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drfruitcake · 2 days ago

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Catastrophic Blues

Mel King x Frank Langdon

Rating: PG Word count: ~2,800 Tags: third person POV, angst, yearning, pining, workplace relationships, random drabble, no beta because idk wtf this is

Summary: Mel King hates how she feels after Dr. Langdon criticizes her during an ER shift. Frank hates how he feels, because he's clearly conflicted over his feelings for her.

Notes: This is literally just a random drabble that spilled into a Google doc because I wanted to challenge myself to write something that isn't Dr. Robby x Reader smut. I honestly have no clue what this is or if it'll become anything. I just like to imagine the complexity of a potential Mel x Langdon relationship. On one hand, it's fun to think Langdon will return from rehab divorced and ready to sweep Mel off her feet. But the reality is, it'd likely be incredibly messy and complex. Anyway, don't overthink this one, it's literally just drabble.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Mel King doesn’t go out much. Most nights, she picks Becca up after work and they head straight home. They eat dinner together, find something to watch (it’s always one of three choices) and head to bed.

But tonight’s different. Tonight, Vera, Becca’s home health aid, is staying with her, meaning Mel has a night to herself if she wants. When Samira Mohan finds this out, she declares it girls’ night.

That’s how Mel ends up in some dive bar with Mohan and Santos. It smells damp, like an old nursing home, but Mel’s grateful Samira was thoughtful enough to pick a bar without bright lights or pulsing music, which irritate her.

One Moscow Mule turns into two, which evolves – or perhaps devolves – into a round of tequila shots. Those are the beginning of the end.

Mel doesn’t drink. She can count the number of times she’s been drunk on one hand. But she adores her colleagues and the idea of spending more time with them outside the chaotic confines of The Pitt. And she likes the idea of having someone to talk to about her feelings for a certain senior resident.

Mel never meant to develop those feelings. She’s always considered herself to be morally intact, of solid character and sincere intentions. She’d never intentionally eye another woman’s man, especially one who’s married.

But their connection feels different from any Mel has experienced. They bonded immediately. She learned from him, but more importantly, he learned from her – and he wasn’t too above her to admit it.

Then he disappeared. Well, not really. He went to rehab. It left Mel feeling abandoned and disappointed as she awaited his return. She knew it was probably irrational – they’d only worked together for one day – but she felt like she’d found someone who would be more than a colleague. Maybe he’d be a mentor, maybe a good friend, maybe something more romantic; Mel wasn’t sure. But it also left her frustrated. While others murmured about Frank Langdon’s absence with hushed tones and judgmental smirks, Mel worried about him.

He’s a good man and a damn good doctor. He cares about his patients and cares about saving lives. And he cares about turning his residents into good doctors, too.

When he returned from leave, he was different on the surface – separated from his wife, fighting for time with his kids, and embarrassed by the reason for his absence. The Pitt staff welcomed him back with kindness and sympathy, but Mel could tell Frank’s faith was shaken.

“It’s good to have you back,” she told him excitedly. “We’ve really missed you around here.” What she meant to say – or wanted to say – was that she really missed him. But as Frank peered at her that morning with uncertain blue eyes, their unspoken connection returned – not that Mel ever believed it was severed to begin with.

Mel can’t stop chasing the high that is Frank Langdon.

Now, five months after Langdon’s return, the hallways of The Pitt have shifted to normalcy. Staff treat him the same, with sarcasm and friendly snark, but Mel doesn’t want to join their performative banter. She wants to ensure Frank is okay, that he’s healing and comfortable having a past tainted by poor decisions. She wants him to know she still sees him as the brilliant Dr. Langdon, but she also wants to acknowledge that she’s proud of him.

Mel and Frank have become close. It’s not an odd occurrence in The Pitt. Most everyone has found a partner in crime, a shoulder to lean on, that one other doctor who shares their wavelength – Robby and Collins, Abbot and Mohan, Santos and Garcia. But Langdon is still on the heels of his separation from Abby, and the last thing he – or Mel – wants, are rumors. Even if there are wisps of substance to them.

So when Mel has tried to get closer to Frank, she’s been met with two versions of the man, and she can never predict which one will show up. Sometimes he gives in to the temptation to let her in, just a little. It leads her into thinking their chemistry is more than mentorship. He’ll laugh a little too loud at her jokes, stare a little too long when she speaks, or check on her one too many times throughout their shift. It’s not outright flirtation, at least as far as Mel can tell, though she sometimes struggles to identify when someone is flirting. But it’s enough to plant the tiniest seeds of hope within her.

But other times, she gets the distant Frank Langdon; the one who averts her gaze, who slips into bouts of silence, who doesn't like to be alone with her.

That was the Frank she encountered today. And that’s why Mel asks for another shot of tequila.

“You good?” Samira asks as Mel scrunches her face up in disgust at the liquor’s burn.

“I’m good,” Mel says assuredly. “I’m just not used to that.”

“Maybe we should hold off on the drinks for a little bit,” Samira offers.

“And maybe you can tell us what’s bothering you,” Trinity cuts in.

“What do you mean?” Mel asks blankly.

“Oh come on,” Trinity continues, blunt as ever with her elbows on the table.“It’s obvious you’re trying to drink away some sort of problem. So spill, what is it?”

Mel gazes back at her friends, who watch her with patient and curious eyes. “It’s Langdon,” she blurts out. The words tumble off her tongue before her brain can stop her. Samira lifts an eyebrow and Trinity offers her a knowing smile.

“Yeah, what’s going on with you two?” Trinity asks between sips of her Jack and Coke.

“Nothing,” Mel replies quickly. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Do… do you think something’s going on between us?” Mel asks honestly.

“Well, you two have always been close,” Samira says carefully. “But you haven’t actually worked together very long. I mean, the day you met was the day he got suspended.”

“But he does cling to you like a moth to a flame,” Trinity points out. “You’re obviously his favorite.”

“You think so?”

“Duh.”

“But he’s married,” Mel notes.

“Separated,” Samira corrects. “And rumor has it, that status will soon be updated to divorced.”

“Who told you that?” Mel asks.

“Abbot,” Trinity interrupts knowingly. Samira merely shrugs.

“Even if he is getting a divorce, that doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Mel says. “And it doesn’t mean anything would happen, right?”

“Do you want something to happen?” Trinity asks.

“I… don’t know?” Mel answers honestly.

The truth is, Mel has feelings for Frank. But she’s also conflicted by those feelings. After all, he’s married with two kids – and he’s her senior. Mel thinks she should be focused on her career, not romance – especially with a married man. Not to mention all of the stigma that accompanies a workplace relationship.

There’s also the fact Mel’s not even sure if Frank would ever see her romantically to begin with. She’s never been good at these things, but especially with men who are the dark-haired-blue-eyed textbook cliche of “hot.”

She knows those blue eyes should be red flags. Instead, they’re magnets.

“Look,” Trinity sighs. “It’s obvious you have a thing for him and he has some kind of fondness for you. But nothing’s going to happen if you both sit on your hands.”

“But he’d never be interested in me like that – romantically,” Mel continues.

“You don’t know that,” Samira notes.

“And even if he’s not, he still needs you,” Trinity says matter-of-factly. “He fucked up royally and became subjected to scrutiny from everyone he works with. He almost lost his job and career. He needs a friendly face. He needs someone to trust.”

“I guess sometimes I just don’t know what to make of our relationship,” Mel sighs. “Sometimes he really opens up to me, he really seems to value me. Other times, he becomes so distant.”

“He’s a man,” Trinity mutters. “Inconsistency is in his blood.”

“I just find it so confusing,” Mel says. “Like today, he completely dressed me down in front of a patient.”

“Been there,” Trinity mutters dryly.

“I understand he has to teach and correct me,” Mel continues. “Sometimes he’s just so harsh and it comes out of nowhere, like he’s got some kind of pent up resentment.”

Tears sting her eyes as she recalls how she felt under Frank’s scrutiny. She doesn’t mind criticism – she can handle it – but the blade always feels sharper when coming from him. He’s usually gentler with her, and he usually entrusts her with the patience required to treat her patients. He often speaks to her in awe of her bedside manner and attention to detail.

But today was different. Today, Langdon’s blue eyes pierced Mel with aggravation. He scolded her for taking too long to come up with a diagnosis for a patient, then stormed out of the room.

He left for the day before Mel could find him again. It struck her with a sinking feeling, like a hole had been carved into her chest. It wasn’t the way Langdon scolded her, or even the way he raised his voice at her. It was the flash in his eyes; something that blended disappointment with something much more acrid – almost like disgust.

And nothing shredded at Mel’s insides more than the notion that she could disappoint anyone. It whittled her down and stripped her bare, void of the confidence she desperately fought to maintain each day. But the knife was especially sharp when Frank was on the other end.

Mel considers ordering another round of drinks. She thinks they help wane her misery. She doesn’t yet realize they’re simply nudging her toward the purgatory that always lurks when one tries to drown their sorrows in a liquor bottle.

“Hey, cheer up,” Trinity says as she spots the sadness in Mel’s eyes, and the tears that sting their corners. “No one’s worth crying over, especially Langdon.”

Those weren’t the right words, especially coming from Trinity, who’d had a rocky history with Frank. They’d repaired most of their working relationship since his return, but she wasn’t exactly the best candidate when it came to hyping him up – or discussing him romantically.

But Mel decides she’s right. She isn’t going to be the type to cry over a married man. Even one with the most hypnotic blues eyes to ever claim her affection.

—

Frank Langdon hates the stench of the staff lounge. It always smells like microwave dinners – the kind that come in cardboard sleeves and feature watered-down versions of mac and cheese or fettuccine alfredo. The scent reminds him of home now; the kitchen inside his sterile, shitty apartment, void of any love or laughter; the microwave that’s been used too often and cleaned too little; the meals he’s eaten alone in front of the television.

The staff lounge is a screaming reminder that Frank is one of those guys now – one of those (soon to be) divorced dads who only sees his kids every other weekend. It’s all his fault, he knows. Abby didn’t tell him to get hooked on benzos. Abby had her own shit to deal with. Frank merely added to that shit. And that’s why he lost her.

But now, Frank has another vice to resolve. The one in the form of the 5’5” resident he bonded with the day of Pitt Fest. He’s grown fond of her. And that’s a problem.

Mel King is the type of woman Frank doesn’t think he deserves. It shreds his insides because he wants to be the kind of man she could be proud of. But he also doesn’t want to be the kind of man who gets romantically involved with a resident – especially when he’s already been labeled an addict and the type of man who steals lorazepam on the job, who had to go to rehab to salvage his career. Yes, Frank Langdon is definitely one of those guys, if you ask him.

But Mel has him completely and utterly consumed. He should be trying to resuscitate his marriage. Instead, he finds himself in a wayward freefall, tumbling toward another temptation when he should remain on track, head down and free of any more turbulence.

Frank knows he’s the only one who can save himself. They made that crystal clear to him in rehab. He can’t turn to anyone else to rescue him – not Abby, not his kids and certainly not Mel. But what Frank doesn’t know is that Mel doesn’t want to save him. She doesn’t view him as someone in need of fixing or redemption. She views him as someone whose faults are merely stars within the greater constellation that is Frank Langdon. She searches for them in every night sky.

But Frank keeps fighting the pull. He resists the draw he feels toward Mel in fear of where it could lead him. And he resists because he doesn’t want to poison Mel the way he’s tainted everyone else in his orbit.

All Frank wants is to be a good man. He doesn’t know Mel already sees him that way.

He also doesn’t know how his words cut her to the core when they’re harsh. He knows Mel is sensitive – it’s his favorite thing about her – but he also knows she’s tough. He’s seen her resilience on dazzling display day in and day out. That’s why he doesn’t overthink the weight of his words when he lashes out or bites at her with impatience. Of course, it’s never Mel who is the actual problem. Frank merely takes out his frustrations over his infatuation with her by swinging back with criticism. He knows it’s an unfair way of masking his feelings.

He doesn’t know Mel treats his every word – praise and critique – like gospel.

It wasn’t until earlier that day, when Frank barked at Mel for stumbling through a diagnosis, that he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes. He was pulled from the room for an incoming trauma before he could apologize and spent the remainder of the day feeling too awkward to check on her.

Now, the guilt gnaws away at Frank as he scrolls through his Netflix feed for the tenth time in search of something he’ll never watch. He revisits that moment with Mel with guilt and shame.

Frank’s therapist has told him to be more honest with himself in the present, meaning he’s supposed to pause and reflect on his truths before he acts.

“Ask yourself, what is the reality of my situation and what control do I have over it?” she advised him.

When he does so, he decides the reality is he’s miserable and his senseless game of push and pull with Mel is getting him nowhere. If anything, it’s driving a wedge between him and the one person who hasn’t changed the way she treats him. She doesn’t look at him with sympathetic stares. She doesn’t offer to take all of the patients who present with symptoms of substance use disorder. She doesn’t walk on eggshells or speak in hushed tones. She doesn’t see Frank any differently. And that’s what he cherishes most about her.

Frank sighs and checks his phone. No texts or missed calls. Abby took the kids to the movies, meaning there’d be no goodnight phone call tonight. Instead, he opens his texts.

Mel insists on walking home alone, but Samira knows better. She offers to walk with Mel and then calls Abbot to pick her up. Mel smiles and waves at Jack when he arrives in his old pickup truck, then hugs Samira goodbye.

“Hang in there,” Samira says kindly in Mel’s ear. “See you tomorrow.”

Mel appreciates Samira’s friendship. But as she watches Jack greet Samira with a swift kiss from the driver’s seat before they drive off, she’s crippled by another wave of melancholy.

She shakes it off, determined to be chipper when she walks in the door to her apartment. But the ping of her phone makes her pause in the hallway.

Frank: Hey you. You OK? Just wanted to apologize for earlier today. I was in a shit mood and I took it out on you, which was unfair and uncool. I need to work on my emotional intelligence in situations like that. I hope you realize how much I value you. There’s no one like you, Mel.

Mel holds her breath as she reads the message twice, then a third time. Frank’s apology doesn’t negate his behavior, nor does it make it okay. But she appreciates his acknowledgment of his actions and his need to be better.

But she doesn’t need him to improve. She simply needs him to be Frank Langdon.

#the pitt #melangdon #mel king #melissa king #frank langdon #kingdon #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction

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jasina85 · 3 days ago

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Okay... Hunter the Reckoning 5th edition. I unfortunately have opinions not many people will be surprised about.

The game still feels like it has an identity crisis between wanting the player characters to be the everymen who said enough and started biting back against the supernatural and being very special with access to special powers. This was true in the legacy era with the Imbued and the Numina, it's still true with Edges. Now, having the characters be special - there's nothing inherently wrong with that, because special characters tend to make for natural protagonists, but it feels like the game can't decide if it wants everyman or special more and it ends up awkwardly reaching for both.

I've heard people say that just as VtM 5 took some mechanics for Chronicles' own Vampire the Requiem (which looking at both systems side-by-side is fairly obvious), so did HtR 5 do the same with Hunter the Vigil. I can't comment on it, as I've neither read through or played the Vigil, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was true. Speaking of Vampire though...

The attention to detail in places in this book is god-awful. The example presented for the Linguistics merit IS THE SAME LEBANESE VAMPIRE IN MEXICO CITY WORD-FOR-WORD. Seriously?! You couldn't even be bothered to rewrite that to fit the book it's in now? That just feels lazy.

Hunter Creeds... feel utterly pointless. The only mechanical difference between them is what you can use Desperation dice for and their fluff text all reads so similar for the most part that if you were to remove their names from text, I wouldn't be able to tell most of them apart. They feel like they only exist because the designers needed to shoehorn in some kind of character class system, because ttrpgs need to have those, right?

The Drives meanwhile are fine. Nothing much to say here, since they're primarily a narrative tool, rather than a mechanic one.

Edges! I'm very divided on these. The Asset and Aptitude Edges feel okay... until you realize that stuff like getting your hands on say... a car, a custom-made gun or explosive would fall under Allies/Contacts in other splats, but in here getting those is a special ability, implying you need that Edge to have any chance getting it. It feels very messy.

Endowment Edges on the other hand feel pretty fun! They're obviously supposed to be the choose-your-own-flavor Numina, and they feel like the best fit for representing True Faith, but you could flavor then as Hedge Sorcery or in some cases even Hypertech, as long as you accept most of these only work against the supernatural. It's not ideal, but it's probably the most fun part of this book.

Lastly, I want to talk about how HtR5 uses Chronicle Tenants. In short - it doesn't. Oh sure, it tells you to decide on them, but there's no actual mechanical consequence for breaking them. In Vampire, breaking a Chronicle Tenant usually means Stains on your Humanity, in Werewolf you have Harano... in Hunter you have nothing. Chronicle Tenants, at least to me, have always been half about setting a theme, half ideas to be challenged during play. Do you break one when doing so would be the right thing? Hunter leaves no such considerations, because when there's no consequence, does the choice even matter? Instead it treats them as closer to lines and veils for the players, which is just not what they're meant to be.

Oh, right, the orgs... meh? The returning ones like Arcanum and Saint Leopold are mostly the same as they were in legacy, only with questionable rewrites and squandered old plot threads. Also, who thought having an org who's name abbreviates to KKK was a good idea? No, they're not actually the Klan, but seriously? And yes, the choice for not letting players be a part of an org is still dumb.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure I'm going to read much more of Hunter 5. This has been a highly frustrating experience.

On one final note, I've said this before but god damn it, the actual art style of this book? The actual drawings in black and white punctuated with splashes of blaze orange? It is soooo good. I wish this was a consistent art style across the 5th edition World of Darkness with a different color for each gameline. It is simply just so striking.

#Karolina's book club #hunter the reckoning #htr #htr5 #wod #world of darkness

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mortal-ethos · 6 hours ago

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The first time I started figuring out my gender, I felt very fluid, but due to the rise in transmed ideology and being a kid in an oppressive household and society, I tried so hard to be a man. I thought I had to be a man, and I felt like shit because I constantly was questioning myself, constantly insecure, I did everything I was "supposed" to do and be as a "man" both by the standards I grew up with, and the modern standards I had begun to see and still continue to see amongst "progressive" circles (which was doing everything by myself and taking abuse from my partners because the idea of men standing up for themselves or taking a single second to themselves is pushed as abuse and laziness, so I just. Did everything. And took all of it).

I was the handy man, I Mended the garments, I cooked every meal, I cleaned the house and did the dishes, I was the only one working, I put aside any issues or emotions I had for every person/partner, I was constantly told anytime I showed emotion that I was scary or that I was wrong, that I wasn't allowed to feel the way I felt, that I made problems all the time out of nothing, so I stopped and when I would keep my emotions down during conversations I was told I wasn't talking like a real person, any time I tried to talk about mental health issues I was made fun of so I stopped, any time I had a need I was degraded for wanting something so I stopped expressing a desire for closeness and emotional connection while being told that I needed to talk about my problems more even though they were constantly ignored, I was my partners' wallet, I couldn't have my own interests and always had to engage others with theirs while mine were judged and belittled, not even getting into how much pressure there was on me to "look" like a man. I did fucking everything I could until I broke.

I used to think if I just was a Good Man, if I just did everything asked of me, everything I was told, if I did everything right, if I was only ever gentle and kind and vulnerable, I would be happy. The pain would go away, I could be myself, and I could make everyone else happy. I could show what a Good Man was, I could be better. And I tried so hard. But I broke. I wasn't a good man. I couldn't do it. I broke down wondering what was wrong with me. Why was it no matter what I did, it wasn't enough. I would never be gentle enough, kind enough, skilled enough, strong enough, communicative enough, stoic enough, happy enough, rich enough, I would never be enough. So I gave up and I asked myself, who was I trying to be enough for? For people that don't know me? For people that don't care about me? For people that would never understand me anyway? Why was I never happy, even when I did everything asked of me... Why was no one ever happy with me?

Why was I STILL NOT MAN ENOUGH.

So I said fuck it. Who am I being a man for. My gender shouldn't feel like a fault in my personhood. And I let myself sit with it for a while. I asked myself, why do I still connect with my womanhood, with the lesbian community, with girlhood, why is this feminine rage still inside me intricately entwined with my masculine transness? Why, when I talk about women's issues, why do I have to choke down saying "we" and "us?" Why, when I feel like a man, is it strongest when I'm helping the ones that I love? What about those days I feel like neither, the days I feel more connected to the moss beneath my feet, to the shadows of tree branches, to the smell of rain, to the sound of boots on pavement, to the metallic taste of blood, to the ones that wear masks? What about those days I feel like I don't want to decide, I don't want to settle on one thing, where I feel like the planets in orbit, all circling each other simultaneously, each rotating themselves? The days where I see myself on this earth as intimately woven into the fabric of existence, when I experience creation and make myself into a new person for that moment, a new color unseen, a new emotion unfelt, a new breath never shared?

I'm not a man, or not just a man. I'm not just a woman, I'm not just non-binary. I tried fitting my experiences, my existences, into one singular label. Into the label that was supposed to be right, the one that was easy, the one everyone else is. I felt like my gender queer experiences were a gender failing, a pathetic flailing attempt at transness. I wasn't man enough, but I had to be because... I thought that was my only option.

Anyone thinking being non-binary, being gender fluid, being agender, bigender, gender queer, is all just part of the process of eventually settling into a binary identity is so, so wrong. I am not lost or confused. I didn't lose myself, my transness, my queerness, in the fluidity. I found my way back home.

when nonbinary people discover they are actually transgender binary, i wish them all the best, but i cannot STAND when they dismiss their previous identity as illegitimate. sure, maybe it wasnt you, but nonbinary is still real and valid.

i remember when a nonbinary content creator i really resonated with came out as a trans man instead, he started saying that nonbinary is "only a stepping stone to being the opposite binary!!" and that its "just a pipeline effect and nothing solid :)" i had recently separated from my long term partner due to identity related reasons and i was feeling insecure, finding community online. i questioned myself for months then, forcing the idea of being binary onto myself in what was admittedly an ocd spiral. its not his fault but i feel if you make queer content you kinda owe it to your audience to not spread false and harmful narratives about it

this is exorsexism.

i've seen it time and time again that previously-nonbinary content creators come out as binary trans and suddenly become really exorsexist in their stance, behaviour, language. this stuff never hurts their following though and nonbinary people who point this out usually end up being accused of transmisia and "being too sensitive". meanwhile people act like our genders are time bombs.

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quixotic-dragon · 2 years ago

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currently being haunted by fossil fighters frontier. why did they choose to balance the game like that? why did they choose to gut and slaughter the battle system? why did they choose to base the fossils off the multiplayer ones from champions? and then make them less intuitive to clean when the system from the first two games was fine? why did they swap air and earth in the type effectiveness circle? why?

#still mad about both the final main story tournament and the segment at the end where they confiscate your best vivosaur #who thought any of that would be a fun idea? I just want to talk...#fossil fighters #sorry frontier enjoyers. I didn't hate this game entirely? it has some redeemable features like good character design for the humans #but I think the only thing I actively liked about this game was the opening theme the human designs the vivosaur lythro and the final boss

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sieglinde-freud · 8 months ago

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missing the maribelle/tharja family unit today. i think maribelle would be elated to have a daughter. she meets noire for the first time and she goes “do you play chess? violin? ride? drink tea?” and noire goes “no but im really good at throwing up in a bucket” and maribelles like “oh!!!! okay!!!!” i think she finds noire’s talisman persona charming. chrom is like “um maribelle can you please go get your daughter… she’s terrorizing the camp” and she goes “shes harmless! why do you hate women?” and he never speaks on it again. i think tharja needs a kid that will beef with her and i think brady is 100% the guy to do it. i think she looks at him and goes “what is your problem” and he flips her off. she tries to curse him but he spins his staff ninja style deflecting them back at her. he serves tea to his moms but he spits in tharjas and she knows it. and then she drinks it because it pisses him off. brady could come to love her at some point but it will not be easy and it will not come without a lot of work and a lot of arguing and i think i need some more parent/child conflict in this game. awakening gets one f bomb and its hidden in the random tharja brady PC support where he just goes “FUCK YOU” Tharja and Brady attained support level B.

#ann plays awakening #ann writing paragraphs #they are my favorites…#and like. besides the big four of the awakening kids #brady and noire have always been my favorites…#i like to think about this family a lot even if i dont talk about them quite as frequently #i wish i had something to write about for them like contained into a fic but i dont have any ideas that could get me that #far #just little thoughts about what i want to see #brady and tharja especially like i understand why noire loves tharja i do #curses aside thats still your mom who raised you and protected you #and everyone processes trauma and grief differently #but i think brady would be a fun counterbalance bc i think he would be pissed!!#rightfully so!!!#i like to think that while his talent for healing magic comes from maribelle #he only really took it up after maribelle died because there was no one else to protect his sister #and i think noire wouldnt mind taking the brunt of tharja’s cruelty if it meant her brother wouldnt #like god… they could be the cutest siblings ever #and the saddest.#also i j think that the parent child conflicts in this game are lacking #you have gerome and cherche but thats entirely one sided and its bc gerome is scared not bc of any malice #severa is a little bit harsher just because shes severa but the same thing goes down with her and cordy where shes just scared.#and a little bitter bc of the chrom thing but mostly scared #and its like. cherche and cordelia didnt even do anything wrong anyways. tharja did and someone should call her ass out!!!!!#i love tharja btw. not a tharja hate post but i think it would be fun if she was forced to confront her potential fate #by looking at the direct consequence of her future actions (angry son who hates her) if she doesnt change #JUST SAYING #whatever anyways. tharjabelle family unit hit post

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deathofacupid · 27 days ago

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★ biker!sukuna who's lovesick for bimbo!reader <33 › more for this dynamic here !

biker!sukuna's friends tried to warn him. they told him you weren't the sharpest tool in the shed, that you had a reputation. it didn't work. sukuna's never been one to listen, so they gave up on warnings and went straight to making fun of him instead.

they teased him endlessly about how you'd managed to wrap the king of the streets around your pretty, perfectly manicured finger.

gojo would point out the way sukuna literally blushed when you kissed his cheek. toji would poke fun at him for nearly snapping his neck just hearing your name in conversation. even nanami, the ever-stoic man, couldn't help but mention the genuine heart-eyes sukuna got whenever you walked by.

it's annoying to him, but what's even more annoying is how true it all is. yeah, he's down bad. yeah, he's addicted. so what? you get him higher than any drug, with the sweet scent of your shampoo and the even sweeter taste of your lips.

what's most irritating is that he's completely accepted it. he's yours, all yours. he parades it around like a known fact: the lipstick stains on his collarbones, the several annoyingly pink bows you've tied to all his belongings. (he's talking bike handles, helmet, backpack, dog-tag chains — everything.)

and sure, you weren't some rocket scientist, but who cares? it's kind of refreshing, actually. you live in this little, glittery, naive bubble. you don't know the horrors out there. when he comes home to you, you don't smother him or ask where he's been. you don't assume the worst because you're simply not aware of it.

he used to call you princess in a snarky way. you had your daddy's money, always used to getting your way. he thought he knew you, knew your kind—the filthy rich elite.

but when he really got to know you, he realized he was wrong. you smiled at every stranger, fed stray cats, and were even nice to kids, who are usually a pain in the ass. the nickname stuck, but now it was endearing.

he'll follow you around on your shopping sprees, more often than not shooting death stares at any man who even glances at you. it’s an odd sight: such a broody, large man covered in tattoos... right next to a sweet, pretty doll draped in baby pink. it's an oddity, but anyone who wants to keep all their limbs intact won't utter a word.

"'kuna," you hum, glossy lips pursed in thought. "which shade should i get?"

half-heartedly, he looks up from his phone, shifting his weight from one foot to another. the many, many shopping bags rustle in his hold.

sukuna grunts, shrugging. "what do i care?" briefly, his eyes skim from one end of the aisle to the other. every tube of lipstick looks the same to him.

you pick one up, inspecting the color. not even looking up, you chirp, "it's your cock that'll have the ring of it around." you say it like it's a fact, like you have no idea what you do to him.

"oh, jesus," he mutters, nearly choking as he shoves his phone into his pocket. sukuna sticks his hand out, swiping it across the entire top row; the lipsticks clatter into the plastic of the basket.

oh, well, okay then. all of them it is. you won't be caught dead complaining, anyways.

#jjk x reader #jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #ryomen x y/n #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #angel writes !

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cozy-the-overlord · 1 month ago

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I’ve seen several people talking about how it makes them feel weird that Dog Years, a song that is explicitly about suicidal ideation, is something Halsey performs as a sexy song, and while that’s completely fair, I personally think the performance style fits the song really well, even if it’s uncomfortable? (In fact, I think the discomfort is a purposeful, important element of the whole song)

Discussion of suicidal ideation and sex as a unenthusiastic performance below the cut

The first time I heard Dog Years I called it “evil petplay” when explaining it to my friends because that imagery seems so deliberate. Halsey’s voice is getting all husky and low as they croon about what a good dog they’ve been and how they like a tight leash, and especially given their known love of/interest in kink, that takes your mind to a very specific and imo intentional place. But they turn it on its head — if they’re going to be a dog, then they’re an old, tired, weak, sickly one and they want to be put out of their misery and euthanized like you would any pet in that state, and that is very not sexy. It’s a visceral image that can be quite upsetting and uncomfortable, all the more so when paired with the very sexually charged chorus. It makes that chorus feel like more of a reluctant performance — she doesn’t feel sexy, she’s not in the mood, but it’s what’s expected of her and so she’s going along with it and hey, if she’s a good girl maybe she’ll get lucky and they’ll put her down. “I’m not here, I’m somewhere else” — they’re going through the motions of the performance and playing along with what’s expected of them but their heart is not in it, and they feel nothing towards it.

And I feel like that plays into the entire theme of The Great Impersonator as a whole? The whole idea of the expected performance and what that experience does to a person: going through the motions because you’re an entertainer and your job is to entertain and put on a show, but the whole time you’re in the darkest place you’ve ever been both physically and mentally, so sick that you truly expect you aren’t going to survive it. But you still have to do the show, you still have to make it look good, you still have to be appealing to the crowd, and so you have to play the good girl who loves her tight leash because that’s fun and sexy, and the rest of it is something you keep to yourself because people don’t want to hear about that.

I really like the staging of Dog Years on the FMLT tour for that reason. There is something so visceral about Halsey sitting in sexy leather lingerie while literally chained to the stage singing about how much they want someone to just kill them. Sure, it’s sexy, but she is stuck there performing for you, even as she’s voicing some of the darkest thoughts a person can have about themselves. How does that make you feel? Is it hot? Are you enjoying it? Should you be? That just fits the vibe I get from that song so well.

Of course, I could be fully misreading and Halsey could have had completely different intentions for this song, but that’s just how I’ve seen it?

#halsey #for my last trick tour #dog years #the great impersonator #idk i have a lot of thoughts on this #and all of them could be completely wrong #it’s just the vibes i’ve gotten from the song since my first listen

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silverskyeline · 9 months ago

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'bad idea, right?' 18+ dofp!logan x f!reader

summary: your father hired him to protect you, not to fuck you. but logan never really liked playing by the rules. (1.7k) tags: set in the 70s, logan goes down on reader, fingering, squirting, lots of dirty talk, messy, overstimulation if you squint, logan calls the reader 'princess, babygirl' etc, for the 'timetravel' prompt for logan promptober.

"that's it, there we go. . ." logan hums, his voice muffled as he eagerly laps at you with his large tongue, "daddy never let you have any fun, babygirl?"

he grins, ". . . but, daddy ain't here right now though, is he?"

you know this is a bad idea, know you shouldn't be doing this. your father's vengeance upon the stranger between your thighs would be so swift and cruel, but you find yourself unable to care.

his tongue expertly drifts through your wet folds as he groans, sending reverberations right to your core. those large, calloused paws of his grip at your thighs, his thick digits pressing into your soft flesh deeply. he's messy, the best kind of messy, lapping at you like an animal, like a man deprived.

"taste so fuckin' good," he grumbles against your pussy, deep hazel eyes finally opening to look up at you. they're glazed, and so is he, his chin dripping with your slick. but he's not done with you yet, "look how fuckin' wet you are already, you're literally dripping. . ."

your cheeks flush at his almost mocking tone, fingers threading through his hair as if to encourage him. you're not sure how you got here, except you are. the moment he walked through that door, sent by your father to protect you, you felt an ache build between your legs.

you could tell he sensed it too, the way his words and sentences were crafted almost expertly to have you wet and wanting all within twenty minutes of first laying eyes on him. no other guard has ever had you moaning like this, soaked like this, splayed out on your back like this.

but you're pulled from your thoughts when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently. your head falls back, moans spilling out into the apartment your father had rented as the man your father had rented devours you.

"such pretty sounds," logan growls against you, tongue flicking before pressing flat against you, "you're gonna wake the neighbours. c'mon, let 'em hear what i'm doin' to you."

your head is spinning, his words causing heat to pool low in your belly. he nuzzles against you, nose brushing against your swollen clit before he dives back down to your entrance, tongue dipping back inside to fuck you. it's almost too much, the way he makes light work of you as if it's so easy, as if he knows your body better than you know it, without even knowing more than just your name.

"that's it," he coos, grinning between your thighs as he kisses his way back up to your swollen bud once more, "moan for me, wanna hear you scream. i told you, want them to hear how good i'm fuckin' you." that's when you feel them, his thick fingers circling against your hole, teasing you, almost warning you.

but it's not a warning, it's a promise. one that you want - no, fuck that, one that you need. you roll your hips a little in response, moaning and whimpering beneath him, pleading without words.

logan smirks, he knows what you need, of course he knows. he saw the way you eyed his hands, the way you watched him flex them subconsciously - he knew you wanted them buried inside of your begging cunt as soon as he entered the apartment, could smell your want, your hunger.

he was paid to protect you, after all, and how better to protect you than to keep you fucked out in his hands at all times?

just one, at first. one finger slides inside, testing you. it's tight, really tight, and wet, a soft slick sound filling the air as his finger slides inside of you. "oh, been a good girl have you?" logan teases, but it's not like he cares how many people you've been with before him. he's the only one who's ever going to matter, anyway.

then another, you're gasping and moaning at the feeling of him filling you. his fingers are pretty big, much bigger than your own. his tongue dances across your clit, urging you to relax as he stretches you, and you do. he feels you settling, a groan rumbling from his throat as he eases into you.

but when a third finger enters on the next thrust, you're gripping the sheets and calling his name. it's thick, his three fingers filling you almost completely. you wonder how big he actually is and how he compares to his fingers, but your thoughts dissipate as he begins pumping them in and out of you steadily.

"that's it, there we go. . ." logan hums, his voice muffled as he eagerly laps at you with his large tongue, "daddy never let you have any fun, babygirl?"

he grins, ". . . but, daddy ain't here right now though, is he?"

your breath catches in your throat, looking down at him through hooded lids as he fucks his fingers into you faster. his eyes are locked on yours, lips and tongue lavishing your clit with the attention he knows it deserves.

"never had a man like me before, have ya?" logan mumbles, mouth half full with you, "never had a man to really show you how it's done."

you'd answer if you could, but your mind feels like liquid, unable to form or grip any solid coherent thought other than you don't want this to stop, don't want it to ever stop. instead, you tug at his hair, moaning his name over and over like a prayer. his name tastes sweet on your lips, a name you know you'll be calling out in a lust-filled haze on nights when you're particularly lonely. nights where you want, crave the touch from that stranger who nestled between your thighs and lapped like you were a fresh spring and he, a desperate parched man.

he feels you flutter around his fingers and he smirks against your clit. the sweet symphony of your moans reverberating against his ears has his dick twitching in his jeans, aching for release, aching to replace his fingers.

but not now, not while you're writhing so perfectly for him, coming undone at just a few strokes. you wonder how you would handle his cock when you're already close to bursting with his fingers, but who could blame you? the way he curls and pumps and glides them in and out of your tight pussy, you'd think he already knew all of your sweet spots, knew you inside out, without knowing you at all.

logan is just a stranger, but you know the memory of him will be burned between your thighs, making you throb, forever.

"gonna cum, aren't you?" he growls against you, picking up the pace. his fingers curl just slightly, enough to brush against your spongey g-spot on the next thrust, just enough for you to tense up and gasp.

you can't deny it either, there's a tidal wave coming that threatens to destroy you. it's rising slowly. you can't stop it. and it's crafted by him, by the man between your thighs. but you don't want to stop it, you just worry about who you'll be when you resurface on the other side, gasping for air, lost at sea, changed forever.

nodding, you let a whine slip from your lips, feeling a sensation build, your breathing ragged. it's coming, you're cumming. and instead of taking it easy on you, calming the waters, logan encourages the overwhelming waves with a curl of his fingers.

that's all it takes, all it takes for you to cum harder than you've ever cum before. you feel a gush, hot liquid coating your thighs and along his face as he fucks his three fingers into you deeper, hitting that same spot in every thrust. you're screaming his name, fist clenching in his hair in an iron grip as you roll your hips against his face. he's taking it too, tongue assaulting your clit in all the right ways to increase the pitch of your desperate screams.

and he loves it, loves the way you become so messy for him, coating those fresh sheets and his skin. he's moaning too, not that you can hear it over your ecstasy, but it's there, low like a growl beneath every cry.

"good girl. . ." he groans, pumping his fingers in and out of you relentlessly as you clench around him rhythmically, feeling his cock throb in his jeans at the sensation. he just knows you'll take him so well, knows you'll sound even better when it's his fat cock you're cumming around instead of his fingers.

it's almost too much, feeling yourself come apart at the seams as he stitches you back together with those calloused fingers of his through each thrust. and just as quickly as the waves come, they calm all at once, washing over you slowly, sending goosebumps rippling across your soft, supple skin. logan slows too, licking stripes along your cunt to catch the remnants of your release.

"holy shit," he grins wolfishly, proudly as he presses a few kisses to the inside of your thigh, "don't need to introduce myself to the neighbours anymore, i guess, already know me by name."

you flush deeply, running your fingers through your hair as you release his, resting back against the bed fully. there's a witty quip on the tip of your tongue, but it melts away at the feeling of him pulling his fingers out of you.

"this. . . can't happen again," you whisper, shaking your head as your eyes fix on the ceiling above you.

but logan smirks, he knows you don't really mean that. knows you're just trying to convince yourself that you won't crave him in your core, that he won't flash in your mind when another person finds their home between your thighs.

"whatever you say, princess," he shrugs, sitting up as he wipes your delicious slick from his beard and chin.

you glance up at him, his bare chest, muscles tensing coupled with those pretty blue jeans. fuck. fuck. this wasn't happening. dad would kill him, kill you too probably.

"but," you find yourself beginning to speak, unable to stop the words from fighting their way out, "suppose it could be our secret. . . if it did."

ah, there it is. there's the admission logan knew was coming. he knew it was gonna come the second he wrapped his lips around that swollen little clit of yours. you just needed someone to fuck you right, fuck you proper, fuck you dirty like you deserve.

besides, logan never really liked playing by the rules, anyway.

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cheftsunoda · 20 days ago

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Would you consider doing something with a quiet/ reserved reader. I love the idea of a reader who's an up and coming driver but isn't about the press or media at ALL. Like dodging cameras and running away from interviews, and maybe a boy (I don't mind who you pick) misunderstands and thinks that she's running away from them? Maybe add some drama from f1 update twt accounts escalating the situation and painting the reader in a negative light for being "rude" or "impolite".

Thx!! (Sorry for any confusion, English is not my first language but I hope you get what I mean)

miss misunderstood— op81

smau + blurbs

oscar piastri x !quiet/shy driver reader

yn has a lot of pressure on her shoulders— she is the only female driver in f1 and that leads to her consistently having to prove herself to not only her team, who took a chance on her, but the press who are constantly there hounding her. she has always been very shy and reserved— especially around people she does not know. when fans notice how she skips out on interviews and hides from big crowds, the hate pours in, especially after she is seen avoiding a conversation with the grids other most quiet individual— but he is persistent and wont give up on her.

(a/n) : such a cute idea anon! i understood you perfectly fine my love. i hope you enjoy this. i thought it would be fun to pair reader with someone who is also rather quiet and reserved.

fc : amna al qubaisi

—

f1gossipgirls

257,087 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Almost all of our favorite drivers have touched down in Barcelona for media day. Some of our first arrivals include YN LN, Charles Leclerc, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris and George Russell.

—

view 32,057 other comments.

username0 : george not dressed properly for the weather pt 899

liked by f1gossipgirls

username10 : yn always looks like she doesn’t want to be there. why is she even in f1 if she hates to do the job??

username15 : everyone is smiling, waiving, talking to fans and press and then there is yn who immediately books it to the paddock and ignores everyone

username22 : ill say it once and i will say it again— f1 is not a silent film. she either needs to speak up and play the role or step aside. good driver or not. that job comes with more responsibilities than just driving around the track.

username5 : she gives off “im better than everyone else” energy and im sick of her.

username00 : every time i try and like her, she gives us absolutely nothing. cold and awkward isn’t a personality, babe.

↳ username9 : yet you guys eat it up when oscar does it. the double standard is insane.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username11 : its always the quiet ones y’all tear apart for not being loud enough. she’s there to drive. not entertain you.

liked by f1gossipgirls

username17 : you guys are extra hard on her because she is a female. and it is sick.

username101 : she minds her business, she’s fast, and she is unproblematic. you guys are just finding reasons to hate her. jealousy is a disease.

liked by f1gossipgirls

—

They say I’m cold. Unfriendly. Standoffish. Like I’m trying too hard to be mysterious or above it all. But they don’t know me. Not really. Because if they did, they’d know I used to be warm. I used to talk too much. Laugh too loud. Hug people without thinking twice. But that was before. Before the phone call. Before the hospital room. Before the person who knew me better than anyone else—who loved me without needing me to be anything but myself—was just… gone.

Losing a parent is something people talk about like it’s a passage. A sad inevitability. But they don’t talk about what it does to you when it’s sudden. When it’s brutal. When the last words you said were something stupid because you thought you had more time. My dad was my safe place. The only person I could fall apart around. He was the reason I started racing. The reason I believed I could do anything. And when I lost him, I didn’t just lose a person—I lost myself. I haven’t spoken about it. Not to anyone.

Not to my engineers. Not to my teammates. Not to the drivers who think I’m just “shy” or “quiet” or “moody.” Because once I say it out loud, it becomes real in a way I’m not ready for. It becomes the thing people pity me for instead of the thing I’ve survived. So I stay quiet. I keep the noise out. I protect the stillness inside me. People don’t understand it, and that’s fine. They think I’m emotionless when really, I’m overflowing and just trying not to drown. I hear what they say. The fans. The media. That I don’t engage. That I don’t give enough. But I didn’t come here to be their favorite. I came here to race. I came here to honor my father. To survive something else. To find moments of peace between the chaos and the grief that still sits like stone in my chest.

They’ll never understand why I am the way I am. Because they never saw me before. Before the silence felt safer than the world ever did. And I don’t owe them an explanation for that.

—

The air in Barcelona is thick with heat and noise—press cameras clicking, fans shouting driver names like spells, a thousand voices layered on top of each other. I keep my head down but offer a small smile, lifting my hand in a quiet wave. They cheer anyway. Some scream my name. Others don’t. Some just stare, waiting for me to trip or ignore them or give them proof I’m “as cold as they say.”

I smile again, even if it doesn’t reach my eyes. It’s not fake—it’s just not loud.

Security walks with me as I cross the paddock. My eyes flicker over the cameras stationed outside team motorhomes, the reporters already calling out names, hoping for a quote. I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag. Just a few more steps.

I keep walking. Fast, but not suspiciously fast. Just enough to dodge the press circling like hawks, waiting for a moment of weakness, a headline, a clipped quote that can be turned into whatever version of me they want to sell this week.

Finally, I step inside Red Bull. The air conditioning kisses my skin. The silence—relative silence—is heaven. I make it to my driver room, push the door shut with my shoulder, and lean against it for a second. Eyes closed. Deep breath. The chaos is muffled now, like a storm just beyond the walls. Then the door opens again without a knock.

“Nice escape,” Max says, completely unfazed. He shuts the door behind him like he owns the building. “You only almost ran over two photographers. New record?”

I huff out a laugh—quiet but real. “Felt like twenty.”

He drops into the chair across from me like he’s been doing this his whole life. Which, to be fair, he basically has.

Max studies me for a second, unreadable as always. “You look like you’re about to vomit. That your media day face?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

He shrugs. “Just saying. You do realize they can’t eat you alive on camera, right? Legally.”

“I don’t know. I think one of the Sky guys has sharp enough teeth.”

He chuckles, dry and quiet. “You’ll be fine. Say as little as possible. Give one-word answers. Scowl a little. That’s what I do.”

“You give plenty of one-word answers.”

“Exactly,” he says, proud. “It’s an art.”

He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, face softening just slightly.

“They don’t matter, you know. The journalists. The fans who think they know you. The Twitter freaks. You’re fast. That’s what counts. That’s what wins. Let them think you’re a robot or a villain or a Bond girl or whatever mood they’re in this week.”

I nod. A slow exhale.

“Thanks, Max.”

He shrugs again. “Just don’t cry on camera. I already have a reputation for being emotionally unavailable. Don’t need yours adding to the Verstappen Cold Front.”

This time, I laugh out loud. He grins. Mission accomplished.

“Go be scary,” he says, pushing himself up. “And if you panic, just pretend they’re all standing in front of your car at turn one.”

“I’d drive through them.”

“Exactly.”

He leaves without another word, and for the first time all morning, I feel like I can breathe.

—

I answer with the same even tone I always do. I deflect, redirect, smile where I’m supposed to. I’ve trained myself not to flinch. But it still chips away at me, a little at a time. I finally escape outside, tucked behind one of the Red Bull displays near the fan zone—close enough to be seen, far enough to feel like I’m not drowning. I sip from a water bottle, hoping the air might settle in my lungs again. That’s when I see her.

A girl, maybe twelve, in a handmade cap with my number scribbled on it in glitter glue. She’s holding a small notebook and a marker, standing with her dad and hesitating like she doesn’t want to bother me. I almost keep walking. I’m tired. Overheated. Ready to shut down for the rest of the day. But something in her eyes stops me. She doesn’t look like the others—she looks like she’s trying to be brave. So I walk over.

Her eyes go wide when I stop in front of her. “Hi,” I offer, voice soft.

She blinks. Then holds out the notebook with slightly trembling hands. “Um—sorry, I just—could you sign this? I know you don’t really like talking to people a lot, but you’re my favorite. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want.”

My chest tightens. Not in a bad way—in the way it does when something hits a nerve you didn’t know was still exposed. I take the notebook and sign it carefully.

“You know,” she says, voice quiet, “I get nervous talking to people too. But I think you’re really brave. I like that you don’t try to be loud just to fit in. You make me feel like that’s okay.”

I blink fast. It’s not the kind of compliment I get. It’s not about speed or podiums or stats. It’s about me. The parts I’ve always kept hidden because the world made me feel like they were wrong. I smile—genuinely this time—and crouch a little so we’re eye level.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “That means more than you know.”

Her face lights up like I just handed her a trophy. We take a photo. I sign her hat. She hugs me before I even have time to react—but I don’t mind. Not even a little. As I walk away, I feel lighter. Like the weight pressing on my shoulders loosened just a little. Maybe I’ll always be the quiet one. The misunderstood one. But to that one girl? I was seen. And that’s enough.

—

The moment I cross the line, the radio explodes.

“P1, YN! That’s P1! You did it! You absolutely nailed that last stint—what a drive!”

I don’t say much. I can’t. My throat is tight and my hands are shaking around the wheel. The pit wall is screaming, my engineer shouting through the static. The grandstands blur into one giant roar. I slow the car down and guide it into parc fermé, P1 board waiting. The marshals are waving, cameras already turned in my direction like hungry mouths. I sit still for a beat. The engine is off, the world is loud, but in my cockpit it’s just… quiet. Then I hear it—Max’s car pulling into P2.

“Let’s go,” I murmur to myself and start the slow climb out.

But my limbs feel heavy. Every emotion I’ve buried all year starts clawing its way to the surface, and I’m suddenly not sure if I’ll make it over the halo without falling flat on my face. And then—there’s a hand. Max, already out of his car, standing beside mine like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He holds his hand out without a word. Just a look that says, Yeah, I know. Take it. I take it. He helps me out of the car, firm but unshowy. As soon as I hit the ground, I sway a little, overwhelmed—but I don’t fall.

He leans in, dry as ever. “You know you’re supposed to breathe when you win, right?”

I huff out something between a laugh and a sob. “I’ll try next time.”

Our helmets clink together briefly as we hug—quick, tight, familiar—and then he nudges me toward my team. They’re already there—Red Bull crew surrounding me, cheering, hugging, spraying water. I let myself fall into it for a moment. I smile, genuinely. I hug back. One of the engineers lifts me off the ground and spins me, and I let them. Because this is theirs, too. Ours. But just as the broadcasters and press start pushing through the sea of mechanics, I slip away—ducking behind the barrier, walking briskly toward the cooldown room before they can catch me.

I hear a few voices behind me—“YN, one word for Sky? Just a few seconds?”

I keep walking. The cooldown room is blissfully empty. Cold, quiet, white walls and a table with water and towels. I sit, press the bottle to my forehead, and finally breathe. No cameras. No questions. No pretending. Just silence. Just peace. Just… me. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

—

The water bottle sweats in my hands, condensation dripping slowly onto my race suit. I haven’t said much since sitting down, and Max hasn’t asked me to. He’s lounging across from me on the other bench, head tilted back, eyes closed like he owns the room. His suit is halfway peeled down and his hair’s a sweaty mess, but he looks… content. Neither of us are fans of the overexposed post-race routine. The lights. The forced questions. The soundbites that get twisted a dozen ways before the sun even sets. So we sit here, in the eye of the storm, letting the world knock on the door without answering.

Max finally cracks an eye open. “You going to do the interviews?”

I lean my head back against the cool wall and sigh. “Eventually. Maybe. If they don’t forget I exist by then.”

He grins slightly. “You just won. They’ll send a SWAT team if you don’t come out soon.”

Before I can answer, the door opens — fast but tentative — and in walks Camille, my press secretary. She’s breathless. Her clipboard’s half tucked under her arm, and she looks like she’s been fighting off wolves outside.

“YN,” she starts, trying for calm but clearly begging on the inside, “I hate to interrupt, but they’re getting antsy. Sky, F1TV, everyone’s lining up. They want quotes, a soundbite—anything.”

I nod slowly. I expected this. It doesn’t make it any easier.

“I’m not doing the scrum,” I say. “Not the pen. Not the mixed zone.”

Camille looks like she wants to scream into a pillow. “Okay. Fine. What will you do?”

I glance at Max, who’s watching like it’s the most entertaining episode of Drive to Survive he’s seen all year.

“One interview,” I finally say. “That’s it.”

Camille’s already flipping through her mental rolodex. “Okay. Sky? F1TV? Maybe something for social? Martin Brundle is waiting and—”

“No,” I cut her off, gently but firm. “If I do one, it’s with Lissie. No one else.”

Camille blinks. “Lissie—Lissie Mackintosh from Sky?”

I nod.

“She’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m under a microscope,” I explain. “She’s kind. And she actually listens.”

Camille softens a little. “Okay. I can work with that. But they’ll push back.”

“Let them,” I shrug. “I don’t owe them anything else today.”

She studies me for a moment, then exhales and heads out, already dialing her phone as she goes.

The door shuts again, and I fall back into the silence like it’s a blanket.

Max raises a brow. “Lissie, huh?”

“She doesn’t try to make me a headline,” I reply.

Max gives a nod of respect. “Smart. Wish we all had a Lissie.”

I glance down at my fingers, still slightly trembling from adrenaline. “I just need someone who sees me.”

“You just won a damn Grand Prix,” Max says, standing and nudging my foot with his. “They’re gonna have to see you now, whether they like it or not.”

—

yn's post race interview with lissie mackintosh- barcelona

—

third person pov

YN steps down from the small stage, fingers tugging at the collar of her suit as if she’s trying to breathe easier now that the lights are off. She’s walking fast, already focused on making it back to the safety of the garage. She doesn’t see Oscar until she turns the corner, he is halfway through his own interview with a different outlet. He’s smiling—tired, but still upbeat—and when he spots her, his expression brightens like he’s been waiting for a chance to say something. Oscar turned to YN as she passed by.

“You should really be talking to the winner, huh?”

His voice is friendly. Joking. The kind of throwaway line that’s meant to show camaraderie, not pressure. YN pauses just for a second. She offers a small, polite smile—closed-lipped and barely there. No laugh. No response. Just a nod. And then she’s gone. Quiet steps, fast retreat.

Oscar watches her disappear down the corridor, his smile faltering slightly. His interviewer says something, but he doesn’t really register it.

“…Did I say something weird?”

He turns back to the camera, eyes a little more unsure. In the back of his mind, the question settles in— Does she just not like me? But the truth is simpler. And sadder. She doesn’t dislike him. She just doesn’t have room for warmth in the places where the world watches too closely.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Race Winner, YN LN, only gave 1 two minute interview with @/skysports Lissie Mackintosh. Oscar Piastri who was P3 today, was also doing an interview when LN happened to walk by and made a joke to which YN just walked off. He then asked the interviewer if he said something wrong. Thoughts?

view 120,004 comments.

username00 : imagine winning a race and still managing to have the personality of dry toast 😭 poor oscar was just being NICE

username22 : as someone who watched the full interview with Lissie — she was genuine and soft spoken. maybe what she needs is respect, not attention.

username08 : i love Oscar but this isn’t that deep. she clearly has boundaries and isn’t fake about it. that’s kind of refreshing.

username09 : she didn’t even thank the fans today. one interview and vanishes? okay ice queen 🧊

username17 : not her making Oscar second guess himself when he was literally just being sweet? i would NEVER recover.

username20 : this is why she’s boring. no charisma, no interviews, no interaction. i said what i said. 🥱

username30 : are y’all ignoring the interaction she had with a younger fan today?? she is such a sweetie, she is just camera shy.

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, redbullracing and 1,7005,002 others.

ynfromredbull : good shit.

—

view 74,032 other comments.

lissiemackintosh : Honored to have been the one to share part of this day with you. Congratulations again, YN! ✨

liked by ynfromredbull

username0 : i feel like max is the only one that understands her.

maxverstappen1 : good shit indeed.

liked by ynfromredbull and redbullracing

oscarpiastri : Insane drive today, YN. 💪🏻

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ username0 : oscar is much better than me bc id be a hater rn

alexalbon : can someone pls nerf the redbull team. i am tired.

liked by maxverstappen1, ynfromredbull and redbullracing

username10 : can y'all shut up now- she is literally taking pictures with fans.

↳ username0 : wowww one time in her whole career.

carlossainz55 : such a beast. congratulations yn

liked by ynfromredbull

—

I don’t like nights like this. Too many people. Too many lights. Too many eyes that don’t know me but swear they do. I don’t stop for cameras, I don’t pose, I don’t even slow down when someone calls my name. I just head straight inside the theater like I’m late for something, even though I’m not. I keep my eyes low, find the row I asked Max to save for me, and drop into the seat beside him with a quiet exhale. He glances at me, unimpressed but amused.

“Nice entrance. Scared three PR people on the way in.”

I almost smile. “Was aiming for five.”

He snorts, and just like that, I feel a little more human. Max has always understood the value of silence. He never pushes, never demands more than I can give. We talk a little—about the ridiculousness of the event, the car updates, the championship—but mostly, we just sit. It’s enough. Until I feel a shift. I don’t even have to look up. I can sense someone walking toward us with too much hesitation, like they’ve already decided I’m going to run. When I do glance up, I’m met with wide brown eyes and a nervous smile. Oscar.

“Hey. Sorry—YN? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Max raises a brow. I pause, heart twitching in my chest for reasons I don’t fully understand, and then I nod. I follow Oscar into the hallway, the noise of the event fading behind me like static. The lighting is dimmer here. Softer. Still too bright. He turns to face me, shifting on his feet like he’s rehearsed this five times already.

“I, um—did I do something to upset you?”

My stomach drops.

“What?”

“After the race. I made that joke and you just… walked off. And I get it if you’re not a fan of me or something, I just—” He laughs nervously. “I keep thinking I said something wrong.”

I blink. I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead, I look down, ashamed.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s not you. It’s just… me.”

He looks confused. Still gentle, though. Waiting. I don’t know why, but I want to explain—just a little.

“When I was younger, I lost someone. My dad. He was… my person. The one who made the noise of the world feel a little less loud. And after it happened, I kind of… shut off. I don’t like being watched. I don’t like being asked to smile when I don’t feel like it. I just… exist better in the quiet.”

Oscar doesn’t speak for a long moment. But his expression softens in a way that makes my chest ache.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says eventually. “But thank you for trusting me.”

I nod, throat tight. Then, a flicker of guilt. “And I’m sorry for walking off like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

He smiles, shy and genuine.

“So… you don’t hate me?”

That makes me laugh. Just once, but it’s real.

“No,” I say softly. “I don’t.”

There’s a pause, and for the first time since I got here, I feel something shift in my chest. A crack of light.

He nudges me lightly with his shoulder. “Cool. Friends, then?”

I think about it. About how hard it is to let people in. About how much it scares me.

Then I nod. “Yeah. Friends.”

—

3 month time skip

ynfromredbull

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, lando & 2,409,001 others.

ynfromredbull : as my counterpart @/maxverstappen1 would say— these last few months have been simply lovely. 🏆💪🏻

—

view 127,002 other comments.

username0 : this caption is the most personality i’ve seen from her all season.

username14 : i can’t believe she is leading the wdc rn

maxverstappen1 : id sue for copyright infringement if i wasn’t so proud

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : very artistic post yn

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ ynfromredbull : thank you mr. piastri

liked by oscarpiastri

↳ lando : OMG SHE SPEAKS

liked by ynfromredbull

↳ lando : yn i didn’t mean that in a bad way pls don’t drive me off the track

liked by ynfromredbull

georgerussell63 : it is against fia regulations to have a teddy bear in the car. RACE BAN (she is still destroying all of us— it would not help save the season)

liked by ynfromredbull

—

f1gossipgirls

428,023 likes.

f1gossipgirls : For the first time in her F1 career, YN LN has not walked into the paddock alone. She walked in with none other than Oscar Piastri himself. Not only did she walk in with him but the two stopped for the press multiple times and stopped to talk with fans. Many people say that this is the most they’ve seen her smile in her whole career. Thoughts?

—

view 15,539 other comments.

username00 : from Oscar “did I do something wrong?” to Oscar walking her in and making her smile… the arc is so insane

username15 : f1gossipgirls is finally being NICE about her. this is how powerful love is

username17 : i haven’t seen her this relaxed since she debuted. i’d cry if i wasn’t already crying.

username22 : this is NOT a drill. she SMILED. she TALKED. she STOOD STILL for the PRESS. what is happening

username0 : So now she wants the attention? Pick a side. Either be private or don’t.

username14 : she’s literally only tolerable when she’s standing next to a man. that’s so sad lol

username20 : i’m sorry but this whole “she’s just shy” thing got old last season. f1 drivers are public figures. she knew what she signed up for.

—

It happens slowly. Like sunlight through tinted glass — warm but filtered, creeping in without permission. Oscar’s been around a lot lately. Not just in the paddock, where we’re both supposed to be, but everywhere in between. Track walks, post-race debriefs, long flights, short layovers, dinners in quiet towns we don’t name on social media. He’s become part of the background noise of my life, and for once, that doesn’t scare me.

I notice it when we’re sitting side by side in the sim room, not speaking, just existing. The silence between us feels easy now. Familiar. Like I don’t have to earn my space — I just have it. I notice it when he hands me a coffee before I’ve even asked, the way he always remembers I take it black with a splash of oat milk, no sugar. Or when he throws a hoodie at me because I always forget I get cold before FP3.

I notice it most on the plane ride. He’s asleep beside me, his head tilted toward me, headphones slipping. I’m staring at the clouds and thinking about how close I am to the title. Closer than I’ve ever been. I should be terrified. But I’m not. Because he’s here. And for some reason, that grounds me.

He mumbles something in his sleep and leans slightly toward my shoulder. I freeze. Not because I’m uncomfortable — but because I’m suddenly too comfortable. My heart stutters. It’s a dangerous thing, comfort. I’ve avoided it for years, convinced it would disappear the moment I reached for it. But Oscar—he never asked me to reach. He just stayed.

Now I’m sitting in row 8F of some transatlantic flight with a soft-voiced Aussie curled up next to me and a World Championship lead in my lap — and all I can think is... God, I might actually be in love with him. And that’s scarier than any press conference I’ve ever dodged.

—

I could already feel the heat of the Monaco sun pressing down as we stepped out of the car. The walk to the paddock always felt long, even when it wasn’t. My palms were tucked into my jacket pockets, nerves dancing beneath my skin like they always did. But this time, I wasn’t alone.

Oscar walked beside me, chatting softly about absolutely nothing — the weather, the coffee at the hotel, the chaos of the Monte Carlo grid. I appreciated it. His voice was grounding. I didn’t have to say anything, and he didn’t expect me to.

I kept my eyes low, used to the flashes of phones and the buzz of people trying to get my attention. Normally, I’d keep walking. Fast. Direct. No room for error. But then I heard it.

“YN!”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive. Just… hopeful. I slowed down without thinking. Oscar noticed instantly and stilled beside me.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… give me a sec.”

I turned toward the barricade. A young fan was holding a poster of my car from Australia. I’d won that race. My name was scrawled across the sidepod in sharp lettering — a moment frozen in time I’d barely let myself process. I took the marker from their hand, signed it quickly but neatly.

“Thank you for today,” the fan said, eyes wide. “You’re… amazing. You’ve always been amazing.”

The words hit me somewhere in the chest I didn’t know was sore.

“…Thanks,” I said, almost too quietly. Then louder: “Thanks for saying that.”

They smiled like I’d handed them gold. I took one photo — just one. And then I stepped back beside Oscar, who gave me a subtle smile. Not too proud. Not too over-the-top. Just there. Solid. Steady. We weren’t even halfway through the paddock before a Sky Sports reporter called out.

“YN! Oscar! Over here?”

I froze.

Oscar looked at me. “Wanna skip it?”

I shook my head. “Just one.”

We walked over together. I didn’t say much — I never do — but I stood there. Present. Listening. And when they asked how I was feeling going into the weekend, the words came before I could edit them.

“Focused,” I said. Then, after a breath: “And a little less alone today.”

Oscar glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. There was a flicker of something soft there, something understanding. It felt… safe. When we finally reached the Red Bull garage, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in twenty minutes. I peeled off my jacket, tugged at the brim of my cap, and tried to disappear through the back. But Max was already leaning on the pit wall, headset half-on, watching me with that unreadable Verstappen face.

“You smiled,” he said, completely monotone. “Terrifying.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

He smirked just slightly. “I’m just saying… if you become media friendly, I’m going to have to be the difficult one now.”

“You already are,” I deadpanned.

Max laughed under his breath and tossed me a bottle of water. “You did good, LN.”

And for once, I let myself believe it.

—

The world was quiet around us. The kind of hush that only existed in moments like this — between heartbeats, between stares. Monaco’s lights flickered just beyond the windows, gold threads pulling through navy silk. I could hear the sea in the distance. Oscar lay beside me, legs stretched across my duvet like he belonged here. He wasn’t touching me, not yet, but he was close enough that I could feel every inch of space between us — and it made my chest ache.

“You’re quieter than usual,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

I turned my head toward him. “That’s saying something.”

He smiled, tired and tender. “Fair. Still true.”

I didn’t answer. Because truthfully, I was scared. This was all new. The closeness. The comfort. The way he looked at me like I wasn’t hard to figure out. Then he said it — no fanfare, no buildup, just a simple truth.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

It should’ve terrified me. But it didn’t. Not really. It cracked something open.

I stared at him, eyes burning, heart folding in on itself. “I think I already have,” I breathed, voice barely there.

The silence that followed was thick — not heavy, not awkward. Just real. He reached over, his fingers grazing mine so gently it made my skin buzz. It wasn’t a grab. It was an invitation. And for once in my life, I accepted. I laced my fingers through his and sat up, pulling open the drawer next to my bed. There was only one thing inside — an envelope. Worn at the edges, the flap taped down three times because I’d opened and closed it more than I should have. I handed it to him. His brows furrowed as he opened it slowly. The photo slipped into his hand.

Me, at six. All tiny teeth and wild hair, grinning up like the sun had never set. Standing next to a man in a racing suit. His hand was on my shoulder. The same eyes. The same smirk. My father. Oscar looked between the photo and me, and I saw the shift happen in real time — confusion to understanding to quiet reverence.

“That’s… is that who I think it is?” His voice cracked just slightly.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “My dad.”

I didn’t say his name. I didn’t need to.

“He died when I was eight. It was… it was violent. Sudden. One second he was there, and then he wasn’t. He was my safest place. My everything. After that, I… broke. I stopped talking for months. And when I started again, it was never the same.”

He didn’t move. Just stared at me like I was something delicate, like if he breathed too loudly I might fold in on myself.

“I never told anyone,” I continued, voice barely holding. “I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want to be treated like some ghost of his shadow. I wanted to be me. Just me.”

Oscar’s fingers tightened around mine — not too much, just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone anymore.

“You are,” he whispered. “You’re everything.”

I looked at him then, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like hiding.

“I think he’d like you,” I said, smiling through the burn in my throat.

Oscar leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, and whispered back, “I like you more than I should.”

And in the soft glow of the Monaco skyline, wrapped in the quiet I used to fear, I finally let myself feel it all. Love. Safety. Peace. Him.

—

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, ynfromredbull & 8,029,003 others.

f1 : Your 2025 World Champion, YN LN! Incredible drive this season, YN. This is well deserved.

tagged : ynfromredbull

—

view 239,492 other comments.

username00 : MY QUEEN! CONGRATULATIONS YN.

username15 : gonna be insufferable about this for the next 40 years ok????

susie_wolff : YN has made history. I am forever proud of her.

liked by ynfromredbull and f1

username30 : people doubted her, the press dragged her, and she STILL smoked them all. cold-blooded. we love a quiet assassin 💅

lissiemackintosh : I’ve seen your journey up close. You are everything this sport needs. Congratulations, champion. 💫

liked by ynfromredbull

oscarpiastri : No one more worthy. What a season, YN. 🏆🤍

liked by ynfromredbull

lando : MY GOATTTTTT LFGGGG

liked by ynfromredbull

lewishamilton : It’s been inspiring watching you come into your own. World Champion sounds good on you. 🔥

liked by ynfromredbull

maxverstappen1 : Couldn’t be more proud. YN deserved this more than anyone.

liked by ynfromredbull

—

ynfromredbull

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, lando and 12,037,024 others.

ynfromredbull : this is what it is all about. thank you all. it is an honor to be your 2025 world champ. i hope you grow to love me as much as i love all of you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

We were far from everything — the noise, the cameras, the endless headlines. Just a small coastal town somewhere in Portugal, sun-drunk and slow, the kind of place where people didn’t care about championship points or last names. Oscar and I had spent the day walking through sleepy markets, eating too much gelato, and laughing at nothing. Now, the two of us lay tangled together on the bed in the little apartment we rented, the linen sheets kicked down to our ankles and the windows cracked open to let in the salt-kissed night air. His hand rested on my stomach, thumb drawing slow circles over the hem of my shirt. The world outside our window was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Not tonight.

“I want to do it,” I said into the stillness.

He turned his head, his voice a low murmur against my temple. “Do what?”

I hesitated, even though I already knew he’d understand. He always did.

“The interview. I want to finally say it. Talk about… him. All of it.”

Oscar sat up slightly, enough to look at me properly. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, throat tight. “It’s time. I’ve hidden behind the silence for so long. And I don’t want to anymore.”

He searched my eyes, then gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t owe anyone your pain, you know. You don’t have to justify who you are.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to tell the story. My story. People have made it for me for so long — all the gossip, the assumptions. I’ve let them believe I’m cold or arrogant or just awkward. But the truth is…” I swallowed. “The truth is, I’m just someone who lost the one person that made the world feel safe.”

Oscar’s hand found mine under the sheets, his fingers warm and steady.

“I think he’d be proud of you,” he said softly. “For everything. For surviving. For being brave enough to do this now.”

I blinked hard, staring up at the ceiling to stop the tears from spilling.

“I miss him so much, still. Every day. Sometimes I think that little girl in the paddock died with him — the one who used to talk to everyone, who smiled without thinking about it.”

He pulled me into his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That girl’s still in there. I see her every time you light up after a race. Every time you laugh when you think no one’s listening. You’re still her. Just… grown, and stronger.”

I breathed him in — the cologne I’d come to associate with safety and something close to peace.

“Will you be there? When I do it?” I asked quietly. “When I finally say his name?”

“Every step,” he said without hesitation. “Always.”

And in that moment, with his arms around me and the stars blinking somewhere above the rooftops, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

Not in the silence. Not in the truth. Not ever again.

—

‘hey lissie— its yn. i want to do an exclusive interview with you. if you’re willing.’

’omg hey champ— obviously id be willing to. where do you need me?’

’my house. next week? i can send a plane your way.’

’ill be there. i am honored, yn. truly.’.

—

world champion, yn, sharing her truths from her home in monaco with lissie mackintosh - 1/2/2026

—

ynsenna

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri & 17,023,004 others.

ynsenna : i’ve spent most of my life trying to be quiet enough not to be noticed. not because i didn’t have anything to say—but because grief took the words from me before i ever had the chance to speak.

this season changed my life. not just because of the results, but because i finally stopped running from the part of me that hurt the most. my father was everything to me. and losing him the way i did shattered something i didn’t know how to rebuild—until recently. the truth is- i’m proud to be his daughter. but i’m also proud of the woman i’ve become, entirely on my own.

to those who’ve seen me when i couldn’t see myself—thank you. to the ones who stayed kind even when i stayed quiet—you mean more than you know.

and to the person who reminded me i’m allowed to be loved, messy and whole—i love you.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirl : YN just did an interview from her home with Lissie Mackintosh going into detail about her childhood and revealed that Ayrton Senna is in fact her father. She spoke about how her father’s tragic death left her emotionally shut her down for most of her life— and she chose silence as form of self protection. She led Lissie through a room in her house which held a large collection of her father’s helmets and trophy’s and she shared a few photos of them on her instagram today— which her new instagram handle is @/ynsenna. She also revealed in this interview that she is indeed dating Oscar Piastri. Oscar was behind the camera silently supporting her during the interview. Thoughts?

—

view 802,482 comments.

username0 : i’m crying real tears. she carried the weight of that legacy in complete silence. absolute warrior.

username14 : Oscar being behind the camera and just silently supporting her???? marriage. immediately.

username20 : now it all makes sense. the silence, the eyes that always looked a little sad. she’s been carrying so much. proud doesn’t even begin to cover it.

username15 : she didn’t win the championship for the world. she won it for her dad and for the little girl who lost her dad. i’m not okay.

username17 : everything about this interview was raw and honest. we don’t deserve her but god do we respect her.

username30 : the fact she said nothing for years and let people think the worst of her, just to protect herself?? she’s not cold. she’s human. and she deserves peace.

—

oscarpiastri

liked by ynsenna, maxverstappen1, lando & 10,273,005 others.

oscarpiastri : proud to know you. proud to love you. you are the strongest human i know. you made him proud, sweetheart.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

The interview with Lissie had gone live less than twelve hours ago. I’d barely blinked since then. I was curled up on my couch, hoodie three sizes too big, hair in a bun, face completely bare. Oscar sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, his back leaning against the couch between my legs. I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair while he scrolled through TikTok with the volume low. My phone buzzed every five seconds on the table, but I ignored it. Oscar didn’t ask questions. He just stayed. And he was quiet in that way that felt like peace.

The soft hum of city traffic below filled the silence until—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone was knocking on my door like it owed them money. Oscar and I both jolted.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, twisting to look at me.

“No—wait. Shhh. Listen.”

BANG BANG BANG.

Then—“YN! OPEN UP! YOU OWE US A DAMN EXPLANATION!”

That voice. That unhinged tone.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Is that—Max?”

Oscar looked up at me. “Should I get the bat?”

I was still laughing as I padded to the door, the sound of voices growing louder.

“Carlos, stop pressing the buzzer, it’s annoying.”

“She’s probably ignoring us—”

“She probably moved to Brazil, bro.”

“Shut up, George.”

“YN, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR I’M GETTING THE SPARE FROM CHRISTIAN!”

I opened the door. And immediately got hit with a wave of chaos. Max was at the front like the ringleader. Behind him stood Charles, Lando, Carlos, Pierre, Yuki, Lewis, George, and Alex, all staring at me like I’d just casually announced I was royalty.

“Hi,” I said blandly.

“‘Hi’?! That’s all we get?” George sputtered.

Max shouldered his way in first, eyes wide. “You—YOU—” He pointed at me. “Are Senna’s daughter and you didn’t tell anyone?!”

“I told Oscar,” I mumbled, leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, okay, Oscar gets a free pass,” Lando said dramatically, waving a hand as he walked in. “Since he is the boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe you’re his,” Pierre said, mouth open as he stared around the apartment.

Yuki beelined for my kitchen. “Do you have snacks?”

Carlos gave me a look that was half stern, half soft. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Lewis stepped forward, eyes kind. “You didn’t have to. But… damn. That was powerful, YN.”

“Yeah,” Charles agreed, nodding slowly. “I cried, but that might’ve been the wine.”

The room was buzzing. Full of movement, questions, half-jokes, too much cologne, and disbelief so thick I could feel it crackling in the air like electricity. And yet, through it all, I just… Chuckled. I mean — this was my life now? Eight world-class athletes pacing my apartment like it was a race strategy debrief while Oscar, my boyfriend, my soulmate, looked like he wanted to protect me from the emotional onslaught with nothing but a throw pillow.

Max stared at me. “What’s funny?”

I smiled — wide and honest. “You guys are all losing your minds in my living room. Like I’m a unicorn or something.”

George raised a finger. “To be fair, you are. We just didn’t know it.”

Lando turned toward Oscar. “You knew. You absolute sneaky bastard.”

Oscar held up his hands, all innocence. “She told me. I didn’t say anything. Not even in the group chat.”

“I’m so proud of you, and also I hate you,” Pierre muttered, clapping Oscar’s shoulder.

And then — without warning — Max said, “Alright, that’s it. Everyone shut up.”

I blinked. “What—”

He lunged. Then Lando. Then Charles. Then George. Before I could even think to protest, I was being dragged into a ridiculous, suffocating, all-limbs, too-many-colognes, full team group hug. My face was squished between Max’s shoulder and Pierre’s head. Oscar laughed and wrapped his arms around all of us from the outside.

Someone yelled, “We’re proud of you!”

Someone else yelled, “She’s a Senna but she’s our YN!”

And I think it was Alex who shouted, “WE LOVE YOU, WORLD CHAMP!”

I couldn’t breathe. Not from the pressure of the hug — from the feeling of it all. Acceptance. Support. Love. After years of walls, of silence, of solitude, it all rushed in like the wave I didn’t know I’d been bracing for. And I let myself sink into it. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to carry the legacy alone anymore.

—

2K notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 5 months ago

Text

Charming the Tyrant Emperor

A new isekai story from me? I know, bonkers! Actually inspired by the blurb I read on an actual isekai manga/manhwa/etc. BUT I liked the idea enough that I didn't read the story so I could write my own yandere version of it, hope you guys enjoy it ♥

Characters: Yandere!Emperor x Isekai!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Forced Marriage Trope, Isekai Trope, Depiction of War, Violence, Attempted Murder (not from or on the reader)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Sighing, you put down the packaging of the game you just loaded up, having hoped it would give you any clue about what it was all about.

A dark, black box with only the game's title imprinted on it—Fated Encounters—was as helpful as a blindfold in the streets. Thus, you threw it over your shoulder, hearing it plop onto your bed as you stared back at the character creation screen you had worked on for a while.

You had to admit, your character was really damn cute, from the pretty eyes to the custom outfit you put together. But at the same time, not knowing what the game was all about, it was hard to decide what was needed now: stats.

"Weird game," you mumbled, feeling slightly irritated at the lack of direction you had received. The friend who told you about it had simply called it "the best game I have ever played" before leaving you behind at the game store after having pushed the box into your hand. They felt very off lately, but you didn't know why. So you thought maybe if you played their favorite game, you could get them out of their shell and to spend time with you again.

Naturally, you could play it safe and just put an equal amount of points in all the stats, but where was the fun in that? You didn't know what occupation your main character had and had no idea what alignment you wanted them to have throughout the run, so you were like a stranded whale when choosing the right stats—utterly helpless.

And out of frustration about it, you decided to say fuck it.

Pressing the button of your controller, you held it until all of the points you were given went into charisma. Who needed strength, magic, defense, and health when you could simply talk your way out of every dangerous situation? Make everyone believe you were innocent and sweet while dodging the possible bullets. With your lack of knowledge about the game, it was the best choice, and if you liked the game, you could still revisit it with better stats next time!

Clicking 'start' almost excited you as you waited for the screen to change from black to an intro cutscene, but instead, another confirmation popped up, asking you, "Are you sure you want to proceed with these choices? Note: All choices have consequences."

"Ominous," you chuckled before hitting the confirmation again. The game made a small sound of acceptance before it finally turned black and stayed this way. Seconds passed, and you started to press all buttons, up, down, left, and right, until finally, you gave up, accepting that all your hard work creating this character had just been in vain, as your system must have frozen.

Frustrated, you forced a manual shut-down of your game system, discarding the controller somewhere on the table before getting up and letting yourself fall head-first into the mattress. What a stupid idea this was, you thought to yourself as you felt the hard box of the game poke your stomach. Anger unleashed upon the poor box as you yanked it out and discarded it on the floor, instant regret overcoming you as you hoped it wasn't broken so you could return the game.

You would definitely not go through all this work again to play it.

No way!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You awoke to the sounds of screaming.

Bellowing voices were all around you, yelling at one another, grunting, despairing. The ground beneath you shook with ferocity as the bangs of explosions hit you from both sides, barely shielded by the ringing in your ears. Alerted, you pushed your hands into the surface beneath you and felt your fingers dig into what felt like loose earth or sand while you tried to focus. What had happened? You only just fell asleep after being so frustrated with the game you couldn't play. Why had the atmosphere changed so drastically?

Gripping your head, a surge of pain went through you, a nasty gash on your forehead wetting your palm. The red was striking even through your blurred vision as you gazed at your hand, and reality was still hard to grasp as your senses suddenly cleared, letting in the unmistakable sounds of war all around you.

Hastily, you looked around, trying to focus on one thing and all at the same time. This place didn't look like your home at all! There was neither a bed nor your gaming setup around that clearly marked it as your room. Instead, you saw dirt everywhere, flames rising from bushes and trees, and the worst part—bodies.

Countless humanoid bodies lay in the dirt, the ground stained with what could only be blood. Most were face down, arrows sticking from their backs, spears slammed through the armor some of them wore. Some of their heads were rolled to the side, staring at you lifelessly, and for some reason, you were overcome by guilt, as if it had been your fault they died. You grabbed yourself by the arms as you were overcome by the horror, finally realizing you were on some battlefield, wounded and terrified, with no idea how you got there.

Had your country been attacked while you slept? How could you have not noticed it? Where was your family, why did these bodies look so medieval? What the hell was going on?!

Next to you, another person stirred, clad in black armor and clearly in pain. You crawled over to the knight, helm covering his face while he clutched his side.

"Hey! Hey, stay calm!" you called out to him, and he jerked at your voice, probably just as scared as you were. "It's going to be alright," you assured him, looking his body over for wounds until you noticed the gaping opening his hand tried to press down on.

"It's okay," you kept assuring him, hoping he wouldn't notice the wavering in your voice. You had no idea if it would be okay or not. Honestly, it looked pretty bad for him. All you knew was that one should press down on wounds to stop the bleeding, and although you felt bad, you put more pressure on top of the knight's hand, hoping that would help.

"Why..." he grunted, and you gulped.

"We have to stop the bleeding so we can get you to someone who can help! A-A doctor... healer, something like that! I don't know, I'm sorry! This is all so strange, I have no idea what's going on! I'm doing my best! I just don't know what to do! I'm so so sorry!"

Your whole body was wracked with shivers as you tried to assist and help this person somehow when the sound of his voice suddenly cut through your panic in a way you didn't expect.

He chuckled.

"No, why would you help me?"

"You're hurt..." you whispered in response, saying it before thinking clearly.

"It's war. Would you not want your enemy to be hurt?" he asked, his voice lightening with curiosity. Even if the concept of war was so unfamiliar, only known through stories and history to someone like you, you understood that he meant that hurt and death were inevitable when two sides clashed. Still, it meant very little to you, who couldn't bear these thoughts even though you had to have them.

"War is awful! No one deserves to be in pain or die!" you sobbed, tears having collected in your eyes. This wasn't the right moment for your pity party; after all, this man was probably as good as dead. Yet here you were, making it about yourself and your stupid, conflicted feelings. But this guy was perhaps the same as you, lying in the dirt, scared and frightened. You didn't want the closest thing to an ally you had, to die miserably.

"I don't want this! I don't want you to die! I don't care if you're my enemy! You deserve to live and be happy! Enjoy your life, eat good food, and be in love with someone who loves you just the same! It's not fair! No one should have to die in vain!" you yelled, and it took him a moment before he laughed softly, rolling his head over the ground.

"Your Highness, get away!" someone yelled, the voice clear and strangely familiar as the black knight next to you suddenly rose from his early grave. Even though you both sat on the ground, he towered over you, the shining black of his armor looming like death incarnate. His hand reached up towards your face but instead caught your wrist from where it had touched him. You jolted in surprise, his grip crushing as it wrapped around you. Gasping out in pain, an arrow suddenly came swooshing through the air, cutting close enough to the knight's grip on you that you could feel the wind on your exposed skin around your hand, tearing you out of your fear and pain.

For a moment, his grip softened, and this time, your body responded perfectly, yanking yourself out of his hold and toppling back. It was neither elegant nor careful. It hurt as your elbows crashed onto the ground, your lower back taking most of the blow, but at least you were a few inches away from that strange knight.

Strong arms hooked underneath your body, the presence of many people surrounding you as you were lifted from the ground swiftly. You heard all sorts of armor clanking and clicking as people moved around, but even more so, you were forced to listen to the blood-curdling screams of soldiers being struck down right in front of you.

Was it the black knight or the ones now crowding around you? All of the people here wore silver plates, but you could only see hints of black through the gaps in their formation.

"Your Highness, you need to leave right now! It's too dangerous to remain here!" the soldier that held you from behind yelled over the screams, and without asking for permission, your hand was once again gripped by a bigger one, dragging you after him as he ran.

More knights closed in as you two stumbled in the opposite direction, shouting and attacking enemies behind you while you stumbled over your feet, trying to keep up. Hand lodged tightly in the iron grip of the knight, he didn't look back as he made his way through the soldiers, almost as if his mission wasn't fighting but rather fleeing.

Not so much you. Somehow, you couldn't shake off the need to look back, to assure yourself, to see something you weren't yet in the place to judge.

There he stood amongst the silver knights, flames reflecting in the brilliance of his black armor. You had been sure he had been severely wounded. Yet, he swung around his battle axe effortlessly, striking down the soldiers one after the other as if they were no match for him.

"Hurry, your Highness!" the soldier yelled, tugging you forward repeatedly as the black knight's head appeared to look up. He met your gaze in a bizarre look as it was covered in his helmet, yet you could feel his eyes drilling into you, fixating on yours while he was being attacked.

It was you who had to break the strange eye contact as you were suddenly gripped by your hips and unceremoniously lifted into the air, falling into a saddle on top of a nervously stomping horse. Reigns shoved into your hands, you yelled out in surprise as the animal took off, no regard to its rider's condition, and you could only cling to the reigns and saddle as it gallopped of to who-knows-where.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"He keeps advancing towards us, showing no signs of stopping."

"He won't stop no matter how much gold and resources we promised him! Open your eyes, Minister! It's not like he spared any of the cities he rode through during his conquest! They don't call him the "cruel tyrant" for nothing!"

Many men shouted angrily around the large table, making their panic and frustration known as they discussed how to stop the tyrannical approach of the new emperor who reigned over even his own vassal state. From small ministers to military captains, no one knew what to do, and the pressure threatened to overcome all of them. The crown on your head still felt as heavy as the first time they forced you to wear it—unfamiliar, not right. They called you their Queen, yet you didn't feel royal at all.

Because you weren't, you were an imposter.

For all you knew, you had taken over some noble's body while they were attacked by the emperor's forces. That noble turned out to be of quite a high standing, putting you into this awful position of ruling a queendom. No matter how much you asked for information from the people around you, they'd give you weird looks, expecting you to know the answers to your own questions. Still, you couldn't exactly tell them you weren't that person either, not knowing what they'd do with you if that were to happen.

And it was all that stupid game's fault.

You had no idea how this could have possibly happened. "Isekai" was only ever a concept you had seen in stories and games. But when you sat in front of a mirror for the first time, you immediately remembered the face that looked back at you—the character you had created. The disconnect to your body was severe and real; no matter how much you rubbed your face and grimaced at your reflection (the maid giving you apprehensive glances), you had to eventually accept that this body was who you were. Things still didn't make sense, but you tried your best in the new role, although it never felt right.

"If only someone had killed the emperor when they had the chance," one of the ministers noted with a dramatic sigh. All eyes fell on you for just a short moment, making you cower. You couldn't have known! That's what you kept telling yourself. He technically told you he was your enemy, but how would you have known that without playing the game? But you doubted you could have really killed the black knight—the emperor—even if someone had told you that he was your mortal enemy. Even if your body was that of the monarch under attack by the emperor, you didn't have a sword and much less the will to kill someone.

However, your hesitation made you look incapable in everyone else's eyes.

Now, you didn't just have to deal with the upcoming attack—your head still throbbing from the gash whenever you thought about the war—you were also scrutinized by everyone for failing to protect them from the emperor's advances. It was a lot to handle for someone so wholly underprepared as you were. This wasn't your life, but for them, it was all they had ever known.

The door being suddenly thrown open saved you from yet again explaining why you didn't kill the emperor when you had the chance. Why you let him live despite "knowing" who he was. All eyes fell on the butler standing in the doorway, panting heavily, holding up a letter and fanning it in the air with urgency.

"Your Highness!" he yelled through despite the lack of hair. "A letter arrived! A letter from... from... the emperor!"

Gasps went through the rows of people as the one closest to the door jumped up, ripping the letter from the butler and opening it. Some ministers gave each other worried looks, and some stretched their heads towards the one reading the letter as if to see better.

Suddenly, the minister rejoiced, laughing out loudly, and you were uncertain if that was a good or bad sign. He did sound indignant, but at the same time, he seemed to have just solved all the worries in the world.

"An alliance! The emperor wants a marriage alliance with us!"

People sprung from their seats as they cheered, although some of the older ones sent worried glances towards you. "The war is over!" someone yelled, and more of them fell into a chant as they danced around the table. But could it really be that easy?

"Uhm, I'm sorry?" you called out, gathering the attention of those still seated. "The emperor wants to marry who?"

Now, all the eyes were back on you as the cheers died down. The letter was passed towards you, the oldest, wisest minister at your right looking it over, adjusting his monocle to read it properly. Sputtering a little, he lowered the paper again, leaning forward and reaching for your hand, cupping it gently, encouragingly. Yet, you didn't feel comforted at all.

"That would be you, your Highness."

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Still as the dead, you stood in the forest clearing, waiting. Everyone around you was tense as they waited for the emperor's delegation. But you were long past nervosity. Between the letter and the arranged date to hand you over to the emperor's delegation were months of tears and training.

You tried to revolt and make the people understand that you couldn't possibly marry him! But it all fell on deaf ears when you screamed and raged. Rumors had reached you of how he had killed potential spouses for less. How this was all a facade and how the emperor would still ruthlessly conquer the land that had made you its ruler and then kill you to mock them on top of it. And you had shed many, many tears pleading for your life. Almost everyone had cried with you, chastizing you while their own hearts broke, taking pity on you, and comforting you.

But to these people, you were the only hope they had.

Perhaps you would have conducted yourself more gracefully if you had been their real queen. Accepting your fate and enduring the strict training needed to ensure you were perfect for the emperor. When you asked them to stop pleadingly, they would. But after a brief rest, you were forced to train again, your muscle memory of very little help when all the etiquette wasn't good enough for the empire's standards. It was while you were training that you finally understood something.

Every choice had consequences.

The game had warned you before starting and freezing on you. If you acted up, threw tantrums, raged, and went against what the people wanted, you got nowhere. But instead, if you sympathized with them, asked nicely, and conducted yourself well, you got everything you wanted. Giving them what they desired always ended in you getting your will. All points in charm, right?

So, if you wanted to survive, then you had to find out what the emperor desired. Quickly.

All of your senses were in survival mode, making you seem graceful and dignified while you waited, going through countless scenarios in your head. If he wanted money, you'd tell him how to construct something lucrative from your world. If he wished to reign the world, you'd offer him to conduct peace treaties in his name, having to charm more people so they'd agree. You had devised a solution to almost every problem when birds flew out of the trees, alerted by the incoming caravan.

On your way to the empire, you'd listen intently to the delegate to be prepared. Everything would be fine. You could do it. All points in charm would help you! You had trained yourself for this and made sure you were more aware of people. Everything would be fine!

But you didn't expect to see the black armor that haunted your dreams to lead the delegation, the emperor himself arriving before you the moment his horse stepped out into the clearing.

You drew in your breath sharply before bowing deeply as his horse came to a halt in front of you while your heart raced. The clattering of armor took you back to the war, your body wincing with trauma. You weren't prepared for this, his heavy footsteps shaking your resolve as they approached. Some maids gasped in horror, the soldiers on your side readying their weapons to defend you.

How could they? Everyone knew what he was capable of!

But they loved you too much to not defend you with their life if they had to. So you remained low—for their sake, too. Until a hand reached beneath your chin, cold metal clinging to your skin as your head was lifted, forcing you to face your worst fear.

With you standing straight again, he still towered above you, much like when you met him on the battlefield. His touch lingered as he reached around his head with his free hand, pulling off his helmet. His looks hadn't been much of a surprise as the emperor had sent you his painting along with countless presents once the deal was made. But still. He was devilishly handsome for such a cruel man, with hair as black as his armor and eyes as red as only the fiend could have.

"There you are," he murmured, only meant for your ears. "I've been waiting for this."

"So have I," you replied quickly, not wanting to disgruntle him at the first meeting despite your voice wavering with fear. It wasn't the ideal situation—perhaps there never would be one—but your plan was still solid: find out what he desired and force him to keep you alive to get it.

His gaze shifted from one of your eyes to the other, searching for a lie. But it wasn't. Ever since you realized you couldn't change the fate that was to befall you, only sweeten it, you had waited for the day you'd meet him.

Pleased with his findings, or the lack thereof, his lips cracked into a wide grin, befitting of the cruel tyrant as it paired well with the glint in his eyes to reveal only madness. So far, it had gone well, but you couldn't count on his mood appearing to be favorable. He was as unpredictable as his strategies on the battlefield; that much you had learned already about him. To further fall into his good graces was all you could do.

"I was surprised about your proposal," you spoke calmly, putting some of those charms to work. Reaching up, you pulled the emperor's hand from your chin, instead cupping his palm over your cheek and holding it there. The emperor watched every one of your moves with curious interest, probably expecting you to try and kill him at any given time as well. Almost, you two were alike like this.

"I didn't expect you to want--"

"You."

You forced a grin, chuckling curtly, and his expression sank slightly. "Yes, me. Why me? Why not someone from the empire or the other states? What could you want with little ol' me?"

Lips curled back even more, showing off teeth that seemed almost predatorily sharp before the emperor suddenly burst into laughter, doubling over while still holding your face in his palm. The soldiers around you two were completely taken aback at the emperor's sudden outburst, inching closer while some backed away in fear. He regained his composure quickly, though, bringing his other hand up to cup your face fully now between them as he chuckled, inspecting your face thoroughly.

"You have such a refreshing way of speaking, my dear. Unlike any other noble I've ever met. And I could just eat you up for it." His thumb loosened from the side of his hand, rubbing over your cheeks gently. The metal left a cold smear on your skin, but you forced yourself not to react to it, holding his gaze firmly while you feared that looking away could be your death sentence.

"But that was not the reason," he clarified, and you gave him a small nod, indicating that it was fine with you. "It was what you said on the battlefield. That you didn't want me to die. Me. Do you know how many of our peers disagree on that? Do you know how many I have beheaded for less than wishing for my death?"

"I do not."

He stared at you with this maddening smile on his lips before the emperor's expression suddenly softened, his thumb returning to caress your cheek. "Good," he sighed, sounding almost relieved. "I don't want to scare you. Very well then."

Letting his hands fall from your face, you still didn't feel like grasping the situation completely, but you didn't hold on to him, watching instead as he hiked up his pants, adjusting the armor over his legs before taking a knee in front of you. Everyone—including his side of soldiers—gasped, but the emperor paid them no mind. The boon of the strongest must have been that no matter what he did, he couldn't care less about the opinions of others, and he made it very clear, asking silently for your hand by presenting his own.

There was no reason to refuse him, so you placed yours into his palm, letting it linger as he reached upwards, pushing back the sleeve on your arm. His grip tightened as the bruises you had suffered from your training were exposed, face falling as he looked at the damaged goods that you felt like. Panic rose as you feared his anger, and you quickly reached over to push down the fabric again when his eyes fell from the wounds to yours, overpowering you and pushing the sleeve out of the way.

"I promise to take you as my spouse," he announced solemnly, leaning down to kiss the back of your head.

"To love and honor you, as will you, me," his lips wandered upwards as he muttered the words, kissing the small specks of bruises littering your arm.

"Not to hurt or trouble you," he looked up, lips curling into a cheeky grin as he lightly bit your arm, making you gasp before adding much more quietly, "Unless you like it."

"And protect you until my dying breath."

Finalizing his oath, the emperor quickly got up again, smiling at you like a child on Christmas. You had no idea what kind of awkwardness lay in your own expression, but when he offered his arm, proceeding with the handover, you barely hesitated to link yours with his. As if this new life wasn't surreal enough, you didn't understand his character at all. Was he a terrible tyrant or a kind husband in the making? Mad or simply living up to what people expected of him? Searching for comfort in you or planning something devious and evil?

But before you could ponder these thoughts, you heard a sudden commotion behind your back, making you look back only to see one of your soldiers break out of the protective formation and charge toward your new husband with a dagger raised.

"Die, you monster!" he yelled, aiming for the emperor's back. However, your husband twisted around without letting your arm fall, catching the dagger in his free hand. "Careful," he grumbled. "You could hurt my wife with that."

With a strong yank that you only saw, not felt, the emperor discarded the dagger, his soldiers crowding in and grabbing your knight, kicking his knee until he was doubled over. With an appalled gasp, you detached from your husband's arm, but he caught your hand, pressing his palm to yours and linking your fingers forcefully, every one of his movements deliberate, yet no less oppressing, as if to make a point.

"Tell me what to do with the traitor, my Love," your husband asked, eerily asking for your opinion. You gulped, the life of the knight weighing heavy on your mind like the crown. Looking at the emperor, he was waiting patiently for your decision, but you knew he had no intentions of letting this knight live, and you gulped. You had to survive. You had to put yourself first, even if it hurt.

"I don't want any more bloodshed. It makes me feel terrible," you whispered, looking away in defeat. "But I understand if its what you have to do."

All you had was your charm. You could have pleaded for the knight's life, but if it wasn't what the emperor wanted, you wouldn't convince him and risk your own. The words left you with a heavy heart, but it was the best you could do for yourself. You had to save yourself if you wanted to make any change—and that was hard enough.

"Very well, then," the emperor announced suddenly, turning away from the knight that attacked him, instead wrapping your arm around his again. Confused, you looked back as your husband moved onwards towards the carriage, glimpsing the same confusion in the eyes of the other soldiers.

"You're not going to kill him?" you asked as the emperor signaled for a servant to open the door to the carriage, making sure you had a steady hold on him as he led you into the inside.

"No. You said it makes you unwell. I don't want that."

"But... why?" you asked, feeling a little stupid as you took a seat in the luxurious carriage, much better than the one your state had provided for you to travel to this spot. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Again, you ask about what I want. Is that all you care about?"

You gulped, feeling busted as you watched him climb inside right behind you, his armor making it hard to move, but he managed just fine. Still, his question felt genuine and less like he expected something, so you decided to play dumb.

"Is it not the most important thing for your wife to know?" you mumbled, the subservience in your own question almost making you gag. It was hard to throw away your values, even if, in the age of this game's setting, you had to play along unless you had the strength to rise above.

The moment he sat down, the carriage began to move, your body losing its strength at the unexpected movement. However, sturdy arms caught you, helping you to sit upright again and find the emperor's gaze on you, his expression briefly worried before it grew serious. It felt like you messed up big time, and that so shortly after meeting him, too.

But then the seriousness cracked away again as he smiled, shaking his head softly. "Ridiculous," he mumbled, his eyes flitting up to meet yours again after taking a deep breath. "I just can't be mad at you, no matter how stupid your questions are. Aren't you glad you are such a charmer?"

Yes. Very glad. Very, very glad. At least at that moment.

"Then I will say it once more," he announced. "Make sure to not forget it, as I won't repeat myself a third time."

With comical playfulness, he poked your forehead, making you scrunch up your face, and he laughed at your expression in return.

"When we were on the battlefield, and you told me you didn't want me to die, I realized I couldn't. You may have been simply pitying me or trying to be nice in my last moments, but my body was overcome with vigor as if you had commanded it not to die. That's how sincere your words felt."

He leaned back, but his eyes never left you, even as he took a break from talking to seize you up. You had an inkling that without knowing about your skills yet, all points in charms must have worked back then, too.

"Almost like you put a curse on me..." he added, eyes narrowing as he thought. Gripping your thighs, you realized that, technically, this wasn't good news. Technically, you had caused this mess. All choices had consequences, and you made one without realizing it by telling him not to die.

"You are the only one who wishes for me to live, so I knew you were the only one who could stand by me. And now look what you make of me, no more wars, no bloodshed, just as you demand. Do you know what that means now?"

"That you... want to settle down?" you mumbled, half joking, half unable to think of a better response.

"No." Again, he tapped you on the forehead, and you got a feeling it was his way of reprimanding you.

"I will do as I said, protect you, love you, honor you. As long as you are with me, I will be good. I can't promise to be peaceful all the time, but at least in front of you, I'll keep my vows, and I assume you, too, bear responsibility for taking everything I want from me and replacing it with what you want. Our encounter must have been fate, as nothing could shake me until you came along. So tell me, and I hope you took note, what do I want?"

Silence fell over you two as you tried to work through all the information you had acquired. He'd stop waging war? Would stop the bloodshed? Just because you wanted him to live and he wants to honor his vows in return? This could never undo the harm you knew he had already caused to so many, but it had the potential to better the future.

"You want..." you mumbled, thinking about what it could be. It felt as if it was on the tip of your tongue, but no matter what scenario you recalled playing through in your head, you couldn't find one that fit. No money, no territory, just something he claimed he already told you.

Your eyes widened as you realized it, and the cruel emperor's grin widened madly in response.

"Correct," he murmured, leaning forward until his lips were brushing against yours, his palm returning to cradle your cheek.

"You. I want you."

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 months ago

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(not) the lady of the house

older!rafe x maid!reader

warnings: smut, MDNI! i got this idea simply from cleaning my apartment, and from the fact that i like to clean... so, naturally, i had to bring it to life. ORIGINALLY POSTED IN SEPTEMBER 2024

when rafe got married, he swore to himself that he wouldn't be like the most men that lived in figure eight, having affairs with multiple women that were ten, or even twenty years younger than him. he swore that he'd stay loyal, that the only woman he'd have eyes for would be his wife.

and he kept to his promise. he pampered his wife, caroline, in any way possible, keeping her satisfied even when he was busy with work. but out of nowhere, she seemed to be coming home later and later, making excuses that she had bumped into a friend and gone for a drink, or that her work-out session had stretched out.

but one morning after one of her "long work-out sessions", his wife was in the shower while she got a notification on her phone, and even though he tried to, rafe couldn't resist the temptation to check what message his wife had gotten. and that was the final nail on the coffin.

"i had fun last night ;)"

it was like the breath had been knocked out of rafe's chest, and even though he put her phone back where he had picked it up from, and tried to forget it, he couldn't. and even as his wife came out of the shower, got ready for the day, and left the house, he didn't move a muscle.

only when an unknown figure appeared at the doorway to the bedroom, a soft "oh!" leaving the person's lips, did he finally pick up his head and look at who had come in.

"i'm sorry, mr. cameron. i thought you were at work..." you said, rubbing the back of your neck. rafe had never met any of the maids that worked for the cameron household, always being at work when they came by. he simply cleared his throat, getting onto his feet with an apologetic look on his face, "i'll get out of your hair." he said with an attempt at a smile.

but when he was passing you, you took hold of his suit jacket, before letting it go with a flurry of apologies, looking down at your feet, mumbling something to yourself before you looked up at him with the sweetest smile he had ever seen, "is everything alright, mr. cameron?"

every day after that, the two of you talked; about your lives, your worries, your dreams, about everything between the heavens and the earth. and after a month of that, you had your first kiss.

now, it had been three months since you two had properly met, rafe thrusting into you as he whispered loving words in your ear as you moaned underneath him, his cock hitting that spot every time he thrust into you.

and when he came in you, he'd press soft little kisses on your neck, nipping at the skin as he mumbled against your skin about how precious you were.

you laid on his chest, your finger trailing up and down his defined chest, your mind filled with thoughts about the man who had just come in you, wondering if you were the only one who felt... whatever it was that you felt when you were with him. you didn't want to call it love, too scared of it, too scared of the thought that maybe he felt the same way.

little did you know, that rafe was thinking the same thing, wondering if you felt the connection between the two of you, or if it was just something he had pictured. and so, in silence, the both of you were wondering the same thing, from two different points of view.

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jarofstyles · 2 months ago

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Teach Me?

Hello love bugs, we've got a huge one shot here. I see a lot of writing where the guy helps the girl out with inexperience, but I thought I'd like to write something where he's the one asking for help. I had a lot of fun putting this together so I hope you guys like it. I may do more but I have a lot of other stuffed planned but let me know your thoughts!

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WC- 12.3k

Warnings- mentions of insecurity, anxiety, oral, soft!Dom H, soft!Dom Y/N, switchy vibes but mostly Dom!H, Y/N pokes fun at him for being nerdy but she loves it,

"Hey..." Harry began casually, wiping his hands on a towel after washing. Her best friend had invited himself over for dinner, which meant he was going to do the dishes. It was an unspoken rule of their friendship. If you invite yourself, you clean up. But seeing as Y/N was the one who cooked nine out of ten times, it had become a normal to see him at her kitchen sink. Her eyes peeked up at him from her phone, giving him a look to continue. "Can I ask you something? It's a kinda...weird request." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking at her with an attempt at puppy dog eyes. He wanted something and it made her narrow her eyes.

“I’m not going to the convention with you again, Har. It’s not my scene, I told you. I’ll watch any series of movies until our brains leak out our ears but if I have to sit through panels and Q&As where they ask what the characters favorite food is again I may lose my mind.” She knew it was coming up… but apparently that wasn’t his point. Thank God.

"No! No. Adam is going with me this year. Rude. But besides that…” It made her a lot more curious as to what it could be because he did genuinely look nervous. “It's a weird question, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch, twisting his hands together. "And you can totally say no... but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Would you... maybe..." The hesitance had her sitting up a little straighter, raising her brow higher to urge him forward. "God..." He muttered softly, trying to find the words. "You promise not to judge?" He saw her raise an eyebrow. "I mean it. No making fun of me." He watched as she slowly nodded, waiting.

“I make fun of you for a lot of things, but if you’re asking me not to, I won’t. Are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, unused to his behavior. He was usually playful and could take any joke, so it wasn’t exactly like him to ask her not to do it.

"I'm okay." He assured her, but still had the nervous look in his eyes. "It's just... I've recently realized... kinda an embarrassing thing about myself." He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don’t think… I don’t think I’m actually making girls finish properly when I hook up with them. At least not every time. And I feel like shit about it.”

That was a surprise to her. Harry had the whole hot and nerdy thing going on, and he pulled plenty. Not that he always attempted or took them up on the offers, but he’d had a few girls he had hooked up with that she knew of. Usually he kept pretty quiet about it, but that didn’t bother her. Y/N had assumed a lot about him because… He did have some big dick energy going on. He had really nice hands too. The idea of him being unskilled in bed didn’t feel like it was right, but she was hearing him out. “What’s making you think this?” She asked curiously. “Did someone say something?”

"No, no one's ever said anything. Not to my face." His face flushed slightly pink as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable. "I just... well. Sometimes I noticed they'd tense up or seem kinda disappointed later. Like they were expecting something else. More? I dunno. And they don’t usually text me again, which is fine and all but I hate thinking I let someone down. It’s embarrassing." He avoided looking at her while he talked, staring at his fidgeting fingers instead. "I don't want to be one of those guys who only thinks about themselves. That’s the last thing I want to do." He trailed off, clearly embarrassed. So unlike him that it made her heart hurt a little bit. Harry was a happy guy and seeing him not like that was like seeing a wet puppy in the street. She had to fix it.

“Well the fact that you even care at all is really good. I know, the bar is on the floor but, unfortunately a lot of men don’t give a shit if we finish or not.” Y/N knew plenty of men- had experienced them herself- that didn’t care if it felt good for her. They wanted a quick nut and go. Harry never seemed to be the type. Honestly, he was very thorough in most things and she’d assumed that would properly bleed over to sex.

“Wanting to be better is half the battle. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. The first time I sucked someone off I gagged really awfully, the sound made him go soft.” She laughed at her own bad time. “We all start somewhere.”

He laughed softly at her story, feeling a little more at ease knowing he wasn’t the only one. Y/N was far more experienced and open about being a little freak, so it felt better to know even she had some weirder experiences. It wasn’t just him. "Yeah, I can imagine." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Gagging on dick is not the most pleasant experience, is it?" He turned to look at her, his eyes serious again. "But, um, thanks for listening and all that. I just... I want to be good at it. For them, and for myself." He looked down at his hands again, picking at his fingernails nervously. He needed to paint them again so he would stop doing it. His pink polish was chipped. "And that's why I was wondering…” He bit his lip, his heart racing as he tried to work up the nerve to ask his best friend a very personal favor. The most personal you could probably get.

"Would you... would you maybe let me practice on you?” The silence lingered for a moment longer than he was okay with, panicking slightly as he continue. “I promise I'll listen to everything you say, and we can stop anytime you want. We don’t even have to! You can say no, obviously.” The man was babbling as he tried to untwist his tongue. “But I really trust you and I think you'd give me good feedback. Honest feedback." He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his cheeks flushed a darker pink that she hadn’t seen before- all the way up to his ears.

“Me?” That… was not at all what she had expected. To be fair she hadn’t been sure what to expect but that would probably be lower on the list. “You want to… practice eating pussy or something, on me? I just want to make sure I heard you correctly.” Because she sure as hell didn’t know if this was some sort of dream or delusion.

Harry nodded quickly, his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. "Yeah, you. I mean, if you're comfortable with it. I know it's a really fucking weird request and all, I swear I’m not trying to make anything weird with us but... you're my best friend, and I trust you. And I know you'd be honest with me." Y/N was known for being honest even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to be. He looked at her with those big, hopeful eyes, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. "Please? I promise I'll do everything I can to make it good for you, if you let me. I just really want to get better at this."

It could fuck up the friendship. Y/N knew that, because it was every sort of cliche thing that tells you do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your best friend. But… it had been a while. Harry didn’t ask much of her besides her dinners and to go to some events with him so he wasn’t alone. He listened to her rants and brought her food when she was hungry and didn’t want to go out. He made her bed for her sometimes just because he was near and tidy like that. He swept the kitchen after dinner. He bought tickets to movies and concerts on his card and told her to pay him back whenever she could. He protected her if people acted weird at the rare chance they went out to the bar. Harry was a really fucking good friend, the best she’d ever had.

She also couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t think he had a spectacularly pretty mouth and even better hands. They had always been really nice. Soft, long fingers, big palm. The tattoos that trickled down… Fuck. She was going to say yes. Fuck it. “Okay. I guess we can, but I’ve got some rules.”

He blinked, surprised but trying to hide it, his heart racing faster at her surprisingly quick answer. "Rules?" He nodded, leaning forward slightly, completely focused on her words. "Of course. I mean... I'll do anything you say." That came out a bit too smooth, and they both caught the double meaning. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual and failing miserably. "What are they?" His eyes were fixed on her, his hands folded in his lap to stop them from shaking nervously.

“I mean, I’m being a little dramatic. It’s only a few.” She laughed, leaning back on the couch. “One being we don’t tell anyone. Our friends are already weird about how much time we spend together. Two, you don’t touch me and then another woman. If you find someone else that’s completely fine, but I don’t want her germs and shit on me.” That was not something she liked at all. “If you’re practicing on me, it’s me. I won’t fuck around with other people either, but I don’t fuck with STIs and all that.” It was doubtful he would need to be reminded of that.

“I’m assuming this is going to be a couple times because the way you get good at stuff is practicing. I won’t complain if I get a few orgasms out of this.” She shrugged as if this was a normal thing to be discussing. Best friends having sex. “But the last one is you don’t make things weird after you’re all good with your skills. Don’t make stuff weird.”

"Those are..." He cleared his throat, trying to process everything she had just said. "Those are actually very reasonable rules." He nodded, making sure to emphasize each point so she know he heard her loud and clear. "One: Not telling our friends is smart. Two: Of course, no cheating. We aren’t dating but I’m a one woman type of man. My mother raised me better than that. You know she would kill me." He managed a small smile. "Three: I, uh, plan on practicing. A lot, if you let me." His eyes lingered just a moment too long on her lips, then quickly flicked away.

“Good.” Harry was efficient in most things. It’s exactly why she understood how much it probably bothered the hell out of him to not really be able to get a woman off, or so he thinks. She was just being a good friend, right? helping him out. “So walk me through what you usually do when you bring someone home. We start there. I can tell you if something you’re doing is weird.”

He swallowed nervously, trying to collect his thoughts as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Well, uh... usually I'd start by kissing them, ya know? Get them a little worked up before moving down." He gestured vaguely with his hands, as if physically trailing kisses down an imaginary body. "Then I'd kinda... kiss around the area, maybe use my fingers first to make sure they're wet and all..." He trailed off, wincing as he realized how clinical it sounded when he said it out loud.

“That sounds decent, but kind of like a routine.” Harry was like that, she knew, but sex wasn’t. “Not all women are the same, though. We’re all different. You don’t experiment at all to see where her sensitive spots are? Do you keep kissing to the lips and her cunt?” The question was blunt, but she usually was.

"Well... No, actually. I kinda just do the same thing every time." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, realizing how basic that sounded compared to how she spoke about sex. "And yeah, I guess I do stop kissing once I get down there. Why?" He was listening intently, genuinely curious about her approach. For all his perceived experience with women, he was suddenly feeling very inexperienced in this one area. Something about the way she talked about sex was... different. Confident, like it was no big deal.

“Because women are sensual creatures, Harry. Sure, we have similar biological things that happen but the way we get horny is with our minds. Teasing a little. Dirty talk, if you’re good at it, ease into it. Kissing places that aren’t just the obvious.” Shifting to face him, she grabbed one of his hands and put it on her shoulder. He was definitely nervous. It was a little cute. “I’ll give you a cheat sheet for me. I really like to be kissed under my ear, over my throat. Sometimes a lick or a suck. A bite, if I’m in the mood. I like to be kissed over my stomach, tops of my breasts, inner thighs, hips. They aren’t necessarily obvious, but the exploration is nice.”

Taking his hand, she moved it to her neck and then dragged it down past her tits, down her stomach to the waistband of her joggers. “You can have a general path, but you need to be comfortable deviating from it when that’s what she responds to.”

"Fuck..." The curse slipped out quietly as his breath caught, noticing how comfortable she was with his hand on her body. His fingers lingered at her waistband, acutely aware of the sensitive skin just inches beneath. "I never really thought about it like that. I always just went straight for the pussy." He cleared his throat, realizing how crude that sounded coming out loud. "I mean..." She chuckled at his flustered state, finding it endearing. "So you're saying I should take my time? Like, really tease her out?" He moved his hand slightly, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her lower abdomen just beneath her shirt hem. "Kiss other places, see what makes her squirm?"

His gaze flickered down to where his hand rested, then back up to meet her eyes. There was a new spark of understanding there, like pieces clicking into place. "And if I find somewhere she likes? I should... explore that?"

“Yeah.” Her stomach had jumped as he moved his hand but didn’t say anything about it. “Every person is different. I’m sure you have places you like to be touched that people haven’t tried yet either. Being in tune with your body and hers, being able to read the cues that’s what could be your strength.” It was something a lot of men didn’t bother to take into consideration.

"Like, if she makes a certain noise or tenses up?" He was genuinely intrigued now, his mind racing with possibilities. "What if she pulls my hair or digs her nails into my back?" He shifted his hand lower, fingers splaying out on her stomach curiously. "Does that mean she likes it?" He was so focused on the hypotheticals that he almost missed the way his hand resting on her stomach made her stomach muscles twitch slightly beneath his palm.

“Yes, exactly that. Sometimes you’ll be able to feel her pulse if you’re holding her wrist, or.. Well, if you’ve got your hand around her throat. We’ll talk about proper choking another day, but you can see if her pulse jumps from that.” His hands were perfect for that, honestly, and she shouldn’t let her mind wander. Nope. “The noises she makes, if she pulls you further in, bucks her hips, those are all good signs. Not everyone is extremely vocal, but checking in to make sure she likes it, if she wants you to give more, it can help.

"Checking in?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. "You mean like... asking her if she likes it?" He shifted his hand lower still, fingertips brushing the hem of her joggers. "Like, 'is this okay?' Or 'do you like this?'" He could see how that might be helpful, especially with quieter partners. "But wouldn't that ruin the moment?" He looked up at her, genuinely curious and seeking approval.

“You don’t have to ask in such a sterile way. You can just say something like ‘does that feel good?’ or ‘that’s nice, baby?’ and see her response. You’ve got a nice voice, Har. Use it.” She gave him the compliment easily. He did need a bit of confidence boosting, that much she could already tell. “Checking in shouldn’t ruin the moment. It’s safe, it’s a sign of a good partner. You’ll figure out how to check in in a less… abrupt way.”

"Right... fuck me." He muttered under his breath, actually feeling slightly embarrassed about how little thought he'd put into this before. "I've been a clueless fuck, haven't I?" He sighed, running his fingers along her waistband more deliberately now, testing how she responded. His heart stuttered slightly when she complimented his voice."So like..." He traced patterns on her lower stomach with his fingertips, almost unconsciously. “Feels good?” Testing out the way she had suggested.

Y/N swallowed, feeling a bit of a shift. He had seemed to be having a good time touching her stomach, the light tracing on her skin making her heat up a little bit. She wasn’t blind- Harry had most definitely gotten hotter over the years, and he was just attractive in general. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to look at him as anything but the quirky best friend he was, getting to see a different side of him was something she was intrigued by.

“Mhm.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “See? It doesn’t have to be straight into it. Just touches like that can get a girl wet.” It was starting to get to her, weirdly enough. “Tell me about kissing. How do you usually start it?”

"Kissing..." He trailed off, his mind briefly distracted by the way her skin felt beneath his fingers. "Uh... well. I usually start with a simple peck, just to see if they're into it." His other hand came up to gently tilt her chin, exposing her neck to him. "If they seem like I have the go ahead, I'll press my lips to theirs more firmly- it’s kinda hard to explain with words." Being a little bold, he let his thumb brush over her bottom lip absently as he spoke, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

“Well if you’re going to eat me out, I don’t see why you can’t just show me.” Kissing Harry had not been something she had anticipated actually doing, really ever, but she can’t say she hadn’t thought about it. The man had an incredible mouth. Soft looking lips, deep pink, the cute little birthmark, all of it was appealing- it was just that it wasn't a possibility for her prior. “Show me how you do it with them.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip again, his breath hitching slightly at the idea of kissing her. It was just an exercise, he reminded himself firmly. This was just a dry run, to help him figure out his technique. But as he slowly leaned in, his heart rate picked up, eyes flicking between her lips and onto her eyes. "Like... this." He whispered hoarsely, sliding his hand back into her hair to tilt her head further. His lips pressed to hers gently, just a soft brush at first to test the waters. His lips were soft and warm against hers, the kiss gentle at first. He waited for her to react, to see if she would pull away or lean into it. As she didn't, he took it as his sign to keep going, slowly increased the pressure, his lips molding to hers in a soft, sweet kiss.

Feeling emboldened when she began to press her lips back to his, Harry peppered her lips with a series of short, sweet kisses. His lips brushed against hers once, twice, three times in rapid succession, each kiss a little firmer than the last. He could feel her starting to relax into it, her lips softening beneath his own. Encouraged, he let his tongue flick out briefly, a teasing taste before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction. She tasted like the lemon lime soda she’d had with dinner, a sweet surprise. All of this had been. He hadn’t been sure if she would say yes and if this would potentially make things weird, but thankfully Y/N seemed at least a little receptive to it. His hand remained in her hair, holding her gently as he studied her face for any signs of discomfort or approval. “Okay?”

Y/N knew he would be a good kisser, but he was playing it safe. However, even with the safety still on, she knew he had it in him. He wasn’t as shy as he had been before and that had surprised her a bit when he had gripped her to keep her in place. That had been exceptionally hot. At least to her. “Yeah. You did well.” She cleared her throat to rid herself of the rasp. “You’re playing it safe, though. Here.”

Swinging her knee over his lap, she pushed him back against the back of the couch so his posture was more relaxed. “You’re stiff. Pun not intended.” She snickered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve got to relax a little bit. I don’t know if it’s just me or you get anxious when you kiss other girls too. The thing you did holding my face still? That was hot. It’s gonna depend on the girl but you seem to have an idea on what to do.” Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she settled her weight on top of him. Hm.. he really had been doing well at the gym. “You okay with me on your lap?”

Harry blinked in surprise, trying to catch up to the fact that she was currently in his lap. Closer than she usually got to him, voluntarily hopping on up. “Y-yes! I mean, yes, please. Go on." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying his nerves. He wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected closeness or just the sudden shift in dynamic between them. Her weight felt nice on his lap, but besides a cuddle or two this was definitely the closest they’d ever been. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nervous.”

Y/N nearly cooed. His frown was precious, really. He was precious. Sliding a hand over his jaw, she tilted his head to meet her eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s just me. I’m not going to judge you. You asked for my help, and I’m gonna give it to you.” Slipping her fingers in his hair, she made herself familiar with touching him. They hadn’t been super touchy to begin with but she knew Harry liked physical touch. He was clingy with their other friends physically, but he had always respected that Y/N typically wasn’t the type. Now though? It was free game. “You can touch me how you want. Get familiar with me.”

Y/N wasn’t the type to truly judge if you really needed her and he knew that. Hell, that was why he had come to her in the first place- but she was intimidatingly beautiful. It set him off to be even more nervous. His mind briefly wondered if this was how he was in bed- overthinking everything- maybe that was why he didn’t get calls back.

“Shit.” He muttered softly, then snapped back to attention as she told him to touch her. He wanted to do that, he had always wanted to but Y/N only really liked to be cuddled when drunk. When she was, she would be giggly and happy, hold on to his hand and swing them back and forth, especially when he helped her get into the car. It had always made him feel special, but this? It was a privilege to touch her. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, testing the waters. “Like this?” He spread his fingers out slightly on her back, his thumbs nearly brushing the bottom of her bra strap under her top.

“Yeah, that’s nice.” Leaning into him, she let her fingers run over the rims of his glasses. “These are cute. I like them.” His new glasses suited him. They were a little bit thinner than his old ones and it was a tad bit more modern. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said he had the hot n’ nerdy advantage. “You’ve got really nice hands, Har. Use them.”

He blushed slightly at the compliment on his glasses, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist possessively. "You really think?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side to give her better access to his face. He liked when she did little things like that, adjusting his glasses or messing with his hair. Maybe it was because he felt touch starved, particularly from her, but the simple brushes of her fingers made him feel that heat in his lower stomach. It was so simple but the air felt a lot thicker than it had before. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves to be more bold as he slowly dragged his hands over her hips.

“Mhm.” She nodded, gently running her nails over his scalp. “See? I’m not too scary.” Though she had to admit that the feeling of his big hands pawing at her and running over her hips and waist made her feel a little bit giddy. Maybe she could attribute it to the fact it really had been a while since she had been touched in a way that wasn’t friendly, but her body liked the way it felt. “You’re being polite, which is nice. But as cute as your little gentleman thing is, I know you want to grab my ass, Harry. You can do it.”

Harry's breath caught as she said that, his eyes darkening slightly behind his glasses. He had definitely been thinking about it, doubted there was anyone who saw it and didn’t want to, but he hadn't wanted to overstep. Hearing her give him permission was like a green light and he couldn't help himself. His hands squeezed her hips before slowly sliding down to grip her ass, his fingers spreading out to knead the soft flesh. "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. "You're so soft."

His grip on her ass tightened reflexively as he pulled her more firmly against him, a low groan escaping his lips. The heat of her pressed deliciously against his hardening cock, and he couldn't help but roll his hips slightly, seeking friction. "Shit, Y/N...Sorry. I don't want to get carried away." He breathed, his face flushing darker. Here he was, rock hard with his best friend in his lap, from a little ass grab. It was embarrassing how quickly he had gotten worked up- But God, it felt good.

There was a sigh out of her mouth as she felt him start to relax and do what he wanted to do. This was closer to where she wanted him to get, but she hadn’t expected it to feel as good just being rubbed over his lap. “There you go- it’s okay.” She whispered. “That’s hot. You want to show her that you’re eager for her.” With her grip in his hair, she tugged his head back slightly to look at his pink cheek. “You’re a faster learner, I know. But you remember what I told you? Try kissing my neck. I told you the spots I like.”

His eyes fluttered shut as she tugged on his hair, his throat exposed to her. "Yeah. I can do it. S’long as you feel good, m’happy..." He whispered, his voice rougher than she had ever heard it. Leaning into her touch, he let her guide his face into her neck and followed instructions quickly to press open mouth kisses to her skin. He started at the spot just below her ear, as she had told him about, sucking gently on the soft skin. His hands continued to grab at her ass, pulling her flush against him as he kissed and sucked his way down her neck.

The kisses trailed lower, his lips hot and damp against her neck. Each press of his mouth made chills rise on her skin, his stubble lightly scratching her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. As he sucked gently on a particularly sweet spot, she couldn't help but tip her head to give him better access, a soft gasp escaping her lips. None of this had been expected, but liking his mouth on her skin hadn’t been. Maybe it really was just the fact it had been a while but… it felt better than her last hookup.

Harry was her friend and she trusted him. She felt safe, and that probably made her feel a lot more comfortable, just as it probably did for him. But having his hands all over her was something her whole body was responding to. A quick learner, he had realized how much she liked feeling the friction and did something about it. His strong hands gripped her ass harder, pulling her over his lap and letting feel the throb of him through their clothes.

He could feel her getting heavier in his lap, her breath growing shallow as he continued his adoration of her neck. It felt amazing, yes, but he was in a bit of awe. Harry really should have known that Y/N didn’t half ass anything. She was thorough in everything she did- apparently it extended to teaching him how to please a woman. His hands roamed freely as he adjusted, taking a risk in spreading her legs wider over his lap to better fit her between his thighs.

"Am I doing okay?" He mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled. "Is this warming you up enough? Or should I be doing more?" His fingers flexed on her hips before sliding down, spreading out to rest on her thighs.

“You’re doing good.” The thickness in her throat made her voice a bit raspier, unsure how she had managed to let herself get to this point. It felt really fucking good. His hands strong and so fucking big, splaying over her thighs. The heat of them seeming to radiate through her skin and down to her bones, she wanted to lean into that touch.

God, she was touch deprived.

He had done a good job in making her panties damp and it felt almost embarrassing that a little bit of heavy petting and kissing on the neck had her pussy throbbing, but she couldn’t exactly deny it. Lightly rubbing herself against him again to get more of the friction her body was demanding, she closed her eyes and let her head lean back before she admitted it to him. “You’re making me wet.”

His whole body seemed to tense up at her whispered admission, his hands flexing on her as he took a breath. "You are?" He whispered back, his voice not able to contain his surprise. He had hoped he was doing something right- especially after all the apparent failures he’d had- but hearing that she was wet from just his touch and kisses was... something else. He wasn't used to being this effective. His ego swelled slightly, making him bolder. "Can I... touch more?" He asked hesitantly, his fingers inching higher up her thighs. "Can I feel what I’m doing to you?"

His words had her gritting his teeth. Where the fuck did that come from, and why did it made her throb? Letting out a breath through her nose, she opened her eyes to look at him. It shocked her a little, seeing his lips swollen and eyes a little hazy, glasses a tiny bit crooked. He looked disheveled in a way he usually didn’t. Of course he had always been hot but this look in particular, knowing it was caused by her specifically? It fueled her ego too.

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yeah, you can. That’s what I’d tell you to do next. You have good instincts.” It was a mystery to her how Harry, who was good at almost everything, had struggled to make a girl cum- but she was the teacher now. “You can slip your hand into the waistband.”

"Fuck. Thank you." Harry muttered under his breath. He couldn't believe he was actually about to touch Y/N intimately, after all these years of being just friends… It was insane. He wasn’t unable to see how insanely fucking hot she was, that had never been an issue. He’d had a few questionable wet dreams about her- but the actual idea of ever touching her hadn’t come up until recently, and he was liking it a bit more than he probably should be for a lesson.

With trembling fingers, he slowly slipped one large hand down the front of her joggers, sliding it along her stomach until he reached the top of her panties. "Can... can I? Under them?" His breath was warm against her neck as he asked permission, albeit a bit jumbled, waiting for her nod before slowly slipping under the final piece of fabric that kept him from her most intimate place.

At her nod, he released a deep breath through his nose. His heart was racing as he slowly pushed his hand under her panties, the back of his fingers brushing against the soft, damp fabric. He could feel the heat emanating from between her legs, his own body responded accordingly. His cock was pulsing in his briefs, surely starting to make a bit of a mess. "Holy shit." Harry breathed, his voice shaking slightly as he explored her with his hand. His fingers dipped lower, feeling the slickness coating her folds. “You really are fucking soaked.” Tilting his head up with an awed smile, he met her eyes. “I did that t’you?”

“Mhm.” It felt slightly harder to breathe as she looked at his eyes, seeing the pride in his face, feeling his fingers cupping her wet pussy and giving a little squeeze. It had her inhaling sharply, fingers on his shoulder digging into his shirt. “You did. I- I want you to show me what you do when you get to this stage with the girls you hook up with.” It was taking everything in her not to rock against his hand, staying still as she tried to ground herself.

His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to mimic what he thought he had seen in porn or heard from his friends. He had forgotten what to do. Another symptom of his damn nerves taking over. He roughly spread her lips apart, his thumb pressing against her clit as his middle finger pushed inside her soaked pussy. "Shit... I'm... I'm not really sure what to do..." He admitted, his voice shaking as he started to rub her clit in slightly sporadic circles while thrusting his finger inside her. It was clumsy and a bit rough, but he was trying his best.

“Okay- alright. Stop.” Making sure to keep her voice soft and not like she was scolding him, she held his face in her hands. “You’re jumping right into it a bit too fast, Honey.” The nickname fell from her lips a bit too easily but she decided to ignore that. “You need to ease into it. Find a rhythm. Pull your fingers out.” She instructed, gently stroking over his cheekbone. It was obvious he was embarrassed from his flushed cheeks, and she didn’t want that. He wasn’t doing too badly, but he’d asked for a lesson. That’s what she was going to give him.

“Hey… Look at me.” Tilting his chin up, she gave him a soft smile. “S’okay, Har. You came to me for help. I’m gonna help you. You didn’t do anything inherently wrong.” Still, she could see he felt some type of way about it, and she knew he needed a bit more comforting. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his in a soft peck. It was more intimate than it should have been, but she was again, going to ignore that. “Hi.” Smoothing the skin under his eye, she gave him a giggle. “Okay, so… You’ve got incredible hands. They’re so nice… and I know you can be good with them. So let’s start slow, okay? Do slow circles over my clit with your thumb. Nice n’gentle.”

His shoulders had dropped slightly after her small kiss, ignoring the flutter he’d felt in his chest from it. He hadn't realized how tense he had gotten, like he had failed the test- but this was Y/N. Y/N was safe, she was kind despite how blunt she was, and she was helping him. There was no evidence of her making fun of him in her tone, simply sweet. Unusual, maybe, but it seemed like she knew what she needed.

"Okay." He mumbled softly, his cheeks slightly less red. Her compliments helped a bit- He had always had confidence issues when it came to this. "Like this?" He asked shyly, his large thumb slowly making small, loose circles over her clit. He was careful to keep his touch gentle like she asked, watching her face for any signs that he was doing it wrong again.

He felt her body tense pleasantly at his touch, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged by her response, he maintained the slow circles, his thumb brushing over her clit with deliberate gentleness. Her hips gave a tiny involuntary roll against his hand, seeking more of the pleasant friction. Harry's fingers twitched slightly, wanting to increase his pace but remembering her instruction. He resisted the urge, keeping the rhythm maddeningly slow.

“Yeah. That’s so nice.” She whispered. It was experimenting, letting him explore and get the hang of it. “Every woman is different. Some people will want it faster, some will want it rougher, but I like this to start.” She admitted, leaning into him. “Here.” Dragging the cropped top off of her body, she exposed the lacy bralette she had heard good reviews for to him. It was quite nice, holding her tits up in a way she hasn’t expected- but she’d chosen correctly today, unknowing that a man would be able to see it firsthand. “When you’re doing this, you keep kissing her. Licking. Sucking her nipples, if she’s into it.”

His eyes roamed over her bralette-clad breasts, the delicate lace contrasting with her soft, smooth skin. He felt his mouth watering, the urge to taste her growing stronger as he watched them move as she breathed- but thankfully, thank god, she had given the go ahead to touch. To taste. "Okay. I definitely can do that." He murmured, his thumb continuing its slow circles on her clit as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone.

His lips trailed lower, his kisses growing more intentional. The lace of her bralette tickled his lips as he worked his way down. He could see her nipples hardening beneath the fabric, making his mouth water. His thumb continued its steady, slow rhythm on her clit, causing her to shift slightly in his lap. It was surreal to feel her breathing, hear it so close up as he kissed over her pounding heart.

He was doing this to her. Harry was making her wet, making her squirm. The confidence the breathy moan she let out had him pushing for more. With one hand, he gently pushed the lace down to expose one breast fully, making her gasp softly. His lips immediately found her hard nipple, surrounding it completely and sucking gently.

“Oh, Jesus.” The words were pathetically, a mewl that came from the back of her throat as his hot tongue lapped over her swollen nipple. The suction was light, soft, just like his thumb on her clit- and it was enough to make her feel like she was going insane. “T-That’s really fucking nice.” She praised, raising her hand to card it through his fluffy curls. He must have just washed them, they always looked pretty when he did.

Hearing her moan like that, praising him so freely, sent a jolt straight to his cock. He hummed around her nipple, the vibrations deliberate this time. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud before he switched to sucking harder, desperate to elicit another gorgeous noise from her.

“Yeah- like that.” Rocking her hips slightly into his hand, she pulled his head closed onto her breast. It felt too good, too hot to stop. Yeah, this was a lesson, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy teaching him. “Some girls won’t get much enjoyment out of this. Their nipples aren’t sensitive to it as much. If they aren’t responsive, you can keep it moving- or a-ask them if they want you to keep going.” Her voice was higher in pitch than she had meant for it to be but it wasn’t possible for her to control that right now. “I really like it, though. So it’s doing the job. You can rub my clit a little harder- give it more pressure.”

Her words had him nearly purring around her nipple. The little thrill went up his spine as her hips rolled into his hand, knowing that now he had a decent idea of what he was doing and could feel less nervous about it. Listening to instructions like he had promised he would, Harry added more pressure to his thumb, rubbing it harder over her little bundle of nerves. It was impossible not to feel her getting slicker against his palm, her breast filled his mouth perfectly, his tongue swirling around the peak before sucking it back between his lips. Almost overstimulation for his mind, but he wanted to keep going. He was trying his best to be good with his hands- he really was- But damn. Her body was so responsive.

Y/N wanted to continue this as long as she could. She wanted to feel him get more and more confident with it, but he seemed to have a grasp on it. There would probably be… a few times where they’d get to do this, and if she was honest? If they kept this up, she was going to cum and be too sensitive for his mouth. And by the way he kissed? She wanted to feel his mouth.

“Mmmm.. Har, Honey.” She whispered, gently tugging his mouth off of her tits with a gentle tug of his hair. “Hi. Hello.” It was stupidly cute, the slightly lost look on his face. “S’okay. You were doing good. A bit too good actually. I just think that we should get to teaching you how to eat pussy. I’ll cum if you keep going.”

He blinked rapidly, a slightly dazed look on his face as he tried to process why he’d been pulled away when he’d obviously been making her feel good. It felt incredible to have her nipple in his mouth, hearing her soft noises of pleasure. The haze of lust in his mind slowly cleared at her words, realizing she was probably right, even if he selfishly wanted to keep going. "Oh..." He murmured softly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. "Right. Okay." He adjusted his glasses, trying to regain some semblance of focus.

“Good.” She stroked his hair back with a tender smile, pulling him to kiss her again before taking a look at his face. “I’m gonna lay back, like this.” Sliding off his lap, Y/N settled against the arm of the couch pulling a pillow to rest her head on. The position had her sitting up slightly, but gave a more relaxed vision. Hopefully that would have him feeling calmer. “And you’re gonna lay between my legs once I get these off.” Her bottoms needed to get off immediately.

When he sat back, she tugged on the waistband and squirmed to get them off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor- along with her panties. There wasn’t much hesitance in showing her body to him. Y/N liked her body, she felt proud of it, and she embraced it. There was always those nerves though, being intimate with someone new- even if it was for a lesson. Spreading her thighs, she placed a hand over her cunt and motioned for him to lay down. “Do you remember what I said, Honey? About teasing?”

He nodded slowly, trying to remember all the instructions she had given him. "Tease first..." He murmured softly, adjusting his glasses nervously as he positioned himself between her thighs. Using his elbows to keep him up a bit, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her spread them wider for his body to fit between. "Kiss, lick, don't go straight for the... the main event?" He asked hesitantly, his hands resting on her inner thighs.

“Very good.” Her face lit up as he looked at her for reassurance. “It’s the little things that get me. You know? The soft brushing of fingers on the thighs, the stomach, right above my pussy…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Kiss my thighs, Har. Can you do that for me?” Taking her hand off her cunt, she properly revealed it for the first time for his eyes to see.

Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as the sight of her bare pussy caught him off guard. It wasn’t lost on him that he was very lucky to be able to experience this. Y/N was beautiful and he adored her, but there was a new appreciation in him for how kind she was being. This wasn’t something you could just ask anyone. "Fuck..." He whispered, his hands squeezing her inner thighs gently as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the delicate skin. "Like this?" He murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin, his lips brushing over the crease where her leg met her hip.

“Mhm.”

He could see her body relax into the touch, her thighs parting a bit more to give him better access. Her skin was so soft and warm under his lips, and he could smell her scent growing stronger the closer he got to her center. Harry took his time, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs, his hands brushing along the skin in a featherlight touch. He could hear her breathing growing a bit shallower, her chest rising and falling a bit faster. It emboldened him to continue, to keep teasing her like she had told him to.

"You're... you're doing so good." Y/N breathed out, one hand coming to rest in his hair as she spread her legs wider, hooking one over his shoulder. She could feel herself growing wetter with each kiss, more aroused knowing he was taking his time to learn her body. Such a good little student. "Lower. Just a bit..." she whispered, guiding his head with gentle fingers. Her other hand drifted down to her breast, plucking at her nipple as she watched him between her legs. "Kiss right above my cunt.”

Eagerly following her guidance, he moved up to press a soft kiss just above her pussy, his lips brushing against her soft curls. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, smell her arousal. It was intoxicating, and he found himself nuzzling into her a bit, his nose pressing against her. "Fuck, you smell so good..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. He pressed another kiss right at the top of her slit.

“Oh fuck- that was good.” She gasped in surprise. “That’s filthy. Rubbing yourself against me but… it’s so hot. Showing how eager you are to make the person you’re gonna pleasure, it’s really sexy.” Brushing his hair out of his face, she felt the heat of his breath over her cunt. “Tell me you want to eat me out. Talk to me.”

"I do..." His voice came out huskier than he'd planned, his eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before focusing back on her exposed pussy. "Fuck, Y/N... I really want t’taste you." Without waiting for further instruction, he used his fingers to spread her open for him and pressed a gentle kiss directly to her clit, making her gasp loudly. "You're so fucking wet… Can’t believe I did this." His finger traced down her slit slowly, as if showing instead of telling how aroused she was.

"Your cunt is fucking glistening. I can already tell your pussy is sweet..." He muttered against her skin, his tongue peeking out to give her one soft lick. Tasting her for the first time, savoring the flavor on his tongue, he was proving that fact. She was perfect to taste- a pussy like this deserved the best of the best, and he wanted her to show him exactly what she liked. Y/N moaned loudly, her hips rolling slightly, a clear indication that she liked what he was doing. "Yeah? You like that? S’good for you?" Harry asked, his voice encouraging as he licked her again, this time a bit slower, applying a bit more pressure.

“Uh-huh… Shit.” She cussed, feeling his tongue swipe up and over her clit. “D-Do what you want. Let me see where it’s going wrong because right now from my perspective, you’re doing perfectly.” Why would he even need help? Was it a ploy to fuck her? That was doubtful considering Harry really, really wasn’t like that. The worst part was that she was liking it a lot more than she was supposed to. If she was training him on how to pleasure how she liked it, it was going to be hard not to lose it.

Harry smiled slightly at her words, feeling a bit more confident in his actions. He started slowly, his tongue flicking out to lap at her gently, his fingers keeping her open for him to fully access her. He could feel her wetness spread onto his chin, and he couldn't help but push himself, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking softly. He looked up at her, checking her face for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

He was learning, trying to remember how she had said she liked it. His tongue swiped up again, swirling around her entrance slowly before pushing inside slightly. "Like this?" He mumbled softly, his chin wet with her juices. He kept his movements slow and unhurried, his touch soft. He was tentative, like he was scared of messing up. "Is this good?"

“I.. Normally would say that’s a bit fast to push your tongue in but fuck, that felt nice.” She giggled breathlessly. “Here…” Her fingers were careful as she took his glasses off and tossed them further down the couch so they wouldn’t get in the way- or worse, crushed. “Wanted to see those pretty eyes.” Her fingers kept the hair out of his eyes as she felt a few kisses over her mound, in the thatch of curls above her cunt. His face was slightly wet, but it was erotic. “That feels so nice. The kisses…” She hummed. “You have the instincts. Don’t think too much about it. Doing things like that- That’s good. Just make me feel good. See what I respond to.”

Harry blinked owlishly at her, surprised by the sudden loss of his glasses but pleased when he realized she liked his eyes. His face flushed slightly at the praise, his tongue darting out to lick over her clit hesitantly. "Okay. You’ll tell me if y’don’t like it, yeah?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pussy, the sound drowning out the tv playing at a lowered volume.

She nodded slowly, watching him between her thighs. He was almost shy like this, his face buried in her pussy as he kissed around it sweetly. His lips were soft, his kisses unhurried. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his tongue poking out to give her one slow lick from bottom to top. Her hips shifted slightly, chasing the feeling. "You taste so good." He mumbled softly, his voice sending vibrations against her. “I didn’t expect you t’get so wet for me. Soaking my chin. I love it.”

His words seemed to have struck a chord in her, judging by how sharply her breath hitched and her legs involuntarily tried to press around his head. She visibly flustered, clearly flattered by his filthy compliments- and shocked. Had he always had that in him? "Harry..." She whimpered, the sound of his wet mouth against her flesh combined with his sweet, dirty words making her pulse against his tongue. "You... should be careful with that mouth." She whispered, her hand tangling in his hair again, guiding him slightly without putting any pressure.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations traveling pleasantly through her core. "Why's that?" He murmured teasingly against her skin, his tongue darting out for another long, slow lick. He could feel her practically melting under his mouth, her thighs quivering slightly. This was how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel as anxious with her, they had repor, he truly trusted her- but it felt like he had a better sense of her body and what she liked.

She’d given him clues and tips, but he was finding out on his own what she liked. It was something he was enjoying the longer he did it, feeling more eager to bury his face in her pretty pussy and never leave. Especially when he felt her hand tighten in his hair and her body shift to get more. "Worried I might make you cum too hard?" His tone was playful, a little more confident now, and that was dangerous for her. Feeling him nipp gently at her clit, soothing it with a flicker of his tongue immediately after was enough proof of that. Looking up at her he tried to see if that was okay, but the noise she let out had him feeling fairly sure it was.

"Fuck, Harry... You smartass.” The giggle turned into a pitched moan very quickly after though, her back arching as he sucked on her clit in retaliation, her hips rolling against his mouth. Harry could feel her getting closer, her pussy getting wetter. He knew the signs, she was teaching him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he licked into her eagerly. She was so responsive, her body reacting to his every move. He felt powerful, in control- and it was a heady feeling.

"Jesus, your pussy is perfect." He mumbled between kisses, not caring if she could hear him. He could see her getting close- her thighs trembling, her breathing quickening, and the way her fingers were now tight in his hair. That was his goal. He wanted to make her cum so fucking bad it hurt. His cock was a mess in his trousers but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make her cum, hard. He wanted to clean it up as he made himself messy. "Do you want my fingers inside you?" He whispered, not missing a beat with his mouth returning to his suckling. He kept the pace steady but increased the pressure just slightly, wanting to hear her response.

"Yes..." Y/N breathed out the single word, squirming helplessly against his face. His mouth felt incredible and he obviously felt better about what he was doing now, taking more risks that only worked out in her favor. "So good, honey. You’re doing so good, your mouth is perfect."

How had he been bad with these other women? All it took was a little bit of instruction with a soft voice and he was licking into her like she was his last fucking meal.

She gasped, her nails nearly digging into his scalp as he slipped one finger inside her easily. "Your fingers are so big. Holy shit..." She panted, grinding down on his hand. "More..." She begged, knowing damn well she hadn’t wanted to be this needy for it but god damn. He was a good student. A very fast learner. "Please." The woman’s voice cracked with need. "Harry, please..."

He curled his fingers slightly inside her, hitting that spot he’d read about but had never actually found on a woman before. He must be doing it right, because she was practically sobbing his name, her hips bucking against his hand. He added another finger, stretching her slowly but surely, his tongue never stopping its slow, deliberate lapping.

It was obvious what she liked, what made her feel good, and he wanted to keep doing it. Memorize it so he knew how to do it perfectly next time- or continue practicing until he had it down. His head felt fuzzy with the need to get her there, to make her feel hot under the skin like he had been clueless about before. "Look at me." he mumbled against her, his voice muffled but insistent. He wanted to see her face contort with pleasure, wanted to watch her get closer.

It felt like her entire world had narrowed down to his fingers inside her and his tongue on her clit. It really had been far too long since she’d been touched and even longer since she had been eaten out with this amount of vigor. Maybe it hadn’t ever happened prior to him, but her brain wasn’t fully working. She was so close, teetering on the edge and he just... he just kept pushing her. Adding more, curling just right, licking and sucking in a rhythm that seemed designed to drive her insane.

Y/‘ couldn’t see him fully, not with his face buried smugly between her thighs, but she managed to lift her head, her eyes finding his own as he had demanded. The intensity in his gaze, the desperate need, it was too much. “Just like that, you’re going t’make me cum. Just like that, keep it like that- fuck.” Her groan seemed angry but it was anything but. She was worked over and sulking at how good it felt. “Shit, you love eating pussy. Don’t you, Harry? Just needed s-someone to show you how they like it.”

"Fuck yeah." He breathed against her, his eyelids drooping with pleasure at her accusation. He loved this, every fucking second. The slick sounds of her arousal, the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, the taste, how she grabbed at his hair, the sounds she made, the changes in her breathing, her squirming, the way her words slurred a little bit, the pulsing against his tongue.

God. Harry fucking loved it- he just didn’t know it could be this good. Addicting.

The vibrations as he groaned happily between her lips had to be adding something extra. "Knew I'd love it. Jus’ want to be able to make you feel good."

"Cum on my face baby, okay? Just let go. I wanna taste you." He whispered hoarsely, pressing a sloppy kiss to her clit before sucking it back into his mouth. His fingers curled again and again inside her, hitting that elusive spot over and over as she dripped all over his fingers and down the back of his hand. He wanted to make her shatter, wanted to feel her cum all over his face and fingers like he had been working toward.

There was no way she could even respond properly. The constant stimulation to her g-spot, his repeated sucking on her clit, the way he sloppily ate her cunt with little regard of the mess she was making on his face- the only thing he seemed to give a fuck about was making her cum. Who was she to take that from him?

Her body tensed, her back arching as she let out a long, drawn-out moan. It was a sound of pure pleasure, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensation of him working her over. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as she gushed all over his face and hand. Her hand was tight in his locks, tugging as a garbled moan left her mouth and she attempted to writhe. He kept her held still as he moaned loudly against her.

In fact, Harry didn’t stop. Even as she came, he kept eating her, his fingers still curled inside her as he lapped up her cum, cleaning her up. He was fucking starving for it, for the taste and the sound and the feeling of her losing control. He sucked and licked her pussy, feeling it spasming occasionally, until he was certain he had cleaned up every last drop- And her weak push of her hand against his head. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out, his face and hand coated in her.

She was a goddess, slumped back against the cushions with a flushed, dazed expression. Harry couldn't help but kiss her inner thigh as it twitched before wiping his mouth. "Fuck, you’re amazing." The man murmured. Crawling up her body, he claimed her lips in a messy kiss, letting her taste herself. “Thank you.” It was mumbled between lazy kisses. “Thank you, Thank you.”

His hands roamed over her as he continued to kiss her sloppily, his body heavy on top of hers. He was still fully dressed, his erection painfully trapped in his pants. "Y/N... I’m sorry, but can I?" He asked softly, his fingers already working at the button of his jeans, his intent clear. "I gotta cum. Can I cum on your cunt? Please?” If he wasn’t so horny he would be embarrassed for doing this, but he was losing it. When it died down, he would definitely be embarrassed for how insane he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe the lack of blood flow to the head, it was going directly to the other.

“Shit.” Y/N laughed weakly, her body feeling like pins and needles as it came down from the orgasm. The idea was one she had considered, especially with how good he had listened- a reward. “Yeah, Honey. As a reward.” She sighed, leaning her head up further. “I wanna watch.”

He almost whined at her words, practically tearing his jeans open wide enough to pull out his stiff cock. He pushed his pants down towards his calves, staying there between her spread legs. His hand gripped his dick tightly, squeezing as he looked up at her face from his spot between her legs. "Yeah- yeah, please watch. I love being watched.” His hips moved forward unconsciously as he ran his cock over her, the head of his dick smearing pre-cum all over her cunt.

“Cute little exhibitionist.” Y/N cooed, running her hand over her stomach. “Go ahead. You’ve got such a pretty cock, but it looks like it hurts.” Her lips formed a soft pout. “Stroke yourself and cum all over that pussy, Harry.”

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chanted under his breath, his hand moving faster over his shaft. With his tip pressing against her clit, he ran it up and down her slit. "You're so pretty. Your cunt is beautiful- all of you, so fucking gorgeous." He complimented her, his words coming out in short gasps. It was so hot, the way her lips spread around him, how she looked all fucked out and messy from his mouth. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over you, baby."

Y/N looked up at him with a soft, encouraging smile, her eyes staring into his with that tinge of desire. "Cum for me, Harry. Cum all over my pretty little pussy. I wanna see it, I wanna see you lose it." Her hand moved down to spread herself, holding herself open for him. "You've been so good, so obedient. You deserve it. Such a good student, a fast learner… You can have it. Cum on my cunt." Her voice was gentle but commanding, the perfect blend of sweet and dirty that had him right on the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N..." Harry whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut as her words pushed him over the edge. With a final thrust of his hips, he came undone. He felt the first spurt of his hot, sticky cum hit her pussy lips, coating them in his release. He groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he pumped out rope after rope of cum, covering her cunt completely. "Oh my god... Oh my god."

Even as he finished cumming, a few last spurts dribbling out to make a mess across her lower stomach, he couldn't look away from where his cum coated her pussy lips, right in her thatch curls and the surrounding skin. It was obscene, filthy, and he loved it. Y/N had made him lose his mind a bit, but he didn’t really want to find it.

Breathing heavily, he finally met her gaze with a slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased grin. "Holy fuck, that was hot." He murmured, swallowing hard. "Never done that before. Came so fucking hard..."

"Good, cause you made a mess." She giggled, watching him as his chest heaved. The sight of his stomach and abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat- his hair was ruffled and he looked like he’d had a workout instead of jerking off on her body. "You like that, I think. Making a mess." She asked softly, watching as he continued to stroke himself slowly, milking himself. Her eyes were drawn back to his dick. It really was beautiful- and really fucking big. “Where the hell were you hiding that? God damn.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment, glancing down at his slowly softening dick with a smirk. "Guess I just needed the right inspiration, huh?" He teased lightly, finally releasing his grip on himself and leaning forward to rest his forearms on either side of her head, caging her in slightly. His face was mere inches from hers now, his glasses gone and his hair disheveled in the sexiest way possible. “Just need t’do this before we clean up and act normal again. Don’t yell at me.”

His mouth claimed hers slowly, lips moving softly against hers. He licked into her mouth slowly, like he was savoring her taste, his body half covering hers. His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss slowly, like he was trying to imprint himself onto her. Just as quick as it started though, it was over. She shouldn’t have been so sad about that. He pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes opened slowly to find her watching him softly, their lips still wet and swollen from the kiss. He grinned slightly, licking his lips again. “See? Not so bad.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, feeling dazed. Who the fuck was this? And why did he kiss so good it made her toes curl? Who was this and what had they done to her best friend? “I think your problem isn’t that you don’t have skill. Naturally you seem to get it. I think you’ve just gotten into your own head and you think too much.” She had been a safe person and it was easier for him to lose that anxiety with her, knowing she had already agreed to teach him.

“It can be hard to perform if you’re not able to properly get into it. Your dick can be hard as nails, but your mind not being in it will be a mood killer and they’re gonna know.” The smile on her face was slightly sad but she knew it was what he had to hear. “Because honestly? I haven’t orgasmed like that in ages. All it took was a few tweaks and you had it down. Maybe you just aren’t a hookup guy. Did that feel a lot different than the other people?” Maybe he needed someone who could openly communicate. The expectation of someone just knowing wasn’t always fair.

"Yeah." He hesitated, shifting slightly to prop himself up on one elbow next to her. His other hand traced patterns on her stomach absentmindedly. "It was... different." He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment. "With those other girls, I was always nervous. Overthinking every single fucking thing. Like you said." He glanced at her face, a slight blush forming across his cheeks. "With you... it felt natural. Real. And fuck, listening to you moan like that… Where did those lungs come from?"

“You freak!” She laughed, pushing his shoulder to get him to sit up. Adjusting her bralette back over her breasts she didn’t bother with the bottoms yet, because she really needed to go clean up. Secretly she was pleased that she had been different. It was so cliche to say it, but she wanted to be different than them. She just… wasn’t quite sure why yet. Her brain hadn’t come back down to earth fully and she couldn’t be bothered to truly question it. “You won’t need many lessons on how to pleasure a woman with results like that, I’m telling you that. Good job.” Reaching out, she squished his cheeks with a soft coo before he shot her a look.

"Oi!" He laughed, swatting her hand away playfully but with a big smile on his face. "Don't treat me like a puppy. And..." He hesitated, reaching up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Did it really feel that good? I mean." His voice dropped to a slightly embarrassed whisper. "Am I actually good at this stuff?" For someone who had just made her orgasm so hard, he suddenly seemed insecure again. Like he needed validation. "I know you don’t lie like that, but it just feels weird. Cause everyone else seemed disappointed… I thought I’d be completely awful.”

“Oh, H.” She frowned at his vulnerability. “It was really good for me. I think maybe you just need some lessons on how to let go and relax when you’re being intimate. And I’m happy to teach you that.” Brushing her hand over his stubble she gave his chin a pinch. “Trust me. I’d tell you if you needed a lot of work. It can be hard for women to cum from oral sometimes too. It’s hit or miss for me, and you had me cumming so easily so, I would say it was probably a mix of feeling safe and you having some good natural instincts you couldn’t tap into before because you were anxious and your brain was in overdrive.” Pulling him into a hug, she squeezed him lightly as she inhaled his scent. He smelled like mint and sex, with a tinge of laundry detergent. Appropriate.

“When I’m done with you, we’ll have it all squared away and figured out. Okay? Don’t think about those times. Think about the fact you’re gonna get to fuck your really hot best friend.” Standing up from the couch with a laugh and a pat to his head, she walked to the bathroom to get herself clean- and take a minute to breathe. Her chest was doing a weird thing it hadn’t before and she didn’t want to think about it. “Hey, can you order something from that cookie place to be delivered while I shower please? Use my phone, my card is already in the app. Thank youuuu.”

He watched her leave, a small smile on his face at her words. It was a relief to hear that he wasn't completely incompetent. Flopping back against the cushions, he stared at her ceiling fan as it whirred around with a content sigh.

As requested, he ordered a batch of her favorite cookies from the nearby bakery, adding a special request for extra chocolate chips with a small chuckle. She had ordered quite a few times recently, so he had tried to replicate it while adding white choc macadamia for himself. A classic, even if Y/N would wrinkle her nose for them sharing a box.

After submitting it for the delivery, he found himself humming softly, a warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of learning more from her. That had been so good, he felt so relieved that he wasn’t defective- but he did have to wonder how he was going to be this comfortable with anyone else. Y/N was easy to unwind around. It was hard to imagine him getting as comfortable with anyone else in the way he was with her.

Getting closer to her in a vulnerable and intimate way was sure to grow their friendship. He couldn’t really see it backfiring. Their friendship was too strong.

Right?

1K notes · View notes

fireinmoonshot · 11 months ago

Text

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second.

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start.

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it.

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today.

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.”

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason.

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.”

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are.

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence.

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were.

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.”

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike.

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers.

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler.

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you.

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had.

It drives Tyler insane.

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is.

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?”

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another.

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed.

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer.

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers. They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.”

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!”

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God.

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you.

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?”

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening.

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same.

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler.

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat.

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck.

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go.

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet.

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.”

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out.

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again.

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive.

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing.

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual.

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them.

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield.

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims.

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size.

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time.

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this.

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you.

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it.

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore.

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom.

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline.

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead.

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it.

Everything is okay, you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name.

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?”

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.”

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain.

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome.

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!”

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his.

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive.

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive.

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment.

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler.

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.”

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully.

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused.

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being.

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

#tyler owens #twisters #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters x reader #twisters x you #tyler owens imagine #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fanfic

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 11 months ago

Text

tell me again that you hate me

a/n: i kinda just poured all of the filth ever into this one fic... you're welcome.

summary: “you know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.”

warnings: bully!stepbro!rafe cameron x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, enemies to lovers, rafe is in college while reader is still in high school (everyone is over 18), blackmail, alcohol consumption, allusion to drug use, drunk driving, hidden cameras, panty stealing, references to somno, possessiveness, kissing, loss of virginity, size kink, belly bulge, pain kink, dirty talk, impact play, oral, pussyjob, just the tip, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cumplay, no aftercare and not really any foreplay, public sex, rafe is mean and pervy and dark but it's all fun because it's just a silly fantasy

word count: 5153

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Your life had turned into a living nightmare.

You thought that when your high school bully graduated, you’d finally get rid of him. But little did you know what the future held in store, just who your own mother would decide to marry and what particular family you’d be forced to fuse with.

Rafe Cameron had been the bane of your existence for years. Sure, when you’d first met him, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, but that was until he noticed you and truly showed you the notorious bully that he was. And now that he, the very person who had turned your teenage years into literal hell, had become your stepbrother, you couldn’t wait to get out of there, move halfway across the globe just to never see his face again.

It also didn’t help matters that you got situated in the room right next to his, even had to share a Jack and Jill bathroom with him.

Now what you didn’t know was how Rafe’s feelings truly were towards you. How he only started bullying you because you made him feel some type of way that no other chick did, but you came from the wrong side of the island, so getting those feelings out in the form of cruelty only seemed natural to a guy such as him. You had no idea that it was actually you whom he thought about every time he jerked off on the other side of that incredibly thin wall you shared, or even that his wicked fascination with you only seemed to grow now that you were a part of the family.

The impatient knocks were no use, so swiftly you swung the door to Rafe’s bedroom open. He was nowhere in sight, but before you could turn around to search for him in another place, the light that his computer monitor blared out into the space caught your eye.

Your vision however grew wide as soon as you saw the taboo tab that was open. It was porn, but not just any porn. The open page was littered with rows and rows of graphic videos that all fell under the stepsister search he had typed in.

Frozen in your stance, you wanted to sprint out of there, though at the same time, some part of you wanted to inch closer and snoop further.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” a voice blared from behind you and caused you to jump.

Skittering away from the desk, you spotted the familiar buzzcut standing in the doorway.

“I–, uh,” you swallowed and recalled the reason for your hunt, “my mom’s forcing me to go to that party at Topper’s tonight.”

“Okay, and?” he scoffed.

“And so, because I don’t really do that sort of thing–”

“Because you’re a fucking loser who never gets invited.”

“Because I have better things to spend my Friday nights doing, your father wanted you to keep an eye on me and to make sure I got home safe.”

The only way you were gonna get through the night was if you got as wasted as possible.

Which is exactly what you ended up doing.

When the clock chimed two, the raging headache you were developing from the blaring music convinced you to finally call it a night. You’d given it enough of a chance, enough experience to go home and state that partying simply wasn’t for you.

But if you didn’t find the literal demon of a stepbrother and let him complete his end of the bargain, then maybe your mom wouldn’t believe you alone and force you to go to another.

However, locating him turned out to be a much more difficult task than you’d thought. As you stumbled around the massive house, supporting your wobbly weight on the walls as you peeked into each of the rooms where some partygoers had migrated to, you soon dug your phone out of your jeans and dialled up his number.

It was on the third attempted call that you finally stumbled into him. Sitting with a random blonde on his lap and the remnants of a mysterious white powder dusting the coffee table separating you from him.

“There you are,” you grumbled, “I’ve been trying to call you!”

His expression turned sour as he noticed your presence, swiftly flipping his phone around as it layed on the table, though the caller ID that lit up the screen wasn’t of your name as your phone still buzzed in your palm to get through to him. Instead, it spelt out fleshlight in big bold letters.

“So, you have,” he exhaled, “what do you want?”

“I wanna go home,” you shoved your phone back in your pocket.

“So, go home. What do you want my fucking permission? Are you that obsessed with me?”

“You have to take me home,” you reminded him, though when he began to laugh in your face, you shot back, “or you can just deal with your dad yourself when you get home. Your choice if you wanna keep being in his good graces or not.”

That managed to shut him up. Though as he reluctantly pushed the blonde aside and got up from the couch, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “fucking prude,” like a curse on the wind just before he marched passed you and grabbed a hold of your arm to drag you with him.

“Ow, Rafe, you’re hurting me!” you tried to tear yourself free of his grip.

“Oh, shut up you baby, no I’m not. You wanna feel what does hurt?” his long fingers then dug further into your flesh and caused it to actually ache, “this.”

As he pushed open the front door, you whined, “ow, please stop,” but when he finally did, he only traded the grasp out with a light shove to your shoulder, directing you further towards his parked car.

When you were planted in the passenger seat with your gaze firmly fixed out the window as the dark streets rolled by, you crossed your arms and mumbled, “I hate you…” gaining enough courage from the dizzying alcohol ravaging your system to utter it out loud.

“What was that?” Rafe cast a glance in your direction.

Twisting your neck to glare back at him, you hesitantly repeated, “I hate you,” though the faint flicker of bravery you’d acquired was snuffed out as swiftly as it ignited when you saw the smirk that bloomed on your stepbrother’s features.

“Aw, don’t tell me that, princess,” he chuckled, “you’ll just make me hard.”

Eyes widening, they briefly fluttered down to the crotch of his trousers before you blinked away, a reaction that was evidently satisfying enough for Rafe to cause him to keep going.

“But you probably wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.”

“I know what to do,” you said defensively, though regretted your humouring him as soon as the words slipped out past your lips.

“Oh yeah? Just how would you know that? Everyone knows you’re a fucking virgin,” something he was to blame for, though that wasn’t a fact you ever had to know. You didn’t have to be aware of just how many times he had stopped guys from asking you out, just because he wanted you all to himself, “but are you secretly a perv, sis? Is that how you think you know what to do?”

“Don’t call me that,” you cringed lightly.

“What? A perv? Or sis? Don’t you wanna be reminded that you’re my stepsister?”

“Not particularly...”

As the car curved into the driveway to Tanny Hill, an offer suddenly rolled off Rafe’s tongue.

“You know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.”

Your mouth hung agape as the vehicle rolled to a stop, the sudden shift made you fear that your latest drink would come up again.

Utterly stunned, you couldn’t form a single word as you stared back at him.

“I mean, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” he went on, turning in his seat to gaze over at you, already undressing you with his eyes, “haven’t you always had the hots for me?”

“I–…” it felt as if the car was swaying around even though it stood completely still, “…I drank way too much tonight, and I think you might have as well.”

“You’re drunk?” darkness glinted in his eyes, “well, I honestly don’t know if I should be impressed or run inside and wake everyone up so you can get grounded for fucking ever,” he laughed.

“No!” you gasped, “You can’t tell them, please! I–…” you felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes and blur up your already hazy vision, “fuck!”

Leaning even further back in his seat, he cocked his head, “I mean, I could also keep it a secret…” the tip of his tongue mischievously slipped out to poke his lip, “for the right price, that is.”

“Seriously?” you glared back at him, “are you serious right now?”

Capturing your hand, he swiftly brought it to the palpable tent in his pants, “do I not seem serious?” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly to a squint.

Your lips parted in shock, stare flickering away from his eyes to spot how he ever so slightly pressed your palm down against him.

He was so hard that you could nearly feel his pulse through the fabric of his trousers.

“I mean, really I’d be helping you out,” your gaze stayed glued to how his broad hand engulfed your own a moment longer before you glanced up to find his unwavering stare once more, “so you should really thank me for both keeping your secret and doing you such a massive favour…”

As a shaky breath escaped your lungs, you whispered once more, “I hate you…”

But the proclamation only conjured a smile to appear on his lips, “tell me again,” and he leaned in a bit closer.

“I hate y–,” but you didn’t get the last bit out as Rafe then crashed his lips against yours.

It took a second for you to react with anything other than a surprised whimper, but when you did, it was slow and cautious compared to his boldness.

A string of saliva strung you together as he eventually parted from you. Offering himself a small caress, he pressed your palm down against him one last time before he let you go. His breathing was heavy as he momentarily let his thumb trace your bottom lip, briefly slipping it crudely in your mouth, before uttering, “get inside.”

Why, after all of this time, after all of the pain and torture he alone made you go through, why did he still have to give you butterflies the way that he did?

It was your room that he led you to, a hand ever rooted on you as you made the journey. At first, you thought it was because he saw the way you occasionally stumbled over your own feet, but perhaps it was just in case you wanted to make a run for it, just a precaution, a safety net already halfway over you.

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded in a cold tone as he shut the door behind you.

“W-what?” you turned to look back at him.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he repeated, “take your clothes off,” though they came out sounding slightly impatient.

He palmed himself through his pants as you slowly began to strip. Though as you’d shyly peeled your t-shirt off and dropped it to the floor, his voice halted you just as you began to undo your jeans.

“Stop,” his voice cut the thick air like a knife, “turn around when you pull those down,” you twisted away from him as your thumbs sank into either side of the waistband, “and do it slowly,” he made you put on a show, ogling as you gradually revealed the curve of your ass, “that’s it…” he nearly moaned as your pants crumbles to the floor, “bra and panties too, princess. Unless of course, you’re backing out of our deal already.”

Clenching your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut and shed the rest, ignoring his soft wolf whistles and crude comments as you exposed yourself.

Slowly turning back around to face him, your hands were clasped before you out of sheer timidness and not knowing what to do with them.

“You gonna stand over there all night?” he raised his chin slightly.

When your feet stood rooted right before his seated position on the bed, your hands began to fiddle as he pulled his shirt over his head and caused your pulse to somehow beat even harder than it already did.

One of his palms then scooped up your stomach and briefly grabbed one of your tits before scooping you closer, “come here,” and utilised his leverage to toss you down on the bed beside him, “let me get a good look at you.”

Grabbing for the bedsheets as the mattress momentarily bounced beneath your spine, you blinked up at Rafe as he sat next to you, twisting his form and craning down to near your core.

You tried to clamber your legs shut, embarrassed for what his cruel reaction might be, but he was not only faster, but stronger than you, and grabbed a hold of your thighs. As he split you apart, his lips curled up into a grin.

“Look at you… fuck,” he let out a short chuckle, “this is gonna be fun.”

A gasp curled out of your frame as he then grazed his thumb over your folds, smearing some of the mortifying wetness that seeped out and made you feel even more intoxicated than you already were. He lightly spread you apart and studied intently your dripping pussy, how it looked, how it glistened and how your little hole twitched when he lightly circled your clit.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he rubbed your puffy pearl with a mean lightness that caused your hips to buck slightly, “you like it when your big stepbrother touches you like this?” but when you didn’t reply, he reached down and grabbed your jaw, angling it for you to meet his eye, “answer me.”

“I–… y-yes,” you quietly admitted, feeling as if you were in some strange dream.

“Of course you do, you dirty little girl,” he bent down again to gaze at your pussy a little too close for your taste, “I knew you were a slut since the moment I met you.”

Letting go of your face, he then snaked his free hand down to give himself an ounce of relief.

“You know, part of me doesn’t even wanna prep you with my fingers first,” he smirked and let his fingertips sweep down to tickle your entrance, “I like the idea of not stretching you out first and letting my cock do all the work, let it feel just how tiny and pure you are for me.”

“But isn’t that gonna hurt?” your breath caught in your throat. Sure, you’d played with yourself nearly till your hands fell off, but that idea still managed to scare you.

“God, I hope so,” he groaned and briefly leaned down to press a hot kiss to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and sloppily making out with it.

When he then stood up and pulled his pants down, your jaw nearly hit the floor as well when you saw how thick his dick was. Fat and veiny, curving proudly up towards his abs.

Seizing your hips, Rafe yanked you closer to where he stood, nearly letting your ass dangle over the edge of the mattress.

“Wait,” you suddenly reached out to touch his forearm as he gave himself a few lavish strokes, staring down at your cunt, comparing the obscene size of him to your puff, “what about a condom?” you squeaked as he flicked his leaking tip down to tap your core.

Sucking in a fierce breath through his nose, he glared down at you and shot back, “what about you shut the fuck up and just be grateful,” before he sent his open palm down to smack your pussy.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I just–, fuck!” you shuttered beneath him as he soothed the slap with the nudge of his length, rubbing it against you and teasing your cunt before he started sweeping it through your folds, nearly fucking your soppy slit, the tip of him kissing your little pearl on each silky advance.

A dollop of spit dropped from his lips and joined the mess he already tickled at between your parted legs.

“It’s too big…” you murmured as you stared down at how his fat girth parted your pretty petals, though the observation only conjured a smile on Rafe’s lips, “maybe you could just put the tip in?” you tried through your foggy mind, “that would still count.”

A rumbling chuckle bubbled out of him as he stared down at the two of you together, “just the tip…” his movements then grew more erratic as he slid through your folds, “is that all you think your little virgin cunt can handle?” shy gasps escaped you every time he deliberately let his cock catch at your opening, “just the tip?”

As he slowly pressed just the flush head of his length in to breach your entrance, your brows crinkled up at the mind-numbing stretch.

“Like that, baby?” he only moved ever so slightly, “is that all you think you can handle?” and you nodded foggily in return. But as you let your eyes flutter shut and breathed through the staggeringly wonderful sensation, Rafe’s voice once again washed over you, “nah,” like a splash of cold water while you were licking up warm sun rays, “that’s not good enough. This is,” and he then slammed the entirety of his length into you.

Your eyes instantly shot back open and your legs curled up even further on either side of you at the shock.

“What?” he cooed at you mockingly as he slowly dragged his dick back out for just the memory to remain, “does it hurt?”

You were a blubbering and cursing mess, trembling beneath him as your pussy tried to accommodate him.

“Come on, princess,” he bent down over you and let his nose ghost against yours, “tell me that it hurts.”

“It h-hurts,” you whimpered as his hot breath fanned across your blazing cheeks.

It did sting, a lot, but though you hated to admit it, a part of you loved it, a part of you sank even further into the pit of pleasure he so slowly dunked you into.

“Tell me that it’s too big for you,” he nuzzled his nose against yours as he plugged you back up.

Your body shook beneath his every time he moved as much as a millimetre inside you, “i-it’s too big.”

Letting out a low moan of satisfaction, he then leaned down to press his lips to yours, stealing your breath away even further.

You tried, but couldn’t really focus on kissing him back, not that he seemed to mind much as he moaned into your mouth, soon letting his sloppy kisses dance over your cheek and down your neck, letting hickeys bloom in his wake and mark up your skin like a brand.

As he sucked down on the spot where your pulse went wild beneath the skin, his hips drove against yours harder, causing them to collide in a sticky smack, as well as letting the tip of him bully the deepest part of you. He didn’t just do it once, but kept it up as he enjoyed the little squeaks you let out every time he bumped against your cervix.

Kissing his way back up to your lips, he only offered them the briefest of pecks before raising himself off of you, just ever so slightly, and one by one, grabbed your already wide-spread legs and rested each one of them onto his broad shoulders, efficiently folding you in half.

“H-holy shit,” you panted as the mattress rippled beneath you at every one of his rough thrusts, “Rafe–”

“Yeah?” he smirked down at your melted form, the vein in his forehead popping from the strain, “are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum on your big bro’s dick?” one of his hands swept up to squeeze your tit, then gave it a swift tap before growling, “come on, princess. I can feel you squeezing me so fucking tight. Do it, I fucking dare you. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You almost screamed as you tumbled over the edge, your head curling to the side to hide yourself in the crumbled duvet beneath you as your pussy gushed all over his fat girth.

“Oh, fuck,” Rafe croaked as he straightened back up to get a good view. Pulling out of you, he briefly flicked his dick through your folds to urge more of your nectar to leak out, before he slid it back inside and asked in amazement, “you ever squirted before?”

Trembling from the overstimulation, your eyes rolled in your skull as you shakily mumbled, “maybe twice, I think.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” he growled proudly, “squirting all over me like a proper whore. Just look at you,” his grip dented your thighs as he pressed them further down against the bed, “you’re already a pretty little cockdrunk mess.”

“I–, I–,” you blubbered as you felt drool begin to trickle down your cheek.

“Oh, fuck,” he then groaned, glancing down at where he split you apart, “hold your legs back,” he requested, though had to help your sluggish hands find their way, “look at this, baby,” he scooped a palm behind your head and ushered you to spot what he had noticed. Splaying a wide hand over the lower part of your stomach, he traced the faint bulge that rhythmically appeared, “sure as fuck not a virgin anymore, are you? Fucking ruining that perfect little pussy of yours. Now that’s how you pop a fucking cherry. Aren’t you happy I was in such a charitable mood tonight?” he then pressed down on the imprint rudely, the overwhelming sensation causing your pussy to drizzle a little more around him, “aren’t you, sis?”

“Yes,” you mewled, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud and not getting your guts rearranged.

“You’d let me do anything I’d fucking want, wouldn’t you?” he smirked down at your dazed form.

“Y-yes,” the word flowed out of you, though you couldn’t quite comprehend all of his dirty talk any longer.

“Hold on,” he briefly slowed down and stretched over to reach a small apprentice obscured and hidden in all of the cluttered decor on your nearby dresser. Turning it in his hand, he pointed the discrete camera down to film you, “say it again,” he picked his pace back up, “tell me that you’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

“Anything,” the words bubbled out through your moans, “anything you want.”

“Say that you’re my little slut.”

“I’m yours–, I-I’m your s-slut.”

Tilting the hidden camera down to get a few close-ups, his voice then seeped into you once more, “now tell me again that you hate me.”

One of your hands fluttered down and began to rub your puffy clit.

“I hate you.”

“Again,” he reached down to give your left nipple a harsh pinch.

“I hate you.”

“Keep going, princess.”

And the more times the phrase flowed out past your lips, the more it began to lose its meaning and morph into just another sound, one that was almost akin to the complete opposite kind of proclamation.

Just like you barely noticed when Rafe dug out the hidden camera, so too did you miss it when he put it back down, obscured somewhere among your things, possibly not even the only one.

When you came once again, Rafe didn’t so much as pause when you creamed around his cock and drenched the sheets beneath you that much further.

“There you fucking go,” he sent a palm down to smack the sensitive skin on your inner thigh, “god, you’re so hot. I can’t believe you actually let me do this,” he grinned as your fingers stretched out to graze his wild hips, trying and failing to slow him down, “you’re such a little freak,” he glanced down at the ring of your essence that marked the base of his throbbing cock, “so fucking nasty for your stepbrother. I bet you’d even let me keep using you after you fall asleep. I mean, who’s to say I haven’t already,” he chuckled, “you’re so fucking cute when you sleep. No annoying remarks, no dumb comments… I think I might prefer you that way…” his slamming grew sloppy as he soon moaned, “fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Pull out,” you begged through your hazy pants.

And just when you thought he wouldn’t respect your wishes, he yanked out and furiously stroked himself before your winking and wrecked hole as it slowly retraced from the severe stretch. Moaning loudly, he swiftly painted your pussy with his load, getting it all over your puffy petals till he was panting above you. One hand rested on your thigh as he brushed the sensitive head of his cock over the cream, messily tapping the hefty weight of him against your aching clit and making you jump a few times as he smeared it in.

Throwing himself down on the bed beside you, he let out a long sigh and said, “you’re welcome.”

You felt like you couldn’t move, like you might never be able to move again. Your breath still came in ragged as the only thing you could focus on was the sore throbbing centred at your core, that blossomed out through the rest of your nerves.

“Well,” Rafe huffed as he soon lifted himself up to a sitting position, “night,” and without another word, slipped out through your shared bathroom into his own bedroom.

“I can’t believe they made you take me,” you grumbled as you watched Rafe shadow you in the clothing store, “I could have just gone to the mall on my own.”

“You don’t have a car though–, also, why are you the one complaining? I’m the one being forced to go fucking shopping with you of all people.”

Somehow, for some mysterious reason, since you’d moved into Tanny Hill, your collection of underwear had shrivelled down till you barely had enough to get you through the week. Guess that was the price you had to pay for letting someone else do your laundry, though you’d always assumed it would more just be a single sock that commonly vanished in the wash…

When you dipped into the fitting room to try a few of the gathered options on, you only managed to test out two of them before the curtain slid back open and you swiftly scrambled to cover yourself.

“Rafe!” you let out a hushed screech, “what do you think you’re–”

“Try these on,” he handed you a wide stack of hangers. It wasn’t just underwear dangling from them, but also some clothing, though all of it way too revealing than you were used to.

Glancing down at them, you refused to grasp the items and simply stated in a clear tone, “no.”

Letting out a low sigh, he then turned to close the curtain back up before he twisted back to face you, “do you need me to have a little talk with your mom and my dad?” he took a few steps towards you, slowly pushing you into the corner by the tall mirror.

Glaring back at him through your pout, you huffed, “no…”

You stayed in the corner as he then hung the clothing up on the hooks before taking a seat on the small stool where your purse was resting before he swept it to the floor.

“Are you just gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “it’s boring as shit out there. At least in here, I might get a moderate amount of entertainment.”

Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly began to try the attire on.

“I hate thongs,” you muttered as you tugged a pair into place over your hip, trying not to catch your stepbrother’s stare as his gaze wandered from your reflection to the perfect view he had of your backside.

“I recall you hate a lot of things you still don’t hesitate to jump on.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, “you have your fun, enjoy this little fashion show, but I’m sure as hell not getting any of these.”

“Well, good,” he uttered demeaningly, “because I’m buying them for you.”

Catching his eye in the mirror, you told him, “I’m still not wearing them. You can’t make me.”

“Yeah,” he puffed out a smirk, “we’ll see about that,” and then tore his gaze away from you to gesture to one of the hangers, “try that dress on, but keep the pink thong on underneath, only the thong though.”

You had to shut your eyes in annoyance a moment before you fulfilled his request, soon standing before him in a scantily cut, pastel mini dress, crafted in a fabric so thin that you could see the faint shadow of your nipples poking through them, especially after they’d turned all pebbly after Rafe had torn that privacy curtain to the side.

“You happy now?” you turned to face him and propped your hands on either side of your hips.

“Hm,” he cockily pursed his lips as his gaze studied you, “I was right…”

Your brows stayed furrowed till you watched his palm slide down to squeeze himself through his shorts.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, eyes growing wide.

“You do look hot in normal clothes.”

“I don’t think any of this is normal…”

“I think it’s time you learned how to suck a cock,” he suddenly announced, eyes still glued to the dress’ low neckline as he unzipped his slacks.

“Rafe…” you breathed.

His eyes flickered up to find yours, “get on your knees,” he tilted his head, “come on, princess. You’ll love it, trust me.”

7K notes · View notes

hoejosatoru · 3 months ago

Text

Roster Hopper - Blue Lock edition

Characters: fem!reader x isagi, chigiri, bachira, barou, rin, otoya, karasu, yukimiya, nagi, reo (all separate beside nagi and reo) characters are 21+, reader's hair color/texture and skin color not specified

Summary: College team AU, where y/n is a manager of the team and bets her friend she can hook up with all the members of the team - without them finding out. This can be read as one entire fic or if you want to jump around I have the name of each character bolded for their part.

Word count: 11.3k help this took forever

a/n: this is the blue lock version of the fic concept I've done with Haikyu teams. I prefer to write characters older but college au makes this easier to so just imagine whatever age you want. Also y/f/n= your friend's name bc I couldn't think of one

Warnings: semi public sex, car sex, fingering, dirty talk, oral, unprotected sex, creampie, spitting, threesome, face sitting, squirting, toy use, finger in ass, chigiri is a sub/calling him good boy, virginity loss for rin, girl there’s a lot we got 10 men to get through so buckle up, also not proof read sorry

"Ugh, I am not going to miss August practices," your friend groaned, fanning herself with a clipboard.

"Seriously," you sigh. Usually you loved being the manager of your college's soccer team. It was a fun position and an easy way to get involved with a sport you enjoyed. Not to mention, your best friend was your co-manager, which meant you always had someone to chat with during practices.

The only time being the manager sucked where days like this, when you had to stand out in the blazing sun. Ego, the coach, made the team come in a week before the semester starts to begin training, which meant long days in the heat.

"Well, it's not all bad," your friend smirked, gesturing to the scene ahead of you. All of the players were currently running around shirtless, sweat dripping down their toned, sun-tanned bodies. The position certainly came with perks.

"Not a bad view, eh?" you replied.

"Ego's really cruel with his no hook up rule," your friend grumbled. You laughed, remembering how awkward the first team meeting you intended when Ego lectured everyone about not having sex with each other because it was a distraction. The players being off the table was definitely a downside of the position.

"I know," you sighed, "How am I supposed to graduate without knowing who's good in bed?"

"Right, like Rin is good on the field, but do you think his skills transfer?" your friend mused.

"Maybe Chigiri likes getting his hair pulled?"

"Do you think Barou makes girls call him the king while fucking?" You both snickered, drawing the attention of Isagi.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing!" you both responded in unison. You both turned away, trying to stifle laughter. As you regained your compsure, a thought popped into your head. You'd gone the past 3 year without breaking Ego's rule, but headed into your final year, you were feeling more daring...

"I have an idea."

"Which is?" your friend asked.

"What if I hooked up with all of them so we could get answers to our question?"

Your friend stared at you, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"I fear I am," you replied. "Breaking the rules is fun every now and again."

"You'd have to break the rules like 10 times," she countered.

You shrugged. "I've behaved the last few years, I think I'm owed it. Besides, Ego will never find out because I'll make sure they'll keep their mouths shut. They can't know I'm hooking up with the other guys on the team, it would mess with the data."

Your friend rolled her eyes. "I didn't know this was so scientific. I bet it isn't even possible."

"Wanna put some money on that bet?"

"You're on."

You two spend the rest of practice hashing out the details of the bet. You had to sleep with the top ten players on the team, so could figure out who was the best. You couldn't tell them about the bet, nor could you let any of them find out, as it might mess with how good their performance is. You wanted to see how good they are when they didn't know it was a test. But if the team finds out, game over. And if Ego find out... well that was an awkward conversation you were keen on avoiding. You both agreed you had until the end of the school year and winner owed the other $300.

Karasu gave you your first opening. He was trying to convince the guys to go to a frat party with him, but after a week of tough practices no one was interested.

"I'll come with you, Karasu," you said with an innocent smile. "I think some of my roommates wanna go too, we can all go together." You added for the players who may be in earshot. Going alone might raise some suspicions. Karasu jumped at your offer and said he could pick you guys up at 8. Little did he know...

"Sorry Karasu, all my friends bailed," you lied, feigning disappointment. "Hope you don't mind if it's just me." Karasu's eyes raked over your body as you climbed into his car. You wore a mini skirt and a little top, which the glint in Karasu's eyes told you he enjoyed.

Just because Ego had a no hook up rule, it didn't mean the guys didn't look - or flirt - from time to time. Karasu was definitely one of the players that liked to push that boundary.

"Fine by me," he grinned. "We'll still have a good time."

The party, unfortunately, left much to be desired. It was the first big frat party of the year and it was beyond packed. The one drink you had was warm and crappy. Not to mention the music they had blasting sucked. You were barely there an hour when Karasu motioned for the exit.

"I'm sorry I dragged you out for such a shitty party," he sighed when you returned to the car.

"S'okay," you shrugged. "Hey it's still early, why don't we drive around and find a spot to chill for a bit?"

Karasu nodded, his hand on the back of your seat as he threw the car in reverse. "I think I know a spot."

It was only a few minute drive until you pulled up to a private little park, far from the main road. You couldn't believe your luck. You and Karasu slipped into easy conversation for a bit. The longer you spoke with him, the more you realized just how cute he was. You sorta went immune to the team's good looks since you've been around them for so long, but staring only at Karasu for so long reminded you that he was fine.

"What're you thinking about?" you asked him when he went quiet, giving you a particular look that made your stomach flip.

"I'm thinking," he replied, licking his lips, "That you look really good and that I really hate Ego's stupid rules."

"I can keep a secret if you can," you replied, leaning into him.

He held up his pinkie. "I won't tell a soul." You wrapped our pinkie around his with a triumphant grin. "Back seat has more space."

You crawled over the center console, followed closely by Karasu. He could see up your skirt, your ass barely covered by a little lace panty. He could feel himself growing hard as he tried to commit the image to memory.

You let out a little yelp as he playfully smacked your ass. "Sorry, couldn't help it."

You maneuvered to be straddling Karasu's lap. His hands tangled in your hair as he pulled you into a deep kiss. He was shy at all, kissing you with a hunger. You let out a pleasant hum as he nipped at your lower lip.

Your hips stirred over his lap as you felt him growing hard beneath you. Your skirt had completely hiked up around you waist, leaving you covered only in lace. Karasu let a groan as looked down at your clothed cunt pressed against his hard on through his jeans.

"Like what you see?" you teased rolling you hips. The friction against your aching cunt was delicious.

"You're so sexy," he mused, bringing his hands down to squeeze your tits through your top. You mewled, nestling your cunt against his thigh to grind down harder on him. You returned to kissing him as you rocked your hips, the rush of doing something you knew you shouldn't heightened pleasure building.

Your breaths were shortening the more you rolled your hips. You had to break the kiss as you desperately tried to chase your high. "Fuck, you think you could cum just like this?" Karasu asked, an excited edge in his voice.

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to find your voice. Karasu pulled your top down, exposing your boobs. He was greedy, sucking at your nipple and squeezing the other to help you along.

Your head collapsed on his shoulder as your body tensed and relaxed deeply into your orgasm. The breathy moans in Karasu's ear nearly made him come his pants.

"Fuck that was hot," he grinned. "Can I fuck you?" He was already slipping himself out of his pants. His tip was flushed and leaking, looking as needy as he sounded.

"Please." You were just as eager for more, positioning yourself over him. You let out a content sigh as you sunk down on to him.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he groaned, "All that for me?" He let you roll your hips, adjusting to him, but he couldn't hold himself back for long. He placed his hands on the seat, giving him leverage to fuck up into you.

"Karasu!" you cried. The air was thick, windows fogged from your panting breaths. Your hand streaked across the condensation as you tried to stabilized yourself.

It wasn't long before another wave of pleasure surged through your body, squeezing Karasu tightly. He let out a delicious groan as his hips stuttered and released into you. You collapsed onto of him, both of you panting.

"So worth breaking the rules," Karasu grinned. You smiled back, though for more reasons that Karasu realized. 1 down.

****

It had been a couple of weeks since your tryst with Karasu and you'd been holding your breath for Ego to call you into your office, or another player to make some suggestive comment. But there was no indication Karasu let anything slip. Your success emboldened you to set your sights on the next man

Barou always used the team gym later at night, after the rest of team had filtered out. He hated working out with them, complaining that they were loud and obnoxious. You, however, he didn't mind.

You were intimidating by Barou when you first met him, but quickly learned he was all bark and no bite. Well, with women that is. Though he had that tough exterior and an imposing size, he was always respectful towards you.

Truthfully, it was Rin you were most nervous to tackle in this challenge. Though physically less intimidating, he was certainly colder. Though Barou was smart, you had a feeling he would fall into the same pit fall most men do: thinking with the wrong head, so to speak. Rin, however, was more calculated, more observant. You feared he see through your charade. But that was a problem for future you.

You were grateful that Barou let you use the team gym in evenings with him, as you could avoid the crowded campus gym and men that ogled at every woman that walked in. For the most part, you and Barou did your own thing. Sometimes you would spot each other, but really you were just sharing the space with minimal interactions. You knew. Barou liked to do his own thing while working out and didn't wanna push it. Tonight, though, you had other plans.

You donned your cutest workout gear: tiny bike shorts and sports bra in your favorite color. You went about your normal workout, though not going as hard as you normally did so you could keep an eye on Barou. He looked as he normally did during a gym session, shirt off, hair down, wearing only small athletic shorts. He was certainly not making it hard to want him.

Barou was currently at the bench trying to beat his personal record of an incline press. He always had an impressive amount of weight loaded on his bar, but today it looked impossibly heavy. Grunts of frustration echoed in the empty gym as he couldn't quite lift the weight high enough to count as a rep. He set the bar down on the rack with a metallic clang and huff of frustraion. Now was your time.

"You know," you wandered over casually, "I heard that more testosterone can help men lift more.

Barou's brow furrowed. "Does it look like I'm low on testosterone to you?"

You appraised his broad form, thick with muscles, veins snaking down the length of his arms from the pump of his work out. A light layer of sweat made his body sheen. "Certainly not." You shrugged, not letting your true interest show. "Just thought it was an interesting theory. Probably bull shit."

Barou's eyes flickered between you and weight rack You could see the gears turning, the desire to conquer the a weight that would put him far above his teammates. "You'd be willing to try?"

"Sure, why not," you replied. "Could be a cool experiment."

"Alright, c'mere." You did as you were bid, your heart fluttering in your chest beneath his gaze. You slid on to him as casually as you could, your legs straddling his.

Barou was obviously bigger than Karasu, but you could feel the difference even just by being on his lap. His body was thick, forcing your legs open wider to accommodate his width. His muscles flexed beneath you as he shift on the bench to prepare for this lift. You bit down on your lip, hoping he wouldn't notice your blush.

Barou wrapped his hands around the bar, focus etched on his face as he lifted it off the rack. You weren't sure if you were surprised or not that it actually worked. It took some exertion on his end, muscles bulging, skin flushed, grunts that would sound very... suggestive out of context. But he was able to bench the weight for 3 reps, when he wasn't able to get a single one prior.

"Fuck, I can't believe that worked," he panted, setting the weight back down on the rack. When he sat up you were just inches apart.

"Knew you could do it," you said, innocently rolling your hips forward. "You're the strongest guy on the team by far." A little ego stroking never hurt.

"That why you were so eager to sit in my lap?" Barou replied shifting beneath you. You could swear you could feel his cock hardening beneath you. "Could feel you watching me all night." His eyes flickered down your body, taking in your barely covered body. "In this little outfit. Did you put this on for me?"

You batted your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Barou tsked. "If you asked for what you want, you might get it y/n." His hands, rough and warm, were resting on your outer thighs, leaving no question of what he was suggesting.

"And if I want you?"

His fingers dug into you. "Be careful what you wish for." He pulled you into him, you chest flush against his. His kiss was possessive, dominating. He kneaded your ass as your tongues slid over each other. His skin was hot against yours with only the thinnest layers of material between your aching cunt and his growingly hard cock.

You went to reach between the two of you, to squeeze his length, but Barou gripped your wrist. "I'm in charge here."

"Oh yeah?" you challenged.

In a flash Barou had man handled you into being bent over the bend. "Yeah." He ground his cock against your ass. "That what you want?" You mewled but that wasn't good enough for Barou. He brought his hand against your ass with a sharp slap, making you gasp. "Answer me when I ask you something."

"Yes Barou I want it! Please-" your voice broke off as he pressed his thumb against your clit.

"Good girl." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Gonna give you what you want." He pulled down your shorts, running his fingers through your wetness. "Soaked like a slut for me, huh?" He slid in two thick fingers inside you. "Gotta prep you for me."

Barou thrust his fingers hard and fast, but not unpleasantly. The pads of his fingers brushed against your gspot, making your cunt throb and spasm. Your ass wiggled back against him, wanting more, to feel him deeper. You were on precipice of an orgasm when Barou yanked his hand away.

You let out whine. "If you're gonna cum it's gonna be around my cock." You peaked back as you heard him shedding his shorts. His cock huge - long and thick, veins running up the sides. Your cunt throbbed with anticipation.

"Fuck." You couldn't contain yourself as his fat tip pressed into you. It ached, but in a sinfully pleasant way. Barou ran his hand down your spine, arching you for him while he gave a few shallow thrusts to adjust.

He quickly picked up his pace, the weight of him behind every thrust. It stole your breath, your cunt drooling.

"Making a fucking mess on me," Barou growled, watching the way you coating his length, dripping down on the bench. "Dirty girl." He gripped your hips, holding you just how he wanted. Your fingers dug into the bench, holding on for dear life as he fucked up.

"Barou I-" You choked out. You couldn't form a sentence with the way he took you.

"Go on and cum, y/n," Barou instructed. "Wanna feel you squeezing me." You wouldn't have been able to hold on much longer anyway at this pace. Pleasure exploded through your body, hot and heavy. Barou growled at your cunt throbbing around him. He fucked you through your orgasm, releasing only at the tail end of your high. The feeling of his hot cum shooting ropes into you prolonging you pleasure.

Barou slipped out of you with a grunt. "We need to clean up." Though he was amused by the mixture of yours releases coating his cock and spilled on the bench, his drive to clean was kicking in. He picked up the towel he brought with him while work out, gently wiping between your legs. It was oddly tender compared to his prior actions.

"Hey Barou, would you mind if we didn't tell anyone about this?" you asked. "I don't want to get in trouble with Ego. Plus, I can only imagine what the other guys would say."

Barou could feel a headache coming just by thinking of what stupid shit his teammates he would say. "I'm not telling them shit."

That was a good enough promise for you. 2 down.

****

The first few games of the season went well. Everyone was happy with the team's winning streak. Well, everyone but Isagi. He has yet to score a goal, which was bugging him incessantly.

"You just need to relax man," Bachira, who scored in today's game, told him. "You stress too much. It messes with your game." You eavesdropped on their conversation, pretending to take account of equipment as they packed their bags to head out.

"That's easy for you to say when you've already scored twice this season," Isagi grumbled.

"Just play better," Nagi yawned, not even bothering to look back at Isagi's disgruntled face.

"Or get laid, that ought to calm you down!" Reo snickered, jogging to catch up with Nagi. Not a bad idea Reo...

"Gee, thanks," Isagi snapped.

"Hey Isagi! Ego wants to talk to you," you called to him.

Isagi sighed. "I'll catch up with you later Bachira." He trudged over to you, looking defeated. "Am I about to get yelled at?"

"Well, I sorta lied." Isagi's brow quirked. "Ego didn't want to talk to you, I did."

"Oh? What's up?"

"Bachira's right," you replied, "I know I'm not a soccer expert, but I've learned a lot from watching. I can tell your game is off from the stress. You're playing stiff."

Isagi sighed. "I know, but the problem is I don't know how to not be. Everyone's scored this season except me. I don't wanna fall behind."

"Maybe Reo was right," you suggested.

Isagi let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure he is. But I don't exactly have any women who are willing to hook up for the sake of my game."

"I would, you know, for the sake of your game," you replied.

Isagi looked shocked. "Are you serious? But Ego's rules."

You shrugged. "He'd never find out, it's not like he’d be there during it." Isagi shuttered at the thought. "Look, as a friend and manager who wants to see the team do well, I'm offering to help. If we don't tell anybody else there's no way we'd get in trouble."

You could see the gears turning in Isagi's head. Best case scenario, he was thinking, he has sex with the hot manager and goes on a scoring streak. Worst case scenario, his play doesn't get any better, but he at least got to fuck the hot manager. He liked those odds.

"Okay, sure. If you really don't mind."

It was just too easy.

You agreed to meet at your place, as your roommate was spending the night at her boyfriend's. Isagi looked anxious as you led him to your room.

"This is supposed to be helping to relax," you commented with an amused smile. You laid on your bed, propped up on your elbows. Isagi eyed you hungrily, but his body was still tense.

"I'm still half expecting Ego to pop out and lecture me," Isagi replied.

You chuckled. "Gonna spend the whole night thinking about Ego or are you gonna come over here and let me take care of you?"

The latter sounded much more appealing, obviously so Isagi crawled on top of you on the bed. "If you change you min-"

"Shh," you pressed your finger to his lips. "Don't stress, just kiss me." You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him into you. His kiss was tentative at first, but quickly melted into comfortable rhythm.

Isagi palmed your tits, lightly grinding against you. He was hard already, making you smirk. You slid down between your bodies, squeezing him through his sweats. He gasped into the kiss.

"So sensitive,"you noted. "It's been a minute, huh?

"Too long," Isagi replied, pulling his shirt off. You followed suit, stripping yourself from the waist up. He eyed you hungrily, body already relaxing at the sight of you.

"Let's not keep you waiting any longer, yeah?" You hooked your finger into his sweats, tugging them down. His size was average, but he was flushed a pretty shade of pink. He teased your entrance with his tip, nudging at your clit. You let out a pleasant hum.

Isagi pressed in sigh you with a satisfied size. "God, you feel good." His head fell back as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you. He felt like he had to warm up, afraid he would bust too soon after going so long without.

Eventually he picked up his pace. He cupped the back of one of your knees, pressing it up to your chest. The angle pressed him deeper inside you, hitting a spot that made you breathless. "Mmm, so good Isagi."

He cock twitched at his name on your tongue. It spurred him on, snapping his hips faster. The base of him brushed against your clit, building your pleasure with each thrust. You wrapped your arms around his muscular back, letting your nails rake down his skin. The sensation sent Isagi over the edge.

He let out a low curse as his hips stuttered and he spilled inside you. The sensation of warmth filling you, along with the throb of his cock set you over the edge. You sighed contently into his neck as he slowly rode out your highs.

"Thanks for that," Isagi said later as you both redressed.

"You can thank me once you start playing better," you teased.

Low and behold, Isagi scored twice the very next game. He shot a lopsided grin as the team celebrated the win, though no one knew how you were the key to the success. Another one crossed off the list.

****

A few weeks later, your next opportunity arose. The team was lamenting about upcoming midterms, which they have to pass in order to be eligible play on the team.

"I'm screwed for my economics test," Bachira groaned at the end of practice.

"Don't ask me for help, dude. I gotta focus on my stats test or I'm screwed," Karasu replied, leaving Bachira to groan in the grass.

"Are you taking economics with professor Johnson?" you asked.

Bachira perked up. "Yes, he's the worst."

You nodded sympathetically. "For real, I struggled in his class last semester. I could help you, if you want. I still have some old notes."

"Seriously? That would be awesome," Bachira replied.

You met up the following evening at the library. You found a quiet spot deep into the stacks so you and Bachira could focus. He was not kidding when he said he was bad, but slowly you got him up to speed.

You weren't sure if you were reading into things because you had an ulterior motive, but you swore you felt tension. Perhaps it was the setting, the way you had to lean into to each other and speak in hushed voices. Your thighs brushed each others, fingertips brushing the other's hands as you pointed out facts on the page. The scent of him filling your nose, fresh and a little sweet.

"y/n," Bachira said softly, amusement clear in his voice. "You're staring."

You blushed, but used the moment to your advantage. "You're a little distracting."

"Oh yeah?" His hand brushed against your leg. "What should we do about that?"

You leaned in closer, allowing him to brush higher up your thigh. "You wanna take a little break, Bachira?" Your voice was a sweet hum in his ear.

"Was just thinking I need to thank you for the help," Bachira replied. He ghosted over your center, cat-like eyes flicking to yours for any signs of discomfort. When you should none, he applied a little pressure. "I've got some ideas, but might be better somewhere more... private."

"I like the sound of that," you murmured, already feeling yourself growing slick. "But we have to be careful, if someone sees we could get in trouble with Ego."

"Well, Isagi's visting his family tonight, so I have the place to myself," Bachira replied, lazily rubbing light circles over you. "As you for everyone else, it's late now and I doubt we'll see the guys on campus. Plus, I can keep a secret."

You smiled wickedly. "Let's do it."

You both scrambled to pack up your books. You weaved through the stacks, occupied by only a few devout studiers. It was later than you thought, night fully set in. You were grateful for the cover of darkness as you snuck to Bachira's car, both giggling.

Bachira drove with his hand on your thigh, teasing you lightly. Something about the gleam in his eye when he looked at you made you squirm, like you knew he had something good in store. Mercifully, the apartment he shared with Isagi was not far from campus.

You were on each other once the door closed behind you. Bachira kissed you as he led you back to his bedroom. Both your shirts were already off by the time you hit the bed. Bachira climbed on top of you, kissing you playfully as he continued to tease you through your leggings.

Bachira pulled away from the kiss, breathless and pupils wide. "Are you okay with toys?"

"Hmm?" you couldn't comprehend his question through the fog of lust.

Bachira dug through his nightstand, pulling out a little vibrator. You instinctively rubbed your thighs together at the thought of Bachira using that on you. "Can I?"

"Please."

Bachira grinned, sliding your leggings off and returning to you kissing you. He ran his hands up and down your body, giving extra attention to your tits and thighs. Eventually, he flicked on the vibrator, lazily dragging it from the valley of your chest down to the apex of your thighs. He stopped just above your throbbing clit before dragging it back up to the top.

He chuckled into the kiss as you squirmed when the vibrator ran across your nipples. He slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you damn near stupid as the little bullet went back down your body.

You let out a little sigh into his mouth as he lightly pressed the vibrator to your clothed clit. He teased you with it, giving just enough pressure for it to feel good, but not enough to do anything. Any time he suspected pleasure was building, he pulled it away. Your hips bucked, desperate for more.

"Bachira," he name a plea on your lips.

"I'm being mean huh? Teasing you like this?" he pressed the vibrator harder into you for emphasis, savoring your gasp. "I'm supposed to be thanking you."

Bachira slid your underwear off, licking his lips at the string of arousal. "Fuck, I think I might need a little taste." He settled between your legs, licking up your slit. Your back arched as he sucked at your clit, messy and eager. He flicked the vibrator back on, alternating between licking at your clit and letting the vibrator do the work.

It took only a few moments of Bachira between your legs to send a surge of pleasure through your body. You clawed at the sheets, gasping his name as the feeling consumed you.

"Tastes so sweet," Bachira mused, licking his lips. He wriggled out of his pants, cock heavy and leaking. "Ready for more?" You nodded, eagerly pulling him closer. Bachira ran his cock leisurely through your slick folds. He flicked the vibrator on, running in down the length of him. He let out a low moan as it brushed against his tip.

He slid the vibrator between the two of you. You jolted as the buzz hit your swollen clit. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he continued to rut himself through your slick. You could feel Bachira's cock twitching against you and all you wanted was to feel that inside.

"Need you, fuck-," you gasped. "Inside, please."

Bachira obliged with a grin. "Can't say no to that." He slid into you with ease, on account of how wet you were. He groaned at the feeling of your wrapped around him.

Bachira snapped his hips, gradually picking up the pace. He loved the little sounds you made, proof of how desperate and sensitive you were. He wanted to push it further, flicking the vibrator on and pressing it against your throbbing clit.

You gasped, feeling over stimulated already. The feeling building in you was white hot. "Bachira I'm gonna-" you choked out a sob as gushed all over him, soaking his lower half.

"Fuck that was hot," Bachira replied, fucking you harder through it. He couldn't hold out longer, seeing you soaked and wriggling beneath him. You felt his cock throb as he filled you with a satisfied sigh.

"Sorry about your sheets," you said when you both caught your breath.

Bachira scoffed. "I'm not even slightly upset about that."

You ended up staying the night at his place, but went to practice the next day separately, as if nothing happened. A few days later, Bachira happily announced he passed his test to the team, throwing a sly wink your way. 4 down, 6 to go.

****

It had been a few weeks since the Bachira hook up and, honestly, you had half a mind to just forget the whole plan and go back for seconds. However, the competitive part of you couldn't give up a bet. Not to mention, you were interested in what the other contenders had to offer.

The semester was winding down and you found yourself at a party at the soccer house. Everyone was celebrating finals ending and a season that was successful so far. You wanted to get in one more before break started to put you in a good place to complete the challenge by next year.

As you were scanning the crowd for prospects, Reo caught your eye. He was chatting with Nagi, of course, and you got a weird feeling that they had been looking at you first. Talking about you. You gave Reo an inviting smile, who whispered soemthing to Nagi before jogging over to you.

"Hey, y/n," Reo greeted.

"Did I catch you staring, Reo?" you teased lightly.

He grinned, throwing his hands up. "You caught me. Nagi and I were talking about you, not going to lie."

"Oh? What about?" you asked.

Reo shifted on his feet, a nervous tell. His eyes flickered back to Nagi, who was watching with a flicker of interest across his normally bored expression.

"It's kinda weird."

You shrugged. "I like weird."

"Well," he began, "Nagi and I... we've always wanted to share a girl. You know, a bucket list sorta thing."

"Reo, are you asking me to have a threesome with you and Nagi?" you couldn't keep the smirk out of your voice.

Reo chuckled, "Well, yeah. I know it's random and kinda weird. Don't feel obligated to say yes obviously. We just... think you're hot and cool and were wondering if you'd be down."

What a gift you'd just been given. You didn't wanna look too eager though.

"I'm down, but..." you feigned concern, "Ego's rules... If people found out, it be a disaster."

"Nagi and I won't tell a soul, we promise," Reo assured you. "We're not trying to get you in trouble - or ourselves for that matter."

That easily, you found yourself in Reo and Nagi's shared place off campus. Most of the guys either rented little apartments or shared a house with 4 other guys, but Reo and Nagi a whole house to themselves. Unsurprising, given Reo's wealth. He could easily have the place to himself, but, again, unsurprisingly, he'd rather share with Nagi.

"Wow," you couldn't prevent the word from slipping out as you saw the massive bed Nagi was currently lounging on. He wore grey sweats and a t shirt and looked good enough to already get you excited.

"Glad I went for the king size now," Reo said, ushering you into the room.

"I'm glad you went for it too," Nagi replied, stretching his long limbs. His shirt lifted up, a sliver of skin above his boxers peaking out. Good lord.

"So, how do you wanna..." you trailed of as you sat down on the bed.

"Kiss Nagi," Reo instructed you, authority trickling into his voice.

"Yeah, c'mere," Nagi smiled lazily. Didn't have to tell you twice. You crawled over to the white haired man, who grabbed you when you were in reach. You let out a surprised giggle as he pulled you on top of him, before his lips found yours.

His mouth moved against yours with ease, tongue slipping to brush yours. His large hands settled on your ass, giving little squeezes every now and then. You wiggled your hips in approval, loving the feel of him beneath you. You could feel Reo's on the two of you, watching hungrily as his best friend slid his hands up your shirt.

You sat up, allowing him to pull it off you. You rolled your hips against him, getting him hard beneath you. "Hot," he said, running his hands up your sides before cupping you tits.

You glanced over at Reo, who was obviously hard at the sight of you and Nagi. The way he looked at you two made you cunt throb. "Don't keep us waiting, Reo," you beckoned to him.

The purpled haired man was happy to have an excuse to join. The bed dipped at he crawled over to you. You cupped his face and kissed him while Nagi toyed with you tits. You let out a little gasp as he squeezed your nipples.

"You're hoggin her," Nagi huffed, pulling you back to kiss him again. Reo laid down next to him and you went between kissing both men. Then, when you pulled back for some air, they turned and kissed each other. And fuck it was hot.

You couldn't resist joining in. The three of you kissed, a tangle of lips and tongues. Clothes were shed, hands across bodies, until everyone was breathless.

"Want you on my face," Nagi drawled.

"Think you could give me head during?" Reo asked. He'd been palming himself since you and Nagi started kissing and was desperate for some relief

You nodded eagerly and everyone shifted into a position that would allow everyone to be satisfied. Nagi licked a stripe up your cunt, making you gasp. He attached his lips to neglected clit, sucking. You tried to focus on Reo as you leaned over to kiss down his body. You swirled your tongue over his flushed, dripping tip. You licked up his length before taking him in your mouth.

Reo let out a content sigh as your cheeks hollowed around him. He ran his fingers through your hair, holding it out of your face as your bobbed your head on him. Meanwhile, Nagi continued to devour you, fucking you with his tongue. The moan the escaped you vibrated down Reo's cock, making him groan.

The sound of both of you being pleasured egged Nagi on, his tongue moving faster across your slit and your clit. It only took a few moments more for your to fall apart, cunt clenching around his wriggling tongue. The sensation of you cumming while sucking him off pushed Reo over the edge. His head feel back as he released on your tongue with a satisfied groan.

"Ride me?" Nagi asked when you caught your breath. It wasn't lost on you that Nagi found away to be involved in this without physically exerting himself much, but with what he could do with his tongue, you weren't mad.

Reo slid his hand down your body, wanting a taste of you. He lazily fingered your cunt open. "Fuck, you got her soaked Nagi," he breathed. "Bet she's gonna feel amazing." He sucked your release off his fingers with a pleasant hum.

You were straddling Nagi's hips, holding the base of his cock to line him up to you. He had his hands behind his head, watch you with a lazi grin as you slid down on him. You breathed through your teeth as you stretched around the size of him. He was easily one of the biggest so far.

"Mmm, just like that," Nagi drawled as you rolled your hips. Reo slid behind you, wraps his arms around to play with your tits. He tweaked your nipples, making you yelp. "Oh she liked that, Reo. Can feel her squeezing me."

Reo chuckled against your skin, continuing to palm your breast while your rode his best friend. Nagi cock twitched at the side of Reo kissing and touching you. "I think she'll really like this," nearly purred. His hand slid down your body, finding your aching clit.

"Fuck," you cried as he rubbed quick circles over the bud. Your hips stuttered as you tried to keep pace despite the bubble of pleasure growing in your tummy. Nagi finally decided to help you out, gripping your hips to fuck up into you. The sensation of him deep inside you as Reo toyed with your clit burst that bubble, euphoria flooding your veins.

Nagi fucked you through the orgasm, chasing his own high. You were totally spent, but that didn't stop of the boys from playing with you. A familiar sensation built up, but you didn't even have the voice to warn them before gushing all over.

"Fucking hell," Nagi groaned at the sight of you squirting on his cock. His release hit him immediately, pressing deeply into you one last time to fill you.

"God that was hot," Reo said. He helped you off Nagi, as your legs were like jelly. He ran to get a towel, helping you both clean up.

"So, did that live up to your bucket list expectations?" you asked.

Both men grinned. "Definitely."

Little did they know, they helped you with a list of your own.

****

You let out a sigh as you checked your phone. Isagi lost his wallet. Again. Practice had ended about an hour ago, but he knew you'd be around organizing all the equipment, which is why you got a text begging you to check the locker room. Of course you would, but not without telling him he's an idiot in desperate need of some air tags.

Typically you didn't go in the locker rooms, since that is where the guys changed, but with practice long over, you felt it was safe. You swept through the few rows of lockers, spying no wallet. You were texting Isagi as much when someone stepped out from the shower area.

"Y/n?" Otoya questioned. He was clad in nothing but a towel, which was hanging dangerously low on his hips. His hair was wet and messy, water droplets were rolling down his toned body. You fought the urge to lick your lips.

"Shit, I'm sorry Otoya," you said, "I thought everyone left. Isagi asked for me to look for something."

He chuckled, seemingly unbothered he was practically naked in front of you. "Let me guess, he lost his wallet."

You nodded. "You'd be right. I'm really sorry, though, I didn't mean to intrude."

He shrugged. "No worries, it doesn't bother me. Hell, I may have asked you to join me if I knew you were here." He tossed it out like a joke, but you could sense a current of truth.

You knew Otoya was a bit of a flirt, so you felt like it was worth the risk to be bold back. "That's too bad, I would have absolutely taken you up on that."

Otoya's eyes widened, clearly surprised his stupid flirting was actually getting him somewhere. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," you nodded, "I mean, look at you. I can't say no to that."

"I mean... I'm thinking I actually need another shower," Otoya replied, "If you care to join."

"Only if you think we won't get caught... you know how Ego is," you replied. This would definitely be risky, even though everyone should be long gone. It was a thrilling thought, pushing the boundary of what you could get away with.

"I'm the last guy here," Otoya assured you, "And I won't tell. I don't Ego on my ass more than he already is."

"Guess I won't be needing these, then." You slipped out of your leggings. "Or this." You pulled off your shirt, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Shit, I think I might be dream." Otoya eyed you hungrily. You giggled as he took your hand, pulling you to the showers. Luckily, Ego put a lot of money into the team's facilities, so the showers were actually quite nice - nothing like the typical grimy locker room showers.

Otoya stepped inside the stall, turning the shower on to a nice, warm temperature. He turned to you, beckoning for you to join him. You closed the curtain behind you, pulling him into the small dry are for a kiss. Otoya happily wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. His muscles were warm and firm against you and you could already feel him growing hard through the towel.

He pulled away from you, dropping the towel with a confident grin. You could see why - he was well endowed. He stepped under the water, reaching out his hand to you. "C'mon, I wanna get you wet," he said with a teasing smirk.

You laughed coyly as you shed your bra and panties, Otoya's eyes on you the whole time. The warmth of the water pulled a sigh from you as you returned to kissing him. He pulled away, grinning wickedly as an idea hit him. He lathered up some soap in his hands, rubbing it across your tits.

"You look good like this," he mused at the bubbles coating your skin. The soap allowed his hands to guide over you easily, making it more fun to play with your tits as he kissing you.

He pressed you against the stall wall, his thigh sliding between your legs. You mewled at the feeling of his strong muscle against your needy cunt. He slipped his free hand between you two, toying with your clit. You hummed pleasantly when he slid tow fingers inside, working you open for him.

"God, you're soaked," he said, voice strained. "Can't wait any longer."

"Don't keep me waiting then." You nipped at his lips as he pumped his length, before pressing into you. You gripped his shoulders as he split you open. He gave long, slow strokes as you adjusted to the feel of each other. His pupils flared open as he watched himself slide in and out of out.

Before you knew it, he cupped his hand under your knee, holding it up so he could get deeper inside you. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling. You knew you should be quiet - you were still in the team locker room even if they should be gone, but you couldn't help yourself.

Otoya loved it, pumping into you harder to pull more noises out of you. His eyes flickered to the detachable shower head, a wicked gleam shining in them. He took it from the wall, aiming the gush of water at your clit.

"Shit," you cried out at the sudden surge of stimulation. "S-so good." You were breathless as your nails dug into him, desperate to hold on.

"Don't hold back," he panted. "Wanna hear you cumming my name." Your leg wrapped around him in response, pulling him closer as you tipped over the edge. Your orgasm hit you hard, the added stimulation of the shower head making it intense. If it wasn't for Otoya holding you up, your knees would have given out.

The sound of his name on your lips as your squeezed him broke his stamina. Otoya slowed as he milked his orgasm, filling you with all he had.

You were both flushed and giddy as you cleaned each other up in the shower. Otoya tossed you a towel after, grinning. "Any time you need a shower buddy, give me a call."

"Will do," you smiled. 3 more to go.

****

The second semester was progressing and while you only had 3 men left to get through, you felt the pressure to get this bet completed. You were still concerned about Rin, and decided you would tackle him last. You were keeping your eyes and ears open for opportunities for the other two, which Yukimiya thankfully gave you.

You shared a favorite band, who were dropping a new album. Yukimiya invited you over to his place to listen to it. He had record player and a great set of speakers, making the music sound heavenly. You both sat on his bed, letting the songs wash over you.

"I think this is their best album yet," Yukimiya commented as it came to an end. You nodded in agreement as you both launched into a discussion about the music. All the while, you drifted closer to each other, thighs and hands brushing each other. Even if it wasn't for the bet you were working on, you would feel drawn Yukimiya. He was handsome, sweet, and fun to talk with.

"What?" you asked when you noticed him staring at you.

"Nothing," he said with a sheepish grin, "You're just pretty."

You didn't have to fake the blush or the smile that crept across your face. "Thanks, for what it's worth, you're cute."

"Cute enough to break some rules?" Yukimiya suggested playfully.

You feigned offense. "Did you invite me here just for that?"

"Not just for that," Yukimiya teased back, "But I would be lying if I didn't it's something I wanted."

"And I said I wanted it too?" you dropped your voice to a slightly more sultry tone. Yukimiya shifted closer to you at the sound.

"I would say if no one finds out, it doesn't matter if a rule is broken."

"Mmm, I like the way you think." He cupped your face a pulled you in for a kiss. He was slightly more reserved than the other men you'd kissed, but still confident and purposeful. Like he wanted to enjoy himself, but not rush through it. There was something about the slowness that drove you mad, desperate for more.

"Someone's eager," Yukimiya mused as your ground against him. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, swollen from kissing. "Guess I should get you out of these." He took your shirt in his hand, pulling it off, before peeling off your pants.

"This what you wanted?" He asked as he rubbed light circles over your clothed cunt. A bemused smile played at his lips as he felt your underwear growing damp.

"Want more," you breathed, kissing at his neck as he toyed with you.

"Look at yourself," Yukimiya said, turning your so your back was flush his front. You were facing the mirror across from his bed. Your skin was flushed, the wet spot on your panties glaringly obvious. Yukimiya was peering at you from over your shoulder, a mischievous grin on his face. "So pretty when you're needy."

He pulled your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers through your wetness. He let out a pleased sigh as he slide two digits in, lazily stroking. Once they were coated in your slick, pulled them out to toy with your clit.

"You're good at that," you huffed breathlessly as he worked you up with his fingers. Going back and forth between fingering your cunt and stimulating your clit. The slow, steady increase in his pace had your cunt drooling and desperate for release.

"Fuck you're soaked," Yukimiya groaned, his eyes were glued to the mirror, watching his fingers slide in and out of you. "Gonna cum for me? Make a mess?"

"P-please, want it Yuki," you babbled, so close to the high you wanted. Yukimiya guided you there easily, cursing as your cunt clenched around his fingers and your body shuddered. He licked his lips watching you drip on to his lap.

He was already shifting beneath you, slipping himself out of his pants and boxers. Now he was feeling desperate, wanting to know what it felt like to be buried inside you. "Not done with you yet."

"Good, because neither am I," you replied. You leaned forward and arched your back, making it easier for him to slide inside you. You both mewled with pleasure. You rocked your hips, feeling his cock slide through your walls. You throbbed at the sight of you fucking yourself on him in the mirror.

Yukimiya couldn't tear his eyes away either, though he was looking down directly at where he slid inside you. He wanted more, to make you cum harder on him. You heard him spit before you felt it drop on your ass, warm and wet. He gripped your ass with one hand, while a finger of the other circled the tight hole.

"Oh fuck-" you gasped as he pressed his finger in your ass. That addition alone sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making each grind of your hips more intense. Yuki was transfixed at the sight of him filling you, loving the sounds you made.

You didn't last long after that, his name spilling from your lips as you practically collapsed from the intensity of the climax that hit you. It was light and heavy at the same time, making your head swim.

"Shit y/n," Yukimiya groaned, his cock twitching inside you. "You're like heaven." His head feel back with a groan as he spilled inside you, a beautiful sight for you to watch in the mirror.

Yukimiya helped clean you up before you parted ways with promises to discuss the album more when you weren't so... distracted. A surge of excitement hit you when you realized how close you were to winning.

****

The Blue Lock team made the playoffs, so, naturally, a party was in order. The house rented by some of the team members was filled with players and their friends, yourself included. Everyone was a bit drunker than normal, celebrating a successful season and boasting about all the goals they would score in the championship game.

You chuckled as you observed the scene, practically tasting the testosterone from all the posturing. Normally, you would have thought the team house was way too risky, given all the other guys around that could be potential witnesses. But tonight, there was enough of a crowd - and more than enough alcohol - that you were certain, given the right circumstance, you could pull it off. Your body tingled with excitement as you considered your options.

"Hey, y/n," Karasu grinned. He loved to be a little flirty with you, even though it's been months since you hooked up with him. "Were playing spin the bottle in the basement. Wanna come?"

Well, that was certainly an opening. "Sure."

You followed him down to the basement, where a sizable circle was formed on the floor. Some of the faces your recognized, some you didn't. Your eyes flickered Chigiri, who smiled shyly at you. You gave him a coy smile as you settled into a spot.

It took awhile for the bottle to work its way around to you. It was an endless cycle of spinning glass, teasing and giggling as the match made their way to the closet, where they spent 5 minutes kissing. Though, with the flush and panting of a few that left you wondered if they were using their time for a bit more.

When it was your turn, you had to hold in the cheer you wanted to let out as the bottle settled on exactly who you wanted. "Guess it's my lucky day," Chigiri flirted. You grinned; if only he knew how true that was for you.

You both made for the closet, sliding into a heated darkness as the door shut behind you. You felt Chigiri's hands on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips were soft and almost sweet. You wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing some sort of cherry chapstick.

Chigiri was a little shy and tentative as he kissed you, which somehow spurred you on more. You stepped forward, pressing him against the wall. He moaned into your mouth as your body rubbed against his. The sound of it - practically a whimper - unlocked something in you.

You pulled away, just barely able to see the needy look Chigiri gave you through the darkness. "Are you hard, Chigiri?" you purred, ghosting your hand across his jeans.

"S-shit, I'm sorry." he mumbled.

"No need to apologize." You traced circles over the bulge in his pants. "Makes me wish we had more time. I could take care of that for you."

"Really?" he perked up.

"Of course," you replied. You nuzzled against his neck, kissing him. "Wanna make you feel good." You could feel him gulp at your words.

"Maybe...maybe we could go to my room after?" he was struggled to keep his voice even with how your lips brushed against his skin.

"We'd have to be sneaky," you replied, "Don't want us getting in trouble, you know?" Chigiri, unsurprisingly, was on board with whatever you wanted. You a made to go back to the circle, where Chigiri would go back to his room after a round. You would wait 3 more rounds before joining him, as to not arouse suspicion.

That plan led you to Chigiri's room about 10 minutes later, where you found him waiting on the bed for you. You practically pounced on him, not holding back how deeply you wanted to kiss him. Chigiri settled on the bed beneath you, letting you take control.

You stripped him down to his boxers, peppering kissing along his exposed skin. You sat back, admiring how Chigiri looked: skin flushed, hair haloed around him, and a needy gleam in his eye.

"You're so pretty, Chigiri," you hummed, running your finger down his chest. You toyed with the waistband of his boxers, watching him squirm.

He blushed at your compliment. He's not used to being called pretty as a guy, but he liked how it sounded coming from you. He liked even more that you were dipping your hand into his boxers, running your finger down his hard length.

"Bet you'd look even prettier cumming for me," you mused, pulling his boxers off. His tip was flushed a pretty shade of pink and already leaking. "Would you like that?"

"Please," he urged, voice strained with anticipation. You obliged, spitting into your hand and pumping him. You paid extra attention to his tip, swirling your finger over the tip and spreading his pre. You leaned down to press a kiss to it, making him whimper. The sound, the desperation caused your own arousal to pool between your legs.

"So sensitive," you hummed. You pumped his faster, giving an extra squeeze to work him up. You pushed to the point of the edge, just to slow down and hear him whine. You could keep it up for hours, but the desperate way he looked at you wore through your patience.

"F-fuck y/n, 'm-m close," Chigiri stumbled over his words.

"Cum for me, Chigiri," you purred. You watched as his tummy dipped from the effort of his release. He whimpered loudly as he came all over you hand and his tummy. "Good boy."

Chigiri let out a little whine at your words. He already getting hard again as he watched you lick up his release. You made your way back to his lips. You finally started to remove your clothes, letting Chigiri catch his breath and feel your body. By the time you were bare, he was rock hard again.

****

The energy in practice was tense, despite the team having won the semi finals and punched their ticket to the championships the night prior. The game, however, had been way too close, entering over time. Blue Lock got won by the skin of their teeth, thanks to the tie breaking goal by Rin.

"You idiots better not play like that in the finals," Rin snapped at the end of practice.

Barou bristled. "I could win the whole damn championship myself."

"Oh yeah? We only won yesterday because of my two goals," Rin fired back. "If it wasn't for me you'd be watching the championship from the stands."

"We all contributed, Rin," Isagi intervened. "You acting like a pompous ass isn't going to win us the championship."

"Nobody asked you, Isagi," Rin practically spot.

"Don't waste your breath, Isagi," Karasu butted in, a mean glint in his eyes. "Rin's just miserable because the only place he can score is on the field."

The group snickered as Rin's scowl deepened. You were surprised at the insinuation - was Rin a virgin? It was somewhat hard to believe given his good looks as status as one of the best athletes in campus but that look on his face...

"Whatever," Rin grumbled, heading away from the group. "When you all have to watch me score a hat trick in the finals, you'll wish you trained more instead of acting like fools."

Everyone dispersed after that and you waited a few minutes before following Rin to where you knew he was heading - the yoga room. He was the only one on the team who used it, so you knew you'd find him alone. You joined him on occasion, which he tolerated because you were pretty good at it and didn't bother him.

You knew this was your only shot and, frankly, the only time you felt nervous in this whole ordeal. If anyone was going to say no to you and blow this whole thing it would be Rin. But it was now or never.

"Hey Rin," you greeted. He was already seated on a mat. He gave you a grunt in reply. "Sorry those guys were such assholes to you."

Rin shrugged. "They're idiots. I don't care." Something in his voice told you he might care despite his cool exterior, so you continued.

"They are," you nodded, "But if you wanted those idiots to be wrong, I could help."

His eyes slid to you. "What do you mean?"

"The whole not scoring off the field thing," you replied. "Maybe I'm overstepping, but if what they said it true and you don't want it to be, I would be down."

"Are you offering to sleep with me?" Rin asked. "I don't need pity, you know."

Shit. You had to stay calm. "It's not pity, you're a good looking guy and the best on the team. Why wouldn't I?" You could see the slightest shift in his eyes, so you continued. "Besides, these guys think they're so smart. It would make them look stupid if they were dogging you for something that wasn't even true."

Rin was silent, mulling your offer over. His gaze was intense, but you knew you couldn't look away, couldn't show weakness. Rin was a perfectionist, if he thought you weren't up to his level, he would certainly say no.

"Okay," he said finally. You bit back a cheer. "But I don't want them knowing it was you. I don't need them thinking I got pity sex."

You could have kissed him for making it so easy. "That's fine with me." You made arrangements to meet at his place later that night. He was not one for wasting any time, apparently. His apartment was just how you expected: neat and orderly.

He sat on his bed, looking up at you with a look in his eye you'd never seen before.

"Are you nervous, Rin?" you asked, incredulous.

His brow furrowed. "No." But he couldn't stop the tint from from rising in his cheek.

"We don't have to you, know you," you said. Sure, it would suck to lose, but you wouldn't want it at the cost of making him uncomfortable.

"I'm not nervous," Rin reiterated. "Let's just get it going, okay?"

You rolled your eyes, but sat on the bed next to him. "So romantic."

The kiss was a bit tentative and stiff at first, but Rin slowly warmed to your rhythm. You spent some time like that, just letting him get used to you and not forcing anything too soon. Eventually, Rin's hands ventured to your body, feeling you up. You took it as permission to put your hands on him, climbing into his lap.

This kiss became progressively heated as you explored each other. You ground against him lightly, pulling stifled groans from Rin. He grunted impatiently, pulling at your clothing. You obliged his silent demand, getting your top off. You leaned over him, forcing him to lay back on the bed. He kept his eyes cool and almost bored, but you didn't miss the bob in his throat as he took in the sight of your tits.

"How far have you gone?" you asked, sliding your hand up under his shirt.

"I've fingered a girl," he told you.

"Oh? So is the soccer guy good with his hands?" you teased.

"I guess you'll find out," he replied, pulling you into him. He was growing my sure of himself now, sliding his hand between your legs. He teased you through your leggings as your tongues tangled. Eventually, he found his way inside your pants.

He didn't disappoint by jamming his fingers into you, as you'd fear a virgin would. He took the time to work you wet, before slipping two fingers inside. He pumped them confidently, finding the spot that made your breath hitch.

"Sounds like the soccer guy is good with his hands," Rin mused. You didn't protest as you let him work you up to an orgasm. He rubbed your clit in circles as pleasure rushed your body, making you cry out.

"You know, I'm surprised you are virgin," you commented as you caught your breath. He was good at that.

Rin shrugged. "I was focused on soccer."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, which made Rin scowl. However, he didnt' seem to care anymore as your stripped both of you of the rest of your clothes. "I'm gonna need you to focus on me now," you flirted. "At least for a few minutes."

Rin scoffed. "I'll last more than a few minutes."

You grinned. "Well see about that."

You couldn't lie, it felt good to see the Rin Itoshi falter beneath you as you pressed him inside you. The warmth and wetness was like nothing he had ever felt before. As you moved your hips, there was a flare of panic in him that he would, in fact, spill in you immediately. However, he refused to give you the satisfaction, nor hurt his own pride.

"You feel good Rin," you moaned, putting a little extra emphasis on it just to tease him. Despite your teasing, Rin was holding together better than you expected. He quickly learned your rhythm, finding a way to match your thrusts and press deeper inside you. It shouldn't surprise you, given how Rin approaches soccer. He was never passive about anything, needing to be the best at any new skill he learned.

"Fuck," he huffed, a crack in his calm facade. The feeling of you squeezing him was quickly wearing down his restraint. You were egged on by this show of weakness, bouncing on him even faster. Rin, not to be bested, found your clit once against and circled the sensitive bud.

When your second release hit you, it broke Roin too. The feel of your already tight cunt clamping down on his aching length was too much. He cursed again, fingers digging into your skin as he spilled inside you.

"Honestly, I thought people were over hyping sex," Rin commented as you both redressed, "But now I kind of get why those guys are such idiots about it."

You snorted. "I'm just happy I could help." But even more happy that you just won yourself a bet.

****

"I have to know, who is the best!" Your friend demanded.

"I got a top five for you," you smiled wickedly, excited to share your findings.

In 5th place was Chigiri. You never thought you'd enjoy being the more dominant one, but you thoroughly enjoyed taking charge of Chigiri.

"Of course that pretty boy liked that," your friend grinned.

In 4th place Barou. A bit rough, but he knew how to make it good. Plus, he was by far the biggest on the team.

"Barou having the biggest dick is shocking to no one," you friend commented.

3rd place was a tie between Nagi and Reo. Because you had them together, it was too hard to place them individually. Despite how much you enjoyed yourself, it also felt unfair to rank them higher since they had partner. But fairness be damned they earned a spot on the list.

Your friend sighed wistfully, wishing that she too could find herself between Nagi and Reo.

2nd place went to Yukimiya, which did not shock your friend at all.

"He's so fine, I could have told he'd be up there. But, then who's number one?"

"The winner is..." you made a little drum roll. "Bachira." You had not been able to stop thinking about how he so easily he toyed your body. How easily he pulled out the best orgasm out of you.

"Damn, who knew he had it in him?" you friend commented. "Guess I'm not that surprised he's a freak, though."

"Definitely not surprising, but very appreciated." You smiled, not just because you were a couple hundred dollars richer from winning this bet, but because you were already plotting how you could get some seconds.

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