#Part 1 - Fools Rush In

[zepskies]

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a future lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: Part 2

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[hijennyt]

Lucanis offers Rook his hand.

Part 3 of some DATV ballroom colour sketch explorations.

I said Part 3 would be about dancing, but I lied. Instead, it's dedicated to another ballroom dancing trope I love—the "almost touch". I didn't want to rush into the moment. What's the saying? Only fools do that?

Part 2 here Part 1 here

[mahalachives]

Part 1: The Meet Cute

Azriel x f!reader

Genre: fated mates, rom-com, crack humor, eventual angst, eventual smut

Summary: Azriel never expected to finally meet his mate and to be… this.

A walking disaster with a talent for tripping over air, an uncanny ability to charm even the grumpiest Illyrian, and a knack for throwing herself headfirst into situations that require his immediate intervention.

She is warmth where he is shadow, laughter where he is silence. And worst of all? She makes him smile without trying.

Azriel, Are you Okay? - Masterlist

There were worse ways to die, you supposed.

You could've been mauled by a rabid Suriel.

Or trampled by a particularly aggressive herd of Illyrians during training.

But no. Your fate was to perish from sheer mortification, sprawled across the chest of the most feared male in Velaris.

And, in all likelihood, take him down with you.

Twelve Hours Earlier...

Life in Velaris was, for the most part, peaceful. You loved it here: the bustling markets, the shimmering Sidra, the endless opportunities to get lost in one of the city's many bookstores or cafés.

You had grown up in the Night Court, an ordinary High Fae with no claim to power, no noble name. No extraordinary skill besides the ability to make friends with everyone. (And, perhaps, your uncanny ability to trip over nothing.)

That was why you worked where you did. The Velaris Botanical Archives was the perfect job. Curating and cataloging the history of rare flora, researching the best ways to preserve the Night Court's unique plant life.

You adored every part of it.

Except for the fact that the bookshelves were designed for Illyrians.

Which was how you ended up in this situation.

All you'd wanted was a book on Moonbloom flowers. A single book. But when you asked the head librarian for assistance, she'd waved you off, muttering something about "independent young fae" before disappearing.

So. That left you and your greatest foe.

A ridiculously tall bookshelf.

The logical solution? Climb.

Was it your smartest idea? No. But it wasn't the first time you'd scaled one of these shelves, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

You had nearly reached the book when...crack.

The shelf trembled beneath you.

Your stomach plunged.

"Oh, no," you breathed, right before the entire world tilted.

And then you were falling.

Present Moment.

The only upside to your current predicament was that you hadn't been crushed beneath an avalanche of books.

The downside?

You were currently draped over Azriel.

The Azriel.

The Shadowsinger. The Night Court's lethal spymaster. A legend whispered about in the darkest corners of Prythian.

And you had just fallen on top of him.

The world had gone deathly silent.

You didn't dare breathe.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you lifted your head.

And...oh. Mother above.

Azriel lay beneath you, sprawled against the floor like he'd been tackled from the heavens. His wings flared slightly behind him, dark as the night sky, his hands firm on your waist where he had somehow instinctively caught you.

His hazel eyes, rich and unreadable, blinked up at you in pure disbelief.

You, meanwhile, were a very mortified starfish.

"I am so sorry," you gasped, scrambling to move. In your rush to not be straddling the Night Court's most terrifying male, you made a fatal mistake.

Your foot slipped on a fallen book.

And like a damn fool, you face-planted right back onto his chest.

Azriel let out a very slow, very deep breath.

You felt the rumble of it beneath you, his self-restraint practically vibrating through his muscles.

His voice, when it finally came, was dangerously calm.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

You squeaked, immediately trying to push yourself up again, but your elbow landed on his stomach.

Azriel made a very small, very controlled noise. A sound that might have been a grunt.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, wait, no! I just..." You sucked in a breath. "This isn't what it looks like."

Azriel arched a slow, painfully unimpressed brow. His gaze flickered to your current position: fully draped over him like an overeager blanket.

"Really?" he drawled.

You swallowed. "Okay," you admitted, "this is exactly what it looks like."

A choking noise came from somewhere nearby.

And that was when you realized you had an audience.

At the entrance of the library, standing in a semi-circle of unholy amusement, were Rhysand, Cassian, Mor, and Amren.

Cassian's entire face was rapidly turning purple as he tried and failed to hold in his laughter.

Mor gasped before cackling so hard she stumbled against Rhys.

Rhysand's lips twitched, but his violet eyes gleamed with utter delight.

And Amren? Stoic, ancient Amren?

She merely crossed her arms and muttered, "Well. This is interesting."

You wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Just spontaneously combust into fae dust.

Azriel, to his credit, was silent. Completely unreadable. But the way his wings twitched, the way his hands were still on your waist...

You felt it then.

A shift.

A sensation that curled into your ribs, warm and terrifying.

Your eyes met his again.

And there, in the depths of those night-kissed irises...

Recognition.

The world tilted.

Your breath caught.

"Oh no," you whispered.

Azriel blinked, his expression sharpening, like something had just slotted into place. Like he felt it, too.

A single second stretched into eternity.

Then, finally, finally, Azriel exhaled.

"Oh no."

And that was the exact moment Cassian completely lost his mind.

The roar of his laughter shattered the silence. His wings flared as he doubled over, hands on his knees, absolutely howling.

Mor collapsed against Rhys, wheezing.

Rhysand sighed through his smirk, shaking his head. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order."

Azriel was still beneath you.

Still touching you.

Still looking at you like you'd just flipped his entire existence upside down.

And you?

You did the only thing your panicked, humiliated, fate-cursed mind could think to do.

You covered your face with your hands and wailed,

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?"

Note: Wrote this during an eight-hour layover. Gotta love airport inspiration! Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged for future chapters! ☺️

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ forgotten

synopsis: you were supposed to have a sweet date with your boyfriends, but an hour passed, and they never showed. maybe you were never really part of the marauders—maybe you were just fooling yourself content warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, feelings of abandonment/insecurity, mentions of being stood up, slight self-doubt/self-worth issues series: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,055

The small café was almost unbearably stuffy, the kind of warmth that clung to your skin like a bad memory. You sat at the tiny table, your fingers wrapped around the fifth, long-cold cup of coffee. Five empty cups already littered the space around you, their contents drained, and yet the boys were nowhere to be seen. The delicate pink and gold décor of Madam Puddifoot's—once sweet and charming—now felt suffocating.

You glanced up at the clock again.

They were an hour late.

Your heart sank lower into your stomach. An hour. The tiny voice in your head whispered cruel thoughts, thoughts you tried so hard to push away but they gnawed at you nonetheless. Did they stand me up?

You and the boys had only been dating for a few months—James, Sirius, Remus, Peter. It was unconventional, but you all cared about each other, or so you thought. The beginning had been a whirlwind of excitement and passion, stolen kisses in the corridors, late-night sneaking into the Gryffindor common room. But lately… lately, something had shifted.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were slipping through the cracks, that the bond they shared with each other was unbreakable and you were just some added accessory, an outsider trying to fit into a world that already had no space left for you.

A pang of doubt stung your chest. Maybe you had been stupid to believe that this could work. That they wanted you, truly wanted you. A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you stared down at the empty cups. Five cups. Five glasses, just like five people. You had been here. But where were they?

Each tick of the clock seemed to mock you. You had tried to convince yourself, at first, that they were just running late, that something had come up. They were the Marauders after all, always busy with some adventure or prank. But now? Now, you weren't so sure. The knot in your chest tightened, the air in the café becoming harder to breathe in. You were drowning in your thoughts, the same ones spiraling over and over.

Maybe I’m not important enough for them. Maybe they’ve realized they don’t need me. Just each other.

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You quickly wiped it away, but the damage was done. Your heart was cracking with each passing second, each tick of the clock hammering the reality into you: they weren’t coming. They had forgotten you. Or worse, maybe they never even planned on showing up.

The idea that they had stood you up made your blood boil, but underneath the anger was the cold sting of hurt. They were supposed to be yours. How could they do this? How could they leave you waiting here, like some fool, while they—?

You couldn’t stay here any longer. The sight of the café and the sound of the clinking china cups was making you nauseous. You grabbed your things, hands shaking, and bolted out of the door, the chilly evening air hitting your tear-streaked face. The wind stung, but not as much as the empty feeling gnawing at your chest.

Your feet carried you without thinking. You needed to get away, to find solace, to bury yourself in someone who cared. And there was only one place to go.

Lily and Mary’s dorm.

When you burst into the room, Lily and Mary were tangled up together on the bed, kissing softly, not noticing your entrance at first. The door creaked behind you, and suddenly, they pulled apart, eyes wide and worried as they saw your tear-stained face.

“Oh my God, what happened?!” Lily was up in an instant, rushing over to you, her hands gripping your shoulders gently as she took in the sight of you, broken and shaking.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, a sob escaped, one that ripped through you, and you crumpled into her arms. Mary had joined the two of you by now, her eyes filled with concern.

“Sweetheart, what is it? What happened?” Mary’s voice was gentle, but the panic was clear.

You choked back another sob, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I hate them,” you finally spat, the bitterness in your voice taking even you by surprise. “I hate them so much.”

Lily’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The boys? What did they do?”

“They didn’t show up,” you hissed, the words tumbling out like venom. “They were supposed to meet me at Madam Puddifoot's… an hour ago. And they didn’t come. Not even a bloody owl. Nothing.”

Lily’s face hardened, and Mary’s mouth opened in shock.

“They… they stood you up?” Mary asked, her voice soft, as if she couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, your throat tightening as the tears threatened to fall again. “I waited, and I waited, and they never came. I… I thought they cared, you know? But maybe I’m just—maybe I’m just not important enough for them.” The last part came out in a broken whisper.

Lily pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “No. No, don’t you dare think that. They’re idiots, all of them. Complete and utter prats.”

“But I’m always the last thought, Lily,” you sobbed, the hurt spilling out. “They’ve been so distant lately. Like… like I’m not even part of the group anymore. Like they’re fine with just each other and I’m… I’m just in the way.”

Mary knelt beside you, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You deserve better than this. So much better.”

“I thought they were different,” you said bitterly, “I didn’t expect this from them. Not from them. But… I guess I was wrong.”

The room was quiet for a moment, only the sound of your broken breaths filling the space. Lily and Mary exchanged a look, one that told you they were just as furious as they were heartbroken for you.

You had come to them with your broken heart, and now, you didn’t know what to do with the pieces. All you knew was that in this moment, you wanted nothing to do with the Marauders. You wanted to scream, cry, and hate them with everything you had.

And maybe—just maybe—you could learn how to forget them too.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[comatosebunny09]

and they were roommates | sylus

sum: sylus responds to an online ad for a roommate. you suddenly have this tall, well-spoken, handsome man living in the attic, playing classical music, tinkering with things he built, and humming off-key while he makes you pancakes in the morning before disappearing for weeks at a time. cw: modern au, roommate au, slice of life, mild language, mutual pining, reader is shorter than sylus, flirting, gendered terms (good girl), mild jealousy, 2.2k of self-indulgent dribble now playing: sweet time - raveena part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Coffee. 

Cuban, aromatic, sweet, bold. Nostalgic.

It’s the first thing to bring you to consciousness, followed by birds chirping outside, and the unbroken purr of a lawn mower.

You’re in your bed, swiping along the sheets in wide arcs as if chasing the remnants of sleep. Dreams of cerulean beach waves, sand caught in the interstices of your toes, the sun warming your cheeks.

Morning announces itself in the form of a golden strip cast over your eyes. 

You peek them open, throat dry, mouth sticky. A little sad to see you’re not at the beach, not tucked safe in your childhood home.

You push up with an unflattering yawn and crackling limbs. A glance at your phone reveals it’s a little past eight. It’s your day off. Still got some time to get ahead of the morning rush for grocery shopping.

The scent of coffee curls around you like a wispy shawl, and you’re warm inside. Smiling, lugging yourself off the bed to the window where you know he’ll be.

A glance outside and across the street reveals that familiar thatch of white, contrasting with the vibrant grass as Sylus pushes the lawn mower back and forth.

You’d almost forgotten he was back, kind of used to getting along without him. And of course, he’s up bright and early, helping your elderly neighbor tend to his yard. Made time to make you coffee on that expensive espresso machine he refuses to let you touch.

Funny. 

For someone who claims to abhor the sun, he’s best friends with it—the way it threads through his hair like he’s Atlas himself, bearing the sky on burly shoulders. How it highlights the rippling muscles in his back beneath a sweat-slicked tank, the tendons flexing in his legs as he works. 

You cross your arms and lean near the window, watching him push to a standstill when your neighbor approaches with water and a towel. Like clockwork, the old man draws him into conversation, nonsensical things in no particular order. And Sylus is always patient, letting your neighbor ramble like he’s got all the time in the world.

As if remembering yourself, you blink away your reverie. Shake it off. You sound like a lovesick fool. A secret admirer. Aren’t you? You’ve got better things to do than pine after your roomie.

So you strip down and crowd into the shower, the crisp spray a welcome reprieve for your stiff muscles. You slip into something that fits the heat—the kind that refracts light waves off the pavement, scorching enough to fry eggs outside and bring the mosquitoes out.

You sweep your hair into something passable, trotting down the stairs to the kitchen. The coffee’s still hot, warm in the mug between your palms and down your gullet. 

Not only is he a tolerable housemate, but he listens. Made it a point to stock your pantry with coffee that chased away your homesickness—imported—probably sick of you bitching about how much you missed it. Tired of asking why you’ll never go back.

A plate covered in a cheesecloth awaits you on the stove with a sad excuse for a cat scrawled onto a sticky note on top. You snort. Fish out a piece of bacon, pop a few blueberries strewn across your pancakes into your mouth. 

From the kitchen window, Sylus and your neighbor have moved to the old man’s porch. They’re seated on his rocking chairs, mouths moving, expressions easygoing beneath the flag fluttering in the balmy breeze. It’s infectious, that rare quirk to Sylus’ lips. Everything about him seems infectious these days. 

Swiping your keys from the counter and toeing on your sneakers, you push through the front door, and the humidity slaps you with zero remorse. 

Both men across the street perk up when you hit the remote start, your neighbor waving at you with a wrinkly, knowing smile.

You return his greeting, prickly when scarlet eyes track your every step as you round the car to the pooped-up trunk. 

You’re shuffling things around to make room for groceries when you feel him behind you—a tingly pressure between your shoulder blades, his shadow pressing into you and blotting out the sun.

“Going somewhere?” he asks, amused.

You jolt, a hand over your heart. You knew your roommate was back there, yet that voice is something lethal. Always manages to make you forget the world is a thing, breathing and thriving around you.

You turn, propping against the trunk’s edge, trying to play it cool over crossed arms. “God, warn me next time, will you? For your info, I’m going grocery shopping so my roomie doesn’t think I’m irresponsible and broke.”

There goes that lethal combo—that smirk, that chuckle. It’s not fair that he makes something as simple as roosting his hand on the edge of the trunk look cool, so close, you make out the veins and sinew jumping in his arm. Smell the sweat salting his skin, the grass staining his shorts.

“Irresponsible, yes.” Sylus pokes your forehead, and you sputter at how rough he pushes. “Broke, never. Not with me around.”

You huff, looking off to the side, pretending to be annoyed. Pretending like it wouldn’t take much to grab the front of his shirt and tug him down and—

Enough of that.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m assuming you’re done being a good Samaritan since you have time to talk.”

He straightens, that humor never leaving, that gaze sliding over you, stopping center mass, before finding your eyes again. He tugs on the towel around his neck, and you’re swallowing when his Adam’s apple bobs, chasing the sweat pouring down his throat. 

“Mostly. Want company?”

You jut your chin out defiantly, haughty, like you’re not giddy at the prospect of him tagging along. “Thought you didn’t like crowds.”

Something shifts in those lava fields. A glimmer of something burrowing deep before he’s back to his usual, smug self. Angles himself closer, making your heart skip a beat.

He’s all teeth when he says, “They’re bearable when I’m with you. Give me ten, and I’ll come with.”

You’re nodding like a lovelorn idiot, mouth halfway open, still processing what he said as he wanders into the house.

It’s hard to keep your walls up when he says shit like that. Chips away at those aged bricks you put up around your heart after you assumed he was seeing someone—the feminine name he’d say in hushed urgency, stepping out of earshot to take her call.

Whatever. 

It’s just a trip to the store. And he’s always been a tease. 

You brush it off, slamming the trunk shut, and slipping into the driver's seat to wait for this enigma of a man to clean up. 

—

Mornings have never been your forte. 

But you take advantage of them when it means getting a leg up on the housewives and boisterous teens who like to crowd the supermarket later on.

It’s eventless inside, a few customers scuttling about, music echoing from the speakers. The overhead lights compete with that of the sun bleeding through the windows, and your cart squeals and sticks.

One hand is tight around the buggy’s handle, the other pressing your phone to your chest. You’re tense, tight-lipped, pulse jackhammering in your throat. 

The source of your anxiety walks a comfortable distance behind and to the side, perusing the aisles with as much interest as someone out of their element. He’s not as close as he was before when he’d manipulated you into bringing him with you, but you’re still all prickly like he wrote sin into your bare skin with his fingers.

You always get like this when he’s gone for a while and comes back. Like meeting up with a stranger, sifting through the filing cabinet of your mind on what to say and how not to sound stupid saying it. 

You’re nestled between towering aisles of cereal when you glance over your shoulder, mouth moving, but nothing coming out. Sylus watches you, brow lifted, expectant. And your tongue’s suddenly too heavy for your mouth as you laugh it off, facing forward again.

You’ve never been this shy before. Never been this hesitant to fill the space between you with shit-talking and an interrogation on where he ran off to this time. Real estate conferences typically don’t last for most of the month. But you know your prodding won’t get you anywhere because he’s so good at diverting your questions and changing the subject.

“So,” you finally begin, attempting to break up the dense air between you. “We need milk, eggs, and bread. Maybe that bourgeois yogurt you like. Butter, oatmeal, and—ah, fuck. Forgot the plums.”

You stiffen, prepared to turn around, abandoning the cart in the middle of the aisle, but Sylus cuts you off. You almost run into him, that solid wall of strength, the heat of his skin overwhelming, the crisp notes of his cologne like chloroform. 

You look up to that knowing cant on his lips, and with a hand in his pocket, he tells you, “I’ll take care of it. You handle the rest.”

Nodding, you watch him walk off before venturing further down the aisle by yourself, grateful for the save.

At the end of the aisle, of course the oatmeal you want is on the top fucking shelf. And you’re straining on tippy-toe, fingers just barely grazing it. You purse your lips, contemplating stepping on the shelves for an assist, but it seems some higher being pities you today.

“I got you,” chimes a friendly voice from behind. 

His hand reaches over you before you put a face to a voice, plucking the tub of oats down for you. Almost close enough to crowd you against the shelves. You turn, following the stretch of his arm as he steps back, a nervous chuckle in your throat when he deposits the container into your hands.

“Hey, thanks,” you say, smile courteous, the container pressed to your bosom. “I owe you one.”

It���s awkward. Blinking. Staring. Averting your eyes. 

Your savior makes no move to leave, instead making himself comfortable, all teeth and confidence as he leans against a shelf. 

“Hard to believe a pretty thing like you shops all by herself. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in town. You live around here?”

You have this nasty habit of letting your face convey your emotions in place of your words. It’s instinctual. But this guy was nice enough to help, so you tamp down your discomfort, chuckling anxiously. Maybe if you entertain him a little, he’ll take the hint and leave you alone. 

“Um, yeah. Just out running errands. Trying to get my life together. You know.” 

Mr. Smug Smiles still doesn't budge, doesn’t pick up on your unease, instead taking you in like a starving wolf ogling skewered meat. 

“Maybe I could help you out. Grab anything else you can’t reach.” He steps closer, voice descending. “And maybe you could give me your number.”

Before you can work your mouth into a retort, you feel it—quiet, intimidating pressure behind you. Swallowing you whole, though the ire pouring off his skin isn’t directed at you. 

You nearly leap some fifty feet out of your body when a sizable hand falls to your back. The touch is light, but it’s hard not to sense the possessive flex of his fingers as he scorches you down to the bone.

You peer up as Sylus steps in, glare unrelenting on the man before you, and he drops a bag of plums into the cart like they’ve personally offended him. Your breath corks in your throat as his jaw pulls, the tendons in his throat twitching. If looks could kill, you’re sure he would’ve murdered this guy a thousand times over. It’s kind of…hot. And it convinces you just for a second that maybe your roomie’s into you, too.

Sylus’ demeanor shifts from murderous to sweet, giving you whiplash when he looks down at you. Asks, “Do you have everything you need, sweetheart?”

The way the name rolls off his tongue drips hot into your belly, and you’re nodding like a mindless little thing, lost in the soft stir of his irises. He reaches around you to grip the cart’s handle, trapping you between cool metal and sweltering strength. He turns you away from the sputtering man who had no idea you kept such company, walking you down the aisle into another.

Moments pass, and Sylus doesn’t let go. Doesn’t release you from the cage of his body, doesn’t loosen the clench of his jaw until you’re in the frozen section.

You start when he angles low, his hair tickling your neck, your cheek, lips a tease by your ear. It’s pleasant, satisfying, the way his voice drags like chalk against a smooth sidewalk, igniting a flurry of goosebumps across your skin.

“The next time you need assistance, don’t ask a stranger. Wait for me. Understood?”

You have this nagging feeling there’s more to his words than what’s at surface level. And you have half a mind to tell him you didn’t ask for anything. Yet you stutter out a quiet, “Ye-yeah,” absently nudging closer to his mouth.

You feel it curve against your ear—his sly smile. Watch his fingers tighten around the buggy’s handle, forearms just barely brushing your sides.

“Good girl.”

And you don’t realize you’re still clutching the damn oatmeal for dear life until you drop it on your foot.

tags: @pemhpredo, @bluesidez, @thirstblogforaparchedgirl, @freeprincesslove, @raginginferno267, @dyeinsomniadontwake

[jjjjisun]

Pre-Game Ritual (Part 1)

Minju X Male Reader | 16075 words

TW: Incest

—

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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—

They were at it again.

Y/N and his girlfriend were always cautious when their parents were around, but if it was just his little sister Minju left in the house, they didn't have a care in the world. It was funny, too, because Minju and her brother never had the 'you won't tell Mom and Dad, will you?' conversation. She could have easily just hinted to her parents what was going on after they left the house.

But ultimately, Minju wasn't going to do it. Her brother was usually sweet to her. Besides, if ever Y/N did something to piss her off, she had his afternoons with that awful girlfriend Eunju to hold over his head.

Eunju let out one more dramatic moan, and she couldn't take it any longer. Minju grabbed her phone and running shoes and made for the door. As she closed it behind her, she was relieved to hear only the breeze blowing through their front yard.

Running was Minju's way of taking her mind off things. As soon as she took her first stride, her frustration began to melt away. The fact that her big brother was inside fooling around with his obnoxious girlfriend didn't matter anymore when her favorite song came up on her beloved running playlist.

Her routine kept her sane, and it was also why Minju was one of the fittest girls she knew. At 5'-6" and 105 lbs., she was proud to be in such good shape; it made a hard run all the easier. And though she hated to admit it, seeing the eyes of neighborhood boys and husbands follow her as she ran by was a rush.

Minju didn't have a boyfriend; that was probably part of her frustration with her brother and his bedroom antics. It wasn't that she didn't want one; it was more that nobody had come along with whom she felt compelled to start a relationship. Either they were silly boys her age, eighteen and immature, or they were older and with transparently lustful intentions toward her.

Minju could see what Eunju saw in her brother. He was twenty, smart, handsome, and yet very unassuming. Being a quarterback on his college football team probably didn't hurt, but he wasn't a colossal jock the way most might have expected. Family-oriented, driven, respectful... Y/N was the works. Why couldn't more boys like him approach her than the guys she was used to?

That's also why she held such high standards for him. Not only was he handsome, with short brown hair and masculine features that already resembled her dad, but he was just an all-around good guy. Eunju didn't deserve him; Minju always felt that Y/N had just fallen for her fast like he always did and that he liked the quarterback cheerleader cliché, too. Whatever, she thought, he'd only been with her a few months, and she could always hope things wouldn't work out.

Minju wondered if maybe her brother would set her up with one of his friends when she rounded the corner heading back to their house. She was intimately aware of how much her boobs were bouncing in her workout top when she passed Mr. Taylor's house; he was such a creep he might as well have blown her a kiss as she passed him while he was watering his flowers.

Minju's tits... They'd been trouble since they showed up in her early teens. Boys at school stared like they'd never seen breasts before in their lives. Men, too: men who were way too old to be gawking at a teenager would pretend they weren't trying to get a look down her shirt. Even her brother! Sometimes, he would stop in the middle of a sentence if she accidentally showed them too much. Maybe 'accident' wasn't the right word. Y/N was the only one she teased on purpose, perhaps because she knew he could do nothing about it.

When she ran up to the driveway, Y/N and his bimbo were on the front porch.

"Good luck tomorrow, baby," Minju heard her say.

"Thanks," her brother replied, "I'll see you after the game?"

"You'll see me at the game!" Eunju said, standing up tall to kiss her brother on the lips.

"You know I don't look over there. I can't be distracted." Y/N reasoned.

"Yea, yea, I get it. Mr. Quarterback can't take his eye off the ball," Eunju said, lovingly touching her brother on the chest.

Minju couldn't help but laugh at the flirty way Eunju said it. She'd tried her hardest to get to the door, but she was thirsty and didn't want to listen to it anymore.

"O...M...G...ARE-YOU-DONE!" She chanted, mocking one of the standard cheers, "CAN-I-GET-IN-THE-FUCKING-DOOR?"

Y/N laughed at his little sister's attitude. He'd seen her running up and knew he'd get an earful when his girlfriend left.

"Very funny, Minju," Eunju said, unimpressed, "Though I hope that's not what you'll be trying out with next year."

"Ugh..." Minju sighed, cocked her hip, and fluffed her ponytail "Should I dye my hair blonde instead?"

Minju shot a nasty look at her brother. He was NOT supposed to be telling anyone on the cheerleading team that his sister would try out it if she got accepted at his school. Even though she couldn't stand many of the girls on the team, she still loved cheering. Being close to the game, getting the crowd engaged, and staying in shape - all of it appealed to Minju, and she had her eyes on doing it for her brother's team if she got in.

Content with the frown on Eunju's face, Minju simply shouldered past her brother and headed inside. He took a moment to say his last goodbyes before following his little sister into the kitchen. He had to take a deep breath when he saw her tilting the bottle back and witnessed a few drips falling onto her chest as she gulped it greedily. The light glisten of sweat on her abs, the tight-fitting workout clothes...oooph. Despite having recently fooled around with his girlfriend, a hot girl was a hot girl, related to him or not. Sometimes, he wished his sister understood that the way he did.

"Why do you always gotta give her such a hard time?"

Minju almost laughed out loud, wanting to say something about her brother giving the dumb blonde a 'hard time' himself.

"Hey, if you are gonna bring your ditzy girlfriends around the house when mom and dad aren't home, I'm gonna reserve the right to make fun of them."

Y/N had difficulty arguing with that. He admired his sister's tenacity most of the time. She knew what she wanted, and she was vocal and rambunctious - everything he wanted in a girlfriend. She was probably right anyway. Eunju didn't knock him out with anything but her looks. And even then, the girl standing right before him was far more attractive. He was sure he could find someone that was right for him; Eunju was simply right for right now.

"Hey, Minju'," he said to her. She wanted to be mad at him, but she loved it when he called her that. "I'm sorry about the cheerleading thing. Eunju put two and two together, and I told her you'd probably try out."

"Two and two huh? Did Eunju finally pass remedial math last semester?" Minju quipped, narrowing her eyes after she'd said it.

Even though he could see her glare, Y/N knew she wouldn't stay mad at him. She only had a few hours each week, if that, to see her brother. He'd come home on Friday and stay the night before his Saturday game. They lived close enough to campus that he would be off before she awoke the next day and went to see him play. Eunju was a part of the weekly routine, but Y/N always got rid of her before it even got dark.

She always wondered how he managed to do it. Minju felt like girls were pretty dramatic when it came to quickies like Eunju seemed to come over for. One weekend, she'd heard the stupid blonde say something like, "...if it helps you play better, then I don't mind!" She hadn't made much of it then; Minju was glad to hear Eunju saying it on her way out.

"Yeah, yeah, I forgive you," Minju said, walking towards her brother and stopping when she smacked the almost empty water bottle against his chest and held her hand there, "I'll be picking the movie tonight."

Y/N rolled his head back and smiled, glad everything was cool between him and his little sis. Maybe he'd even convince her to give him a back massage later if he played the "It'll help me play well tomorrow" card.

Things went as they usually did that night. Minju even agreed to massage her brother's shoulder for a bit, even though she made sure to get a dig in about how he wasn't even a starter. Y/N had fought hard with his coach for his nights at home. Sure, seeing his girlfriend when most other guys were forbidden was a big plus. But he loved seeing his little sister and was so glad she always freed up her Friday nights for him before the game.

They just got along so well. Close in age as they were, Y/N and Minju had a lot of common interests. Football and video games, music, and crappy TV, they typically had a blast every Friday and Y/N went to bed once again, happy to spend time with his little sister. Their parents always did date night on Friday, so they'd only be home shortly before he went to bed.

Sometimes Y/N felt guilty, but more and more he was seeing his little sister in a... different light. She'd grown up fast. Not only was she more mature, but her body was too. He was often confused by how much he enjoyed having her around. He tried to reason that being near a pretty, youthful brunette would always be desirable. She just happened also to be his sister, and as long as he kept his hands to himself everything would be fine.

Typically, that's the way things worked out. Yet, Minju felt just as comfortable as her brother did around her. So, as she sat there massaging his naked shoulder and seeing how huge and muscular he'd gotten since starting college, Minju had some of the same issues her brother did. She also loved being around him, and not just because of how much he made her laugh or how she could talk to him about anything. She loved massaging his back because it was the closest she'd gotten to an attractive guy, and this one didn't try to touch her ass or her boobs whenever he got the chance.

She was only wearing a crop top and her favorite sweatpants, which she rolled and wore low at the waist when she remembered her brother had commented dressing inappropriately around him. Minju had brushed it off... and then wore seemingly less every time he was over after that. Hey, she thought, if he could get off while their parents were out and then get a massage out of her, she could at the very least, feel sexy and comfortable at the same time. His stare didn't bother her one bit.

The next day was incredible. Y/N wasn't a starter, so he'd begun the game uniformed but sitting on the bench. He was only a sophomore but next in line to start as quarterback for the prestigious college team. Things weren't going well for the starter. He fumbled in the first quarter. The offense struggled and only got one field goal out of four or five possessions in a row as the first half was nearing its end. When the QB threw his second interception, and the whistles sounded at the end of the half, Minju was buzzing in her seat that her brother might get his chance.

He'd played before, but only a quarter or a few minutes here and there. They entered the locker room, and Minju's mom touched her shoulder.

"Wouldn't it be great if your brother started the second half?" She said, looking excited.

Minju's heart beat faster. "You think he will, Dad? Do you think Oppa is going to start?"

Her dad raised his eyebrows and said, "I know what I'd do if I were the coach... he just might."

"You think he's ready?" Minju's mom asked her father.

A passing memory took Minju as her parents chatted about her brother's workout routine. Eunju had said something that other day when she'd overheard them. "...gotta make sure you're ready," she'd said, or something like that. Why was she remembering that now?

Sure enough, as halftime ended Y/N ran out of the tunnel with his helmet on. He was going to play.

He looked shaky as he lined up for his first snap. This time, seeing him on the field felt a little different. They were coming from behind, and her brother wasn't just a quick substitution; he was meant to be the solution.

He handed the ball off twice, but they still had a few yards to get the first down. It looked like they were keeping the ball out of the air and in the unknown hands of her brother. But when they lined up and Y/N called for the ball, he dropped back to pass it.

Minju held her breath the whole time.

'Pass it Oppa...!' she screamed inwardly.

... COME ON PASS IT!

And then he did.

It was a beautiful throw - a bullet right across the middle.

The receiver was brought down right away but well beyond the first-down line. The whole crowd cheered, and Minju and her parents locked arms and jumped up and down. He'd done it; she was so proud.

After that, Y/N was everything he needed to be. They didn't do anything too crazy, and he was playing pretty safe, but in no time, they were near the end zone, and Minju was clenching her mom's arm tight until he threw a perfect pass to the back corner for a touchdown.

Minju felt like she knew exactly why girls were so drawn to quarterbacks at that moment. Here she was, screaming like a complete fool and jumping up and down in her team sweatshirt, yelling her brother's name and practically in tears. Dam,n does he look good in that uniform, Minju thought as he trotted off the field to let the kicking team on.

The rest of the game was a haze. She was so excited to see her brother finally playing as she was, but Minju almost couldn't handle it that he was leading them to a win. When the final second ticked off the clock, and it was her brother holding the ball, she giggled outright as he threw it up in the air in his excitement.

The team rallied and celebrated on the field, and her family was allowed to walk on while the rest of the crowd shuffled out of the stadium. Y/N hugged their mom and dad, picked Minju up, and spun her around in a circle. Minju could feel the sweat on his pads and the heat radiating from him until he set her down with a huge smile.

"I think it was all because of the shoulder massage, Minju," he said, "this ball's for you."

Minju felt him push the ball into her midsection like she had the water bottle into him the day before.

"You were so awesome, bro," Minju praised, "but you better take this thing back before somebody tries to tackle me."

"You mean like me!" He said, bending down to grab her waist and picking her up again, slinging her over his shoulder like it was nothing. Minju screamed and kicked, but he didn't set her down until he'd made her sufficiently dizzy. Their parents looked on and laughed the whole time.

Minju saw her brother's girlfriend looking at them from afar, clearly displeased that she wasn't getting all the attention. It gave Minju an odd sense of satisfaction, even if their relationships with her brother differed.

"You better go do the same thing to Eunju," Minju whispered when her brother put her down. She looked jealous."

Y/N sighed knowingly and gave his sister a hasty, final hug. Saying goodbye to his parents and Minju, Y/N ambled over to talk to his cheerleader-girlfriend. Minju couldn't help but notice him looking in her direction over Eunju's shoulder as she was leaving.

-

After that, things blew up. People went on and on about how poised her brother was in the game despite having minimal experience. He started in the away game the following week, and they won. It was a close game, and Y/N made some mistakes, but watching him on television, she couldn't help but see all of the strengths that people had been touting in the write-ups of his first big performance.

Minju congratulated her brother via text, and he quickly responded that he was looking forward to a Friday at home the following week.

-I bet you would have made that pass at the end of the first half if you had a shoulder massage!-

[I bet you're right. Do you think I'm a big loser for wanting to hang out with my little sister on a Friday night?]

Minju blushed, even though she was alone in her room with the lights off.

-Are you kidding, a loser? Did you SEE the game I just did?-

-Oh, that's right... you were that stud quarterback who WON it!-

[Thanks Minju, I can't wait to see you next week.]

God did he love his little sister, Y/N thought. He was in a cab on the way out to celebrate the victory that night, and all he could think about was how great it would be to talk through all the plays the way he had on the phone with Minju after his first game. Inevitably, there would be a thousand girls throwing themselves at him that night, but Y/N felt sure none of them could match his little sis. Maybe he was wrong, but first and foremost, they were hungry to sleep with a football player, and most of them wouldn't even be as attractive as Minju. If only she wanted that too, then he'd have the whole package. 'Ugh,' he shook off. It was probably the booze talking.

Minju wished they'd seen his potential from the very start. Her brother started and won every game for the rest of the season, which was already more than half over when he'd first come out onto the field for that fateful second half. Because they had enough losses before that, there wasn't much left to make of their season when Y/N stepped in, but there was a lot of talk about the season to come.

And each week, each home game at least, Minju and Y/N hung out just the two of them for as much time as they could. She couldn't stand that he insisted on Eunju coming over, hearing them in his bedroom after she got home from school, but glad to see her leave shortly after. Y/N had insisted that their parents give him time to himself (with Minju...and Eunju), and they'd obliged, given his success on the field.

Their time together was usually the same: a movie and a lot of talking about what was going on in their lives. But for Minju, her feelings were slowly evolving. She couldn't help it. Everybody was talking about him. Her parents were so proud, and girls at school went on and on about how hot he was. Being that he was the quarterback of the state college team, the exposure meant constant reminders of him everywhere Minju went.

So her attitude toward him was gradually changing whether she knew it or not. She'd often lay on top of her shirtless brother for a long time after kneading his back, just enjoying the deep bass in his voice that vibrated her chest as they bantered. Minju began to crave that time with her brother, cuddling seemingly closer every week when they watched a movie. She simply wanted to be with him.

And Y/N was no dummy. Despite being a big, burly football player, he was quite smart, or so he told himself. It wasn't as if he didn't notice that his little sister was not so resistant to touch his back anymore or that she was wearing seemingly less and less every time she came downstairs for their movie. Yet, it still felt... natural. Many girls were throwing themselves at Y/N nowadays, but Minju had earned his attention rather than exploited it, and he liked giving it to her.

There was this one day he'd almost called her out for it. She might as well have been naked... well, not quite, but perhaps the fact that he'd never seen her naked, and this was as close as he'd get, was why he kept his mouth shut.

The underwear was enough to make him shiver: an orange-ish pair of panties, simple but tight at each curve and the gap between her thighs. They had a white edge that he followed with his eyes as it wrapped around her tiny waist and those damned legs of hers. But then the shirt, or was it a sheet? This draped white thing with a big curved neck exposed her almost from shoulder to shoulder. The tiny sleeves were all that held it up. And, of course, it didn't reach more than halfway down her upper half. His little sister's entire midsection, perhaps one of his favorite parts of hers, was left entirely to his view.

Both of the small pieces of clothing looked somewhat transparent. Y/N wanted to look long enough to determine whether he was seeing the dark circles of Minju's nipples or the tiny dark slit at the gap between her thighs, but he tore his gaze away before it became inappropriate. He couldn't believe that you could buy clothing like that or that his little sister was wearing it around him. Did it look that good on other girls because Y/N was practically hard during the entire movie, and wondering why his sister would be so brazen around him? Did she know how attracted to her he was that night?

Suddenly, he couldn't get Eunju out of the house fast enough on Fridays, though he believed he needed the release the night before the game. More and more, it seemed like she was just happy to be the girlfriend of the star quarterback; he got a little release when he needed it, and she got to parade him around when she wanted to.

And just like that, the season was over.

The hype continued for a few weeks after their last game. He had to do some interviews and a couple of articles for newspapers and magazines. He was no international star, but the college team fanatics demanded plenty of him. The holidays came and went, and we were busy as usual. Before they knew it, Minju and her brother were well into the second half of the school year.

Sometimes, he couldn't make it on Friday nights to be home with his little sister. Y/N had loaded up his second semester with classes to make the workload easier during the football season. He felt awful, but she understood, making him love her even more.

But when he did make it home, it was awesome. Every time he saw her, Y/N seemed to get closer to his little sister. And she just kept getting more beautiful. She was only recently eighteen, and every day, she became more aware of her body and how to carry herself. Each day on his way home, Y/N guiltily looked forward to what his little sister might wear that night.

Sometimes, he wondered if the two of them were toying with each other, playing with the possibility that one of them might do something rash. But he knew how happy it made Minju to have someone like him that she could entirely rely on to make her feel comfortable; he didn't want to ruin that. He didn't know that Minju was struggling to respect him similarly. But they loved their time together so much that it didn't matter.

They were starting to talk on the phone regularly or at least text when he hadn't seen her in a while. They were so busy with schoolwork, sports, and training that they marked their weeks by the time they talked to or saw each other. Sooner than both Y/N and Minju could have imagined, pages of the dog calendar their mother hung in the kitchen flipped by, and the summer was upon them.

Y/N had trained almost daily for the upcoming football season. He'd never expected his responsibilities to become important to him, his coaches, or his team. Add to that, finishing up a semester of college, and his schedule was chock-full. The first week of summer would be a much-needed breather, but then it would be off to summer training camp. He even had time to spend with his family and a few days hanging out with only his little sis. They took a day out on the lake together, went to dinner one night, and even agreed to go shopping with her the day before he left for summer training camp.

"I don't want you to go," Minju said, her big, green, puppy-dog eyes looking teary. She dreaded that this would be the first summer she didn't get to spend with her brother.

"Do you have to?" Minju asked sadly, feeling her brother's big, strong arms wrap around her in the middle of the department store.

"I don't want to leave you, Minju, but I want to be at my best for next season. It's gonna be a big year for me." He said regretfully, holding her close enough to catch the subtle shampoo scent in her soft, brown hair.

"We can talk or text any time you want," he promised, pulling back and staring into her sad eyes.

That only made her feel marginally better, but she shook her head knowingly. Y/N held his sister for a while as they walked through the store. She picked out a new pair of sweatpants that admittedly excited Y/N, reminding him of how she usually looked when she'd be wearing them and the time they spent together... how they rode low, and her hip bones were often revealed to his wandering eyes as she laid in front of him on the couch.

"What do you think? She said, coming out of the changing room for the third time.

Minju saw her brother jump when he looked up from the green sweatpants he recognized as the ones she'd picked out. Suddenly, he was looking away like his eyes were burning.

"Minju!" He said, looking back toward her through his hand.

"WHAT?" She mocked, giggling.

"You can't wear that out here!"

He was probably right, she had on the sweatpants, as low as she possibly could wear them. The lines of her toned abdomen led down to what was likely a totally bare pussy based on what her brother could see. But the top wasn't a top at all. It was a sexy, black bra. The lace revealed much of her breasts to her brother's eyes. He'd always been totally caught off guard by how amazing his sister's tits were, but this was more than she'd ever let him see.

"Oh you can look Oppa, stop being such a wuss."

He did slowly look back in his little sister's direction, but it felt like he shouldn't. Yet, as soon as he saw how the black lace pushed his sister's breasts upward and most of the demi-cup left her chest bare, Y/N wasn't about to look away.

"So... what do you think?"

"Incredible..." he said, unwittingly. Minju's breasts had been amazing for years, and now that the rest of her body had caught up, he was like a helpless puppy.

"The sweatpants and the bra?" she asked with a huge grin.

Y/N was so embarrassed. He'd literally just complimented his little sister's tits, her beautiful body... no question there. Thank god she'd let him off the hook.

"I think you should buy them, both of them." He said without flinching.

Minju had never felt sexier. As her brother pretended, poorly, that he wasn't looking up and down every inch of tanned skin she'd revealed to him, she realized how loved it made her feel. Plenty of guys had complimented her before, but nobody made her knees feel weak the way that Y/N did. She turned around and headed back to the changing room after being sufficiently convinced that he'd liked what he saw. Y/N almost exploded when he saw the dimples in her lower back and then their eyes met quickly before Minju perked her little butt up for him once and then closed the door behind her.

Y/N had to take a deep breath. What on earth had gotten into him? And what about her? God damnit did she look breathtaking in even the simple two pieces of clothing. Why did she insist on flaunting it in front of him, and why was he feeling so much like touching her?

Minju walked out of the dressing room wearing what she had on before she went in. Somehow seeing her clothed now got him just as excited. Even the cute flannel shirt and tank-top she was wearing made her beautiful, and he wondered if he'd see the bra and sweatpants she was holding in her hand again before he left.

When Y/N stood, his little sister stopped him before he could exit the changing rooms. Nobody was around; it felt private... intimate as she placed hand on the middle of his chest.

Minju rested her head against him and wrapped her free arm around his back. Everywhere she touched he was just...solid. When his arms encircled her she felt that familiar tingling coursing through her, made stronger as she sensed the strong beat of his heart against her hand.

"I'm really going to miss you, you know that, right?" She said quietly, like she didn't want anyone else to hear.

"I know little one, I'm going to miss you too."

Before he could do or say anything else, Minju stood up tall and kissed him right on the lips. His face had been downturned and his eyes closed as he held her; he didn't even know it was coming.

But her lips were so soft. There was a hint of sweetness on them, and they moved ever so slightly. He shouldn't have been kissing his little sister that way, with his hands around her and the kiss lasting longer than it could have. But nobody could see them, and nobody had to know who they were. In that moment, the kiss felt like the best way to say goodbye.

Minju dropped back from her tiptoes and finally took a breath, realizing how fast her heart was beating. She hadn't planned it, but all of the sudden their lips were together and she didn't want it to end. 'Why did he have to go?' she repeated in her head again and again, knowing the answer but still feeling frustrated.

They didn't get much more after that. They talked and laughed and played around for a bit longer before it was time to go. Even after the kiss, everything just felt ...normal...right. She hated that pulling back into the driveway meant they were all that much closer to her brother leaving for the summer, but she was finally coping with it. She lay awake that night listening to her dad and brother talk in the other room as he packed until she finally drifted off to sleep thinking of Y/N.

Minju went with her dad to take Y/N to the airport the next day, but there would certainly be no more kissing her brother the way they had the day before. She looked down at her feet as her dad was shaking her brother's hand and wishing him good luck before heading back to the drivers' seat.

"Hey," he said, putting his finger below her chin and lifting it up to him. His heart almost broke apart to see that Minju had tears in her eyes. "Ohhh Minju', come on, you're killin' me."

She half giggled, half sobbed as their gazes met.

"I love you little sis, and it's only a few months," he assured her.

"I know," she sighed, "it's just...ughhhh!" Minju stomped her foot on the ground like she was going to throw a fit. She was so upset to be losing her best friend, even if it was only temporarily.

"Just go... you big jerk."

"I'm already marking our Fridays on my calendar for next year, and I'll see you on the sidelines too."

"Okay," Minju agreed half-heartedly, knowing she still had to make the cheerleading team but flattered her brother just assumed she would.

"I love you too," she said finally.

She jerked when her brother kissed her cheek and then squeezed her side like he always did. Watching him walk away, she felt like it was going to be a long summer.

-

It was tough without him, but not unbearable. A couple times a week they would text about what was going on at the football camp or how Minju was choosing her schedule, this and that. She'd gotten into the state college during Y/N's amazing football season and knew she'd be going there from the minute she opened the letter. The program they had for her major was one of the top in the country, so she didn't feel like she was just following her brother to the same college.

In fact, she was looking forward to them being at the same school. Y/N was going to be a junior and Minju a freshman. Despite being very independent and proud of it, Minju had already made some friends due to Y/N's newfound fame. Every time somebody recognized her last name in the programs and orientations she attended over the summer, she felt proud to call him big brother.

Minju looked forward to the times he would call her on the phone. It was always late at night, sometimes waking her up, but Minju was so glad to see his number pop up that she awoke immediately an answered with an excited "hey big bro!"

Y/N could sometimes hear his sister waking. He imagined that she was wearing one of those outfits from their Friday nights at home. Laying in her bed, maybe in just a tiny pair of underwear she felt sexy in, Y/N could hear his little sister yawn and he pictured her tiny frame stretching out under the covers.

Sometimes late at night, their conversations felt so private, almost secretive. Whether it was the fact that they were both in a darkened room with nobody else around or that they weren't wearing much or something else, to Minju it felt kind of naughty. She thought that the way they talked was more like the way she imagined talking to a boyfriend, one she didn't have of course.

And Y/N didn't have anybody but Minju. Eunju would call now and again, but she was... not all that interesting to talk to. Usually, when he hung up with his girlfriend, he couldn't go to bed until he talked to his little sister, hoping to have some meaningful conversation before he finally turned in.

"Hey Minju', how come you never let any of those boys you tell me about take you out on more than a date or two?" Y/N asked her one of the nights when they were both talking in bed a couple hundred miles away from each other.

"Well that's a little personal, isn't it, Mr. Nosy?" she responded.

"Well, seeing as how you asked what Eunju looks like naked, I think we're past being bashful about stuff like this," Y/N chided back.

He was probably right; Minju was feeling competitive one night when her brother told her he'd just hung up with his girlfriend and she wanted to know. She was now confident that her body, especially her chest was sufficiently more appealing to her brother (apparently, he was a "breasts man")

"FINE..." she replied, "I dunno, I guess I just... I haven't met anybody worthwhile yet. And they all want to get in my pants on like, the first date. It's exhausting."

"Aww shoot, Minju, I didn't know that. I mean, you gotta give the guys a little slack though you know?"

"Why would I do that??" Minju asked, frustrated

"Well, you're... I dunno... you're really..." he couldn't seem to get the words out.

"I'm what Oppa?" Minju asked, sort of expecting her brother to say something about her being too stuck-up or bitchy.

"How do I say this..." he continued, hoping she would give him an out.

Minju just waited in silence, wondering what he was trying to say.

"Ugh, fine." he started, "You're hot, Minju. Guys are going to want to hook up with you when they first see you. Frankly, I'm worried about it for when you start at school with me."

"Oh..." Minju said. Y/N wished he could be there with his little sis so they didn't have an unknown, uncomfortable silence on the phone. He was glad when she continued:

"That doesn't mean they can just be dogs all the time though. One guy actually pulled the car over and asked if I would blow him on the way home from our second date!"

"Whoa..." Y/N let out, sounding upset, "That's not okay... Who is he? What's his name?"

Minju smiled when she heard her brother getting mad. As much as she would like to see her brother pummel that douchebag Hyunmin, Y/N wanting to defend her was reward enough.

"Oh, relax Oppa, you'll never need to see him, nor will I."

"Hmmph..." He sighed, sounding unsatisfied, "So...did you?"

"Did I what?... OH GOD NO!" Minju gasped, "Did you need to ask?!"

She could hear her brother laughing on the other end. "No, I figured. I just wanted to rile you up."

Minju giggled, too. He did always knew how to push her buttons.

"Can I tell you something Oppa?"

"Sure Minju', anything."

"I've never done... 'it'... before."

Y/N paused a few seconds, trying to process what he'd just heard. Though he hadn't thought his little sister would ever share something like that with him, a small part of Y/N was happy to hear that she was a virgin.

"Oh..." he responded, "You know that's totally okay right? A lot of girls get all worried about it but you shouldn't be."

"I know," Minju said, "but I just don't want to come off as really prude like I'm above it or something; I just haven't found the right guy."

"...and that's awesome." Y/N assured her, "I think it makes you even more attractive. Like you know what you want, and it means something to you."

Minju curled up tightly in her bed. She bit the tip of her thumb, thinking about what her brother was telling her. Not only was someone she loved and wholly respected telling her not to worry about something she'd spent all too much time agonizing about, but he was also telling her that it made her more attractive.

"What about you?" Minju asked, "I mean I guess I know you've done it before."

"Yeah, I guess you do..." he said, knowing that Minju had heard him with Eunju before and feeling somewhat bad about it now that she'd told him she was a virgin. "But I wish I thought about it the way you did or that I could."

"What do you mean?" asked his little sister.

"Well when you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend and you have sex, things can just kind of change. Sometimes I wish I could really take time to care about someone before jumping into it. You can do that, at least."

He paused, seeming to be hung up on his feelings.

"Eunju and I...well... I don't want to talk about her.

Minju could hear some hurt in her brother's voice. She felt terrible for razzing him all the time about his girlfriend.

"It's okay Oppa, I know things can be complicated sometimes."

He was quiet.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Minju asked.

"No, how much is that?" Y/N said, smiling again.

Minju put on the most innocent, girly voice she could, "LIKE...sooooo much," she said. He could almost hear her smiling through the phone.

"I love you too Minju." Y/N told her.

For the moment of silence that followed, both Minju and her brother truly wished they weren't talking over the phone but instead being there with each other. It wasn't just that he knew his little sister would be wearing very little and stretched out alone in her bed. It was also that he wanted to hold her so she could understand how much he meant that he loved her. Minju, too wondered how he might touch her if they embraced right then. Her skin tingled, wondering what her brother might look like after the months of workouts he'd been telling her about. Something told her she'd be intimidated by how big and muscular he'd gotten.

She wanted to say something more. The tingling sensation working its way from her core out to her fingers and toes made Minju speak without thinking,

"I wish you were here with me," she said. Her fingers traced a path from her neck down to the curve of her breast.

Y/N could hear something more in his sister's voice, and though he knew he shouldn't, he wanted her to feel the same thing her words doing to him.

"I wish I were there with you too Minju."

Minju's whole body was feeling warmer. She didn't know what to think about how he was making her feel.

"Goodnight little sis," Y/N said after waiting long enough.

"Goodnight big bro," she said, not meaning to sound quite as sexy as she did.

"Two weeks," Y/N said right before he hung up, hearing his little sister say sleepily, "I can't wait." as he hit a button to end the call.

Was he going crazy? Was he supposed to feel like if his little sister was in the room right then he would have been unable to help himself touching her all over, running his hands over her body: those wonderful breasts he longed to see, kissing her beautiful neck and shoulders, caressing her legs. Did she know that he'd hung up the phone and found himself fully hard, thinking of her in a way he knew he should not?

She was just so gorgeous. Even over the phone he was conjuring up all the times he'd looked at her and marveled at her beauty. What was he going to do when they were finally going to school together? What if he had to watch guys talk to her, flirt with her, even make a move. Y/N knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until he took care of his erection. Strong as his feelings were, he couldn't force the images of his barely clothed little sister out of his mind. When he finally released the pent up excitement he'd discovered in talking to Minju, it was to the image of her lying in bed.

He couldn't possibly know, but his little sister had done the very same thing, imagining that Y/N came home and finally helped her understand what it might feel like to be with a boy.

-

Two weeks flew by. Both Y/N and Minju had fully packed schedules before he was to return home. When their heads hit the pillow at night, they were lucky to even exchange a few texts before falling asleep.

Then, Minju came home from the gym one day during the week before school started and almost fainted at the sight of her brother. Not only was she so unbelievably glad to see him, but he looked incredible. He was tan from all the time out in the sun. His hair had grown longer and unruly. He even had a dark scruff on his face, so he looked considerably older. And he was huge! He filled out an old t-shirt so it looked stretched across his muscles. His chest, his arms, his abs! Minju felt so guilty when she sensed herself getting wet as she approached him.

And Y/N was in for even more of a treat than his sister, or at least he thought so. She had obviously spent some time in the sun, but her body... God was she even more beautiful than he remembered. It had been less than three months and he wondered if it was the same girl. Or perhaps he was seeing her differently, still unbelieving that such a beautiful girl could also be his little sister.

Her stomach was flat as ever, with a hint of her abs showing when she ran over to jump into his arms. She wrapped her toned little legs around him and squeezed him tight. Y/N remembered talking with Minju about the size of her boobs compared to his girlfriend's and he knew as she pressed them against him, even in a sports bra, that Minju's were bigger.

"Are you ready for school next week?" He said excitedly, setting her cute bottom on the counter top. Y/N was glad their parents weren't around because he was definitely taking some liberties with his hands, leaving them on her hips as he set her down.

Minju shook her head, 'Yes,' looking anxious and adorable at the same time. She had imagined her brother coming home so many times, and this was even better. She couldn't help herself from leaning in and planting a quick peck on his lips.

They were quiet, contented, for a while. Neither of them really cared to speak. Y/N was standing between his little sister's legs and holding her close enough that he was glad he hadn't gotten hard...yet. Even thinking about it worried him that Minju might soon be feeling something she shouldn't pressing against the tight fabric of her workout shorts.

"I know you're going to hate me for this, but I have to be at school 24/7 before our first game in a week and a half.

Minju's mouth dropped open. She was half-pretending, she'd expected it based on everything he'd been telling her over the phone. When he saw his little sister crack a grin instead of the big grimace he expected, Y/N narrowed his eyes at her.

"I know, I won't give you too much shit about it. I'm just really happy you're home!" She said, hugging him again. Y/N was truly worried she might feel something in his shorts.

"...And so BIG!" she fawned, seeing his worry disappear as she put her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them. He could tell she was giving him a hard time, acting like one of the many girls he expected to encounter on his first week back.

"Will you come back on Friday before the game?"

"Well the coach made a big deal about it, but after telling him it was my ritual every time last year... and then you know... we won every game... he gave in."

Minju showed her beautiful white smile, and it was all Y/N really needed to see that day. He was so glad to be holding his little sister and to know that nothing had changed about how they interacted, even though he knew the way he felt about her had.

-

The week before school started, tryouts for the cheerleading team were held. Minju had been working all summer for her big moment, and she knew she was ready. Y/N had even walked with her from her dorm to the facility and given her a big hug before sending her in. She felt all the more confident that he believed in her.

"Can I watch?" Y/N had asked.

"NO!" Minju fired back. She did not want him to see just in case she didn't make it.

"Aww, Minju, you know you're going to kill it, right?" he said, hugging her and pushing her through the door. His touch on her lower back was comforting; it lingered even as she walked out into the gym when her name was called.

She needn't have been nervous. The panel of four girls, a coach and an assistant coach were all that was there to watch her do her routines. There were a few routines they published online weeks before, and one that Minju was supposed to compose on her own. Everybody had seemed pleased after she completed the pre-selected routines, but everybody had cheered and clapped when she finished her own. Everybody but one... Eunju.

Even though she felt like she'd nailed every part, the fact that someone on the panel had held their applause made her nervous. She hated to admit it, but Minju really was getting her hopes up for being on the cheerleading team. If she was really good, they might even let her cheer for the football team in her first year, but she had to be truly impressive.

She was ecstatic to get a callback that day, and to be told that practice started that weekend. Y/N told her he knew she'd make it, and that he'd be shocked if they didn't put her on the field with him.

When the Friday before his first game finally came around, Minju rushed home—the first week of school had been crazy. She'd started all of her classes, been really successful at cheer practice and she was really hopeful that she'd make the first team and maybe cheer during one of the earlier football games. She didn't look forward to hearing or seeing Eunju, Minju thought as she pulled in the driveway, but she was out of control excited to spend her first Friday catching up with her brother.

When he entered, there was no noise, no sign of her brother's girlfriend, and the house sounded pretty quiet. She heard a bowl clinking in the kitchen, so she followed the sound inward.

"Hey you, where's your girl?" Minju asked

"She's not coming today," Y/N said, sounding strange.

"Oh...um... is everything okay?" Minju continued, coming up behind her brother and putting a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, sounding exhausted, "I don't think either of us will be seeing her much anymore."

"Oh no, I'm sorry Oppa, did something happen?"

"Don't worry about it, Minju. I'm not. It was a long time coming, " he said, but she could tell it was wearing on him. Minju draped herself over her brother's muscular shoulders, and she could feel him start to relax. She knew he was upset but was desperate to do anything that would make him feel better.

"How about you can pick the movie tonight? And if you're really lucky I'll even throw in a back-rub."

He knew she would do that anyway, but it made him smile to hear her offer. Y/N always liked that Minju didn't only talk about football with him, especially right before the game. She might ask a few questions about who they were playing, but she didn't get him all anxious the way others might if he didn't hole up at his house. It was just one more reason why he liked being around her so much.

They both had work to do before they could hang out, but around the time it was getting dark and their parents would be meeting after work for their weekly dinner date, Y/N waited for his little sister in the TV room. It had been a long time since they last did this, and he was a little nervous about what might happen since their relationship had progressed.

He had to keep his jaw from dropping when she came bouncing down the stairs, or rather her breasts did. Just as she promised, she was wearing the outfit that she'd tried on right before he went off to training camp months ago. Was it possible that she filled out her bra even better than before, because she certainly looked it? And the pants, hanging like they might fall at any second but for the drawstring around her waist.

This wasn't going to be easy. Now that he didn't have the typical release of spending an hour or so with his girlfriend, spending time with his far hotter little sister seemed like it might not be as easy. It worried him even more as he watched her perfect, round breasts shudder and threaten to escape her struggling bra with each step she took down the stairs.

It was nice to have his eyes on her like that again. Minju hadn't felt so desirable since they'd last had real alone time, and her brother's gaze was more than welcome. Just being in his company and him in hers made the two of them buzz with love for each other and excitement about being together.

"Lie down over here will ya?" Minju asked after they'd been watching the movie and chatting for a while. She could tell he was tense, far more than expected and she just wanted to help.

Y/N obliged, sucking in a breath when he felt his hot little sister straddle him. He was truly glad to be lying face down, because the thought of her perched on top of him in that outfit was driving him nuts. She was actually quite good at massaging him, seeming to know all of the tight spots after doing it many times. Y/N was finally starting to feel a lot better when she'd been doing it no more than a few minutes.

At some point, when Minju was trying hard to get him in the right spots on his back, she shifted over and the back of his leg as pressing against her mound. She hadn't meant to, it had just kind-of...happened. She couldn't help that it felt really good. But as she moved around, pressing her hands into different spots on her brother's muscular back, it just kept arousing her more and more.

Y/N had no idea it was going on either, he was in a sleepy state after how good his sister's hands were making him feel. He heard her breathing heavier, thinking she was just exerting herself as she pressed harder on him.

It never took her very long, especially not when she was really turned on; Minju should have known better. She was just sitting down harder on her brother, leaning into him to 'get more leverage on his back,' or so he might think. Minju didn't know what had gotten into her, but within only a minute or two of feeling her brother's leg pushing against her pussy and her little clit being trapped and stimulated just the way she liked it, she was lost. She had to try hard beyond measure not to make a sound, yet she couldn't stop herself squirming.

It only took a moment, and Minju managed to stay quiet. Her arousal that had built up in the time she spent apart from her brother did the brunt of the work. All it took was a little push, back and forth, of her hips and then suddenly she was clenching her legs. She bit down hard on her lip, desperate not to reveal what she'd just done and feeling embarrassed as a short but powerful orgasm took her.

Y/N came to when he heard his sister take a few sharp breaths atop him. He couldn't see her face, but he would have seen her coming down from her orgasm and trying to catch her breath. Her hands weren't doing much anymore.

"Tired little sis?" He asked.

From the tone of his voice, Y/N didn't know anything. She felt guilty, but Minju thought maybe she could get off without him knowing and without experiencing any of the embarrassment.

"Uh huh," Minju lied. She lifted her hips off of him so he wouldn't feel it if she'd gotten too wet.

"What if I took a turn for a change?" Y/N asked.

It was the only thing Minju could think of to put her out of harm's way, or at least her brother's discovery.

She agreed and laid down on the floor where he'd just been. After cumming, her skin was sensitive and crawling for his touch. Even when his fingers grazed her, Minju could feel it through her whole body. He started slow, and then worked his fingers into the tight spots on her shoulders. His hands felt terrific - big and strong, and a little bit rough from all his hard work.

Maybe Minju didn't know she was doing it, but Y/N absolutely loved the way his little sister was letting out adorable sighs and moans when he touched her just right. Y/N was probably getting just as much enjoyment as his little sis from his touching her.

He wasn't sure why he thought it would be okay, but her bra was simply in the way. In one quick motion, Y/N unclasped his little sister's lacy top. It sprung open and revealed her back to him, and Minju quickly opened an eye to look backward at him. When he didn't offer an explanation, she stayed quiet.

The tension seemed more incredible then, but his hands felt even better. Y/N could see his little sister's tits spreading out from her thin frame as she lay against the floor. He wanted to touch them; he even got close a few times with his fingers. Minju was fully aware of every square inch of her body that he felt: the way his fingers daringly slipped just beneath the waistband of her sweats, or how he grasped the tops of her hips a few times like he wanted to pull her towards him. After only a few moments, both of them were totally turned on, though neither was about to admit it to each other.

If Y/N hadn't seen it, they would have been totally screwed. The flash of headlights shown in the room for only a second.

Their parents had walked in on them watching a movie before, even when Minju was wearing relatively inappropriate clothing. But in the position they were and with Minju's suggestive bra unclasped, it would have looked a bit more...naughty. Minju didn't even know what hit her before she was being scooped up and flipped around into her brother's arms as he took two stairs at a time up to her bedroom.

"Oppa what th...!" Minju gasped as he manhandled her. Her hands darted to the dangling bra that she'd only just managed to hold on to. Then she was twisted around and had her legs wrapped around her brother's wide frame before she could speak another word. As they hit the top of the stairs, she heard her parents at the door.

Y/N dashed into his sister's room and then stood quietly, both of them being very still in their utterly suggestive position. Even in their haste, both siblings could intimately sense Minju's loosely covered breasts against Y/N's chest, and she couldn't be sure, but was something extra trapped between their hips?

"Kids, we're home!" Their mother called out as she came in.

"Up here, be down in a minute!" Y/N called back.

When he was sure they were in the clear, he flopped back onto the bed and took his first deep breath. Minju laughed first; of course, she would find that funny.

"Oh my god that was close!" She said, giggling.

"Well we wouldn't have to be worried if you were still wearing your bra!" Y/N said righteously.

"Um excuse me, I wasn't the one who took it off," Minju said.

By the time they'd reached the bedroom her bra no longer covered either of her breasts. It was still trapped between them, but looking down Y/N could see the full weight of his little sister's chest held between his and hers. They were big and hanging down slightly as she propped herself up to look at her brother. With an adorable and mischievous look on her face, she looked irresistible, perched on top of her brother with both her knees on the bed.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just..." he started, obviously not knowing where he was going with it.

Minju smiled at him, "I know you didn't," she said, letting him off the hook. She wiggled her hips playfully as she said it, and Minju was almost positive she could feel her brother's cock tucked up between their two connected hips and at least partially hard. The way it was pressing against Minju right where Y/N definitely shouldn't have been made Minju desperate to know if she was the cause or not. Whatever it was, her brother felt big.

Knowing that their parents would be waiting for them downstairs, Y/N spoke first, breaking the silence caused by the way the two of them lay on Minju's bed.

"You should probably cover those up," he said, half-heartedly looking away.

Minju reached for her bra and finally sat up on top of her brother. For a split second, her breasts were neither covered by her hands or her bra, and Y/N must have seen, because Minju felt her brother throb against her where he was touching below. Not wanting to be captive and helpless to his beautiful sister, or so obviously showing her his affection with his growing stiffness, Y/N reached up to his sister's enticing sides. She was about to inhale profoundly and let him touch her, but instead, he only savored her soft skin for a second before he forcibly tossed her off of him onto the other half of the bed.

"HEY!" she shrieked

"Time to put some clothes on, little sis," Y/N said callously. See you downstairs."

And then he left. She watched him walk out, still holding her arms up to cover her breasts so he didn't see, but a part of Minju wasn't entirely sure she didn't want him to.

This was uncharted territory for Minju and her brother both. As they spent the rest of the night around their parents, both tried hard to wrap their heads around what was going on between them. On one hand, they were still spending time together on Fridays like they always did, laughing and conversing with the same fantastic level of comfort that seemed to make Minju's weekend. And when Y/N woke up in the morning he was smiling and simply glad to have had the time with his baby sis despite the anxiety of a big game ahead.

On the other hand, both siblings had gone to bed thinking of each other in ways that they weren't supposed to. But imagining Minju wearing even less on top of Y/N than just the pair of sweatpants she had been was a dream they both shared that night, 'supposed to' or not.

Just before the game the next day, Minju got an email that she was to attend a different cheerleading practice on Monday. She was going to be cheering on the football field at their home game in two weeks! Minju was ecstatic and wanted badly to tell her brother, but decided to let him focus and wait until after the game.

There was a lot of talk about how the football team would play in their first home game. There was equal coverage of Y/N and how he would perform starting his first full season. Minju was perfectly confident that he would blow the competition away.

And he did... for a time. He started strong, very practiced in every play. They went into the half leading, but Minju's dad wasn't impressed.

"He looks a little off today, don't you think?" said her father.

"You know honey, I noticed that too. What do you think is up?" Minju's mom asked.

She wracked her brain. Suddenly, Minju hoped that the way she'd teased her brother wasn't the cause. She felt guilty all of the sudden. Perhaps it hadn't been fair to him for her to flaunt herself like that. It was selfish. His attention made Minju feel good and she hadn't taken him into account. It was especially bad considering Y/N wasn't with his girlfriend anymore.

"Did you notice anything last night Minju?" Her mother asked.

"No, not really mom. He was just as happy to be home like he usually is." Minju assured them.

And she wasn't lying. Aside from being a bit downtrodden about breaking up with Eunju, he'd been very playful and content with her the night before.

Yet, when he came out for the second half, the same rustiness seemed to be staying with him. Perhaps it was the team. Nobody seemed to be blaming Y/N for the way their offense was playing, but before long they were losing. And then the fourth quarter was nearly over. And then... the whistle blew for the end of game and Y/N's team had not done enough.

He was understandably bummed when they met him on the field after the game.

"Sorry bro," Minju said compassionately, feeling him wrap his arm around her side and walk toward the locker rooms with their parents. She looked cute in her little, team t-shirt, but Y/N wasn't really in the mood to check her out just then.

"Yeah... " he said dejectedly, "I don't know why we couldn't pull that one out... damn."

"Don't beat yourself up too much about it, you promise?" Minju asked, looking up at him hopefully.

"I won't." He said. "Maybe I'll just beat you up."

That elicited a smile from his sister, but Minju could tell his heart wasn't in it. She felt bad for him; he was probably internalizing what was just the whole team's off performance.

"See you soon?" Minju asked, "Next Friday at the latest?"

"...away game," Y/N sighed. "But the week after for sure."

He squeezed Minju's side before breaking contact and saying goodbye to their parents. Minju watched him jog back to the lockers and hoped he wouldn't be depressed about the loss for too long. She hadn't even told him about her cheerleading spot, but that could wait until later when he might be more willing to share in her excitement.

-

That week went by even faster than the last. It was Minju's second week of school and she was loving every minute of it. She only got to sit down to lunch with Y/N once before he was off to the away game, and when she'd told him her news he had been so happy for her. She wished furiously, as he hugged her, that she might someday find somebody who cared about her the way Y/N did.

It turned out that Minju hadn't just been brought onto the football cheerleading team, but she'd replaced someone. Of course, it had to be Eunju. And making the team wasn't the end of it.

"You know you're going to fuck this up right?" Eunju had asked, confronting Minju on the way to class one day that week. Minju wanted nothing more than to get away from her so she just kept walking.

"You don't belong in my spot, you little bitch." Eunju spat, obviously annoyed that Minju didn't intend to engage.

"Oh and tell that second string quarterback you call your brother to enjoy being tended to by his sister instead of his girlfriend... a lotta good that'll do him."

Minju didn't quite understand, but she wouldn't let Eunju talk bad about her brother.

"The only one who's second string here is you... bitch," Minju flung the blonde's words back in her face, "you were NEVER good enough for him. You were just EASY."

With that Minju turned on the path and headed into the Math & Science building. It took her a few minutes to calm down, and almost half the period to stop thinking about what Eunju had said...'tending to her brother.'

-

The away game did not go well. This time, Y/N did look bad. It was like he just couldn't find his stride. He gave up one interception in the first half and one in the second. The rest of the team could have played much better, but they simply didn't have that momentum that everyone had seen driven by the star quarterback. There were whispers that Y/N would be replaced if he kept playing like that, but that's all they were.

There was something that Minju heard in the locker room after cheer practice one day that week that put pieces together for her. It was hard for her to believe, but Eunju, whom she'd overheard, had made some sense.

"You know why he's playing like that?" She'd been gossiping out of sight in another part of the locker room near the showers, "because he doesn't have me."

"Oh come on," another girl on the team, who sounded like Tamara, laughed, "I know you two had your thing, but you weren't exactly throwing the ball for him!"

"Think what you want, but he's the one who insisted that I come over on the day before the game... he said having sex helped him play better."

"Yeah, right," Tamara said, "that's a myth."

"You say that, but we did it before every game last year..." she'd continued, but Minju didn't want to hear it.

No way. No way hooking up with that blonde bimbo before their Friday nights together was helping her brother win.

Minju kept repeating that to herself all week until Friday arrived. But at some point, she didn't believe it anymore. He'd always been so quick to shoo Eunju out the door on Fridays, but he HAD invited her there week after week anyway. And she was right; as far as Minju knew, her brother hadn't been hooking up with anyone else. Minju had only succeeded in teasing her brother with her skimpy clothing, certainly not helping him get any relief. Could it be her fault? It seemed ridiculous.

And then came the next thought - far more questionable than the last. Who was going to 'tend to her brother' now that she couldn't expect Eunju to do it before she came home that Friday? As far as she knew, Minju would be the only girl around, the only one Y/N was technically allowed to see. He could start seeing another girl, but she knew her brother, and he didn't just start sleeping with somebody because he needed to get some ass.

The thought that it might be up to Minju to... relieve him... and more so than just giving a back massage seemed crazy to her. Y/N would never go for it. They were brother and sister; no way! Minju thought.

But by the time she arrived home on Friday, Minju had debated with herself a thousand times about it. She'd been hinting at her brother toward something for a long time, always knowing that he'd never cross the line with her. But what if she told him it was okay to? She'd sensed that he was hard that one day on her bed. She'd seen him looking. She'd felt his hands touching her back in ways a brother wasn't supposed to after he'd unhooked her bra. What if he wanted something, and she was just naive or self-centered? What if it was way easier than she was making it out to be.

Y/N could tell something was up with his sister when he got home, despite her pretending.

"Do you know how excited I am to see you on the sideline tomorrow Minju'?" he asked, eliciting a massive smile from his sister.

The way she looked right then was how he wanted to picture her always. A big smile, flashing her teeth because she couldn't help herself. A cute, white tank-top, comfortable little shorts and her body language telling him that she'd been waiting to see him all week. It was crazy that they didn't see each other more often, going to the same school and all, but they were just so busy with the beginning of the school year and their respective activities. Seeing her now, with that radiating energy she carried with her everywhere she went, her perfect breasts stretching the neckline of her top, and legs that went on forever... he wondered why he didn't find the time.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Are you kidding," she said confidently, "I was ready for this since your first game."

"I knew it," Y/N said, "good because I don't need anyone else messing up out there on the field." He sounded somewhat anxious.

How on earth was Minju going to bring this up? By that point, she'd imagined and even gotten excited about the possibility of doing something for her older brother that his girlfriend might have done behind his bedroom door upstairs. She'd wondered what his cock might look like in her hand, what she would do with it if she got it there. Would he find her attractive enough to get hard. Minju had felt a boy before, even had one in her mouth once when she got a little too drunk, but the thought of doing that with her brother made her heart flutter. It made her shift in her seat and feel an unexpected tingling between her thighs.

Yet, she was hopelessly lost on how to propose it. It would be just for his benefit so he could play better the next day... She only wanted to help him win...

"I feel really bad," Minju started. I was always so mean to Eunju, and now I've taken her spot on the team."

Minju told her brother about the day Eunju had confronted her on the quad. She conveniently omitted the part about 'tending to him,' but he seemed impressed with his little sister's defense.

"Yeah, don't worry about her, Minju'. She's probably just mad at me and taking it out on you,"

"For breaking up with her?" Minju asked.

"Well, that... and I might have had something to do with you taking her spot."

"YOU DIDN'T?" Minju cried, fearful that she hadn't deserved the advance.

"No, no, no!" he stopped her, "it's nothing like that. I discovered she was intentionally sabotaging your chance of making the field team. A couple of your teammates told me she was talking shit to the coaches and voting against you for no reason."

"So what did you do?" Minju asked, hanging on his words.

"Well...I might have told the coaches that Eunju was making it personal." Minju was squeezing her brother's arm tightly as he leaned over the table. "I guess they agreed because pretty much the next day, I found out they had replaced her with you!"

Minju's mouth was agape. She had no idea.

"Don't worry about it, Minju. My spies told me that everybody wanted you on the field team, and this wasn't the first time that Eunju had created drama. Apparently, it was time for her to go, and they were waiting for someone talented enough to help them go through with it."

"I don't know what to say... Oppa..." Minju hesitated before throwing her arms around her brother and kissing him a few times on the neck.

"Thank you," she kissed him, "thank you, thank you, thank you."

Minju giggled as her brother tried to shrug her off.

"Alright, already," he said, feeling that he liked his little sister's kisses more than he should have.

If Minju thought she owed her brother something before, now she was overcome with the desire to repay him. Not only had he been spending time with her on Friday nights and being the perfect brother, but there was more. He'd gone to bat for her with the cheerleading team, risked losing his girlfriend, and then eventually lost her and any of the physical aspects that came with... all for his little sister. Her handsome, strong, and unflinchingly loving brother, Minju, was enamored as she looked at him.

Yet, it took her until hours later, when he was lying face-down in his usual spot on the carpet in the living room before she could build up the confidence to say anything. Feeling guilty, Minju hadn't changed into anything more revealing. Unbeknown to her, Y/N had been drooling over her since the minute he'd walked in the door. But now, she wondered if she should have put something on to make him more agreeable.

"Oppa," she said timidly, straddling his back. "can I ask you something?"

"Duh," he joked, his face pressed halfway into the carpet.

Minju paused. Her heart had been beating faster in anticipation of this moment, but now it felt like it might explode.

"I heard something... the other day..." she started.

"... yes?" Y/N prodded

"I heard some girls talking about you..." she continued. Y/N could hear the concern in her voice, so he maneuvered quite impressively under his sister's straddled position and faced her. She looked enticing with her legs spread right over his lap and her shorts bunched up even higher on her tanned legs. Y/N thought immediately that he might have made a mistake now that his manhood was getting the full brunt of the eighteen-year-old's sexiness.

"...and...what did they say?" Y/N felt like he was dragging it out of her.

"They seemed to think you weren't playing well because... you weren't..." Minju hesitated again, seeing her brother look up at her impatiently.

"...getting any."

Y/N laughed. It was a standard theory. Y/N somewhat believed the sentiment himself; that's why he'd always asked Eunju over to the house before he expected to hang out with his little sister, who would inevitably be tempting him throughout the night. Of course, people at school would speculate that his breakup with Eunju was causing him some issues.

"So what, you're wondering if it's true? If Eunju is the reason I'm not playing well? I bet she's the one you heard saying that in the first place, right?"

Minju paused for so long that he had to shake her hips with his hands to get her to speak.

"Well, yes, but that's not it. " Now for the hardest part. Again, she paused.

"Come on, Minju', spit it out!"

"I thought that, maybe... you know... I could help you if you needed."

At first, Y/N didn't say a word. His brain seemed to go numb with disbelief. His first reaction was to look at her, his gorgeous little sister, perched right on his lap. He couldn't believe she was suggesting it, even if he'd been secretly lusting for her. What was she telling, that he just do what he wanted with her... take off that tiny tank top of hers and reveal her small, naked body to him like he'd imagined. Both of them felt his cock throb beneath Minju's seated butt.

"Minju... I... we..." he stuttered, "No way, we shouldn't... I mean, we can't."

Minju had no idea what to expect. Her daydreams had all gone so much differently. One way, she'd imagined him simply flipping her over and tugging off her bottoms. She'd never had sex before, but he could fix that in one steady stroke, and she'd wanted it so bad. In another, she'd sucked on him in the kitchen right when he came in, convincing him that she needed to do it so he could win. In all of her scenarios, even now, Minju had trouble admitting that she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her, too. And now it seemed that he didn't.

"I didn't mean...I just thought that you might need it," she said, trailing off, disheartened, into a whisper.

Y/N didn't know what to say to her. He struggled not to let the image of his little sister being on top of him in a much different way enter his mind. He worried that she could feel him stiffening through his shorts that he would send her a different message when he needed to be simply saying no.

"I'm sorry," Minju said quietly, "I wasn't thinking, it was stupid."

There was this long exchange where the two looked into each other's eyes. In a moment that should have been uncomfortable or strange, they made a connection that shouldn't have been there after Y/N's reaction. Minju could feel that Y/N was trying to do the right thing. She hadn't thoroughly thought through what she was asking of him. Once again, she was being unfair.

"I'm gonna shower before Mom and Dad get home," she said after not too long. Do you want to eat all of that pie Mom left in the fridge before they do?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N smiled sideways, "I'll have it ready when you get back,"

With that, Minju lifted herself off her brother, unsure whether to be disappointed or glad they hadn't crossed a very unsteady line. She scampered up the stairs, not wanting to look back at her brother and give away that she wished he'd chosen differently and didn't just want to help. She wanted him.

Y/N lay his head back in the same spot on the carpet. What was he thinking? He wanted her... he wanted Minju so badly. He'd spent countless nights leading up to that, either falling asleep thinking about her or dreaming of her in ways he'd feel guilty for in the morning. He'd wanted to see her naked little body, put his hands on the breasts that were incredibly generous for her frame, hold her hips as he discovered how tight she was... Now she was offering him a free pass, and he was just going to turn it down?

He knew that she had been so disappointed; that was the worst part. He kept seeing her face when he'd first said no: it had changed immediately from one of apprehension and hopefulness to complete embarrassment. How could he do that to her? She just wanted to help! He had to smooth things over, at the very least.

Y/N didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually, he built up the courage to talk to her and practically ran up the stairs. He wasn't thinking, opening the door behind which he'd heard the shower running in one swift motion,

"Minju, I didn't mean I didn't want you to; I just..." but then he stopped.

Minju was just bending over to take off her shorts. She was wearing an incredible pair of panties, cute, purple, and lacy, but only that. She was topless, and now that her shorts were off, nearly bottomless as well. Minju quickly covered her breasts with her arm, but her brother had seen them unclothed.

It took him too long to realize that he was staring or had stopped in the middle of a sentence. He'd never seen Minju entirely so revealed to him; he hadn't been prepared. Y/N's brain searched for words, but it seemed entirely too focused on what his little sister looked like in front of him and what it made him want of her.

Minju had not expected him either. She had wanted to take a shower because she simply felt... dirty after asking if her brother wanted 'help' and then being denied. But now he was there. He was staring at her shamelessly, and whether he knew it or not, he fully hardened in the time it took him to gather his wits.

"Minju I came to tell you..." he started, watching his little sister walk towards him and stop but a foot away.

"Shhhh," she said. "you don't have to say anything."

Minju removed her hand from her chest and watched her big brother's eyes widen. She was giving him an uninhibited view of her breasts; she knew that he'd wanted it badly.

"It's okay Oppa," she said. He took it as permission to look at her, up and down. He took in every inch that he could see, from the beautiful tits she was baring for him, to the perfect, little pink nipples that graced them. He saw her abs, strong and smooth, the way her sides curved to her soft-yet-thin hips. He longed to know what she looked like without those adorable bottoms on, but hadn't he come in to say something to her? At the moment it felt like he was just there to look.

"It's okay Oppa," Minju repeated, "you can touch me." She took his hands and brought them just below her chest. He grasped her, making it clear that he didn't expect to let go. Minju guided his hands upward over each tit before letting him do it on his own. His eyes rolled when he finally got his hands on them.

Minju surprised him with a kiss. She'd leaned in while he was distracted and planted it on his lips. Firm and knowing, it lingered for a few, meaningful seconds. Upon breaking, Minju slowly bent at the knees.

She held on to her brother as her knees made contact with the thick bathmat in front of the sink. Carefully, watching him, she pulled the waistband of his sweats over his cock. He did not protest.

She knew he didn't wear underwear beneath them! Minju thought victoriously. 'But ohmygod was he more than I was prepared for,' Minju thought. Perhaps she'd had some idea that he was big, but her brother's cock was much more than she'd seen before. It looked like she could hold it with two hands.

So she did, watching her brother intently the whole time, Minju gently moved her hands toward him. As they slid up his thick quads and lingered an inch or two away, Y/N's cock throbbed in anticipation; he needed her to touch him.

That made Minju smile wide. It was comforting; he wanted her. Seeing his little sister happy to finally take hold of him, Y/N felt like this was what he had truly come upstairs for.

"Minju'" he breathed, unbelieving that her hands were now wrapped around him.

Again she smiled and held him firmly. The contented little teen slid her hands up and then down, watching how the surface of his shaft followed the path of her grip. Y/N thought she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen with the look of pure wonder and excitement on her face.

A couple times she slid her hands intently back and forth. He was so warm; Minju could feel the flowing heat in his penis. Every stroke or so she could feel a throb in his cock, and by look on his face it must have felt good. The fluttering feeling in Minju's tummy returned with intensity each second that their eyes held. Her hopes had been only temporarily dashed. It was hard to believe that she'd come this far, but clear to Minju that she was glad her brother was finally in her hands.

"Am I doing okay," Minju asked him sweetly, lovingly and wide-eyed.

"God Minju', yeah... is this... are you sure..." He was never lost for words, Minju thought.

"It's okay Oppa," she assured him, "I'm just helping you for the game tomorrow. You can relax."

It was a lie, but somehow pretending it was just this once aroused both Minju and her brother. As if they could just pretend tomorrow on the field that Minju, the cheerleader, had not taken new duties to relieve the quarterback the night before.

Minju had begun moving her hands around differently, she was gracing the skin around him with light touches and then testing his tip with firmer ones. Her brother flinched when she ran her palm carefully over his head and closed her fingers over it. It didn't seem enough to her, yet it was Y/N who spoke first.

"Minju, ohgodMinju...will you put it in your mouth?" he asked.

Minju was stunned. And yet, he was used to calling the shots; it was good to know he was playing along. It made her feel sexy to hear her brother finally asking for more.

Minju shook her head 'yes.'

It seemed like the right move. Perhaps he would do better, play better, tomorrow if Minju were to take his cock into her mouth. Perhaps that, or maybe he simply wanted his beautiful little sister to go a bit further. In truth, he wanted to take her up to her feet, set her on the vanity and remove her cute panties to see what she hid underneath. He could line up and ask her if she wanted to...

"Oh fuck Minju," Y/N let out involuntarily. She'd pushed him inward past her lips and was swirling her tongue around his tip amazingly. "your mouth feels so good sis."

Minju would have smiled if her brother wasn't a few inches in. She had to open her mouth wide to fit him, but the mischievous little brunette was determined to make her brother cum. She wanted to be better than his girlfriends, than anyone he'd been with before. She didn't know that she had already surpassed that with her alluring beauty, and that being his little sister was going to bring him to orgasm even faster.

Minju continued sucking on him. She couldn't fit the whole thing in her mouth, perhaps not even half. Yet her sincere attempt had Y/N wanting her more than ever. Hadn't he been so dedicated to holding them back only minutes ago? But here he was loving every second that his little sister was stroking her hands up and down while she bobbed her mouth upon his tip, about to release.

"If you keep doing that...mmmnnhh... I'm gonna cum Minju," he warned her.

"Oh yeah?" she asked innocently after popping her mouth of him with a slurp.

"Are you gonna cum for me Oppa? Is your little sister gonna make you cum?"

He could only groan. Minju leaned close and licked the head just under his tip once again, twice, sending hurtling to the edge.

"Cum on my tits Oppa, it's okay...please, I want you to." She said, pushing him over. He looked down at her in disbelief and deep affection and she held his gaze, not looking away for a second.

The 18-year-old jerked him intently as his breaths got very heavy and then he took a single, sharp inhale. His eyes closed, and his cock throbbed perceptively against her palms. She sat up to direct him right at her youthful breasts, but not before taking the tip of her brother's penis in her mouth right as she felt the first pump on the underside of his shaft.

Minju didn't stop moving her hands as the first shot splashed against her tongue. It was hot, plentiful and he was only just starting to release when she popped his tip out of her mouth and pointed him toward her proud teenage breasts. Each stroke elicited another pulse of his white sperm onto her chest. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever felt; Minju savored every stretch of her skin that he covered.

Y/N was treated with the view of his topless little sister grinning naughtily as he winced and let out the last of what she was squeezing from him. His brain, teetered on the verge of consciousness as he watched the young brunette swallow the first taste of sperm she'd daringly taken into her mouth. Minju felt as if she'd gotten everything she wanted, and the messy tops of her breasts and wet streaks of her brother's cum up to her neck were evidence of that.

God was she beautiful, and she'd been a perfect little sister, just helping out her big brother when she knew he needed it. For a moment, they simply stayed as they were, breathing heavily and taking in the forbidden sight of a little sister splashed with her brother's cum, almost to the point of disbelief. Y/N took one of Minju's hands from his shaft and pulled her up to her pretty feet. Her other hand slid gently off of him, stimulating him one last time before falling to her side.

He wanted to say how much he loved her... that he wanted her to know how good she'd done and that she could ask anything of him, even if it was to never do that again. But that wasn't what either of them wanted, and he couldn't say it all at once so he said it with a kiss. Pulling her face toward his, feeling her silky brown hair between his fingers, he kissed her.

Was this just once? Would they wake up tomorrow and decide that it had been simply a crazy, impulsive thing that had happened and didn't need to happen again? It didn't feel that way when her brother's tongue was asking permission at her lips. She gave it with the touch of her own, and for a moment they kissed like lovers... for a moment.

"I better take a shower," said Minju, pulling away from him and watching the look of surprise on her brother's face. "I've got to clean off all this sticky stuff before mom and dad get home. You sure cum a lot big brother." She finished, running a finger over one gleaming rope and the testing it against her tongue.

Minju's mother had taught her to always make a boy work for her affection. She doubted that her mom had intended her 18-year-old to use it so effectively on her brother whose spunk now covered her breasts, but nonetheless... Y/N was left wanting more.

"Do you think that will help Oppa?" She asked blamelessly with that nickname he'd hated until now. It sounded more like she had just finished a backrub and not sucking her brother's cock. She let him take a good look at her before turning towards the shower.

"Minju, you are unbelievable..." he said, still in shock and still incredibly hard.

She knew she'd done well. Everything he said, everything his eyes and body told her verified it. The proud brunette walked to the still-running water, leaving her brother there to gather his pants. As one last tease, she seductively slid her bottoms over her pushed-out butt as if she'd forgotten Y/N was still in the room.

"I can't get enough of you sis," he said as he realized she intended for him to let her shower alone.

She smiled one last time as she stood back up. Her little pink lips teased him through the darkened gap between her thighs. The room wasn't brightly lit enough and he cursed it, wishing to truly know what Minju's young opening looked like.

"And to think..." Minju led him, "there's so much more."

She bit the side of her pouty, bottom lip before stepping in the shower and pulling back the curtain. Y/N would dream that night of what he might have done if she had invited him in.

[stargirlfics]

omgggg ur writing for the pitt!!!! if u can, can u do nsfw hcs for robby?

When I say I’d let him bend me over and [redacted] I mean it! I do indeed have some improper thoughts about one (1) Michael Robinavitch to share xx

1.1k - warnings: smut, pussy eating/fingering, use of “good girl”, dirty talk

Robby is as touch starved and emotionally devastated as they come he would be soo unavailable in a relationship but like just let me love you sir please but I think when you finally are able to get through some of those walls, he can’t ever get enough.

Listen he’s going to melt into your hands any time you reach for him, he’s weak for your touch. Absolutely helpless. Down bad and never recovering!

Whether it’s an innocent nudge, snuggling up to him on the couch after a long day at the hospital or when your touch turns seductive and needy, pulling at his clothes, looking into those big, expressive eyes of his, pleading for him to feel you up just a little. 

You make him act like a fool when you get him in that mood. 

Every. Single. Time. 

So he shouldn’t be surprised when you have him stiff and aching in his pants from just some heavy eye contact but he has to take a deep breath to regain composure anyway. 

He’s watching you too, that’s something not to be mistaken about Robby. He’s so observant, always reading your emotions, your body language, always taking note of what you might be needing because he can’t ever turn the physician in him off but it makes him attentive and in turn your body responds to him so eagerly. 

That's the real reward for him, watching and feeling the affect he has on you, how he can make you squirm on the spot when he looks at you over his glasses and tells you, "Need you over here. Right now.” and there's that edge to his tone that will tell you everything you need to know. 

Loves pressing his face against your tummy or your hips and wrapping his arms around you for a moment before he lays you back to eat you out slow and intense, intending to savor all parts of you.

“You know I’ve been waiting to come home to this? Couldn’t stop thinking about you my entire shift.”

“Bet you’ve been thinking of getting fucked all day too, huh. And don’t lie, I can feel your pulse.” 

And when he’s smoothing a hand over his beard and moving in to open you up, taste the pretty, glistening folds before him…you’re moaning and grinding your hips already, hands flying to his hair and he’s smiling like he’s drunk when you tug at it. 

You’re soaked for him and he can’t stop pressing his mouth deeper against your pussy, his tongue thorough with every inch of you, he’s the kind of man that doesn’t rush things like this! 

His nose bumping against your clit and you’re seeing stars, the hungry and deep growls escaping from the sides of his lips making you breathless, desperate for more, for his teasing even though it drove you crazy but he’s already replacing those thoughts with slicked up fingers and sweet reassurances. 

Mikey absolutely talks you through it all too and I’m dying thinking of how he speaks at work, the skill and competency and knowledge there and maybe he was never very good or confident at relationships but he knows how to speak to you in a way that puts fire in your eyes so he leans into it full force.

How personal and intimate and intense it would probably be with you at home, so fucking gentle too. 

He won’t spare any of his words, he needs you to know what you do to him, how special you are and how much you keep him grounded and give him such bliss, he’s obsessed with making you feel good when he’s turned on. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. You got it, breathe for me, you’re doing so fucking well. Ohh just listen to that pretty pussy talking to me.” 

It’s hard to hide how much you want him and how his voice makes every cell in your body vibrate. 

“Just focus on me, baby. I know you can take this. Don’t want anything in that gorgeous head other than my voice, understand me?” 

When I say he’d have you pleading for a moment to catch your breath. And no worries if you can’t hold your legs apart or hold yourself up anymore, he’ll keep you steady against his chest, free hand supporting your weight. 

Hushing you sweetly when you cry out for him and reach for his hand that’s slick with your pleasure now, two fingers curling against that sweet spot inside you so expertly. His forearms flex in an effort to keep you from squirming too much and you’re whining his name again and again, cheeks hot from realizing how much you liked being caged in his hold. 

The reward for letting yourself receive what he wanted to give so eagerly and what you ached for so ardently was well worth it. 

You feel so reassured entrusting him with your body,  knowing he’d take care of you, evident in how he never takes his eyes off you for a moment, save to gaze down at where you’re joined so he could admire the sight. 

Michael never neglects to give attention to the rest of your body all while he keeps an earth shattering pace with his fingers and you’re sure that is the exact reason he’s always having to swallow your climbing whimpers and moans with gentle kisses that ground you enough to keep you relaxed as your orgasm approaches. 

The huff of his breath against your neck that gives you chills, how he grunts and growls his amusement at your pretty sounds, encouraging you to let go for him. 

“Mhm, I can feel you squeezing me. C’mon, let me feel you cream around my fingers…fuck…you’re being such a good girl.”

The praise is what really does you in while you try to remember how your limbs work and he’s soothing you with more kisses and a satisfied tilt to his smile, struck by how much you can tell he means it and it’s so filthy and only makes you want more the minute your breathing evens out. 

“Mikey…baby, please.” 

He never stood a chance, even before you asked so nicely, the naughty look in your eye and that blissed out expression on your face too sweet of plea to ignore. Not when he’d only just gotten a taste, dreaming of stretching you out on his thick cock next.

In his eyes, you deserve to feel that good all the time and he loves that he knows exactly how to bring you there. He’ll never tire of chasing your pleasure. 

—

Need him in the most feral way oh my god!! I just know he would give it to you so good! Hope you enjoyed this, please feel free to be feral in the reblogs 🥵

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Party4U

I wish you’d get here, kiss my face

Summary: It’s your birthday, and you throw a party in hopes Spencer Reid shows up because truth is, you only threw this party for him…

A/N: ngl writing this gave me bad flashbacks and now I never want to drink again…(I’m still going to)

BYR(b4 u Reid): Alcohol, mentions of drunk people, drunk kissing (yes lawd), awkward Spencer, season 1 Spencer, reader is over 20, no use of y/n, and sexual content. Lmk if I'm missing anything.

It was getting later into the night, people were stumbling around, dancing, taking shots, and playing beer pong. It had now become a full-blown party, and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

You were a little buzzed, not too much. You were pacing yourself, holding off. You were waiting for someone. He promised he'd come. And Spencer Reid never broke a promise.

Especially not today. Not on your birthday.

“Birthday girl isn’t even drunk yet! This is not good.” Your roomate Sarah shouted, clearly several drinks in. “I’m waiting for someone.” You replied, sipping from your cup.

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re waiting on that nervous little FBI chihuahua.” Your mouth fell open slightly. “Don’t be rude. He’s sweet. And yes, I am waiting.”

She sighed dramatically. “Well, good luck with that. This is definitely not the kind of place he’d show up to. You’re going to get stood up.”

You shook your head. Spencer wouldn’t do that. If he wasn’t coming, he’d at least call. He’d explain.

Still, as the party kept going and the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but feel the little twist in your stomach. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he got too nervous. This really wasn’t his scene.

Maybe the party was a bad idea.

You sighed, slipping into your room. Thankfully, it was empty. No couples, no drunken chaos. Just your stuff, your bed, and the hum of bass through the walls.

You sat at your vanity, looking at yourself in the mirror. You’d put effort into tonight. Found the perfect dress, something cute but not over the top, just enough to feel confident.

You knew Spencer didn’t care about appearances like most people. That’s part of why you liked him so much. But still, you wanted him to see you at your best.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. It was silly to get this upset over a guy. You told yourself you’d take a few more drinks and forget about it in the morning.

Then your door creaked open.

“Sarah, I’ll be out in a bit.” You said without looking. But then-

“Hey.”

You turned quickly, and there he was.

Your whole face lit up. “Spencer!” You squealed, rushing to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He froze just for a second before placing his hands nervously and gently on your waist.

“You came! I was worried, I thought maybe…” you pulled back just enough to look at him. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to show up.”

“You were worried about me not showing up?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course I was! You are my main guest.” You beamed at him. He blinked like he couldn’t quite process your words. You were always open about how you felt, always flirting, always dropping not-so-subtle hints. But somehow, Spencer Reid, certified genius, 187 IQ, turned into a socially anxious mess whenever you did.

It wasn’t that he didn’t notice. He just wasn’t sure how to reciprocate it back in a way that wasn’t so awkward. You made flirting seem so effortless, so easy. He on the other hand would just make a total fool of himself.

You tugged his hand. “Come on, we’re taking a shot.”

But he didn’t budge. You looked back and saw the nerves written all over his face. “Everything okay?”

“I,um, I don’t know anyone here. And I’ve never… drank before.” He admitted.

You tilted your head, smiling at him softly. “Aw, I get to pop your cherry?” You teased, then quickly added. “I’m kidding Spence. You don’t have to drink. We can just hang out and laugh at the ones who had too much.”

His eyes softened. “I don't want you to be bored. It's your birthday.”

“Well you're here so I won't be bored.” you said sincerely. “No, it's okay… I want us to have fun. I’ll get over it.”

“Spencer we don't have to, I promise you,” you assured him, looking deep into his eyes so he knew how serious you were. “I want to.” He replied.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take baby sips first.”

And then, to his surprise, you kissed his cheek. He blushed instantly.

You led him out into the crowd, fingers still laced with his, grabbing two bottles. “We can sip on these until you get a bit more comfortable.” You said into his ear, he nodded.

You then introduced him to a few friends, watching his posture shift slowly, the tension starting to ease once he realized no one was judging him. If anything, your friends seemed impressed with how highly you spoke of him. He noticed the way you held onto his arm, how you made him feel like he belonged.

“How’re you feeling?” You asked as the two of you stepped outside for some air.

“I feel… good. You know a lot of people.”

“Yeah, I tried to keep it small but, well, word got around.”

“I think it’s fascinating. That you’re so comfortable with people.” You looked up at him, smiling. “Some people think I talk too much.”

“I like it. I like listening to you talk.” He said it like it surprised even him. You blushed. “Really?”

He nodded, then straightened up. “Actually… I think I’m ready for something stronger.”

You grinned. “Alright, big guy. Let’s go.”

Inside, you let him pick the drink. You poured two shots and handed him his cup.

“You ready?”

He gave a tiny nod, and you clinked cups. The moment he drank it, he coughed, making the worst face. You handed him a chaser immediately.

“Thanks.” He said hoarsely, lips pink and eyes wide.

Soon, he loosened up even more. You could tell, he held your hand more confidently, his hand occasionally finding your waist. You liked it. He seemed…freer.

“Beer pong?” You suggested. He gave you a look. “I don’t know. I’m not great at throwing things.”

“You’re good at math. I’m sure there’s some equation you can solve to get it right.” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure the game requires physical coordination, too.”

You looked him up and down. “Well, physically, you look good.” You teased giving him a thumbs up. He blushed and you led him to the table.

Shockingly, you two were winning. Granted, your opponents were very, very drunk, but still.

When Spencer made the second-to-last cup, you cheered, high-fiving him. Your fingers interlaced and lingered, until he pulled away.

You turned toward the table, ready to shoot your shot until your felt Spencer’s hand find your waist, then slid down your back to the hem of your dress slightly adjusting it because it had ridden up a bit.

Your breath caught.

So did his.

He couldn’t believe he just did that, neither could you.

You won the game. Of course.

You guys took celebratory shots, Spencer was getting better and better each time.

Spencer sat on the couch and gestured to his lap. “What?” You asked, heart skipping. He didn’t answer, just gently pulled you down to sit on him.

One of his arm wrapped around your waist, resting on your thigh, while the other interlaced with your hand.

“Are you comfortable?” He whispered into your ear. “I always am when I’m with you.”

He looked up at you smiling. Butterflies. Everywhere.

You both sat, just watching people, content in the buzz of the room, the safety of his presence.

His fingers were now smoothing over your skin, rubbing gently, innocently, on your thigh.

You knew he probably didn’t even realize what he was doing, but it made your thoughts spiral. Your heart beat faster.

You both sat together for a little longer, having conversation about everything, your guys cheeks were flush but starting to slowly cool down. You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, soft but nervous, like he was building up the courage to say something.

“I, um… I have a present for you.” He said quietly, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your heart skipped a beat. “Spence, you didn’t need to-”

“I wanted to.” He cut in, his voice firm but still shy. His eyes searched yours. “Can I give it to you? In your room?”

Your stomach fluttered. You nodded, lips tugging into a smile as you stood and offered your hand. He took it, his fingers trembling slightly against yours as you led the way to your room.

You shut the door behind him, and took a seat at the edge of your bed, and he joined you. Close enough for your thighs to brush. You watched, your chest tightening, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it carefully, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a tiny diamond that shimmered under the soft light.

“Spencer…” your voice came out barely above a whisper. “This is beautiful.”

“You like it?” He asked, eyes hopeful, and nervous. “I love it.” You said genuinely, looking at him. “It’s perfect. I’m wearing this everyday.”

His mouth twitched into a small, relieved smile. “Can I put it on you?”

You turned without hesitation, he brushed your hair out the way, his fingers lightly touching your skin, featherlight and cautions, and that little contact sent a warm ripple down your spine.

He clasped it at the nape of your neck with slow, precise movements. His fingers lightly ran down your spine, and you turned to him, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you. I love it so much, Spence.”

“I’m really glad.” He said, his voice soft, eyes a little stunned by your closeness. His hand smoothed up and down your back, you pull back a little.

Your guys faces only inches apart, eyes low, and dazed. Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore, he was tired of depriving himself of you.

His hand came up, gently cradling your jaw, his touch careful. Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, hesitant, he was scared you were going to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him back like your life depended on it, you had been waiting so long for this moment and you were even willing to wait longer. Your desperation flattered him. He never imagined he could make someone feel this way.

“I’ve wanted this so bad.” You murmured against his lips, brushing your thumb along his cheeks. “Really?” He asked, you just nodded and deepened the kiss more.

His hands found your waist, bolder now, pulling you onto him, your words had given him confidence. You settled there easily, legs on both sides, hands cradling his face as your kisses turned more insistent.

You pushed him down onto your bed, hovering over him, your lips moving from his lips down to his jaw. When his hands dropped from your waist, unsure again, you gently grabbed them and brought them right back to where they belonged.

You continued leaving a trail down his neck, teeth grazing his skin, listening to the tiny breathy sounds he couldn’t hold in. You barely heard it but, it was there. Your name, a whisper that lit something wild inside of you.

You reached for his tie, loosening it, and discarding it somewhere on the floor in your room. Your fingers hovered over the buttons of his shirt, you glanced up at him, silently asking for permission.

He nodded slowly, jaw tight with want, and you undid them, one by one, revealing more of him. He propped himself on his elbows, and pulled you into him for another kiss.

You slowly slid the shirt off of him, moving the fabric off of his arms. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your dress, dragging it up slowly, cautiously, until the edge of your underwear peeked.

You broke the kiss to take in this sight of him, your fingers exploring the planes of his chest, the softness of his skin. You planted kisses on him, over his heart, and when he tilted your chin up with his finger, his lips found yours again, hungrier.

You felt him, hard beneath you, pressing up against you, and instinctively, your hips rolled down against him, pulling a surprised moan from his mouth.

“Spencer…” you breathed out, your voice barely hanging on. His hands gripped your waist again, then slid lower to your ass, guiding your hips as he moved you over him with more intention. His breath was shaky, his voice low and warm and desperate.

He said your name, like a confession.

You grind your hips down again, his hands gripped you tighter, encouraging you to keep going, to keep moving against him. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, mouth parted in disbelief at the pleasure that rolled through him.

He looked completely undone, and it was just from you sitting on him, fully clothed.

You leaned down, kissing along the column of his throat, letting your lips linger just beneath his ear. “You okay?” You whispered, breath warm against his skin.

He nodded quickly, then stammered out. “Y-yeah. Definitely. More than okay.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh, because the way he looked, completely wrecked already, was maybe the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You sat up slightly, hands trailing down his chest, appreciating every inch of him.

“You’re really something else.” You said, brushing your thumb across his lower lip. He caught your hand, kissed your palm. So gentle and slow it made your breath hitch.

“You’re the one that’s something else.” He murmured, voice hoarse. “You’re perfect, everything you do.”

That made your chest ache, you leaned down, kissed him again, slow, deep, and meaningful. You needed him to feel what words can't say.

Spencer grabbed your waist, gently guided you onto your back, moving over you cautiously.

His mouth moved to the side of your neck, your dress slipped higher as you spread your legs slightly, letting him fit between them.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, pulling him to your lips. Spencer’s hand slid slowly up your body, tentative but curious, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress as it rose. When he finally pulled back to look at you, really look, his eyes landed on your black lace underwear, and he just admired.

He couldn’t believe this was real, you felt like a dream.

His fingers brushed over the fabric, hesitant. Gentle. You watched the awe on his face, the way he took you in like you were something sacred.

“Do you… want to take them off?” You softly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darted up to meet yours, wide and startled. His chest rose and fell faster now, the weight of the moment clearly settling over him.

“We don’t have to.” You said quickly. “We can take things slow, Spencer.”

He swallowed hard, and gave you a nod. “I-I want this. I really do. I just… don’t want this to be…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t want it to feel like a one-time thing. You’re not that for me.”

You nodded, smiling at him, your chest warm. “I know. Me neither.”

With a soft exhale, he gently reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it back down to cover you up.

He moved off of you, grabbed your hand pulling you up on your feet. His hands were careful, reverent, as he adjusted the strap of your dress onto your shoulder.

You reached for his shirt, draping it back over his shoulders and slowly buttoning it up, watching his cheeks flush a soft red under your gaze.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“Nothing.” You said, smiling.

He hesitated, then asked. “Did you… want to keep going?”

You but your lip, nodding. “Of course I did. But I agree. When we do decide to… take that next step… it should be special. Not with a bunch of drunk people stumbling around downstairs.”

He laughed quietly, relieved. “Yeah..”

You kissed him again, softly.

“Should we go back to the party?” You asked, fingers laced with his. He nodded. “You go for now, I’ll be out there in a bit.” He tells you, you smirked at him knowing why he was going to stay back.

“Alright, if you need any help or anything just give me a call.” You teased, he looked at you shaking his head at your teasing. “Very funny.” He sarcastically said, but you caught the small smile tugging at his lips.

You opened your bedroom door and stepped out, flashing him one more smile before closing it behind you.

“Where have you been?” Sarah asked the second you turned around. “I was with Spencer.” You replied casually.

Her eyes widen. “Did you guys just-”

“No, we didn’t.” You cut her off quickly. “Let’s step away, come on.”

You led her away from your room, and thankfully she had gotten distracted by someone else and wandered off.

You glanced around the house, realizing how tired you were of the party. Your home felt overcrowded, loud, and no longer fun. You were close to calling the cops on your own party, but luckily the neighbors beat you to it.

You stood outside as an officer explained the noise complaint and curfew.

“Alright, sir. I’ll shut it down.” You said with a polite smile. He nodded, and you waved him off.

Back inside, you cut the music and made the announcement. “Alright guys, party’s over.” You watched everyone slowly trickle out. “Sorry.” You said to a few as they passed.

Spencer found you shortly after. He looked concerned. “What happened?”

“Police got called.” You told him with a shrug.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled. “Honestly, I was about to call them myself if people didn’t start leaving soon.” He laughed, and you joined him.

Once it was just the two of you, and your very drunk roommates who had knocked out in their rooms, you both started cleaning up a little.

“It’s a mess.” You said, tossing red solo cups into the trash bag. “Yeah. People are gross.” He muttered as he poured out a half-full beer. “Thank you for helping me.” You said sincerely. “No problem.” He replied, flashing you a sweet smile.

After most of the mess was cleaned, you both settled on the couch. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping comfortably around you.

“Can you spend the night?” You hesitantly asked, titling your head up to look at him. He nodded almost instantly. “Of course.”

You smiled, but he suddenly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Left something in the kitchen. I’ll be back.” He assured you. You nodded, watching him walk off. When he returned, your eyes lit up. He was holding a small cake with lit candles. It was your birthday cake, the one you had completely forgotten about.

He started singing softly, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling.

“Make a wish.” He said once he finished, and you did. You closed your eyes and blew out the flames.

He held the cake out toward you. “Take a bite.”

You eyes him suspiciously but leaned in anyway, and sure enough, he gently pushed the cake into your face. Just a little frosting dotted your nose and chin.

“Spencer!” You gasped, laughing as you lightly hit his arm. He laughed too, setting the cake down, and then leaned in to wipe the frosting from your skin with his finger. You watched him as he brought it to his lips, sucking it clean.

He moved closer, pressing his lips to yours.

“Happy birthday.” He whispered as he pulled back just slightly. You smiled at him. “Thank you.” And then you kissed him again, slower, softer…

Dividers from @hyuneskkami !!

Writing this was fun!! I love bold Spencer! 🤭 also listen to the song, I just rediscovered it and became obsessed again. Live, Love, Laugh Charli xcx <3

Thank you to all who reblog & comment!! I really appreciate it sm!

~ Tag List ~

@samslovebug @alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

[lay-z]

battered and bruised | 1/3

Synopsis: Captain Price won't tolerate you risking your life on a mission again.

Pairing: alpha!Captain John Price x fem!omega!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse; comfort fic; humour; blood and injury; morphine/medical drug usage; fraternising; teammates/friends to lovers; dub-con; sexual/suggestive content; a/b/o dynamics; cussing; fluff (Some of these apply to upcoming parts!)

Word count: 2.2k

🖤 masterlist

Location: Hereford/UK | TF-141 HQ Date: Friday, 24/01/2025 Time: 00:37 a.m.

A door is flung open and then you’re harshly pushed and shoved, nearly sending you stumbling and crashing in your heavy boots before you barely catch yourself on the edge of a sturdy table, head spinning as your eyelids blink rapidly. 

Your sight is somewhat blurry, dust and eyeblack smudging your vision, white-speckled stars dancing and flickering in the corners of your eyes in the semi-darkness of what must be some vacant, random briefing room. 

The door slams shut behind you with more force than necessary, making the surrounding windows tremble in their frames, and then the room is filled with thick, accumulating tension as you feel Captain Price’s piercing glare on the back of your skull, his tangy scent surrounding the space, making you bristle like an animal caught in a trap. 

His voice is sharp and jagged, a combat knife slicing through heavy silence when he snaps at you: “You wanna explain that little stunt you pulled earlier, Sergeant?” 

“Oi–!” You huff, rolling your aching shoulders underneath your heavy tac gear as you turn to face him on wobbly knees; swiftly pulling your black balaclava off in one smooth motion and taking a greedy breath while tucking the fabric into an empty pocket of your cargo pants; revealing your dishevelled hair along with a thin, bleeding cut on your right cheekbone. 

“We finished the mission successfully, innit?” You counter briskly like the bloody smartass you are, though you usually never dare to adopt a tone like this with Price, not even in the privacy of twosomeness, and you gulp a gasp of air, eyes widening as you realize your mistake. 

This isn't John, your packmate and friend, but Price, your alpha superior. 

Price’s steel blue eyes darken another shade as he steps forward with a grim frown, tilting his head slightly, the look almost murderous. He stops in front of you, tips of your chunky boots touching now, before he grabs your chin with his gloved hand, lifting your bruised face up towards him. 

“You almost got yourself bloody killed, you goddamn fool!” He snarls, eyes scanning over the cut on your cheek before he lets go of you roughly. “You weren’t supposed to get that close; do you understand me? Never!” 

You tut, scrunching your nose in a small snarl like a disobedient pup baring its baby teeth at his rough manhandling, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes while your supple omega skin pounds and burns around the cut, irritated and raw. 

“Sir, I took those fuckers out efficiently, giving you and Gaz the necessary time to take out the main target–” you explain, trying to stay calm though your voice keeps wavering, “Call me a fool all you want, but you know I’m right, Captain.” 

Price growls at you as you continue to talk back to him; eyes hardening and turning to a shade of navy blue while his jaw clenches so tightly, you’re surprised it didn’t break yet. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, trying to calm himself down as his alpha pheromones turn too heady and aggressive, causing your gut to clench and your throat to tighten as you hold back a submissive whine. 

“That wasn’t part of the bloody plan, and you know it, Sergeant! Shouldn’t you be better at following orders by now? Ya could’ve gotten yourself–” He stops mid-sentence, his buff chest deflates with a rushed exhale, lids narrowing and zeroing in on the gnarly cut and bruises on your face once more. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath and the roughness in his voice makes you shiver in your boots before he reaches up with both hands to cup your face this time, gentler and tenderly; thick thumb lightly brushing away coagulated blood, making you wince and flinch, and melt simultaneously. 

“That needs to be taken care of, dove,” he says much quieter, his anger now replaced with worry as his frown softens and the wrinkle between his brows smoothens out. 

A tingling sensation spreads over your face, making it feel hot beneath his touch, like someone tugging on your hair so tightly, your skin is pulled taut while the tips of daggers are wrenched into your eye sockets, prodding at your brain and scraping inside your skull. The sudden pain makes you dizzy and sway.  

Time slows down for you, crawling along like thick tar, though, it merely takes seconds. 

With fluttering lashes, your eyes flicker up to stare blankly at his ruggedly handsome, dirty face; pain and adrenaline lowering your inhibitions and qualms, all reason melting from your brain and running out of your ears in an instant as you catch another whiff of his alpha scent. 

Cold bones covered in rich dark chocolate, wrapped in ripe tobacco leaves and presented to you. 

“Sergeant?” 

Swallowing down a mouthful of foamy saliva, your black pupils dilate as your wide doe-eyes flit down to stare at his lips as John speaks up again, and in a moment of weakness, your omega instincts manage to slither from your grasp despite the strong suppressants you take religiously and you reach out to clutch and curl your gloved fingers into the front of his tac vest to pull him to your level for a rash, first kiss. 

John freezes the second your soft lips connect with his; initial clumsiness balanced by raw fervency make his chest rumble with a pleased growl, and he finds himself kissing you back for a second, fingers carding through your hair and cupping the back of your neck, applying some pressure; sighing as he finally gets that ardently longing taste of you before his brain screeches to a halt; duty and regulations forcing him to act and contain his alpha nature, to be the reasonable one again. 

He pulls back with a sharp curse, lips smacking and stealing another peck before a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to yours. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He breathes harshly, uncurling his mammoth hands from you reluctantly before stepping backwards, running a hand through his short, brown hair in frustration. “Bloody Christ, Sergeant,” he huffs, “–you’re not... We’re not supposed to–What are we doing here, huh?” 

The feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of him melting on your tongue like hard candy, bursting on your tastebuds, and his beard scratching your sensitive skin, was enough to distract you from the throbbing pain and fuzziness in your head momentarily, though now it’s hitting you again full force. 

Inhaling a sharp breath through clenched teeth, your eyes widen as you stammer for an answer: “I–I–I’m–” you stutter, heart now hammering in your throat as your ears start ringing. “I’m sorry! I–I don’t know–ah!” 

You wince as you pinch the bridge of your nose harshly, and John can merely stare and watch you struggle to speak while his heartrate increases, strong muscle slamming into his ribcage underneath his layers of gear and clothing; both thoughts and emotions all over the place uncharacteristically after you’d kissed him without so much than a friendly premonition. 

Then, he steps forward again, pushing your hips back against the sturdy table behind you, large hands grasping the front of your tac vest more desperate than he’d like to admit. “You’re sorry?” He repeats in disbelief. “You kiss your superior just like that and you’re bloody sorry, Sergeant?” 

“Y-Yes, sir. I–ah... Fuck,” you curse and groan, squeezing your eyes shut as the splitting headache worsens; barely registering the way John has grabbed you by the shoulders now. “Please–” you whine, unable to keep the pathetic sound concealed this time while you reach out to get a hold of his strong forearms, finding purchase against the table as you lean back.  

As soon as your soft whine is torn from your delicate throat, alarm bells go off inside the Captain’s head as he ignores the pleasant shudder running down his spine and focuses on the need to protect and take care of you blossoming behind his ribcage instead.  

“How are you feeling?” He asks, eyes filled with worry as he witnesses you practically falling apart in front of him and not knowing why is driving him mad already. “Jesus, you look like you’re gonna pass out any second now, dove.”  

Wrapping an arm tightly around your waist despite the bulky gear covering both your bodies, John pulls your smaller frame as close as he can get you; securing you against him. “Let me help you, okay? I’m taking you to the medbay. Just breathe for me and calm down. We can’t risk you getting sick–” 

You feel even weaker in the knees now, but you manage to loop your arms around his neck somehow while you take eager little sniffs of his calming scent at this proximity, and as soon as John notices you trying to seek out his comfort, he swiftly unzips his combat jacket and tugs at the tight collar of his compression shirt to expose more of his scent to you, mumbling to himself. “Damn it, honey, why is my life never easy with you?”  

A pleasant tingle runs down the length of his spine when the tip of your nose grazes along the curve of his neck cutely, narrowly missing his sensitive scent gland as you breathe in his scent, and John’s jaw clenches while his mind short-circuits at the featherlight contact. He should be able to resist it, being an experienced SAS Captain and all that, but he’s slowly realizing how powerless he is when you’re all submissive and vulnerable for him like this. 

“Hit my head... pretty badly when–when I grappled and–an' took out that ah... one bloke,” you explain in a muttered murmur while John hums affirmingly and starts leading you out of the briefing room, down the long hallway towards the nearest elevator, making you lean heavily against him with his arm curled around your waist below your vest. His jaw is clenched tightly, his face set in a frown once more as he tries to keep his simmering anger at bay. 

Given the chance, he’d rip that fellow apart with his bare hands. 

Pulled away from his violent thoughts, his attention shifts again when the bright fluorescent lights along the ceiling crackle and switch on automatically, filling the eerie silence inside the building at this hour, and causing you to groan pitifully as you squeeze your eyes shut immediately. “Ouch... Please, make them stop!” You mewl before twisting and turning your face to bury into his shoulder for protection like a lost, helpless kitten, and John feels something else stir in his chest, something heavy and warm that slows him down. 

“You hit your head, and you didn’t tell anyone?” He hisses, though it’s lacking harshness, and he gently pushes his hand into your hair, along the side of your head until his fingers shield over your temple as he tries to block out some of the light. “Fuck me, Sergeant, you’re too bloody stubborn, ya muppet.” 

He’s never truly witnessed you acting like an omega; always too guarded, too stoic and professional; constantly drugged up with military issued suppressants and scent blockers while the knowledge about that has always sort of peeved your alpha teammates, including John himself, leaving them worried and itching to order having you to throw them away recklessly, make you go natural, knowing each of them would more than willingly take care of you. 

Almost subconsciously, John leans in and sniffs your hair; catching a slight whiff of your scent, though it’s still heavily suppressed, and he swallows down the rumble in his chest, ignoring the flutter in his stomach as he thinks back on that kiss. “And we’re gonna have a long discussion about that kiss, too, when you stop being so bloody delirious.” 

With another breathy whine of pain, you practically curl into his side, holding on tightly despite his cussing and scolding; despite him being your superior. “Don’t cuss at me,” you whimper, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as he keeps guiding you towards the elevator that will take you down to the medbay. “I’m sorry... for the kiss, John.” 

John croons lowly in his chest as you apologize, trying to soothe your pain and distress. He hates that he can’t smell you, which means he can’t read you properly; it's like trying to read the most interesting novella through a veil. And he hates your apology, too, not wanting to hear it.  

He huffs sharply as he adjusts his grip around your waist, stopping in front of the closed elevator doors before pushing the button for it with his free hand. “Don’t talk back to me, you little brat.” John straightens and grumbles half-heartedly, trying to keep his professional demeanour up here out in the open around HQ, though the smallest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when your soft snicker reaches his ears. 

The elevator doors open with the faintest gust of wind, and he catches another whiff of your scent, though– 

His heart drops into a pit as he freezes, pupils dilating instantly.  

A bouquet of wildflowers, resting on a pile of fresh white linens, surrounded by an assortment of candied fruits; succulent, soft, and utterly saccharine.  

[bluesunss]

Little fool Choi Su-bong x F! Reader

Fools part 1

part 2

summary: you’ve got a fever and text your best friend ‘hel me, m feelin hot’. he’s high and interprets it as you wanting him. but when he comes over it ends up being more wholesome than you (him) think.

heads-up: dirty minded Su-bong, idiot with a crush, pretty wholesome, bad at feelings, clumsy, au with no games, brief mention of pills, confident reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I’ve never used tumblr before, hope I’m doing this right! also English isn’t my first language so please correct me if you notice any typo :3 I’m open to requests if anybody likes this and would like to see more/something different!

"Hel me, m feelin hot."

When Su-bong first saw the message, he momentarily let go of the shisha, his eyes widening.

"Yo, what’s up, bro?"

Two of the guys around him snickered, the fruity, intoxicating smoke curling from his nostrils.

"A girl?"

A dark-haired guy, whose name he had long forgotten, craned his neck over his phone.

"Oooohh. Getting laid. I seee."

Su-bong stared at the screen. Usually so chatty, words suddenly got lost in his throat. The others lost interest in his phone, yet he kept rereading the message. "M feelin hot." His trousers tightened slightly, and he swallowed a groan.

"Shit, guys, I gotta go."

He rose, giving them a quick dap, and they smirked, mimicking breasts and an obscene gesture with their hands and mouths. He flipped them off and stumbled out of the bar. Could it be? No. He reread the message. "Hel me, m feelin hot." Were you in heat? Your period had ended about a week ago - you complained about it constantly - and he knew ovulation or whatever it was could make women... desperate. Could that be the reason? The thought sent a rush of exhilaration through him.

"Fuckkk," he exhaled.

His pants were growing uncomfortably tight. Clenching his cross in his palm, he flagged down a cab, reciting your address while attempting to stifle the impure thoughts unfurling in his mind. But he was burning up. The moment the taxi halted, he fumbled for old, crumpled bills in his pocket, shoved them at the driver, and stumbled out.

Then, suddenly, he doubled back and entered a convenience store, purchasing a small square packet. Protection. Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe. You had been very close friends for over a year, best friends, maybe too, ever since you, a nurse, had helped him when he’d gotten a pill lodged in his nostril. It hadn’t exactly been funny, but you had stifled a laugh while assisting him, smiling warmly. He had quite enjoyed the glimpse of cleavage beneath your uniform, the sight of your lips when you lowered your mask. But you had a boyfriend. And even though he had managed to dig up your number from the hospital database, you had blocked him.

Then, a few weeks later, he had spotted you at a bar, kissing some random guy. He had seized the opportunity to inform you that your "boyfriend" was downright hideous. You had laughed, telling him it wasn’t your boyfriend - you had just been dumped. You had unblocked him that night, and the two of you had been texting ever since.

You two never slept together. That is why, one, he was so damn confused, and well, two, that it had blossomed into something resembling a friendship. Getting along well, having inside jokes, he wasn’t sure he wanted that ruined for just a one-night stand. But damn, was he turned on right now.

The idea of sleeping with you, not sleeping with anyone, but you, it was so new and so… so good. And it made his heart flutter in a way it hadn’t before. Never. Which is why he was twice as confused now. Why was he feeling like this? Maybe, just maybe because you were great friends. Yeah, that was it. It could only be this.

Sure, it was sometimes ambiguous. And, well, you in scrubs drove him insane. But friendship wasn’t too bad. Especially when you allowed him to hug you, letting him nuzzle into your chest like a child. "Such a kid," you used to laugh. He was cute, but so immature.

You were so out of his league. Outgoing, confident, you had a job and not any job, you were a talented nurse, and you were funny and smart. Maybe that is why his heart beat so fast. Of course.

Now, however, his vision blurred. He stepped out of the store, unfastened his cross, and swallowed a pill to regain composure. Fuck. Nothing was strong enough to quell this fire.

Crossing the street, he reached your building, pushed the door - then cursed, remembering he had to pull (he always got it wrong). He took the stairs two at a time.

Shit. Triple shit. Standing before your door, he felt disoriented. Utterly disoriented. His heart pounded, palms slick, throat parched, like a teenager before his first crush. God. You were fine. But not just that. You were witty, and he adored your laughter. You even laughed at his dumb jokes.

He rang the doorbell.

No answer. Anxiety gnawed at him - had he misread the situation? He rang again, then checked his phone. The message was still there. Then why weren’t you-

He suddenly remembered he had your keys. He rummaged through his pocket, mistakenly pulling out his motorcycle keys before finally finding the right ones. Turning them in the lock, he stepped inside your small studio, only to find it empty. Panic swelled in his chest.

"Yo? Señorita?"

Fumbling for the light switch, he flipped it on - only to be met with utter chaos. Your apartment was in complete disarray, the air thick and stifling.

"Where are you? Fuck."

He set the convenience store bag atop a drawer and began searching. That’s when he noticed - the bathroom door, slightly ajar. And light flickered from within.

He panicked.

Then-

There you were. Gripping the faucet, face ablaze, lips trembling.

"My God, what’s wrong?"

He rushed forward, and you collapsed into his arms. Your breath, hot against his chest, trembled as you murmured, "Hot," "Fever," and "Lost."

Poor thing.

Biting his lip at his own idiocy, he carefully helped you out of the bathroom. He had no idea what he was doing - hesitated, then finally settled on laying you down on the couch before fetching a damp towel.

A feeble chuckle escaped your lips as you exhaled what little air remained in your lungs - because he hadn’t wrung out the towel, it was drenched, and he had grabbed the overused one hanging by the sink. That clumsy idiot.

He sat cross-legged beside the couch, back to you, fiddling with his cross.

"You want a pill? Might help."

You feebly smacked his shoulder, mumbling something incoherent. He turned, finding you feverish and drenched in sweat.

"Want me to open the window? Run downstairs for some painkillers? Or maybe give you a massage? Hey, señorita, don’t die on me!" he whined as you shut your eyes.

You mumbled again.

"M’sorry, I didn’t understand could you like repea-“

"Shut… up and come here," you managed.

His heartbeat went wild.

Trembling, he hesitantly perched at the edge of the couch, leaving a respectful gap. His back still faced you.

"Hey, don’t tell me you’ve never been in bed with a girl. Lie down and talk."

Well, you weren’t exactly wrong. But this was different. You weren’t just "a girl." And after tonight’s message, his mind definitely crossed a line, making it painful - humiliating, even - to face you.

But then, your feverish, trembling hand grasped his. And his whole body ignited.

Finally, with great effort, he lay down, swallowing hard, now facing you. Space was tight. You radiated heat. Then, without warning, you tucked your head against his chest, pressing your overheated skin into him, breathing laboriously. You burned against him, and his chest fluttered with butterflies.

"Hold me," you whispered. "Talk. Say something."

Tentatively, his fingers found your waist, pulling you in, holding your body weakly against his.

You gazed up at him, hands clutching his shirt, eyes wide, fever-bright. Sweat clung to your hair, strands plastered to your forehead, and beneath your long lashes, this gleaming gaze became the most breathtaking sight he had ever beheld.

Shit.

Desperate to steady his hammering heart, he forced words out.

"I… I’m working on a new track for the Underground rap battle. I really think I can win this time. It’s good. The manager says it could blow up."

Gradually, he relaxed, holding you closer, feeling your breathing even out against him. Your body slackened, and you nuzzled into his shirt, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and shisha.

"Hey, señorita, you should come watch me. I’m too sexy when I sing. Apparently, I sweat from my forehead, and it’s super hot. That’s what all the girls say when they hit on me. There’s a lot, you kno-"

He looked down.

Against him, you had drifted off.

A soft, barely-there snore. A faint trickle of drool. Stray strands of hair. Flushed cheeks.

And just like that, he forgot all about the small, unopened packet at the threshold, the heat your message had sparked within him, and focused solely on the languid softness of your form.

It suddenly struck him. More than any of his dirty thoughts, what he had truly longed for was this. Overcome with a mix of confusion and longing, he murmured a quiet "goodnight" that was swallowed by the surrounding darkness, his yawn stretching before he succumbed to the comforting pull of your embrace.

The next morning, when you awoke first, you were in full vitality. You sprang from the couch, flung open the windows to let in the air - it was stifling - and made your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a refreshing glass of orange juice, after gently covering your friend.

Then, on the entryway shelf, you noticed a small bag, which you opened, revealing a distinctively familiar package.

You snatched your phone from the counter, suddenly recalling the message you had written. A soft laugh escaped your lips as you returned the protections to their original place, deciding to act oblivious, eyes gleaming, before grabbing the juice to cool off.

He was rather endearing, that little fool.

ayy lmk what you guys think

[theonottsbxtch]

MATCH MADE IN HELL PT1 | MV1

an: i am slowly finally finishing off all my requests and this was one of them, i had so much fun and my dear friend loved reading this so i hope i did justice to the request. anyway max hmu x

wc: 2.2k

part two | part three

THE CHAMPAGNE WAS STILL STICKY when she found out.

She had spent the past hour celebrating—laughing, grinning until her cheeks ached, drinking in the sight of thousands of fans chanting her name. World Champion. The first female Formula 1 World Champion. The words tasted sweeter than the bubbly that had been poured over her head on the podium.

And then it all shattered.

She hadn’t even been looking for it. Her phone had been left abandoned in the motorhome while she basked in the euphoria of her win. It was only when she returned, still buzzing from the adrenaline, that she saw the messages. A handful of texts from a friend, a link, and a simple message that made her stomach turn cold.

I’m so sorry. You deserve better.

Curious, still lightheaded with joy, she clicked the link.

And there it was. Photos. A grainy shot of Nathan at a club in Monaco three months ago, another in Dubai during the summer break, then one just last week in Austin. Always with the same woman. A brunette with legs for days and a familiar smirk. Someone from the team, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Her throat closed up, fingers trembling as she scrolled, every image a knife to the gut. It wasn’t just a drunken mistake. It was calculated. Repeated. Lied about.

Nathan fucking Donovan. Her teammate. Her fiancé. The man she had trusted with her heart, her career, her future.

The sound of the paddock outside was muffled, drowned out by the rushing in her ears as she dropped her phone. For years, she had turned down every offer from Red Bull. They had been calling since her first podium, since her first win. They had wanted her, but she had always said no. Because of Nathan. Because she had wanted to win with him. Because they were a team, a partnership, a power couple.

She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

She had been a fool.

By the time she lifted her head, the decision was made. She wiped her damp hands on her race suit and reached for her phone. The Mercedes crest on her chest suddenly felt suffocating, like a brand that no longer belonged to her.

Her fingers moved with a steadiness that surprised her as she typed out a message to her agent.

Call Red Bull. I’m ready to talk.

That was six months ago.

Now, she had her foot down on full throttle, fighting her teammate.

The roar of the Red Bull RB20’s engine vibrated through her bones as she flicked the car into the corner, tyres screaming as they clung to the edge of grip. Ahead of her, her teammate—Max Verstappen, two-time world champion and an arrogant bastard on his best days—held position, defending like his life depended on it.

It had been like this all season. A relentless, brutal fight for the title. They had the fastest car on the grid, Red Bull’s latest engineering marvel, but they weren’t teammates in any real sense of the word. No teamwork. No cooperation. Just war.

And she was winning.

Six months ago, she'd walked out of Mercedes with her head held high, ringless finger curled into a fist. The world had lost its mind. The media had spun its stories, her ex-fiancé—Nathan Donovan, lying, cheating, spineless piece of shit—had played the heartbroken victim, and the fans had taken sides. But she hadn’t cared then, and she didn’t care now.

Let them talk.

She’d spent years at Mercedes, loyal to a fault, standing by Nathan’s side because she’d thought they were a team, on and off the track. And he’d thrown it away. Lied to her face. Made a fool of her.

So, she’d made sure to humiliate him in return.

Signing with Red Bull had been the first strike. The second had been selling the place they lived in, after all it was in her name - not her problem that he had nowhere to live for two months.

Now, the third was coming—because with two races left in the season, she was leading the championship. And Nathan? A non-factor.

The thought made her press harder on the throttle. The car twitched under her, skimming the edge of disaster, but she held it steady. She was close. A tenth behind Verstappen, closing fast.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” her race engineer crackled through the radio.

She smirked.

Too late.

The gap was nothing now. Less than a tenth.

She was right on Max’s gearbox, weaving slightly in his mirrors, making sure he knew she was there. The car felt alive beneath her, the Red Bull’s aerodynamics biting into the tarmac, begging to be unleashed.

Final lap. Final sector.

Max was still defending, but she could see the cracks. He was too focused on keeping her behind, positioning his car to block, reacting rather than attacking. And that was his mistake.

She took the wider line into the penultimate corner, knowing he’d cover the inside. Then, in a move that was either genius or madness, she lifted off ever so slightly, making him think he’d done enough—before throwing everything into the exit.

Tyres screamed, her car twitched—then hooked. She got the drive she needed, rocketing past him just before the final turn.

Too late for him to do anything.

The chequered flag waved. She crossed the line first.

“YES!” Her own voice rang through the radio, pure adrenaline and triumph. “Fucking get in!”

Her engineer was shouting in her ear, the Red Bull garage was on their feet, and somewhere, she knew, Nathan was watching. Watching as she won. Watching as she proved, once again, that she was better than him.

The thought made the victory even sweeter.

She pulled up into parc fermé, hands shaking with the aftershock of adrenaline as she switched off the car. A second later, Max’s Red Bull rolled in beside her, stopping with just enough aggression to make his frustration clear.

She smirked.

Helmet still on, she climbed out, raising a fist to the cheering crowd before stepping onto the scales. Cameras flashed, capturing every second. She could already imagine the headlines.

She turned just as Max yanked off his helmet, dark blonde hair a mess, jaw clenched. He took one look at her, exhaled sharply through his nose, then muttered, “Fucking hell.”

She grinned. “That’s what you get for leaving the door open.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was not a door. That was a crack in the wall.”

She shrugged. “Still got through, didn’t I?”

Max let out a sharp breath, shaking his head, but there was something else in his expression. Not just frustration. Something almost… impressed.

He wouldn’t admit it. Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. But she could see it, clear as day.

And the best part?

No matter how much of an arse he could be, she knew one thing for certain: he hated Nathan as much as she did.

banner-

The post-race press conference was the usual mix of adrenaline, exhaustion, and barely concealed hostility.

She sat in the middle, winner’s seat, hands wrapped around a bottle of water, pretending to listen as the moderator rattled off formalities. Max was to her left, arms crossed, jaw still set in frustration. Charles—third place finisher—was on her right, mostly just happy to be there.

The first few questions were routine. Race strategy, tyre management, overtaking opportunities. She answered smoothly, flashing the occasional smirk at Max whenever someone mentioned her overtake. Each time, his jaw tightened just a little more.

Then, inevitably, someone brought up Nathan.

A journalist from one of the more sensationalist outlets leaned forward, microphone in hand, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“Amazing drive today, congratulations. Obviously, this is a huge result in the championship fight, but I have to ask—do you think your performance this season has been motivated at all by… personal matters? Specifically, your past relationship with Nathan Carter?”

The air in the room shifted.

She had heard a lot of bullshit in these pressers, but this? This was almost impressive in how blatant it was.

She opened her mouth, already crafting the sharpest, most dismissive response possible—

But Max got there first.

He leaned forward, elbow on the table, voice dripping with casual disdain.

“Yeah, mate, I’m sure she’s leading the championship because of her ex. Not because she’s fucking fast or anything.” He raised a brow. “You want to ask me if my performance is motivated by my tragic breakup in 2022? Or is this just reserved for women?”

Silence.

The journalist blinked, momentarily stunned. Then stammered, “I—I was just—”

Max tilted his head. “Just what?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back a smirk.

The moderator swiftly cut in, moving things along, but the damage was done. The clip would be everywhere within the hour, and Max knew it. He settled back in his chair, arms crossed once again, looking completely unbothered.

She glanced at him, just briefly.

Still not friends. But maybe, just maybe, a little less like enemies.

After the press conference, she barely made it two steps out the door before Max fell into step beside her.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, casually twisting the cap off his water bottle.

She snorted. “For what?”

He gave her a pointed look. “For shutting down that absolute cunt before you could say something that’d get you fined.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“Clearly.” He took a sip of water. “But I like watching them.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She wasn’t about to admit it, but watching that journalist’s face crumble had been the highlight of her day—besides the win, obviously. And Max had delivered it with all the effortless arrogance of a man who lived to piss people off.

They reached their driver rooms, the doors right next to each other. She pushed hers open, stepping into the quiet, adrenaline still thrumming in her veins. Her suit was damp with sweat, her body still buzzing from the intensity of the race, but it was a good feeling. A victorious one.

She had just pulled her race suit down to her waist, reaching for a towel, when she heard a door open behind her.

Not hers.

Max’s, probably—except the footsteps that followed weren’t his.

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room.

“Well done. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

Her entire body went rigid.

She turned.

Nathan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face carefully neutral—but his eyes gave him away. Cold. Calculating.

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “What the fuck do you want?”

Nathan stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him. “You need to cut the shit.”

She laughed, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, mate.”

His jaw tightened. “The comments. The narrative you’re letting people run with. It’s damaging my reputation.”

“Your reputation?” She arched a brow. “Pretty sure you did that yourself when you stuck your dick where it didn’t belong.”

His expression flickered, just for a second, before the mask slipped back into place.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “I have lawyers. You keep dragging my name through the mud, and I’ll make sure it costs you.”

She tilted her head. “Is that a threat?”

He shrugged. “A warning.”

She scoffed, turning away, but he kept going.

“I mean it,” Nathan said, voice dropping lower. “This little act of yours—playing the scorned woman, running off to Red Bull like a child—it's pathetic. You think people actually respect you? They’re laughing at you.”

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm.

“Must be humiliating,” he continued, almost conversationally. “Knowing you were just something to pass the time. A placeholder.”

Her fingers curled into fists.

Then he said it.

“Fucking whore.”

The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

Nathan barely had time to react before he was shoved backwards, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. A forearm pressed hard against his throat, holding him in place.

Max.

His entire body was tense, his usually sharp, arrogant expression now twisted into something far more dangerous.

Nathan made a strangled noise, trying to push him off. “What the—”

“Say that again,” Max said, voice low, lethal.

Nathan swallowed, his eyes flicking to her.

Max pressed harder. “Go on. I fucking dare you.”

Silence.

Nathan was many things—arrogant, selfish, manipulative—but he wasn’t stupid.

Max held him there for a moment longer, just to make a point, then finally let go, stepping back like Nathan wasn’t even worth the energy.

Nathan straightened his shirt, swallowing whatever insult he’d been about to throw. His eyes flicked between them, then he scoffed. “You two deserve each other.”

Then he turned and walked out.

The second the door shut, the room was quiet again.

Max exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the tension. “Fucking hell.”

She blinked at him, still processing what just happened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He turned to her, dark eyes unreadable. “Yeah, I did.”

And then, just like that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, pulse racing, wondering what the hell just happened.

part two...

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore

[slightly-knot-insane]

Gentleman's Cage (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 29 [ Caged Beast ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fem!reader ]

a/n: some regency smut, my first one so please be gentle! i was greatly inspired by @regency-monster-love and they were so kind to help me out too! thank you, dear! content: slightly nsfw

He can’t calm down. He knows you will be there, and he is getting very impatient to see you. Especially since you told him you find his courting very pleasing. It took him a while to reveal that he is a werewolf. But instead of running away screaming, you smiled and touched his hand. You even looked excited.

Just reminiscing about those few minutes put a smile on his face, his sharp canines showing underneath his lips. But thinking about you too much is also dangerous. His body - his lower body, to be more precise - reacts to the mere idea of you as if you're right next to him. Naked.

He groans, feeling his erection pushing against the fabric of his finest trousers. Being born with werewolf blood is both a blessing and a curse. He is aware that people will notice; anyone with eyes will notice the hardness alongside his inner thigh. That's why he hopes his little metal tool will help him. Or else, the scandal will follow him wherever he goes.

***

The fancy gathering is as lovely as he expects. People dance, eat and drink, and converse on various topics that barely interest him. He is looking for you with every sense he has - but they find nothing. He wants to ask someone, but even a mere question would raise suspicion. He doesn’t want anyone to know, not yet, that he fancies you rather intensely.

But he shouldn't think about you too much! He shifts his legs a little bit to position the metal contraption between his legs in a more comfortable way. Cock cage, they called it. Even while flaccid, it was hard to push his manhood inside. But he managed to lock his desire in - physically, at least. Mentally - not so much.

Finally, he catches a whiff of your sweat. You aren’t just fashionably late, you are very late so you were probably rushing down the path and up the stairs. Perhaps you were frustrated and nervous about some mishap, furiously fanning yourself in your carriage. And perhaps - only perhaps - you were thinking of him. Thinking about his eyes and teeth and tall frame. Perhaps you held your knuckle between your lush lips while the fingers of your other hand secretly wandered underneath your skirt and—

The painful jolt underneath his belt wakes him up from his daydreaming. Stop it, you fool! He curses internally and immediately turns toward the window, pretending to observe the night sky. He forces himself to think about what to eat for breakfast and what letters need answering, and then - just as his erection is starting to deflate - he hears your voice:

"Hello, Mr. Werewolf! Lovely evening, isn't it?"

And there is another strong pulse between his legs. While he would love to jump through the window and run, it would be improper and rude not to greet you. With a disturbing mental image of his grandfather bathing in his mind to cool him down, he turns to greet you: "Indeed, and you are..."

But he trails off. You've never looked as beautiful, so elegant. The cut on your dress is so deep he can enjoy your every curve and birthmark. He hopes he will be able to memorize all of them, like constellations. And your skin is so flushed and glowy he can barely stop himself from touching your cheeks, shoulders, or... He swallows hard.

You notice his terrified expression and can't help but giggle a bit. He, on the other hand, is not entertained even the slightest. "I apologize, my lady, I must... get a breath of fresh air!" And he hastily leaves you.

You hide your smile behind your fan and follow his trail carefully.

***

He has to do something! The cage... It's too tight! As he hides inside the hedge maze, he runs to the fountain that was standing just around the corner, hoping that the rush of water will hide his torture. He unbuttons his trousers and is not surprised to see his manhood swollen and pulsating between the metal sheets. The pain is mixed with a strange dose of pleasure edged with anticipation. Even though some other time he might've enjoyed exploring this sensation, now is definitely not a good moment. He needs to get rid of this self-imposed prison before he hurts himself more, but... he left the key... at home.

An exasperated sigh is all he can do right now. And thinking about dead puppies to somehow reduce the painful swelling. 

Just as his mental torture is starting to work, he smells something. Something sweet, potent, and familiar. So familiar. His erection re-emerges. Desperately, he turns around, attempting to hide his shame, and pushes himself (and the cage) into the hedges. He must look absolutely ridiculous.

"Oh my, you're here. Are you well?"

It is you. You followed him here. He takes a deep breath and smiles over his shoulder. "Y-yes, perfectly fine. I just needed some fresh air."

You approach his long tail, admiring his broad back and inhuman muscles. He is very tense - and you think you know why. "I'm sure the air will smell a lot fresher outside those hedges."

The tension struck his spine like lightning - he stands upright, not breathing. He knows he can't keep hiding. Hoping - praying - his shame is not so obvious.

He turns toward you, with a stiff and awkward smile, holding one of his huge hands over his crotch, trying to look relaxed. "Indeed... It's a lot f-fresher."

You can't actually look down since your curiosity would be too obvious then. Luckily, he is towering over you so his abdomen is leveled with your face, and it takes only a deep curtsy to see what you have been curious about since the day you met him. Only to not see what you expected. But you're sure his hand is hiding something scandalous? And delicious.

"Did your claws grow?" you ask him innocently.

The naïve werewolf lifts his hands to check them, uncovering his crotch. There is definitely an interesting and twitching bulge there.

"I don't think so. Are you... worried?" His yellow eyes grow in worry. "I would never lay a finger on you!"

You hum as if you are terribly bored. "Oh. That's a shame."

The beast in front of you looks entirely confused, the poor thing. "Shame?"

You approach him slowly, like you're dancing, and his eyes don't leave your figure. "I would love a bit more than a finger on me. Perhaps an entire hand." You cup his heavy, hairy hand. You feel exceptionally bold - there won't be many opportunities like this in your future. Only a boring life awaits you - if you allow that. "All over me, in fact."

[ part 2 ]

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Part 3)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Alicent’s idea of a procession to gain support for their wounded King, has quite the opposite effect. The smallfolk swam them, knocking the attending members of the royal family from their carriage and down onto the streets with them.

The Dowager Queen clings to Helaena and her daughter by law. With gold cloaks of the city watch forcing the crowd away from them. Making a path back toward the Keep.

Chérie watches in horror as it unfolds, amongst the sea of people, she spots a familiar face. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting. “Elinda?”

“Chérie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message to Princess Y/N, from Queen Rhaenyra.”

“May the gods be with you,” Chérie remarks.

“Where is she?” Elinda asks.

Chérie points toward the center of the mob. Alicent, Helaena and Y/N covered by guards attempting to protect them. “There.”

“Give us the Queen!”

“We want the Queen.”

“Back, all of you!” The guards demand, preparing to draw their swords.

Y/N tries to step forward, give the people what they want.

“Y/N,” Alicent keeps a firm hold on her, shaking her head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“You drug me away from my husband’s sick bed for our people to see me.” Y/N reminds her. “Let them see me.”

Alicent releases her, against her better judgment.

The mass of commoners threaten to engulf the Queen, with the banner of house Targaryen held proudly in their midst. “We want meat.”

“The King makes false promises!”

“You feast in your castle as we starve!”

The shouting builds to a crescendo.

“Do you want my help, or simply to hurl insults at the crown?” Y/N waits until they fall silent before she continues. “Before the King’s coronation, I was told the realm would never accept a ruling Queen. I heard this same sentiment recently, as my lord husband returned from battle, grievously injured. Yet you raise my mother’s banner in my husband’s streets.” Y/N says, loud enough for all to hear. “War is a terrible thing, that costs us all that which we love. It drives a wedge between our houses, makes fools of us all.”

“Stop the war!”

“End the blockade!”

Y/N hesitates, “I have no more agency over that than any of you, I fear. But I believe, as I know my husband does, that our victory relies on the smallfolk. We take to the woods, this day. We will hunt for our meat and we shall feast upon it together.”

The smallfolk murmur to each other.

“Most of you are not trained for the hunt, to which I say, neither am I. But we must stand together, not tear ourselves apart. We are one people, we are one heart.”

Slowly, the townsfolk begin voicing their approval.

“Take to your houses,” Y/N instructs, “gather your weapons and join me at the gates. They will open for us or we will break them down!”

“If you want a word with the Queen, now is your chance.” Chérie whispers.

“And you?”

“I must stand watch over his grace, until her return. After what I have learned this day…he mustn’t be alone.”

The mob cheers as they disband, knocking Chérie and Elinda apart.

Alicent rushes Helaena inside as Y/N heads for the gates.

“She should not be alone.” Helaena says.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Alicent presses cups her daughter’s face in her hands. “Ser Criston.” She calls.

“Your grace,” he stands at the ready.

“You are to accompany the Queen on this venture.” She tells him. “Y/N is not to be out of your sight, no harm must come to her.”

“Of course, your grace.” Cole nods, excusing himself to meet the Queen at the gates. They remain closed as commoners fall in line behind her, pushing at one another as she fights her way to the forefront.

“Where is it you think you’re going?” Aemond asks his niece.

“To give our people meat.” Y/N sneers, spotting her husband’s dagger on his hip. Without hesitation she reaches across, staring him dead in the eye as she yanks the blade free of its sheath. “You are welcome to join us.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, knowing he has the final say in directing the King’s guard, “open the gates.”

————————————————————————

When Daemon receives Rhaenyra’s letter, detailing her plan to secure Y/N’s safe passage from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, he believes it is a terrible idea.

What they need is for her to hold the throne, the moment she abandons it, any claim Rhaenyra or Aegon holds over it will be lost to the Prince Regent. He knows better than anyone that the realm will suffer if Aemond, one eye, rules.

Instead he plans to enlist help of his own to secure his grandchildren’s safety. With Y/N and Aemond out roaming the woods, taking over half the King’s guard with them, he finds his opportunity.

Whistling through the gates to one of the white cloaks, who harbors a strong dislike of the Hightowers. The man abandons his post, meeting Daemon at the bars.

“How would you like to make a year’s worth of gold in an hour?”

Blood swallows harshly, “what would you have me do?”

“You can start by opening the fucking gate.”

The man does as he’s told.

“Follow me.” Daemon leads him down the alleyway to another man, whom he calls Cheese. “This is an old friend of mine, tonight he’s going to be your friend.” Daemon tosses them each a sack of gold.

“You said a year’s worth.”

“Half now, half when the job is done.”

Blood and Cheese count their bags of coin before nodding their agreement.

“What I need of you is simple. Enter the castle, find my grandson, Aegon.”

“The King?”

“Prince Aegon. He is a babe with dark hair.” With his father incapacitated, they have a good shot at it. “If you cannot retrieve him safely, leave.”

“Is that all?”

“Be sure to scare the seven hells out of the maids while you’re at it. But you are not to cause harm. This is a ploy to increase protection of the Queen’s heirs. Nothing more.”

“What is it they need protecting from?” Cheese wonders.

“Do you want the job or not?” Daemon snaps.

“Y-yes.”

“I will be waiting to collect him at the north gate.” The prince informs them. “You have one hour.”

————————————————————————-

“Disperse and take your share, all of you.” Aemond gives the smallfolk his blessing. They scatter in all directions, desperate and searching.

Y/N sets off with a pack of them into the east woods. Cole follows.

Aemond stays with the masses, showing his good faith. Hoping to win back their support of his claim.

Y/N is the first to spot a deer, running from them, “just there.” She sets off toward is. “Who wants it?”

“I, your grace.” A man with silver, gray hair marches toward it.

“Very well!” Y/N praises, “everyone come round, be sure it does not escape.”

“Together, now.”

They take the first, with some difficulty. Each to follow becomes easier.

Aemond makes his kills alone, happening upon the group eventually. Just in time to see the gleam of the White Hart, watching on from a safe distance. Willing him to slain it, prove himself once and for all, as Y/N toils in servitude of the smallfolk.

“Your grace!” One of the men yell, pointing to the stag. “For you.”

“For us,” Y/N pats his shoulder before hiking up her ruined skirts, “for us.”

“For us!”

Aemond draws his sword, spooking the animal into hiding.

The Queen’s eyes widen.

“May the beast be slain by the true heir, as a sign of good faith.” He says, taking off in search of it.

Y/N runs after him.

“My Queen!”

“Stay with the Queen!”

She chases Aemond deeper into the woods, but the stag cannot be found.

In an instant, Aemond turns on his heels. Leaving the end of his blade pointed at Y/N’s belly.

She flinches as his sword grazes her cheek on it’s upward swing.

Aemond smirks, watching the blood bead on her skin as her eyes well with tears. “Behind you.”

The stag bolts away.

“Aemond!” Ser Criston calls.

The Prince Regent sheathes his sword. “It got away.”

Y/N’s knees buckle, she does not fight as she falls to the ground. It was him. He who would sooner shroud his brother in dragon fire than fight at his side. He who jumped the line of succession to turn the war in his favor.

“Your grace,” Cole moves to her as Aemond retreats. “You’re injured.”

Y/N holds a hand up between them.

“Let me help you stand.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, “each time I stand I am struck down.”

“Because you keep rising.” Cole tells her. “You know, I may not have fathered them, but I raised both Aegon and Aemond as my own. He would not want to see you this way.”

“He may never see me again.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Ser Criston sighs, “so long as you live, he will find a way. My responsibility to Aegon now lies in ensuring he has something to wake up to.” He says, pointedly. “You have not made it an easy task.”

“I overheard you call my mother a spoiled cunt once.” Y/N scrubs a hand over her face, “be forewarned, I am worse.”

Despite himself, Cole smiles. Something just beyond her catching his eye. “My Queen.”

She follows the direction of his finger.

“This will be the sign we all desperately need, they would fall in line behind you. There will be no further question.”

The White Hart stares back at her, unblinking. “Have you come to die for me too?” She pushes up to her feet, flashing the blade before the animal’s eyes in warning. But the stag comes closer, she strokes its bowed head, plunging the dagger clean into its heart, allowing the stag to collapse onto her. Rocking the creature as best she can. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

Cole carries the slain stag behind Y/N, trudging through the forest, covered in its blood. The smallfolk know what this means. There is no need for a Prince Regent, they have a Queen.

Aemond nods. She’s won the battle, but he’ll win the war.

————————————————————————-

With the smallfolk contented, Y/N retires to her rooms, allowing the bath water to soothe her muscles and her mind. Chérie is still about, therefore the Queen allows another of her ladies to scrub the dirt and blood from her skin.

“It is done, my Queen.” Livia nods, “should you like a towel, or to soak a while longer?”

“The water is filthy,” Y/N murmurs.

“We might draw you a new bath, your grace.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just the towel please.”

“At once, your grace.” She reaches for the plush cream fabric, holding it open for her majesty.

Y/N wraps herself in it, as her hair is rung out over the tub.

“Are you thinking of braids, your grace?”

No. Not in the least. “You may leave it hang.”

“Are you certain?” Livia blinks at her.

“Yes, help me dress in my nightgown, please. I am quite exhausted.”

Livia nods, scurrying to the dressing area and returning with a pale purple gown. “Is this to your liking, my Queen?”

Y/N smiles, “it is lovely. Thank you.”

The woman returns the gesture.

“You needn’t always address me so formally when we are alone. I wish for us to be friends.”

“A Queen is not expected to be friends with her servants.” Livia says, “my mother has served the dowager Queen Alicent for many years.”

“My mother was always kind to her ladies.” Y/N tells her. “That is the Queen I hope to be.”

Livia nods, easing the material over the Queen’s head, followed quickly by her robe. “I should like that very much.”

“I understand how difficult it can be, taking on a new role without knowing what’s expected of you. If you’ve questions, please voice them to me, I am more than happy to answer.”

“I have heard whispers from other ladies…that Chérie joins you and the King in your bed.” Livia stammers, “you are both very lovely, your grace, but I would not know how-”

“Oh no,” Y/N huffs a laugh. “Livia, that will never be asked of you. Chérie is very dear to the King and I, but that is not a task expected of my ladies.”

“Forgive me for assuming.”

“It’s quite alright, I am glad to clear the air between us. I would hate for you to be nervous in my presence over a misunderstanding.”

Livia exhales, “thank you for being so kind.”

Y/N takes her hand, “of course.”

“Y/N,” Chérie pants, having rushed past the guards. “It’s Aegon.”

Y/N moves, as if in slow motion, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor. Down the hall, to her husband’s rooms, shoving open the door.

“You’re hurt.” He says, taking in the sight of her, freshly dressed, hair still dripping from the bath.

She gawks at him. Willing her legs to move and dropping to her knees at the side of his bed, casting the weapon aside. Y/N rests her cheek against the coverlet, not daring to touch him.

Carefully he reaches for her, feeling the charred skin of his chest pull as his hand passes over her hair.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N whispers. “Chérie rushed me out of my rooms to you. I thought you were dead.” She sobs, violently enough that any shred of anger Aegon harbors for the disregard of her own safety is forgotten.

“I’m going to look in on the children.” Chérie excuses herself.

Aegon whispers, as the doors close, “come round this side.”

“I can’t.” Y/N struggles to draw breath, shuttering as she does.

“I wish to hold you.”

“I will hurt you.”

“Hearing you sob on the floor, while I am no more than a foot away, is worse than any pain I am in. Let me comfort you.” Aegon insists, “please.”

Y/N stands, climbing carefully onto the bed, lying her head on the pillow beside his.

Aegon’s neck aches as he turns his head to face her, left eye swollen shut.

“I do not see where it is safe to touch you,” Y/N admits. The unmarred half of his face now rests against the pillow.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder.” Aegon sighs, “but let me look at you first.” He’s just taken milk of the poppy, enough to dull the sharp edge of pain.

“I am a mess.” Y/N lets out a watery laugh, dragging the back of her hand over her face, mindful of her graze.

“You are beautiful,” Aegon half smiles. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “the small council appointed Aemond as Prince Regent. The smallfolk were discontented in their hunger, I took them to hunt. I happened across a white stag and followed it into the woods. Aemond as well. He drew his sword once we were far enough out though Cole found us before anything happened. I think he meant to kill me.”

Aegon swallows, “you must stay away from Aemond, do you understand?”

Y/N nods.

“When I am well enough-”

“Has he done this to you?” Y/N needs to hear it plainly.

“Sunfyre and Meyles were locked together. There is no way of knowing what his intentions were, but it was Aemond who gave the command.” Dracarys.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You cannot.”

Y/N begins to protest.

“Listen to me now.” Aegon presses on, “I want you out of King’s Landing. I want our children out.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

“Go to your mother on Dragonstone.”

“No.”

“Shh,” Aegon gentles her. “I need you to hear what I am saying to you. This is the only way she can take back the throne. She wants Aemond’s head more than any. It will ensure your safety and the kill. I hate being parted as much as you do, but I cannot protect you here.”

“Who will protect you if I go?”

“My mother.”

“She would stand against Aemond, if it comes to it?” Y/N challenges.

“I do not want you here if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“I will not have you stand between me and a blade. I will not allow you to be harmed or mistreated. I will protect you and our children at any cost.” Aegon says.

“The White Hart appeared for me,” Y/N is sure of it. “It fled from Aemond, returned for me and I killed it. For you, for our house and our people. I am not weak.”

“My concern is not because you are weak.” Aegon tells her, “at present, you are the largest threat to Aemond. He could end me now with a pillow held over my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen.

“I jest, I jest.”

“I will do it myself if you dare say that again.”

He chuckles, “ah!” The movement is horribly painful. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I promised the girls they could come visit you.” Y/N tells him, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Aegon nuzzles against the top of her head. “They should not have to see me this way.”

Y/N sighs, “you are their father. They love you no matter what.”

“And you?” Aegon whispers, “you would have me still? They say I may never walk again.”

Y/N pulls away to stare at him with furrowed brows. “Aegon, of course I will have you. I love you.”

“I know that you love me.” Same as he would love her with roles reversed, “but will you…desire me? As your husband?”

Y/N presses her lips to his, oh so gently. “Of course. When you have recovered, we shall make up for lost time.”

Again he nods, not entirely convinced. “I should like that very much.”

“I speak true, husband.” Y/N insists. “Surely my body is different now than it was before our babes and you desire me still, do you not?”

“I desire you more.”

“We’re going to grow old together, you and I. In which time we will both surely change, that is the way of things.”

“Your grace!” Chérie calls, rapping her fist against the door.

“Come,” Y/N wills her.

The woman charges in, clearly distraught. “My Queen,” she says, without realizing Aegon is still lucid. The maesters warned his moments of waking will be few and far between. “Something awful has happened.”

“What is it?” Y/N springs from the bed.

“Prince Aegon…he’s been taken.”

“Taken where?” Y/N demands.

“I cannot say, the maids reported two men in hoods. They came with knives, threatened them and took the babe.”

“Bring us Dahlia, Visera and Laenor.” Aegon insists. “Send in the guards, they are to tear apart the Red Keep until my son is found.”

“Of course, my King.” Chérie bows.

Y/N steals the abandoned dagger, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aegon calls after her.

“To kill your brother.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @callsignwidow @hyde-jpg @novelswithariana @klutzylaena @ynbutbetter @ravenqueen27 @danart501

[fishnapple]

How they proclaim their love for you

(lover/partner/future spouse)

This reading is about how the person you have in mind would proclaim their love for you. You can consider these as their mini love affirmations

Disclaimer : cheesy edition

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

CUBE 1

• Let's take all our time in this world. There's no need to rush. Time? It might not even exist for us. We have escaped time.

• You sent an electric shock down to my core and I still find myself standing. Stronger than ever. Like a machine getting its fuel.

• Our language is of moonlight, fluttering wings, laughter of the stream, cloudy scents of flesh.

• Our lips kiss through the air with words.

• Actions speak louder and we are loud in our actions.

• My mind is spinning, soaring then diving, goes a hundred miles around then comes back, struggling to take you all in.

• This dark corner is our playground.

• I'm in hardworking mode when it comes to our connection. I have lofty goals. Let's work hard together.

• We look like kids when we're out into the outside world together. People ask whether we are friends? We are best friends, whether we are lovers? We are best lovers, whether we're having fun? Nothing is more fun and more serious.

• I have fears, but when I open my mouth, I don't let them escape. But you helped them get out. Is this a prison break for them or for me?

• My mind keeps going back and forth from past to future and you're there, in all of them.

CUBE 2

• Here, take my money. What's mine is yours.

• Do you know the plot where one character is thrown into a dire situation, and somehow, the other one character will come to their rescue. That's me, I'm the one rescued, by you.

• After winter is spring, time goes on, seasons change, I have you with me to witness that together.

• I've become greedy. Wanting to possess every minuscule expression of yours. If I would just freeze them in time.

• Do you see those wild beasts outside the window? And here we are, snuggle comfortably in our home, safely. The light of our home attracted those beasts, they're outside, cold and hungry. Our home will welcome them, but they won't be able to come in as their old shells. They will come in as happiness, transformed.

• I fall in love fast and then I keep it slow.

• I love giving you a bath, bubbling up your hair, seeing water running on your skin then later drying your hair for you and smelling the fresh shampoo scent. Aromatherapy at its finest.

• There's this need growing in me, and I can feel it growing in you too, we share some parts of ourselves with each other. This need is big, it's overwhelming, it makes my heart feel a tugging pain, it animates my body, giving me energy. It's the need to be, to stay alive, so that I can be together with you.

• I know all the right words yet feel like a fool with you.

• I imagine myself a parent, coming home to see our kids fighting, then I will act as a mediator, coming in to lecture them. I look forward to this scenario more than the promotions of my career. Biggest achievement.

• Thank you for letting me love you.

CUBE 3

• Loving you feels like second nature for me, something I've done so many times already, everything in me just do it automatically.

• We definitely have met before. Did we share past lives together? You look so familiar, like the ghost in my dreams, the daydreams in my head, the face of a character in those novels I read.

• My soul is a trapped pool, I would use my bare hand to scoop out all the dirt and monsters from it, take a cupful of water, boil it over and over again until it transparently pure, keep it warm or ice it the way you like then present it to you.

• I stand firm on this earth, confident that I have someone to come back to.

• Our hearth is the most sacred place to me. I would put offering before it, just like how people of bygone days worshipped at the god altar.

• I will keep it warm and nourishing for you.

• Never fear.

• Our lifetime together will blink by so fast, I'm already missing it. But have no fear, it won't end.

• We navigate this path so well that we're definitely professional travellers.

• Change of places, change of jobs? Doesn't matter, I can go along with everything, as long as there's no change of hearts.

• We've travelled from faraway lands to each other and we will continue to travel together.

• I wish you could read my mind and feel my heart, and I could do the same for yours, it would save a lot of time and misunderstanding.

• This is just the beginning.

CUBE 4

• I will tell you "I love you" everyday. Make that a checklist.

• If you and I went to the same school, you would be my high-school sweetheart, the one that I would secretly gush about in little notes, the one that I would absentmindedly draw a heart next to your name.

• Even if we were continents apart, I still feel you next to me, every waking moment and every sleepy dream.

• You fill my throat with sweet sweet love dripping down so much I feel like I can't breathe.

• I love you.

• I can't speak! Tongue tied. Unlock me. But then, if the door is open, I'm too shy to step out.

• In sickness and in health.

• I feel a part of myself went missing whenever you're not here.

• Your pain makes me bleed.

• This is new to me, I don't know what to do. Help me, teacher.

• I probably have a malfunction somewhere in the system to be acting like this. What have you done?

• You are love personified.

• Life has been good since you came to me. But it also has been exceptionally difficult for me to stay alone.

• I have imagined countless times how you would hold my younger self in your arms and feel soothed by them. I may not get to feel it in the past, but I will feel it now, for my past self, my present self and my future self.

[zepskies]

IF I STAY || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: This two-part mini series is for @redhoodieone, a lovely new member of my Patreon!

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Firefighter!Dean, Firefighter!Benny, lawyer!Sam, (background Saileen), thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, fluff, and hurt/comfort, meet cute, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, and much, much more... ❤️‍🔥

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Chapters:

✦ Part 1: Fools Rush In

✦ Part 2: It's Now or Never

✦ Epilogue: Soul Surrender

⋆˙⟡ Series Complete!

⋆˙⟡ Want to get notified when new stories drop? Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. ❤️

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

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[gurugirl]

The Babysitter - Again | dad!harry x babysitter!reader

Part 2 of THIS

Summary: Harry and the babysitter do it again.

A/n: Requested!

Word Count: 2,537

Warning: smut, cheating, inappropriate relationship/power imbalance, etc.

. . .

While Harry fantasized about fooling around with the babysitter more often than not, he didn’t believe he’d get another opportunity. His wife didn’t leave for work trips like she had the one evening. In fact, she was usually always home by the time Harry got home after work, and the cute babysitter was already long gone.

He did see her that morning, though. And what a surprise it was too. She arrived early, before Harry had rushed out the door to head off for the day. He heard her voice just as he was fixing up his tie, stopping the task midway to peek into the living room.

Holy shit… he muttered under his breath as he let his eyes slink over her long legs and the little shorts that hugged her ass just so. She was adorable, as always, but it’d been a bit since he’d seen her in person and immediately his mind worked its way through some very filthy thoughts about what he had done with her that night.

She laughed and turned toward the tall archway where he stood in the hall and smiled at him. He wasn’t one to get flustered but damn if the babysitter didn’t do it for him. She always had, but especially now, knowing what they’d done. Knowing what her body looked like under her little outfits, the kinds of noises she made, how good she felt around him, and how wet she got for him.

He blinked and turned back, face flushed hot from the salacious memory. Something he’d been reimagining over and over again since that fateful night.

Harry palmed at his crotch to tame the growing lump underneath and he sighed before grabbing his briefcase and car keys.

With a quick check of his hair in the mirror he stepped into the living room where Y/n was sitting on the couch with her left leg crossed over her right as his wife went to get their kid.

“Hi. You’re here early,” he looked her over again as she lifted her gaze to his and stood up.

“Yeah. Woke up early and figured I’d get a head start. Here,” she stepped in closer and took his tie, fixing the bit he’d forgotten about when he realized she was there. She kept her hands on the knot and looked up at him. There it was again. That doe-eyed fuck me look that had him plumping in his pants.

She released the tie and moved back as she looked behind Harry toward the hallway and back up at him, “How’ve you been?”

He nodded, “Alright. And you?”

She shrugged, “Okay.”

“Just okay?”

She offered a small smile and nodded, “Just okay.”

Harry didn’t know if she was trying to tell him something or not. Maybe it was school that was difficult or boyfriend issues – he didn’t think she had a boyfriend but he’d never asked either.

“Anything I can help with?” Now he was speaking low and quiet, curious what she might say.

“Mmm…” she pursed her lips to the side and shrugged again, “Probably.”

He knew exactly what she meant when she looked back up at him through her lashes and bit her lip. Goddamn, he could get into so much trouble.

Harry clenched his jaw and looked behind himself and with the coast still clear he reached for her fingers and whispered, “Would love to help. I just don’t know when I could ever do it again, Y/n.”

She nodded, “I know. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Y/n!”

Harry watched his boy run toward the babysitter and break the spell. Which was for the better. He didn’t need to be fucking around like that. What he’d done with her was a one-time thing. As much as he’d love more of her, that just wasn’t in the cards for them.

.                 .                 .

It was 1 o’clock when he got the text from his wife. She’d gotten off work early and was already home. Which meant she’d relieved Y/n. And she was at her dorm apartment with nothing to do. Perhaps even alone.

Harry gulped down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue just imagining what he could get up to with Y/n. But he had a pile of work to do. There was no way he could leave the office and still get his project ready by Friday.

It was such a bad idea to even be thinking about it. Yet there he was sliding his files into his briefcase and making the decision to finish some work at home later that night. He’d definitely lost his mind as he sent a text to Y/n asking her if she was home. And her nearly immediate response – Yes. Alone – had him rushing right out the door and jogging to his car to travel across town to Y/n’s apartment.

He wasn’t really even thinking. Not with a rational mind. If anyone saw him coming or going that might be bad. Though, he imagined no one would know who he was anyway. He was just a regular schmo after all. Who would be the wiser?

Y/n met him in the foyer and pulled at his hand before pushing a door open that led to a stairwell. She was only up one floor. Her small dorm was a one-room apartment with a separate bathroom attached.

She turned to face him when he closed the door behind himself, “My roommate has two more classes before she’s done for the day. My only class today is at 7 so…”

Harry grinned and stepped in, placing his meaty hands on her arms and bringing her closer, “So that means we have a little bit of time. And you need my help with something, don’t you?”

She puffed out a laugh with a nod, “I mean if you want. I know…” She sighed and blinked her eyes, he could tell she was nervous, “This is wrong, but… it’s just…”

“It’s just so good, though, isn’t it?”

She nodded again, teeth digging into her bottom lip. Fuck she was cute.

Y/n didn’t need any cues. She lowered her sight to the belt he had on and began to unbuckle him with deft fingers before she undid the button on his pants and pulled at the zipper.

He helped her push his pants down as she lowered to her knees and took her palm over his crotch, softly rubbing upward over his underwear.

“You get so hard… and so big…” She peeled his briefs down slowly once his cock was at full mast and the moment the fabric was pushed under his balls she wrapped her fingers around his rigid shaft and placed soft kisses along the thick vein underneath, licking over his tip and placing him in her mouth.

He put a palm at the back of her head as he watched her suckle around his crown and then pull him deeper into her mouth, tongue swirling and sucking as she looked up at him.

“Baby doll… fuck…”

Harry was so worked up. The last person he’d had sex with was Y/n and now here she was again with her pretty lips stretched around his length, tugging at his base with everything she had in her. She wanted to make him feel good and she was eager. It was no wonder he was so anxious to get to her apartment and flaked out on work. Flake out on his wife. If this was his reward, he’d continue doing it every fucking chance he got (which he knew would be rare).

Soon he had her on her bed completely naked and spread out with his mouth on her cunt. He didn’t even remember the last time his wife let him lick her pussy. His sex life had grown so dry. Hardly a smidgeon of foreplay before they were both rolling over and falling asleep.

But Y/n was moaning and pulling his hair, smearing her juices all over his face as she writhed and quivered from his fingers gliding against her front wall and his lips suctioning to her clit. Honestly? She was a breath of fresh air. Another person who liked sex as much as he did. Harry thought he had been doomed to a life with boring and barely palatable sex (that was when he could get it). Y/n could be the answer to that problem.

He loved the noises she made when she came. She was just loud enough that anyone walking by her door could hear her, but not so loud that everyone in the hallway would know what was happening in that room.

Harry’s cock was so hard as he let go of her thigh and sat up, reaching a hand up her body to smooth his thumb over her nipple, wiping her arousal all around it.

She was breathing heavily, a small, cute smile on her face as she looked at him and kept her legs parted before saying the hottest thing he’d ever heard, “You can have me now.”

Her wet pussy was a decadent treat just for him. Sliding himself right in she inhaled through puckered lips at the stretch and he groaned from relief. And once again he gave it to her bare. No condom. He was insane, he was sure. He’d pull out before he could come, just like the first time, but he was obsessed with how she felt around him, all squishy and warm and soaking wet.

Her bed was cheap with a metal frame and Harry was a big man with a lot of endurance and pent-up desire. He was a man who was getting his cock wet by a girl who wanted it and he was not going to worry about how quiet he was. In fact, the bouncing springs, and frame slapping into the wall only heightened the experience for him. He not only loved the way sex felt and smelled and looked, but he also loved how everything sounded. The way her cunt gushed wetly every time he plowed in, her little squeaks and moans, skin patting together when his hips met hers, and the screeching and bouncing bed they were doing it on were all music to his ears.

“Oh god!” She cried when he ground in, swiveling his hips, buried into the hilt, slushy wetness seeping down to her ass.

“Mmm… fuck, Y/n…” Harry was in heaven as he fucked into her. His balls were squeezing and his cock was throbbing. Perhaps a condom would’ve been a wise decision, especially if it meant he could hold out longer. But he hated the thought of not getting to feel her as nature intended.

He smeared his lips against hers and she rolled up into him, moaning into his mouth. He was sure he was driving deep in her guts, stuffed up into her tummy every time he bottomed out. She keened and cooed and quivered under him.

His chest was pressed against hers and he felt her nails scrape into his lats as his glutes flexed with every thrust. They were pasted together, the only bits moving were their lips and tongues and Harry’s thighs as he worked his girthy dick into her, dragging through her tight walls.

Rocking down hard into her, he wanted to make sure her clit had enough friction. His chest was sweating and his insides were boiling. He was so close to his end.

But then he felt her squeezing in pulses and then clamp down, her mouth dropped open and she halted her kisses as she began to moan loudly, “Mmm… coming… want your come. Come inside of me…”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way his inner demon told him to fuck it and give her what she wanted. Fill her up with his come and push it deep into her tummy. He was already playing with fire.

Gritting his teeth he endured the way her cunt was siphoning around him, pulling and fluttering… she felt so good on his cock. Nothing had felt so good in a long time.

And the moment his balls began to constrict with that tell-tell throb and pinch he pulled out with a filthy groan and wrapped his big hand around himself to spurt his come over her pussy, a few ropes coated her clit. But then Y/n scrambled to sit up and she practically dove forward with her mouth wide open, tongue jutted out, and sucked him into her mouth. She placed her hands on his hips and drank him down, moaning around him and sliding her lips down his shaft as far as she could take him.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck me!” Harry rasped out in a deep voice as he placed both palms on her head and rutted inward to let her suck him dry.

When Y/n could tell he’d calmed and he let go of her head she pulled off of him, strings of saliva and come connecting her lips and his cock. It was dirty.

She blinked her bleary eyes up at him, “Why didn’t you come inside of me?”

Harry pulled at her and brought them down to lie on their sides facing one another, “Because that seems a little reckless. Don’t you think?”

She sighed and drew a finger over his swallow tattoos, “I’m on birth control. And… I’ve only had sex with one guy and that was like a year and a half ago. I mean…” she looked up at him with innocent rounded eyes, “I know it’s bad I just wanted to let you do it. Maybe feel it later while I’m in class.”

Harry’s brows shot up at all of this new info.

Looking into her eyes he wrapped his hand around the front of her throat and pressed his mouth to hers. She was gonna be trouble if she was talking like that. Those words… that was every straight man’s fantasy right there.

He parted from the kiss and she gasped as if he’d just given her the headiest kiss she’d ever tasted, “Baby… fuck…” he shook his head and sat up, “That’s… alright. Next time we’ll talk about me filling you up. Preferably before you start to come. Okay?”

She watched him dress himself as she lay in her bed still naked, “So you want a next time?”

Harry let out an incredulous laugh, “I hope there’s a next time. Can’t promise anything. Kind of hard to find moments like these.”

She nodded, his trousers pulled up as he buttoned himself in. Chest still bare and broad and strong.

He grinned when he noticed she was staring at him. He hadn’t been ogled in a long time either. Everything about Y/n was what he’d been missing in his marriage. Which was a fucking shame when he sat and thought about it too much. It was sad that he had to get some of his most basic needs met by someone else. He should have been doing all that with his wife.

But again, there was no remorse or guilt. That hadn’t come yet. He was just going to enjoy the ride while it lasted and hoped he didn’t get caught.

. . .

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