, tense with anticipation. "And what exactly would you like me to do now, princess?" His voice carries a dangerous edge as he moves closer, crowding your space.

I think you can guess

His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. "You want me to fuck you right here, in this storage room?" He says it bluntly, wanting to hear you say the words. His hand comes up to grip your hip possessively. "With everyone outside, unaware?"

you nod “remind me who my daddy is.”

He chuckles darkly, squeezing her hip harder. "Oh, I'll show you exactly who's daddy, sweetheart." Without warning, he spins her around and presses her against the door, his body pinning hers. One hand moves up to wrap around her throat lightly, applying just enough pressure.

He growls softly against her ear, "Not a fucking peep, understand? I don't want anyone out there knowing I'm about to fuck you senseless. You can't go an hour without my cock, can you?" He grinds his hips against her ass, letting her feel his hardness.

you nod and bites her lip hard to stay quiet.

His free hand moves down to bunch up her skirt, exposed skin meeting his rough fingers. "Those fuckers out there would kill to know what I'm doing right now." He trails kisses down her neck while his hand slides between her legs, pushing her panties aside.

you nod, her breath hitches softly as her sopping wet pussy is exposed to the cold air of the storage room.

He groans softly, feeling her wetness against his fingers. "Fucking hell," he mutters, rubbing her clit gently. "You're soaking wet, you little slut." He says it with a mix of disgust and desire, knowing you loves it when he talks to her like that.

you nod and blushes, trying hard not to moan.

He continues to tease her clit, feeling her get even wetter. "You like being called a slut, don't you? Little whore getting fucked in a storage room by her daddy." He bites her neck hard, marking her as his. "Fucking dirty girl."

her jaw goes slack and a gasp escapes.

He immediately covers her mouth with his hand, muffling any further sounds. "Shh," he whispers harshly against her ear. "You can't make a sound, remember? do you want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for my cock?"

you shakes her head, his hand covering her mouth as he fucks her harder.

He increases his pace, driving into her harder with each thrust, his hand still firmly covering her mouth. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes softly in the confined space, mingling with her muffled whimpers. "Dirty fucking slut," he growls, sinking his teeth into her shoulder.

his thick cock hitting her spot inside her like a attitude adjustment.

He finds that perfect spot inside her that makes her body tense and clench around him. His hand moves from her mouth to grip her hair tightly, pulling her head back against his shoulder. "Take that big fucking cock like a good girl," he whispers aggressively, pounding into her relentlessly.

“That's right..." *His voice is barely audible, almost entirely breath. "Arch that back for daddy. Let me fuck you just how you need it, you little slut." *He keeps hitting that spot in just the right way, knowing you’re close.

He pulls out suddenly, making her whimper in protest. Before you can fully register what's happening, he spins her around to face him, pressing her against the door again. "Did I say you could come yet, baby?" His voice is rough with desire but carries a hint of dominance.

you shakes her head no.

He smirks darkly, his cock throbbing as he rubs the head against her clit. "That's right. You don't come until I say so." He leans in, his breath hot on her ear. "You understand that, you little whore?"

He wraps her legs around his waist, holding her in place as he slams her back against the door. "Look at me," he commands, his hands gripping her bottom possessively. He starts thrusting into her again, this time slower and deeper, making sure you feels every inch of him.

His eyes lock onto hers, filled with a dangerous intensity. "You're not going to come until I say so, got it?" He punctuates each word with a deep thrust. "You're going to stay like this, looking at me, until I tell you you can come."

You nod “yes daddy”

"Good girl," he growls, his hands squeezing her backside. "You're doing so well taking your punishment." He continues his slow, deep thrusts, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're going to hold it, you understand?"

you nod yes sir

"Jesus," He mutters softly, his hips rolling slowly. "You get so damn respectful when I'm balls deep inside you." He pulls back almost all the way then slides back in slow, watching her face closely. "How many inches do you take again, baby?"

“All 8…” you mumbles

“All eight inches like a good little girl," He praises, his voice low and rumbling. He pulls back almost all the way again, leaving just the tip inside, then slowly slides back in, watching her face contort with the effort of holding back.

you bites her lip and chews it softly.

"Bite that lip all you want," he says, his voice amused. "But don’t you dare fucking come." He picks up the pace slightly, his thick head hitting that spot inside her that makes her whimper softly.

her eyes flutter and it’s taking everything in her body not to cum.

He sees her struggle and it turns him on even more. He leans in, his voice a low growl. "You're doing so fucking well, baby. Holding back that orgasm like a good little slut." He thrusts harder, deeper, knowing you’re right on the edge.

you nod “trying.. daddy.. really hard” she mumbles barely able to get through the sentence.

"Shh shh," He murmurs, his hands squeezing her backside possessively. "You can do it, baby girl. You can hold it back until I say so." He slowly thrusts into you again, the head hitting that spot inside her that makes her whimper and tense up.

He kisses you softly, his tongue pressing against your lips. "Such a good girl holding that big overwhelming orgasm back just because daddy told you to." He pulls back, his eyes dark with desire. "You want to come, baby girl?"

“Please can I cum soon.. I’m sorry I teased you. I’m sorry I flirt with the regulars and purposely wore this outfit-“

His jaw tightens possessively. "You do realize that outfit gets every damn man hard as a rock, right?" He thrusts deep, his voice tight. "You wear it to tease them?" He pulls back slightly, watching your expression closely. "Answer me."

you nod “I make good tips.”

His eyes narrow possessively. "So you dress like a slut to make more money?" He thrusts hard, his voice rough. "And you flirt with them? Let them think you might actually fuck them?" *He grips your bottom tighter, his jealousy evident. He knows he’s already asked you all of this earlier but you reiterating it makes him upset about the fact you do it in the first place.

“Jesus fuck, you little tease," he growls, his pace quickening. "You love getting all those horny eyes on you, don't you? Flashing that ass, showing off your tits?" He slams into you harder with each word, his voice thick with desire and jealousy.

He hilts himself fully inside you, his cock throbbing intensely. "This is the only tip you need to concern yourself with now," he snarls possessively, grinding deep. "Understand? No more teasing those assholes out there.."

You nod, whining softly as the thick head of his cock presses into your soft spongy spot that makes your eyes roll.

He sees your eyes roll back and knows he's hitting that spot perfectly. He starts to fuck you with deep, slow thrusts, his hands squeezing her bottom possessively. "You like that spot, don't you? The one that makes you see stars?"

“Please please lemme cum for you. Wanna cum on your big cock daddy” you beg and whine, knowing it’s what he wants.

He growls approvingly, his thumb pressing slightly against her back entrance. "You want to be a good girl and cum all over daddy's big, thick cock?" He thrusts slow and deep, watching your face contort with pleasure.

“Yes please.. please. I can’t hold it anymore..”

Seeing you on the verge of tears, he knows you’re truly at the limit. He leans in, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Alright, baby girl. Cum for daddy. Let that big orgasm rip through your body."

He groans deeply, feeling your pussy clamp down on his cock as you come undone. He continues to thrust slowly, drawing out the orgasm. "That's it, baby girl. Milk daddy's cock with that tight little pussy." He watches you intently, his own pleasure building.

He slows his thrusts, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Once you’ve calmed down, he pulls out slightly, his cock still rock hard. "Did that feel good, baby girl?" He asks softly, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from your lips.

“Mhmm.. aren’t you glad my shifts over..”

He chuckles darkly, slowly thrusting back in. "You're so exhausted you can barely talk, aren't you? My poor baby girl wore yourself out serving drinks and teasing those men." He flexes his hips, hitting that spot again. "Tell me, baby girl."

you nod “you wore me out”

He smirks, his voice low and satisfied. "That's because daddy fucked you so good, didn't he?" He starts to move with deliberate slowness, drawing out each thrust to maximize the sensation. "You're all used up and worn out from my big cock."

You nod “I just need to clock out and I can go..”

He grins, knowing you’re completely spent. "You just want to go home and collapse after daddy fucked you silly?" He thrusts deep, his voice a low rumble. "You can barely stand, can you?" He leans down, kissing you softly on the lips before pulling back slightly.

You nod “I gotta clock out with wobbly legs.. you can go out that side door and I’ll meet you at your truck.”

He nods, pulling out slowly. "Alright, baby girl. I'll be waiting for you at my truck." He watches as you straighten up, your legs clearly shaky. He gives your bottom a light spank. "Be careful walking out, okay?"

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 20: FILMED

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

The following day, just as Danielle had planned, Max went to Cillian's apartment to let the cable company inside, telling them to close the door behind them once they were done.

"Will do," said the contractor engaged by Danielle before getting to work and installing cameras and sound equipment in the master bedroom and living room. 

He hid them securely behind paintings on the wall and furniture, while making sure that they were connected to a secure server online.

"There, I think that should cover most areas," he said confidently, tightening the screws one last time, attaching the final device, before finally calling Danielle and giving her the access codes.

When he provided the information to her, he reminded her again that she was breaking boundaries by installing surveillance devices in her own home to spy on her husband, but she did not seem to care.

"You get paid well for this kind of job, don't you?" she chuckled over the phone, rolling her eyes and brushing off his concerns. "So, don't worry about me," she said. "I'll handle the consequences," she insisted before hanging up on him. 

The technician shrugged in agreement, but the conversation lingered in his mind long after he left the apartment.

Luckily for him, he also left just in time as, on the way out, he saw Cillian enter the building. 

His shoot had been cancelled and he arrived back home much earlier than expected. He had done some shopping on the way, intending to cook dinner for you before you were set to arrive at his place between seven and eight. 

***

As usual, you were right on time, arriving at Cillian's apartment just after seven following a long day at work.

Expectedly, by this point and following your sudden departure from his apartment last night, the anticipation of seeing him had grown significantly, and your nerves were starting to show signs of weakness.

Just last night, you admitted your feelings to him after he had done the same and whilst you had lots of talking to do about how you might be moving forward with this affair, for now, you were simply desperate to be close to him.

You had been fantasizing about Cillian all day after last night's rendezvous was being cut short and hoped that, tonight, you would not be interrupted so unexpectedly again.

You wanted to be completely lost in each other without any interruptions and that was all you could think about when stepping into the elevator, taking you up to Cillian's apartment where he was already waiting for you. 

***

"You cooked?" you asked with surprise soon after he opened the door for you, causing him to nod apprehensively. 

"I did," he replied softly before giving you a quick kiss as if to say "hello", following which you smiled gratefully, appreciating the effort he put into preparing dinner for you.

"I hope you are hungry," he then said and you nodded eagerly.

"I am starving," you responded sincerely. "Although I thought that we could start with dessert first," you continued teasingly, playfully batting your eyelashes as you eyed him flirtatiously. 

"Well, did you bring dessert? Because I didn't make any," he winked, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. He knew exactly what you meant by dessert but played along nonetheless. 

"What do you take me for? Of course, I did," you grinned back as you slowly unbuttoned your coat, beneath which you wore nothing but a set of black lingerie that left little to the imagination.

As you let your coat slide off your shoulders and onto the floor, leaving you only in your lingerie, Cillian couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"Well, that looks quite delicious," he chuckled, feeling himself grow increasingly aroused.

"Thank you Cillian, I tried my best," you winked before pulling him in for a kiss.

In response, his lips met yours gently, and you could feel his body stiffen slightly beneath his clothing. As you pulled away, you noticed the hunger in his cerulean gaze. His hands found a hold of your waist, pulling you closer until there was hardly any space between you two. The scent of freshly prepared food filled the air around you, mingling with the scent of cologne that hung in the atmosphere. It was intoxicating.

"Do you need to turn the oven off or something?" you gasped, feeling his erection press against your lower stomach.

"No," Cillian murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "Dinner is sitting on the bench. We can heat it up later. Now, all I want is you," he whispered heatedly, his grip tightening around your waist.

In response, you leaned in close, pressing your lips against his. The taste of passion swirled between you both, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart thumped faster, matching the rhythm of the growing tension between you. As you kissed, Cillian pushed the strap of your bra aside, exposing one breast. He took it gently in his hand, grazing it with his thumb before sucking on your nipple. You moaned softly, arching your back, inviting more.

"Hmm," you gasped. "More," you then demanded. Cillian obliged, his tongue tracing circles around your nipple and then trailing downwards across your chest towards your navel. Your breath hitched, and you clung onto his arms tightly, not wanting him to stop.

"Lets take this to the bedroom," Cillian suggested huskily, breaking the spell of pleasure that seemed to envelop you both.

Without hesitation, you grabbed his hand and led him to the bedroom for what would undoubtedly be a night of intense passion. Once inside, Cillian closed the door behind you, locking out the world for just you two. You stood near the bed, gazing intently at each other. The fire burning within you both grew stronger.

"Take off your clothes," you told him firmly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"As you wish," he responded cautiously, already halfway undressed. You watched as he removed his shirt, revealing his lean freckled torso.

His muscles rippled slightly as he reached for his belt buckle, loosening it before sliding his pants down to reveal his black CK briefs. He paused momentarily, meeting your gaze, a smoldering intensity igniting in his eyes. You felt a growing warmth pooling between your legs, and your nipples hardened under the thin lace fabric of your bra.

"Let's get rid of these as well," he murmured, reaching for your bra clasp, gently opening it before allowing the garment to fall of your shoulders. The sensation of your breasts bouncing free sent a jolt of excitement through you.

You let out a soft sigh as Cillian cupped them gently, running his thumbs over your nipples, causing you to arch your back in ecstasy. He leaned in close, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he teased you with soft kisses. His fingers slowly slid down your stomach, tracing lines across your belly button. You felt a shiver run down your spine and a throbbing need begin to build deep within you.

He then hooked his fingers into the lace hem of your panties, gently easing them down over your hips and thighs until they pooled around your ankles. The cool air caressing your most intimate parts caused goosebumps to break out along your skin. His gaze locked onto you as he lifted his head to meet your eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I've been looking forward to this," he admitted softly, his voice thick with lust. You swallowed nervously, unable to tear your gaze away from his. The room suddenly felt hotter, and you knew it wasn't just the fire blazing in the fireplace.

"Now lie down for me and let me taste you," Cillian commanded, his voice low and seductive. You obeyed without question, eager to feel his skilled touch.

Your heart raced as you lay down on the bed, your pulse pounding in the silence of the room. Cillian kneeled beside you, his eyes dark and full of desire. He moved closer, his warm breath brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"God you are beautiful," he whispered as he traced light patterns along your inner thigh, drawing ever closer to your center. \

Your breath quickened, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. When his finger finally touched you, you inhaled sharply, biting your lip to suppress a moan. Cillian licked his lips, watching your reaction closely.

"You're so wet," he observed, his voice hushed yet insinuating. "You really want this, don't you?"

"Always," you nodded, too nervous to speak. He dipped a finger inside you, testing your readiness.

You cried out softly, your muscles clenching around him. A small smirk played on his lips, and he withdrew his finger, licking it once before repeating the process. This time, he added another finger, stretching you open.

"Oh God!" you whimpered, squirming beneath him. "Please, Cillian!"

He looked up at you, his eyes shining with lust. "Please what?" he taunted, smiling wickedly.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded. 

"I want you to kiss me," you groan, unable to resist anymore.

"Kiss you where?" he asks, his voice dripping with sultry confidence.

"Right here," you plead, motioning towards your throbbing core.

Cillian smiles devilishly as he lowered his face between your legs. You gasped, arching your back as his hot breath washes over your sensitive flesh. He paused just long enough to tease you before diving in, kissing and licking every inch of your sweet spot.

"Fuck, yes!" you screamed, digging your nails into the bedding as Cillian's mouth hungrily worked on you. His tongue darted in and out, expertly flicking against your swollen clit. Each flick brought you closer to the edge, your entire body quivering with anticipation.

"That feels so good," you panted, throwing your head back and forth in sheer bliss. 

You felt his tongue pause for a moment, the tip lightly grazing your engorged clitoris.

A surge of raw desire coursed through you, your pussy clenching spasmodically around his fingers. Cillian's eyes sparkled mischievously as he dragged his lips up your inner thigh, kissing the sensitive flesh just below your crotch.

"You're so fucking sexy," he breathed heavily, his voice vibrating against your trembling skin. "I've wanted you since the first day I saw you," he admitted, causing you to moan even louder. 

"Oh god, Cillian, please!" you begged, thrashing around on the bed. "Don't stop now!"

With those words, Cillian's tongue resumed its assault on your pussy, plunging deeper and deeper inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt yourself rapidly approaching orgasm. Your breathing became ragged, and your body shook uncontrollably beneath him.

"I'm gonna cum!" you screamed, gripping the sheets tightly. "Just like that, Cillian! Yes!"

The room filled with the sounds of slurping and groaning, punctuated by your desperate pleas for release. Cillian's talented tongue danced around your clit, making you writhe helplessly on the mattress. You wanted to come so badly, but he kept edging you, refusing to give you the satisfaction you craved.

"Fuck, please!" you screamed, clutching at the sheets beneath you. "I need to come!"

Cillian's eyes gleamed mischievously as he shifted his attention upwards, planting soft kisses against your inner thigh. With each new sensation, your need for release intensified, your body craving satisfaction like never before.

"Not yet. Not until my cock is buried deep inside you," Cillian growls against your skin, his tone thick with lust. His words send a wave of electricity through your veins, causing your heart to race and your pussy to clench. 

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice rough and commanding. Before you can even respond, he pulled away, leaving you panting and begging for more.

He stroked his cock, slick with pre-cum, before aligning it with your entrance. "Look at us," he murmured, guiding your head to look down at the sight of you both. "We're perfect together," he then groaned, watching his cock tease your wet pussy. 

His words drove you wild, and you bit your lip to stop from screaming. Instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, letting him know how much you wanted him.

"God, I want you inside me," you moaned, the anticipation building within you. " I want you so fucking bad right now," you whimpered, his fingers slipping easily inside you again, reminding you of how incredible he made you feel.

"Then beg for it," Cillian teased, his fingers moving in a tantalizing rhythm before withdrawing them again. 

His cock then pressed against your wet folds, almost penetrating you, but stopping just in time to maintain the exquisite torture.

"Cillian, please fuck me," you pleaded, your voice barely audible, strained with desperation but Cillian simply chuckled, his voice dark and husky, filled with raw lust. 

"I need your cock, please," you begged, reaching out to grab his shaft. "RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

"Fuck you make me so hard Y/N," Cillian rasped, his voice husky with longing. 

You heard yourself moan, the sound echoing in the room around you. Cillian was a master of control, and he knew exactly how to draw out your pleasure. You arched your back, thrusting your pelvis upward, silently begging for him to fill you.

But Cillian continued to torment you, sliding your lubricated juices over his cockhead.

"Ah," he groaned, pumping his dick, coating it with your slick essence. He was determined to make sure you were ready for him. And oh, you were. More than ready. Your whole body yearned for him. But still, he refused to enter you.

"You're driving me crazy," you moaned, clawing at his arms, trying to pull him inside you. "Please, stop fooling around and just fuck me!"

Cillian merely chuckled again, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Alright, alright," he cooed before slowly pushing his cock inside you. You gasped, biting your lip, as you felt yourself stretch around him.

"Oh, fuuuuck," you moaned. "Yes, yes, yessss... That feels so good," you sighed, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of being filled by him.

He responded with a low, guttural growl, squeezing your hips tightly. His cock pulsed within you, filling you up completely. You could feel the steady throb of his member, rubbing against your most sensitive spots. It was pure bliss.

"You're so tight," Cillian whispered, burying his face in your neck. "I can't believe how good you feel every time we do this," he moaned before he pulled out slightly, only to thrust back inside you with force.

You gasped sharply, your nails digging into his arms. By this point, neither of you knew that you were being recorded, the hidden camera in the corner of the room capturing every passionate moment.

"God, I love you," Cillian murmured, his words muffled by your skin.

"I love you too! Fuck!" you moaned, reveling in the feeling of his cock pulsating inside you.

"Harder, Cillian," you begged, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling him closer. "Fuck me harder!"

Cillian complied, increasing the speed and power of his thrusts. Your bodies slammed together, creating a symphony of skin slapping against skin. Each movement sent waves of pleasure radiating from your core, threatening to consume you entirely.

"I am so close Cillian," you whimpered, tightening your grip on his shoulders. "And I want you to cum deep inside me."

Cillian responded with a low, guttural growl, squeezing your hips tightly. The throbbing sensation intensified, his cock pulsing within you, grinding against your most sensitive spots. "I'm going to explode inside you," he grunted, burying his face in your neck.  "Fuck," he cursed, his movements becoming erratic.

You could hear the desperation in his voice, the frantic pace of his thrusts escalating with urgency. "Come with me," he panted, his voice hoarse. "Cum for me, baby."

You held him tighter, your nails digging into his skin. The familiar sensation of an orgasm building within you overwhelmed everything else. You cried out, your voice blending with Cillian's, rising to a fever pitch as you both neared completion.

"I'm coming!" you cried, your body convulsing around him as he thrust harder, deeper, and faster, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. The pressure built within you, intensifying with every passing second. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, nails digging into his skin. you shouted, your voice hoarse. 

You came hard and fast and Cillian redoubled his efforts, his cock slamming into you with renewed vigor. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure shooting through him, finally sending him over the edge. He groaned loudly, his body stiffening as he emptied his seed deep inside you.

"Ah," he gasped, collapsing on top of you, his sweat-covered body heavy and sticky.

After catching his breath, he pulled out of you, his cum mixing with your juices as it dripped onto the sheets.

"Damn," he muttered, kissing your shoulder. "That was amazing."

You could only manage a weak smile, exhausted from the intense encounter while, unbeknownst to you, a hidden camera had recorded your every move.

Still, lying beneath Cillian, you remained blissfully unaware of the intrusion, instead focusing on the residual sensations coursing through your body.

"You okay?" Cillian asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah," you managed to reply weakly, still struggling to catch your breath.

"Good, because I am not done with you yet," he teased, propping himself up on his elbows and staring down at you with a mischievous grin.

"Oh no," you laughed, playfully pushing him away. "How about dinner first and then we you can fuck me all night long," you teased, wriggling your eyebrows suggestively. Cillian chuckled deeply, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"It's a deal," he agreed, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before helping you up from the bed.

"Come on, let's go eat," he urged, leading you out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen.

To be continued...

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