#(he doesn’t put it together however until far far later)

[theminecraftbee]

Cleo isn’t a fan of the heartbeat, honestly.

Okay, so there’s a lot of things she’s not a fan of about Martyn, actually, up to and including the black eye she has from where she’d punched him, which she has decided to blame him for despite it being her own action, because if he hadn’t been so deserving of a punch in the face, she wouldn’t have a black eye! She hates that she can still feel phantom heat licking against her, hates that he left her all day, hates that she didn’t get a choice in the matter. There’s a lot to hate, really. Martyn should be impressed.

But the thing she didn’t expect, and realizes she hates, is this: she has a heartbeat. She’s lying on her bed, and she feels her heart beating, and it makes her anxious, because, because—

How fast is a racing heart, anyway? She can’t remember! She hasn’t had one of those… ever, really. And it’s not her heartbeat. It’s his. And now that the day has slowed down, it’s all she can feel. That disconcerting thump, thump, thump, thump, that crawls inside her chest and presses against her throat.

God, how do the living deal with this all the time? She turns over. She feels her pulse thump. She feels oddly like crying. She doesn’t think it hurts. The sensation is not something that hurts. She’s not sure how to interpret it, though, so her (long-dead) brain’s trying to tell her something is wrong. Something is moving like it isn’t supposed to.

Something is inside of her and it is moving. Martyn is inside of her and she wants him out.

The traitorous heartbeat keeps thumping.

She hates him. She hates him. She hates him.

(And she’s supposed to be dead.)

She can’t bring herself to sleep all night. In the morning, Scott asks, but when she tries to explain, he barely seems to know what she’s saying. She goes to chop wood, and hopes the exertion hides the traitorous, terrible thing that is alive in her now that she’s noticed it. It doesn’t quite.

[ki-yomii]

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby. 

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style. 

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?” 

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest. 

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir. 

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss. 

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

[sinofwriting]

Wait - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,936 Summary: Ollie Bearman doesn’t wear necklaces, it’s just not his thing. So why during the 2023 Mexico GP is he spotted wearing a necklace with a familiar ring hanging from the chain Note(s)/Warning(s): This is in fact the purity ring fic. It’s a bit NSFW. Reader is Max Verstappen’s little sister. I nearly included lestappen because the idea of both Verstappen siblings dating a Ferrari (or Ferrari adjacent) driver was funny to me, but I didn’t. Also, thank you to all the people who told me to write this. I’m going to go somewhere, but I’m glad I did!

Taglist | Masterlist | Patreon

A ring sits on her finger. The same finger that will one day have an engagement ring then a wedding band to join. The band is thin with two knots and between both knots are four tiny pearls, barely the size of a grain of rice and in the middle of those four pearls is a mix of her birthstone and Max’s. She had gotten it when she was eleven shortly after she had heard Max joking with some of his friends about sex and she went to their mom asking what exactly they meant and for the past six years it had sat there.

It was the first big purchase Max had made with his F1 paycheck. The seventeen year old had felt ashamed and horrified at his baby sister overhearing the things him and friends were joking about. And even worse when their mom had to give her the talk. It had been nothing however compared to what their father had thought when learning of it. Max had swore his ears were ringing as Jos had yelled at him for first having his friends around her and second talking about sex when he knew that she was in the house and liked to randomly join them.

The ring had been a nice way to ease the tension and though he had been a bit red as he explained what it was to her, she had nodded along with his explanation, looking serious before putting it on and then smiling at him and hugging him.

At eleven it hadn’t really been an issue, wearing a purity ring, promising that she’d wait to be married before having sex. It hadn’t been a problem when she was fifteen and her first spike of hormones hit and suddenly sex wasn’t something that felt so far away or like a weird foreign concept. It hadn’t been a problem at sixteen either when she got her first boyfriend, who Max had quickly run off.

It had started to be a problem after she turned seventeen and got together with Ollie.

Ollie who she was never supposed to meet. Was only supposed to know of because she followed F2 and F3. But then she joined Max for the remainder of the 2022 season in July. Done with school and unsure if she wanted to go to Uni, unsure really of what she wanted to do.

She had planned to stay home with her mom, putter about the house, maybe do some small writing for Redline and Verstappen.com that she’d email to Kris, who would send her the money that they got paid for them instead of submitting them herself where Max would be sure to give her a stupid amount of money for something that took maybe thirty minutes to write.

But then Max had heard about her plans and she was officially employed by her brother. Managing his website, instagram, and Redline’s social media, going with him to every race, which meant that she had far too much free time and meant that she found herself following around Jack Crawford as he finished up his F3 season which meant running into Ollie Bearman.

Ollie, who was so unexpectedly sweet and cute, who made all the blood rush to her face as her heart worked overtime, made butterflies appear in her stomach.

It had been the second time that they saw each other that he had asked her on a date and now a year later, the two are now both eighteen and head over heels in love, and the ring that rests on her left ring finger feels more like a nuisance.

She had never had sex, hadn’t even really touched or been touched until Ollie but as the F2 season had grown to a close it felt like that was all that was on her mind and Ollie’s.

The kisses they shared when alone quickly grew into heated make out sessions and when they had time, they found themselves in his hotel room under the covers, underwear still on but hands exploring each other's bodies.

She falls in love with the pattern of freckles on his back and the way he shivers when she traces them with her fingers. The spot above his heart that always makes his breath hitch when she kisses it. His strong calves that always tense right after his thighs when she settles on his lap. His hands and how much bigger than hers they are. And his fingers that he lets her play with, kiss and nibble at just to see and hear the stuttered breath he gives as his cheeks turn red.

He falls in love with the small tattoo that still only he knows she has, it’s small enough to just barely be hidden by even her more risqué bikinis. The scar she has on her knee that makes her shiver when his fingers or lips touch it. The soft skin of the underside of her breasts, because it feels nice to stroke when he gets the chance to dip his hands underneath her bra. The moan she gives when he settles in between her thighs and rests his weight on top of her as they kiss.

Ollie knows what the ring is, what it means, what she promised Max. It’s the one thing that always reminds him to stop, that pulls him back when he’s about to dip his fingers beneath her underwear to feel her wetness against his fingers or about to ask her to take her bra off, to let him see more of her. The feeling of her ring always draws him back. Makes him refocus on just kissing her and not getting ahead of himself before he makes another mess of himself.

He sees it every time he sees her, he kisses it every time he lifts her hand to his lips, first kissing the ring, a silent promise to himself that one day he’ll replace it with a ring of his own, before kissing her hand.

So Ollie doesn’t think anything when he comes home from simulator work to his flat in Maranello smelling like brownies. It had taken a bit to convince Max that she didn’t want to go home but rather wanted to go on a little trip with her friends. She just neglected to mention that there was no trip, and by friends she meant boyfriend, and really she meant during the week break they’d have she’d be going to Italy to stay with Ollie.

“That smells so good.” Ollie groans, kicking his shoes off before moving further into the flat. She beams at him, accepting the kiss he presses to her cheek. “I know you had dinner there so I made brownies. And not a whole pan.” She adds. “I know you can’t indulge too much.” “Thank you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into him.

He starts to sway them both as he stares at the small pan of brownies, the smell of them mouthwatering.

“Can I have one?” “They like just got out of the oven.” He pouts, bending his neck and pressing his face into her neck. “Please?” “You're going to burn your fingers and mouth.” She laughs. “Pretty please?” He tries. She makes a humming noise, one he feels more than hears. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” “Deal.”

She giggles as he quickly turns her in his arms. “Hi.” She greets as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” He parrots back and the thought of the brownies are gone from his mind as he looks at her.

She’s got a piece of his merch on, one of the sample sweatshirts, but also a pair of his boxer briefs. It’s like she’s drowning in him and he just wants to add to it.

Pressing their lips together, he grunts when her nails dig lightly into the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” She murmurs against his lips. He shakes his head, “it’s fine.”

They stand there for a while just kissing, but then his hands are moving underneath the top she’s wearing, grasping at her hips before fingers trail up her sides before back down and she’s pulling him to his bedroom.

They’ve done this so much that it takes barely any time for him to take his FDA polo off and then his jeans before joining her in bed, settling between her thighs. It doesn’t however stop him from rocking his hips into hers a couple of times before he can stop himself, hunger only growing when her hips hitch upwards and she’s wrapping a leg around him, pulling him closer.

“Fuck, darling.” He gasps, pressing kisses to her exposed throat. She moans, her hands resting on his bare back and it’s the feeling of her ring that makes him stop. Hips nearly thrusting again when she whines, but he tenses his whole body, not letting it loosen even when he kisses her again, swallowing the next whine she lets out.

His right hand makes his way underneath her top as they continue to kiss, his body relaxing into hers as he gets control of himself again.

As his fingers creep up her side, he wonders what they’ll feel. The spandex of her sports bra? The cotton or whatever it is of the one bra she likes to wear to media days? Maybe lace? His mind spins at the last option and he gulps.

She’s only worn lace once and it was on their year anniversary, their first approved sleepover. Though Max had made sure to get her from his hotel room at 11 am. But he considers they have the rest of the week just them together and he doesn’t have to go into the factory anymore. And she made him brownies, homemade. He knows because of the way she had been standing at the kitchen counter, carefully looking at them. So, maybe another treat for him was her wearing lace.

But as fingers reach where he’d normally feel the edge of something there is nothing. He goes to frown but before he can, her chest rises, his fingers graze the underside of her left breast and his hips are snapping into her again.

“Oh my god.” She moans at the feeling. “Fuck.” He curses and he feels out of breath as he feels more of her. “You’re not,” he mutters. “You’re not wearing anything.” She shakes her head, bucking her hips wanting more friction. “Please, Ollie. Want more, want it off.” He should be saying no, he can already feel his control hanging by thread at the knowledge that she’s not wearing a bra, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees her boobs for the first time, but he’s backing away, letting her sit up, and she’s flinging his sweatshirt off.

His jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide and his dick twitches. He sees the way she bites at her lips, arms starting to come up and he’s quick to react. Fingers touching the soft skin, thumbs rubbing at her nipples as he sort of holds them.

“Pretty.” He manages to get out and feels himself blush. “Can we kiss again?” Ollie nods, eager.

He carefully lays next to her, drawing her on top of him, the two both gasping at the feeling of her bare breasts resting on his bare chest.

His hands dance up and down her back, sometimes his pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxer briefs that she’s wearing before moving back up again as they kiss, hips still moving together.

When she shifts a little on top of him, moaning, he grasps at her hips, stopping her from moving as he feels himself twitch and he just knows that he has to be leaking, creating a wet spot in his underwear.

“We have to stop.” “I’m close though.” His head falls back and he groans. “I am too.” “I,” She stops, thinking of the lingerie she had brought with her, the dinner reservation she had made for herself and Ollie tomorrow night, the necklace chain also in her suitcase. “I want more.” She says, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.” He’s looking at her wide eyes and she’d think that he didn’t want her back if she couldn’t feel how hard he was underneath her. “But,” his eyes dart to her left hand. “I thought we were waiting.” She feels blood rush to her cheeks at his whisper, at the promise he made for and to her.

She had been nervous when telling Ollie about her purity ring and about she would like to wait awhile, maybe even till marriage to have sex, especially after he shared that he had already had sex before. But he had been surprisingly okay with it after he had a few days to think and wrap his head around it, and not that she knew but to talk to his dad about it, before he came back said that he’d wait as long as she wanted.

“I mean, we did.” She whispers back. “I just, I think you’re the one, ya’know. And even if you aren’t, I can’t see myself ever regretting you.” There’s a stinging in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Okay.” He shifts her down a bit so he can sit up, pressing their lips together. “Okay.”

Her hands cup his cheeks as they kiss while his hands stay on her hips. Not moving or doing anything despite the fact that she’s given the all clear. It’s one of her hands dropping from his face to trail down his body, that makes his hands move, grabbing her ass, pressing her down and closer. It makes her gasp.

“Ollie.” He groans at the sound of her moaning his name. His eyes dart to his nightstand, where there should be some condoms in the drawer with lube as well and then he’s cursing, hands falling away from her. “We have to stop, darling. I’m sorry.” “But,” She shifts on top of him and he swears again when he looks down and sees a wet patch peeking out from where she’s sitting on top of him. “I know, but I don’t have any condoms.” He feels himself flush, “I threw them away after we got serious since I figured it wouldn’t happen for a few years.” “No.” She whines, heading dropping onto his shoulder as her whole body sags.

She hadn’t thought about buying condoms, mainly because despite the lingerie she packed and the dinner reservation, she hadn’t actually planned on them having sex. She just wanted more, even some dry humping or at the very least to feel fingers against her that weren’t her own.

“I could pull out.” The words are weak to his own ears. She lifts her head slightly to look at him. “Do you really think you could?” “I could run and get some condoms.” He really doesn’t feel like getting back in the car, doesn’t feel like leaving her, but he’d do it. "No,” she shakes her head. She didn’t like the idea of being alone, waiting for him to come back with condoms. Or him putting clothes back on, the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She then pauses as something comes to mind. “How’s your Italian?” His brows furrow at the question. “It’s decent. Basic and more strategy and car related. But I get by, why?” “I was thinking of Plan B.” “Plan B?” His brows furrow more before it clicks and his eyes widen, “oh, Plan B.” “Yeah, I’d still want it even if you do end up pulling out, but I don’t think that will happen.” He wants to protest, deny, argue that he absolutely could pull out, but it’d be a lie.

“Ollie.” She whines nearly an hour later as he tries to get her to separate her thighs. “You’re all sticky.” He tells her. “I need to clean you up before it dries.” And god was it a bitch to clean up dried cum. “I’ll be quick.” He promises. She pouts, but lets her thighs fall apart, wincing at the burning muscles. He swallows at the sight of their mixed release. He hadn’t managed to pull out the first time, but the second he had managed to, only to finish practically in her anyways. And it was worse because of her own two orgasms that added to the mess. Taking the damp cloth, he carefully cleans her up, apologizing when she whines when he presses a bit too much on her clit.

“Much better.” He grins, when he’s done. Throwing the cloth in the direction of his laundry hamper. “Cuddle?” She asks, making grabby hands at him and eagerly joins her again in bed, slipping the covers over both of them. “That’s better.” She mumbles, when they settle together and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her head.

It’s hard for him to leave when he wakes up in the morning. They’re still both naked and she’s sleeping peacefully beside him. But he’d rather go and get her the Plan B now, then put it off until later when she’ll be fully awake.

Rolling to his side, he presses a series of light kisses to her face. She mumbles a bit and he chuckles. “I’ve got to go, darling.” She mumbles again, turning to lay on her side as well. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” Her voice is low, thick with sleep. “I need to get some things real quickly. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, okay?” “Do you have to?” She pouts. “I’ll be quick.” He promises, bending to kiss her.

It takes him barely any time to get the Plan B and condoms, though he had stumbled his way through Italian to get the Plan B before just pulling up a picture of it.

“Darling?” He calls when he gets back. “Kitchen.” She calls back, a hint of sleep still in her voice. With the bag hanging from his finger, he walks to the kitchen. “I got you plan b and condoms for me, just in case.” “No, just in case. I’d like a repeat.” He grins at her, setting the bag on the counter. “Yeah?” She nods, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Bending, he captures her lips in a quick kiss, humming.

“Want to do brownies for breakfast?” His eyes widen and they dart to the counter. “I completely forgot you even made those!” “I’ll take that a yes?” “Please!”

Cutting him a piece and then one of herself, she puts them on a plate as Ollie gets them both something to drink before they both go to the living room and sit on the couch.

“These are so good.” He mumbles, catching a crumb before it can fall. “You say that everytime.” “Because it’s true! These are really good.” Her brownie was a good bit smaller than his so as soon as she finishes her, she’s standing up and retrieving something from her suitcase, ignoring him asking where she’s going.

Sitting back down, she places a box in his lap.

“What is this?” He asks, setting the plate on the coffee table, only a few crumbs on it. “I bought it for you a while ago and have been carrying it around since, just wasn’t sure when exactly I’d give it to you.” He looks at her intrigued, before looking back at the box and carefully opening it.

Ollie’s brows furrow at the thin chain that rests inside. It was nice, very nice, though not by a brand that he recognized. It was also a weird gift considering he didn’t wear necklaces, though if he was going to wear one, it would be this one.

“What’s it for?” He asks. “I, uh,” she stutters a bit over her words, playing her ring before carefully pulling it off, flexing her fingers at the odd sensation of it not being there. “It’s for this.” And she drops the ring she’s worn since she was eleven into his palm. “But this is yours.” “And I can’t wear it anymore.” She tells him. “I intended to wait longer to have sex, but I don’t regret last night and I won’t regret anything we do in the future. It’s yours now and I kind of liked the idea of you carrying it with you wherever you go.” He stares at the ring, tries to ignore the pulse of want and smugness, because he got to have her first and he was fairly certain he’d be her only and last.

Lifting the chain out of the box, he carefully unclasps it, threading the ring on, before clasping it around his neck, the ring resting just below the hollow of his neck, easily hidden behind any shirt he wears if he has it tucked in.

Turning his neck, the sensation of something there is odd and he says that. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I like it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take him long to get used to the necklace and he practically never takes it off, only in the shower or when doing certain training sessions and it hasn't happened yet but when he has to get into the F1 car and then his F2 car, he’ll be taking it off then as well.

No one really notices his new accessory, he’s not doing much on social media, his mum and dad had asked him about it and he had flushed but just said that it was something she had gotten for him and lucky they didn’t press for more. It gives a false sense of security that comes crashing down in Mexico.

He’s on a bit of a high for doing his first free practice and not placing dead last even though it’s only free practice and placing doesn’t really matter. He’s out of his race suit, having been able to not shower but wipe himself down with a damp towel before getting back into the Haas polo and jumping in to do more media. And as he does some interviews he doesn’t notice the way her ring that’s kept underneath his shirt is on full display.

But it does come to his attention when he finally gets his phone and sees so many mentions and a strange text full of exclamation marks that has him quickly hitting the call button.

“Is everything okay? I got a weird text from you.” “Ollie.” “What’s wrong?” He’s about to exit the Haas hospitality, he could be at Red Bull’s in about a minute at the strained sound of her voice. “My ring, everyone saw my ring.” His eyes widen and he’s cursing. “Oh no.” “Yeah.” “And they all know.” “Yeah.” She confirms again. “Because Max had to make it clear what the ring was.” She laughs, but it’s clear that she’s on the verge of tears, her voice tight. The sound has him wanting to wrap in his arms, shield her away, but it also has him confused. She never cared about what fans thought of her. She was very much like her brother in that matter. It was all water off a duck’s back. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, dropping his voice as someone looks at him weirdly. “I just, Max hadn’t noticed, no one has really. And I don’t regret it Ollie, but that was a promise I made to Max, to save myself.” The last three words come out as a whisper. “And now he’s going to find out because the whole of F1 twitter is talking about it. I should’ve told him.” “It’ll be okay.” He reassures her, but now the realization has hit that he’s going to have deal with Max and not just Max, but Daniel and Charles and fucking Arthur, which is a bit insulting because it’s Arthur of all people, but the Leclerc’s liked her a lot, Charles liked to argue with Max that she was actually their younger sister and not Max’s, which lead to a headache of bickering between the two drivers.

“Can I come to you?” He looks down at his watch even though he knows that he doesn’t have any more interviews, just needs to stay to watch the last session play out since he already did his debriefing as well. “Yeah, do you want me to walk you over?” “No, I’ll be there in a second.”

Meeting her at the doors of the hospitality, he quickly ushers her in before leading her to a back corner, the both of them sinking to the floor, somewhat hidden from view by a couch.

“You alright?” “Yeah.” She breathes, pressing close to him. “I just should’ve said something to Max. I just didn’t want to say anything y’know?” And he can feel her nose wrinkle at the idea and his does the same. Because yeah it was a bit gross to think about telling your sibling that you’ve had sex just so they won’t be blindsided by the media. “He’s gonna hate me again.” She doesn’t say anything and he groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I just made some progress with him.” “I know, bear.” She murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I could put it back on? Say that I gave it to you as a good luck charm.”

It’s a good idea, a perfect solution for their problem, but it’s clear that she doesn’t like the idea and he doesn’t like the idea either. He’s grown used to the small weight of the ring resting below the hollow of his throat and he’s not fond of the idea of seeing a ring that’s not his on her ring finger again.

“Maybe I should propose.” She jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly says. “I just I don’t want to give it back. I don't want to see you wearing it again and I just,” he waves his hands around. “My brain was running. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are focused on his and she slowly presses back into him, though she keeps her head pulled back so they can look at each other. “Is that something you really want in the future? To be married to me?” “One hundred percent.” She blinks at the quick response, a smile starting to bloom on her face. “Not now, just because I don’t want to rely on nothing but sponsors and my dad for money, but maybe once I got an F1 seat and then got a contract extension or new seat. I’d have money to help support us, to buy you a nice ring, house.” He hopes that she can’t tell how much he’s thought about this, how much he’s rambled to both Jak and Fred about this even though if either of them got the chance they’d happily rat him out for being such a preteen girl, and he just knows that Jak told Fred what that means. “I want that too.”

Ollie wonders if him intending on marrying her, on putting a ring on her finger will lessen the brunt of anger he’s sure to receive and it doesn’t.

“You defiled my sister!” The eighteen years old both make a face at the Dutch man’s words. “No one defiled anyone.” Max ignores her, glaring at the British driver. “You touched her.” Ollie nearly reaches out for her hand, but keeps his hands to himself, as he gives a tiny nod. “Max, it’s alright. I wanted it.” Max and Daniel both make a face at her words. “Ew. You shouldn’t even know what it is.” “Well, Max kind of ruined that for me when I was eleven.” She snarks and her brother flushes. “Which is why I gave you the ring! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! Keep yourself away from boys like Ollie!” “What’s wrong with me?” He asks, offended. “You’re a teenager.” Daniel tells him with a shrug. “And you’ve got a dick. That’s all it really takes.”

“What happened to waiting?” Max asks, voice a little quieter as he looks at her. “Max,” she starts and then includes the Alpha Tauri driver who’s inched closer. “Daniel. I thought I was going to wait for marriage, or at least a few more years, but Ollie,” she pauses, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Ollie feels like the one.” She reaches out for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “And even if he isn’t, I won’t regret what we did.”

The two older men stare at her, at them. One who can remember holding her just hours after she was born, and the other who got to know her shortly after Max’s fuck up when she was eleven. Both her brothers, one just a bit longer than the other.

Max swallows harshly, the full realization hitting him that his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. She’s an adult and he’s never really had the right to get mad at her for things she does but he really doesn’t now. He can feel Daniel standing behind him, and knows that the older man will go with him whatever way he chooses.

Stepping forward, he pulls her into a hug and wonders where the time has gone. “As long as you don’t regret it, yeah?” She hugs him back tighter, tension in her shoulders loosening at his acceptance. “Yeah. Love you, Maxy.” He laughs, a quiet thing. “Love you too.”

@arshiyuh @mangotaitai @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy

[jockbroski34]

The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester.  Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore.  He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school.  Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was.  He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball.  He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys.  A lot of guys wished they could be him.  I, however, wanted to be with him.  Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind.  At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him.  Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle.  His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place.  His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school.  He didn’t come off like the rest of them though.  His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks.  He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked.  Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried.  It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin.  I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention.  It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating.  The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class.  Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him.  He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct!  I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled.  “You always look like you’re off in your own little world.  But you still manage to do well.  You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.”  Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies.  Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s.  He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed.  All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework.  He helped clarify things for me thankfully.  I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you?  That’s his hat, right?”  he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.”  It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today?  If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next.  I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.”  I don’t know why I said that.  We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were.  I’m also not on the baseball team.  Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom.  He was probably long gone anyways.  After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat.  I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used.  I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on.  Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again.  I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it.  It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s.  It’s not like he had lice or anything.  What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would.  Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped.  The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping.  The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened.  My watch skipped a tick.  But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked.  I had to admit, I looked really good in it.  I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league.  Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face.  A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me.  Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore.  I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra.  I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out.  I must’ve lost track of time.  As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason.  I never used to make much of an impression on most people.  I was quiet and had only a couple friends.  Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?”  the teacher remarked.  Very funny.  I always showed up on time.  I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right.  My body squeezed tight into the desk.  I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler.  Weird.  Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative.  I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering.  I still felt a couple of their eyes on me.  I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room.  She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends.  Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion.  She was cute, but definitely out of my league.  I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today.  Something must be wrong.  The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache.  I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne.  I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch.  I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food.  Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time.  But for some reason, I didn’t really want to?  That’s weird for me.  I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally.  Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name.  They were two jocks.  I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot.  What did they want?  I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind.  Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym.  Wanna come with?”  the other jock asked me.  Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious?  Did these jocks actually think I was one of them?  I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed.  Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys.  My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them.  For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time.  I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before.  They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends.  I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me.  Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks?  It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad.  Thought you were someone else.  He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank?  He obviously knew my number.  Of course he knows who I am.  Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks.  I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends.  You know, my real friends.  I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed.  Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein.  I swear I almost never eat this much.  The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself.  But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them?  I had class soon.  But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros.  I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them.  As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym.  I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts.  To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine.  I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift.  It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner.  By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class.  But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue.  There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron.  At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him.  Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself.  He could always just get another one, right?  I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear.  Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that.  I shrugged it off.  They can stare all they want for all I care.  I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen.  If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with.  But in such a short amount of time?  With no prior lifting experience?  That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today.  All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later?  I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period.  Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave.  I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who?  Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?”  he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy!  You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude.  Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro.  My bad.”  I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with.  But as I looked at him, I realized something.  He was wearing his hat!  But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it?  “I thought you lost your hat.  How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude.  One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do.  But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up.  You’ll impress the ladies.”  But I was gay.  And I’ve only had this hat for a day.  If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine?  I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other.  Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out.  Was it because we were going to practice?  I’ve never played baseball in my life.  Nah, that can’t be right.  I feel like I’ve swung a bat before…  We went into the locker room to change.  I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there.  Someone else’s was.  Someone much stronger and much taller than me.  That wasn’t me.  It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match.  There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron.  This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall.  I walked closer.  “Aaron” walked closer.  I moved my hand to feel my face.  So did “Aaron”.  A dull, confused look appeared on his face.  Had I really become him?  But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing.  Then who am I?  Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier?  I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name.  That’s…Aaron’s?  Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married.  As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday.  I knew my birthday, and it was in January.  Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror.  It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream.  It was like I was his twin!  Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters.  At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed.  Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis.  I realized that this all started when I wore his hat.  I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder.  My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro?  Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me.  I think it runs in the blood, you know.  You like that, right?”  He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head.  I nodded.  I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection.  I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body.  At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin.  The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together.  This is all you ever wanted, right?”  He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him.  Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong.  But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro.  This shit’s the life, dude.”  I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that.  The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro.  I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood.  As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen…  I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back?  During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro.  I remember.”  But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right?  I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right?  One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game.  I’ve never been more proud of you bro.”  Aaron patted me on the back.  I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it.  That year, our baseball team was the best in the state.  And I…led our team to a championship?  As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real.  But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away.  Turns out that I was the brother he never had.  We were a pair.  We complemented each other perfectly.  I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school.  I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro?  That’s gay as shit.  And weird.  This was my own twin we were talking about.  Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too.  After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…”  Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro!  I was just saying how good your hat looks on you.  Come on, let’s go.”  I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother.  Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as.  Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock.  I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic.  Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree.  But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school.  I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this.  But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times.  I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again.  I remembered I kinda struggled with this class.  I sat behind my bro as usual.  I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework.  I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class.  When I asked him, he wouldn’t say.  It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me.  We practically knew everything about each other after all.  After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you.  Is everything alright?  Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro.  I think I was just up too late partying the other day.  And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.”  I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.”  Mr. Martin smiled.  “I won’t leave you too long.  I know you two have your hands full with practice today.  Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see.  It suits you well, Aiden.”  I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left.  Mr. Martin was always cool.  I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here.  I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what?  I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros.  I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways.  Probably nothing important.  As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school.  I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights.  All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift.  Must run in the blood.  After school, I went to practice with Aaron.  We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer.  We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition.  Man, this was the life.  I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 3)

A/N: i know it took me way longer than it should have, but at last im here with the next part and that's what matters, right? thank you for the support on the prev parts, hope you'll enjoy this just as much!

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Meetings never really excited Harry, but lately, they have been his favorite along with studio sessions. Because these were the times he always got to see Y/N. 

Today he is going in with her favorite cookies in his bag that he picked up on his way, taking a detour just to drop by that one place she loves the most. It’s been a recurring thing for Harry, picking up a cup of coffee for her, buying her favorite snacks for their sessions or surprising her with lunch from that taco place she adores so much. He’s been doing practically anything to get a smile on her face because he feels like that’s the only thing he is destined to do. 

He’s been ignoring the fact that her time working on the project ends in two weeks, according to the contract. The only chance to stretch it longer if the required songs are not finished, but they are all practically done at this point. Harry tries his best not to think of what it will be like when he doesn’t get to see her as often as he does now. 

The meeting was scheduled only yesterday, so Harry has no idea what it is about, but it doesn’t really matter, they are supposed to record afterwards, so he only cares about spending more time with Y/N. 

However, the smile fades when he walks into the room and doesn’t see her. It’s odd, she is usually there before him, but now it’s just a couple of the studio engineers, Niall, Liam and Blake, the kind of weird manager from Modest who’s been working with them since they started recording for Midnight Memories. Harry has been getting these eerie vibes from him, but he just can’t put his finger on it, so he’s been sucking it up and ignoring it. He gave no reason not to be trusted so far. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry greets everyone walking into the room. 

“Ah, Harry! You’re here!” Blake smiles and they shake hands before Harry settles in a chair. “I was just telling the boys what this meeting is about. Good news, you are set for another album after Midnight Memories is released!”

It’s no surprise, to be honest. One album after the other, the pace has been just like that for a while. 

“Great,” he nods. “Do we know who we’re gonna work with?”

Blake then hands him a paper with a list of names and some other details. Harry runs over the names, looking for a particular one, but it’s not there.

“What about Y/N?” he asks.

“Ah, I wanted to tell you guys. She got another project kind of last minute, so she is done with the album for now and won’t be able to join for the next one, it seems like,” Blake explains casually and it doesn’t stand out to anyone else either, but it hits Harry in the chest pretty hard.

She is done with the album? Why didn’t she say anything? They talked on the phone just two days ago, why didn’t she even mention it?

And why isn’t she gonna work on the next album? Harry doubts she is booked that far ahead, she is just getting recognized in the industry and she told him herself she is living from one project to the other, works on the next album won’t start at least until they start touring Midnight Memories.

It’s not adding up, but on the other hand… Harry has no right to question her. Even despite how close he’s been getting to her, they are still just… coworkers. Friends. 

But nothing more. 

“Alright, now that we are talking about the next album, I have a little sneak peek of a song that could be a big hit!” Blake seems enthusiastic as he opens his laptop and then soon a demo starts playing, but Harry can’t really focus, he is too stuck on the fact that he has no more time left with Y/N. He even pulls out his phone, ready to text her and ask her how all of this happened, but then talks himself down. When he finally starts to listen to the song, it sounds familiar at first, but there are no lyrics and Harry often finds random songs familiar lately, because he just hears so many new melodies on a daily basis, they tend to blend together. 

“You like it?” Blake asks him and Harry just nods.

“Yeah. What is it called?”

Blake smiles confidently as he shuts the laptop down.

“Night Changes.”

The weather is finally good enough for grilling and the rowland household would take an opportunity anytime for that. Filling up their backyard with the people they love the most and feeding them burgers, hotdogs or basically anything Mitch is able to throw onto the grill. They usually have a gathering like this every month if their schedule and the weather allows. 

Now it’s finally the first official grill party of the year. 

Harry is sat outside by one of the tables, his plate is empty by now, but he knows he’ll get another round at one point. Cards are scattered on the tabletop, along with glasses of lemonade and beer, the kids are playing in the back somewhere by the treehouse, everything feels and looks idyllic.

For the past about two hours Harry couldn’t stop looking for Y/N. Stealing glances when she was talking to Sarah or playing with the kids, trying not to ogle her too obviously when she was laughing at something at the other table. He wanted to walk up to her a thousand times already, but he is trying to act cool and figure out how to act when there are other people around. 

It’s an unknown territory for sure. 

When Harry sees her walking towards the house he just can’t stay put. Excusing himself from the group he tries his best not to look suspicious as he follows her inside. Once the sliding door is closed behind him he quickens his steps down the hallway towards the bathroom, guessing she went there, but as he is approaching the door he notices it’s closed.

Should he try his luck and open it? Or maybe knock? Or…

Suddenly, the lock rattles and the door moves the tiniest bit, light coming through the gap. His heart skips a beat as he leaps forward and pushes the door open more so he can step inside.

And there she is, standing by the sink, checking herself out in the mirror when Harry walks in and closes the door behind him. Then slowly, she turns her gaze to him, for the first time today and for a moment Harry thinks she might tell him to fuck off and get out, but when he sees her lips part, he knows what she wants.

Him.

They collide fast, their usual hunger for each other taking over in a heartbeat. Demanding kisses, rough touches, they both know they should be in a hurry, Harry can’t even remember if he locked the door, it would be rather awkward if someone walked in on them.

Especially because no one knows about them, or whatever is going on between them. 

It’s been over a week since the dinner party that ended up with the most confusing but also mind-blowingly amazing sex they have ever had. When it was over Harry simply left and kept to what she said, that they would not talk about it and that’s exactly what happened. They never talked about it, but it happened again. 

Twice since then. 

And now they are going at it again. 

“Fuck,” Harry growls into her mouth when she reaches into his pants with quick but confident moves, because it’s not the first time she is doing it and he can only hope it’s not the last either. 

“Quickly,” she pants and he just nods, bunching up her dress and tugging her underwear down. It’s no surprise he is already hard, following her inside was like a foreplay to him, the secrecy, the chance that she might tell him to fuck off, his pulse has been rising before he stepped into the bathroom. 

They moan together when he thrusts into her, but then he gets back to kissing her to keep their voice down as he starts moving. Usually, they don’t talk when they are having sex, but Harry feels like changing that up, trying out how she reacts to something different. 

“You knew I would come after you, huh?” he pants against her lips.

“I did,” she breathes out, one arm curled around his neck, her other hand gripping the edge of the sink to keep her balance. 

“You thought about me fucking you all day?”

To that, she doesn’t answer and Harry almost regrets opening his mouth, but then she looks at him and nods.

“I did,” she repeats herself and even cracks a smile before pulling him closer to kiss him hard. And just like that, a tightening but warm feeling spreads in his chest. 

They don’t need much time, Harry is the first to come and she follows soon right after. Her head falls against his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths and he tries to fight the urge, but then gives in and bringing up a hand he runs his fingers through her hair. Part of him fears this move might be too intimate for her and that she’ll shake him off of her any moment, but it never happens and Harry enjoys it, probably way more than he should. 

They clean themselves up and soon it’s just the sparkle in their eyes that proves what they just did. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, fixing her makeup in the mirror. 

“Are you asking me out or something?” Harry cheekily asks and she just smacks his chest playfully.

“I have some stuff I’ve been working on that I want to show you.”

Harry’s pulse fastens again. This is just like it was before, when it was just the two of them, sharing the songs they were working on. 

“I would love that,” he smiles at her, watching her walk to the door. 

“Alright. I’ll text you then.”

Y/N walks out and Harry knows they are back to not talking and for a second he wonders how long he’ll be able to keep going like this. 

When he walks out he is still deep in his thoughts, but then when he reaches the kitchen he comes to a halt, seeing Mitch by the kitchen island, sipping on some lemonade, a knowing look on his face.

“Hey man,” Harry clears his throat and joins him instead of walking outside.

“Hey. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Want to share why I just saw Y/N coming from the same direction as you just did?”

“Uh… you know, we just…”

Harry can’t quite find the right words, especially because he doesn’t like and can’t really lie to Mitch, but he also wants to keep the no talking rule. Mitch stares back at him with a blank face for a second, but then his eyes go wide.

“No way.”

“What?” Harry laughs.

“For real?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and… you and Y/N?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but that’s quite the answer to Mitch.

“Oh my God, how long has this been going on?”

“Keep it down!” He hushes his friend. “It’s… it’s nothing official or anything.”

“But it is something, right? What is it?”

Harry once again just stays silent.

“You two are having sex?” More silence. “Oh my God! Did you just do it in the bathroom?!”

“Shh!” Harry tries to shush him again, but he also can’t hold back his smile, thinking about what just took place in that bathroom. 

“Harry, what the hell! When… How did that happen? You know what? I don’t want to know about that,” Mitch changes his mind quickly, making Harry laugh. “But like… what is it?”

“I told you, it’s nothing o–”

“No, I mean… what do you want it to be?”

Harry sighs as he turns so he can look out at the backyard through the sliding door. And there she is, with a glass in her hand as she is talking to Sarah, laughing at something and Harry wishes he knew what it was. 

“I just… I like her. A lot.”

“But you two had been hating each other passionately, what happened to that?”

“I think we took the passionately part and turned it into something else,” Harry smirks cheekily, his eyes still glued to her figure outside. 

“Oh my God, you are so gone for her,” Mitch breathes out, shaking his head. “You’re falling for her!”

Harry turns back to Mitch and hesitates before speaking up.

“I already fell for her. When we worked together years ago. But then she basically disappeared and when we met again, she acted like I was her mortal enemy,” Harry chuckles. Calling himself the enemy sounds ridiculous, but it’s the most fitting he could say. “And now…” he hums, but doesn’t finish his thought out loud.

“And now you’re falling for her again?”

“I might be,” he nods.

The Sun has set, but the party's still going. Well, it’s not raging, some of the people who came with kids have left and Scout has been put down by Mitch as well, but a handful of guests are still out on the terrace, playing card games and sharing stories. 

Y/N sits right across from Harry and he has noticed the change. She is losing her cold act towards him, slowly but surely. They can finally talk and joke around almost like back in the days. Harry however doesn’t want to let himself go deeper than he should, he knows he is on an unstable field with her and he feels like it all could snap any moment, but…

It feels so amazing.

Making her laugh, sharing knowing looks, teasing each other like old friends, Harry missed being like this. 

When he notices that she’s probably cold his first thought is to offer his hoodie, but he is quick to stop himself, he’s sure it might be too much at once so he instead just asks around who needs a blanket as he is heading inside anyway so he can easily grab a few. 

But then as the night comes to an end, he still decides to try and dance around the unsaid boundaries.

“Hey, I just ordered a car, added your address as well.” Harry tells her when he sees her open the Uber app on her phone.

“Ah, no need, I can just–”

“Already ordered it,” he insists, hoping she’ll accept it and luckily, it seems like she is not in the mood to argue. 

The car ride is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. She is on her phone, reading what seems like emails to Harry and he notices the change in her instantly.

“Everything alright?”

She looks up with a frown and then sighs, locking her phone. 

“Just work. I have this annoying assistant, called Daryl up in my ass on another project, he is trying to get me to give way more than I’m obligated to. I don’t even know who his boss is, the damn guy is like a mystery for some reason.”

“Like, they want more music from you?”

“Yes,” she nods. “They want to listen to stuff I’m working on in case something fits the album, but I’ve already delivered what I was paid for.”

Although he is eager to know more, to offer his help, he stays silent, staying within the boundaries this time, not pushing his luck even more. It’s a miracle itself that she even said this much about anything personal. 

“So tomorrow?” Y/N asks when the car stops in front of her house. Harry looks at her and for a moment, all he can think about is the last time they were here like this. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” he manages to speak up, snapping out of his memories.

“I’ll text you. Bye then,” she nods before climbing out of the car and heading towards her front door. Harry watches her for a bit before he tells the driver to leave. 

She still hasn’t texted him. It’s four in the afternoon and he hasn’t heard of her since she got dropped off last night. 

He was up early, went for a run, because he definitely needed to put his extra energy into something instead of continuously checking his phone, hoping for a text to pop up. Then he grabbed himself a bagel on the way back, brewed a coffee when he got home and had his breakfast while staring at his phone like a sore loser. 

He took that damn phone everywhere he went. Literally everywhere. But the hours passed by and he got no sign and at first he just thought she got busy with something, but by the time he was done with lunch, it turned into a worry. 

She was as punctual as one could get and she would have already texted him by now, even if it was just about that she is running late with whatever she was doing. A decent session lasts at least three or four hours and she is not one to pull an allnighter.

He has kept ordering himself to be patient all day, but now he lost the last bits of his bearing. At last he decides a text is fine, she can answer whenever it’s convenient. 

HARRY: Hey, are we still up for a sesh? 

He keeps the conversation open and watches his message sit there, its status staying delivered for what feels like forever. Then, about twenty minutes later, it changes to read and the three dots start dancing at the bottom of the screen as Harry’s heart threatens to jump right out of his chest. He knows he is acting ridiculously, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head for now. 

The dots then disappear, but no message arrives. A minute goes by and they reappear and this time a gray bubble follows.

Y/N: I got a bit of a situation on my hands rn.

Then a photo pops up of her house with two police cars parked at the front and Harry’s stomach drops.

HARRY: I’m going over.

He sends the message before he could even think it through and he is already out the door by the time she reads his reply. 

When he arrives one of the police cars is still there and Y/N is out front, talking to an officer. She is lacking her usual on-spot style, wearing a baggy sweat set, her hair in a state of mess he has never seen before, but even despite the worried expression on her face, she looks annoyingly beautiful. 

She spots him as he gets out of his car, crossing the lawn with a slow jog.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, on the verge of losing his marbles if he doesn’t find out what happened immediately.

“Give me a minute,” she tells him, turning back to the officer. “Thank you for everything. I’ll let you know if I find anything that’s missing.”

“Take care, Miss. We’ll have a car patrol around the neighborhood every hour for the next 24 hours, though it’s unlikely they will come back.”

With a nod, the officer walks over to the car, gets in and they drive away.

“What the hell happened?” Harry asks when Y/N finally turns to him.

“Someone broke into my house,” she says and then just simply heads back inside. Harry jogs after her. 

“What? When?” 

Y/N is walking straight to her kitchen and Harry follows her, locking the front door behind him. 

“I went to a yoga class in the morning. When I came back, I noticed my lock was picked and the door was open.” 

Harry watches her rummage through a cabinet before grabbing a bottle of tequila along with two glasses. She shoots a questioning look to him, to which he just nods, though he is still lost, confused and kind of angry. She pours a generous amount into both glasses and then hands one over to Harry before chugging hers down faster than ever. 

“Did anything go missing?”

“Literally nothing,” she laughs bitterly. “Everything seems untouched and I just don’t understand it at all. Why would someone break in if they don’t take anything valuable?”

“Money? Jewelry? Everything is here?”

“Everything. I checked everything.”

Harry is now just as clueless as Y/N. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s also somehow even worse. Whoever broke in had a reason to, but it’s completely hidden for now. 

When she reaches for the bottle again he notices how much her hands are shaking. She is a nervous wreck. 

“Hey, you don’t want to lose your rationality right now,” Harry softly warns her as he grabs her hand and stops her from pouring another one. 

“I’m fucking terrified, Harry,” she admits, her voice shakes and so weak like never before. Harry’s heart breaks for her. “Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home?”

“I have,” Harry answers without hesitation and that’s when she finally looks him in the eyes again. “I had a few stalkers throughout the years and attempted break-ins.”

And just like that, something changes in her. The last bits of the wall she so carefully built up between the two of them are destroyed and she lets him see her fully and so naked emotionally. Her lips tremble, tears dwell in her eyes and just as the first sob breaks out of her chest, he is pulling her into his embrace. 

For a second Harry thinks it might be just luck, that she is only opening up to him like this because he is the one who is physically here with her, but he then wipes this thought and just focuses on being the support she truly needs. 

He holds her tight as she cries into his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she calms down and regains control over her breathing. 

“Pack a bag for a few days, stay at mine for a bit, okay?” he softly says when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at him. She doesn’t try to put up a fight, just nods and lets him walk her up to her bedroom. 

He helps her pack, she grabs the clothes while Harry packs her laptop and chargers. Half an hour later they are getting into his car before heading over to Harry’s place. The car ride is silent and Harry doesn’t even try to talk her through it. He knows how important it is to let her find her own peace in this situation instead of trying to just temporarily divert her attention. 

It’s actually her first time at his place, so she is curiously examining the place when they finally arrive. Harry shows her around quickly and then they reach the bedrooms upstairs.

“Choose a bedroom, personally my favorite is that one,” he smiles softly, pointing at the one next to his own bedroom. She walks closer and peeks inside, then into his bedroom and he watches her patiently.

“Can I… sleep with you?”

Her request surprises him, but he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t hoping for it. 

“Sure, of course,” he nods and gestures for her to walk inside. 

He sets down her bag to the ottoman at the end of his king sized bed while she looks around. Harry grabs a towel for her from the closet and hands it over to her.

“Take a shower, I’ll make tea for you, how does that sound?”

She just nods, holding the towel to her chest and he can’t believe how vulnerable she looks. The Y/N he’s known for the past few months is nothing like the woman standing in front of him right now. 

“Alright, then I’ll…” 

He clears his throat and then turns around to give her privacy, but he doesn’t even get to take a step before she grabs his hand and pulls him back. He opens his mouth to ask what else she needs, but he is met with her lips pressing against his, hard and needy and he wastes no time to return the kiss just as passionately. His arms curl around her tightly, like an armor, ready to protect her from anything and everything. 

They stumble into the bathroom and she pulls away, just enough so that she can start stripping out of her clothes, but Harry stops for a minute before things get too heated too fast.

“Wait, are you… Today was a lot, are you sure you… want to…?”

“I’m sure. I need this,” she nods and even though she appears just as vulnerable as before, there’s some kind of strong will mixed in her state now. Harry stares back at her, looking for any kind of sign that this might be a bad idea, but then she adds: “I need you.”

And Harry knows in that moment that he would give her anything in this world, because he fell for her again, but this time, it’s nothing like he has ever felt before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[itsclydebitches]

Zevlor: An Angsty Character Analysis

Hey, Zevlor simps. Can I interest anyone in 4,000 words about our favorite disaster tiefling? 💀

“We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave—we’re no fighters.”

Back during my first play-through this is the line that turned Zevlor from another dime-a-dozen, exposition spouting NPC to a character I was legitimately interested in. “We’re no fighters.” My DnD ignorance abounds, but even I could see that wasn’t an accurate statement. Here’s a mountain of a man sporting fancier armor than my level 2 Tav knows exists yet, having wrecked half the goblin hoard with his crossbow and, if you let him, he'll happily turn to punching as a solution to verbal disagreements. Plus, he’s clearly the one giving the orders, so what do you mean you’re not a fighter?

Having explored the Grove a bit I chalked it up to a generalized assessment of the refugees as a whole. They’re mostly kids, civilians, and would-be protectors who only look the part of fighters in cobbled-together armor. One woman is grappling with the guilt of killing someone for the first time, even an enemy. Lakrissa is sure they’re all going to get slaughtered and is willing to put money on that fact. Meanwhile, the couple you meet are more concerned with what pet they’ll get when they somehow, someway, make it to the city. Don't worry about how that'll happen. You learn later that even those like Ronan are small potatoes compared to most of the baddies you’ll face. On paper he looks and sounds like the real deal—dressed in robes, talking up an apprenticeship with the famous Lorroakan—but scenes like the celebration light show and his own fury at needing to be saved, again, highlight how far he still has to go. The point is that Zevlor is right: these aren’t fighters and he at 18 strength, paladin, former commander, is definitely the exception.

However, BG3 is the sort of detail-heavy game where I’d expect them to include that exception in the dialogue. “We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave—these people aren’t fighters.” Zevlor’s inclusion of himself in this assessment continued to nag at me and it didn’t start to make sense until I delved into his tag here on tumblr, with more patient players than myself posting everything there is to know about the tiefling. (Thanks, all.) Zevlor is fascinating to me in part because he has this contradictory nature, one example of which is that he’s a very talented fighter who desperately doesn’t want to be a fighter anymore.

…but also he totally does.

We overhear in his dialogue to Tilses that Zevlor is adamant about shedding the titles he’s earned through combat: Hellrider, Commander, Sir. He insists that they’re just civilians now and it’s not like he’s being disingenuous here—note that he introduces himself as just “Zevlor” to Tav. Zevlor means what he says to Tilses and we can see that he’s trying to both reinforce his point and lesson the blow by referring to her as “Tilly.” The nickname is a sweet one, hinting at their close bond in just a single word, reminding her that he’s not saying this to hurt her, he cares for her… but the nickname is simultaneously something he never would have used as her commander. The intimacy meant to comfort is also a hard blow to weather. They're now people who use nicknames inappropriate for the hierarchy of battle.

So Zevlor means what he says here, means it enough that Tilses is convinced and drops her use of “Commander,” but there’s definitely a hint of bitterness in his voice. At least, I’ve always heard it. Zevlor is steadfast in his conviction here, even going so far as to say, “I’m done soldiering, Tilly” when discussing what will come next at Baldur’s Gate. Yet for all of that his tone conveys (understandable) anger and disappointment that it’s come to this. Zevlor doesn’t act like someone who truly wants this change, but rather someone who’s been forced to accept it.

Is it outside forces unwillingly influencing him then? Did Avernus truly change things irrevocably? No, not really. At least, not in the way Zevlor likes to claim. Tilses herself states that being a Hellrider is for life; nothing can take away that title. You lost your post? Your whole city? Most of the people under your protection? Doesn’t matter! You’re a Hellrider forever, no matter the circumstances. I can easily picture a time in Zevlor's life where he would have agreed with Tilses wholeheartedly. They are Hellriders, dammit, and so long as there’s one person looking for their help they will wield that title alongside their blades. And right now, Zevlor has a lot more than just one person in need of his assistance.

So it’s not that Avernus truly stripped them of that identity. Nothing can do that. Zevlor is not rejecting titles and planning retirement because the mechanisms of fate are forcing him to.

He’s doing all that because he’s lost confidence in himself.

Even as someone with a shaky understanding of DnD classes, I love the parallel between a broken oath and the rejection of a lifelong title. If Zevlor can fail in his oath—or in his faith entirely, according to the memories stemming from his pod—why-ever would he think that any other ‘permanent’ part of his identity was worth fighting for? If you can loose the very thing you’ve built your entire life around, every important aspect of yourself, tied to your very soul… what’s a bestowed title compared to that? Zevlor doesn’t believe himself worthy of being a Hellrider anymore, but I think that goes deeper than a string of horrific circumstances making him feel incompetent. As an Oathbreaker, Zevlor likely believes that if he couldn’t uphold that, he can’t uphold anything. Calling himself a Hellrider would be a lie. A fiction. A pathetic, dangerous, insulting fiction at that. It’s like calling yourself the “Hero” while continually failing those around you. Sure, others might insist it’s a title you’ve earned, one you will always carry with you, but you don’t believe them anymore and at a certain point calling yourself that feels worse than embracing the title of “Villain." You don’t want to be the villain… but you want to pretend you’re the hero even less. Pretending is exhausting.

We see this struggle in the many ways that Zevlor fails, or almost fails, to uphold the ideals that originally guided him. I use the term “villain” above deliberately because Zevlor is not merely a former hero-type who’s self confidence has been shattered, or who has been reduced to a civilian, or who thinks themselves useless; he’s actively fighting against temptations that, under less stressful situations, he’d never even consider. I don’t think he is a villain, I think he’s a flawed, struggling victim who sees his own, inevitable mistakes as villainous—and the longer that warped perspective continues the easier it is to fall into bad behaviors. This cycle is perfectly summarized in the autobiography Zevlor keeps by his bed:

“When every passer-by thinks you a thief and a heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one.”

We don’t know if this is Zevlor’s autobiography (as far as I’m aware, anyway) but even if it’s not the words have clearly resonated enough for him to keep them nearby. This particular line paints a pretty clear picture of Zevlor’s struggle. If everyone you meet says you’re devil-kin, vermin, or would-be criminal, isn’t it easier to just give them what they want? If you can’t persuade them otherwise, why put in the effort of trying? If he can’t be Faithful to his God, why have faith in anything at all? If he can’t save these people—setback after setback, mistake after mistake—why is he even making the effort?

Zevlor obviously is trying, very, very hard, which is why such thoughts are merely temptations rather than actual, questionable actions. Still, the Grove gives us numerous examples of the precipice he’s balanced on—and the ways Tav can tip him in one direction or another. You can talk Zevlor down from his anger and get him to acknowledge his disgust in nearly sinking to Aradin’s level. You can also let him boil over and punch the human at a time when the last thing anyone needs is more violence. You can convince Zevlor that there are peaceful ways of stopping Kagha's ritual, or you can help him in pursuing the darker temptation to kill her. It’s a “low” thought, but at his own admission he hasn’t been above entertaining it. Zevlor’s requests for help, though always polite and humble, carry a spark of manipulation in them too. He’s not above leveraging your previously selfless good deed to his advantage—"She owes you for saving this grove"—and if you approach him before speaking with Kagha he’ll claim that the ritual will “be trouble—for all of us.” Except, no? Not really? Tav can make it clear that they’re just here for a healer, they’re only passing through, and as a fighter they are not beholden to the Grove’s sanctuary as the teiflings are. It’s not trouble for everyone involved, yet Zevlor frames it as such in the hopes that (unnecessary) self-interest may motivate you if selflessness fails. Finally, if Zevlor dies in your play-through and you use Speak the Dead on him, he will admit to having “plenty” of secrets, none of which he’ll share. Admittedly, this may be the result of cut content, specifically a story-line in which Zevlor knowingly betrays the tieflings rather than being tricked by the Absolute. Still, the game as it stands is the story we have and within it we’re given a man who is both fighting against these dark urges (ha) and has a past riddled with secrets. If Zevlor is anything, it’s blunt when it comes to his own failings, accurate and otherwise. So how terrible must these secrets be that he outright refuses to divulge them when, generally speaking, most corpses speak freely in death?

However, out of all of this the struggle I’m most intrigued by is the one surrounding the gate. Zevlor represents the tieflings: persecuted refugees, vulnerable civilians, people seeking to survive through cooperation, specifically by joining a community. Kagha represents the druids (or at least a vocal subset of them in Halsin’s absence): bigoted individuals, powerful fighters, people seeking to survive by giving in to their fears, specifically by keeping themselves isolated. This is the moral dichotomy of the Grove and it is symbolized through the gate. Zevlor wants to open it to everyone whereas Kagha wants to close it, permanently.

So isn’t it odd that Zevlor is the one ordering it shut?

When the scene first starts Kanon shouts down that no, he won’t open the gate. Zevlor said that no one is allowed in. Notably, he’s saying this to Aradin and his crew, people that the Grove is at least passingly familiar with, given that Halsin left with them to search the temple. It’s also notable that Zevlor isn’t expecting goblins to attack the Grove. He’s shocked that this is suddenly a problem, brought about by Aradin’s decision—“You lead them here?”— and the entire point of staying at the Grove is that it’s at least comparatively safe. Yes, there have been more attacks lately, but Zevlor seems to be relying on the Grove’s relatively unknown location, as well as the fact that goblins are normally disorganized. The safety is only compromised because Aradin brought a hunting party back, so Zevlor has no reason to expect any visitors, let alone ones that would be a threat.

More importantly, he should welcome such visitors even if he did expect them. After all, that’s precisely what the tieflings are: strangers with no ulterior motives other than to survive. Broadly speaking it makes perfect sense why he'd shut the gates. Zevlor’s first priority is to his people, so anything that keeps them safe is, theoretically, a good thing. But through the lens of his specific characterization and this specific, moral dilemma, it’s an awfully hypocritical decision. Based on everything we’ve seen, our party would not have been welcomed by Zevlor if we’d arrived without danger on our heels and a rescue to endear him to us. So his people should be welcomed, trusted, kept safe, given the benefit of the doubt… but Zevlor isn’t necessarily willing to extend that same trust to others. At the end of the day, he and Kagha want a version of the same thing: safety for those they deem are worthy of it.

It’s precisely these flaws and temptations that make Zevlor such a great character to me, even before he’s tricked by the Absolute. The fandom has leaned hard into Zevlor’s self-loathing and let me tell you, I love it (kisses, hugs, and cookies for you all), but canonically I think he has more reason to fear himself than we tend to portray in the H/C fics. I’m not saying he’s a bad person. Rather, it’s precisely because Zevlor is such a good person that he has the capacity to fall so far. It’s his all-consuming desire to protect his family that leads Zevlor to do and consider so much that a paladin would normally balk at. Denying others the safety you’ve been granted. Subtly manipulating others to do your dirty work. Considering murder.

Zevlor is someone torn between doing the Right Thing and the thing he believes will help those under his care survive. Importantly, when we first meet him he considers these to be two separate courses of action. So can you imagine what goes through his head when he first sees Tav saving everyone and doing so righteously? I think it’s integral to Zevlor’s characterization that the game all but forces you to play the Good Guy in that initial encounter. A cut scene starts, you’re thrown into combat immediately afterwards, and unless you plan to start attacking the Grove members alongside the goblins (which the mechanics discourage through the coloring that distinguishes enemies from allies) you will always finish this fight as Zevlor’s hero. Sure, you can be an asshole afterwards and demand payment. You could already be plotting your betrayal and the slaughter of all the refugees. But in this moment you are nothing but a miracle made flesh in his eyes. Right from the start Tav is succeeding in all the ways Zevlor feels like he's failed. You're the hero.

More specifically, you’re an Every-Man Hero. We might have epic backstories for our Tavs, but within confines of the game you’re largely a nobody when not playing an Origin character. How powerful must that have been to witness then? A total stranger, someone who has no ties to the tieflings or even, depending on your class, any sworn reason to help others, putting their life on the line to save what is most precious to Zevlor? I think a lot about the fact that he never asks Wyll to step in and try to change Kagha’s mind. She owes him just as much as she does Tav—Wyll is an equal participant in that fight and, if your shoddy play style is anything like mine, he likely did more damage—and Wyll is clearly invested in the tiefling’s survival, training the kids as he is. Now, obviously Zevlor’s reticence is largely a question of assigned roles (we need to be the one engaging with Kagha because we’re the protagonist/player) but, like Zevlor’s choice to include himself in the Not a Fighter group, it would have been all too easy to explain this away within the narrative. One comment about how Wyll already tried and failed, or how Kagha doesn’t trust Warlocks, or hell, maybe you don’t meet Wyll in the Grove at all. It’s an easy thing to accomplish and though this is edging more into the realm of headcanon than anything else, I can’t help but think that Wyll isn’t the kind of person that Zevlor could turn to for help right now. Because he’s a folk hero. The Blade of Frontiers, known far and wide for his impressive, selfless deeds. Zevlor is struggling so hard to keep the tieflings safe, tempted by all the unsavory solutions that might achieve that, drowning in self-hatred as his past and current failings catch up with him, wanting nothing more than to be his peoples’ protector:

“I would be a paladin again—with a god’s purpose, a god’s power. Everything I needed to protect my people. And all the while, the cult tortured them. They fought, and ran, and died around me, while I imagined myself their savior.”

Three of the things Zevlor mutters while trapped in the pod are “Hellrider… for… life…,” “Trust… in me…,” and “Children… look away… look at me…” He wants to be the protector, the one children look to for reassurance, he wants his words to Tilly to be a lie and he wants a way to prove that he is a Hellrider for life… but he’s not. At least, Zevlor doesn’t believe it. He lost his titles while Wyll still proudly bears his. Wyll trains the children to fight while Zevlor can only get swept up in anger at them being threatened. The people trust Wyll, adore him, he’s the hero and Zevlor… is not. Not anymore.

It’s too painful to approach Wyll and admit all that. That would be a hell of a blow to Zevlor's pride. But Tav? A stranger? A nobody? The Every-man who had no reason to help or reputation pressuring them, saving them anyway? That’s inspiring. Someone like Tav could be the answer and even, perhaps, the proof that Zevlor could redeem himself. Neither of them are folk heroes, untouchable in their assumed perfection. Tav is a living, breathing example of how the flawed, everyday adventurer can be everything Zevlor strives for.

No wonder he won’t shut up about them in the Shadowlands.

All of this is why it’s so tragic that Zevlor wasn’t given a redemption arc. Sure, you can recruit him for the final battle against the Netherbrain, but there’s no quest to change the cast’s opinion of him—or change Zevlor’s opinion of himself. All his content at the end of Act 2 and Act 3 reinforces that self-hatred.

Let’s make a list, shall we?

Nearly every line of his reunion with Tav has Zevlor painting himself in the worst light possible, from “a lie kinder than the truth” to his refusal to join you because he believes he’ll stab you in the back. You cannot convince him of the Absolute’s manipulation and there’s no response to his belief that such horrors start within the person like, “Of course it does! Because we’re all flawed and equally capable of good and evil deeds! That potential doesn’t make you irredeemable, Zevlor, it makes you mortal!!”

He’s utterly failed as his peoples’ champion and he’s also deemed “unworthy” of being a True Soul. Obviously not being chosen by the Absolute is a good thing, but for a man drowning in self-loathing that’s one hell of a complicated rejection.

Nearly all the tieflings hate him now, all those people he’s been sacrificing his soul to keep safe. I found it particularly devastating that this is one of the rare occasions where nailing a persuasion check doesn’t change the person’s mind. There’s at least one tiefling at Moonrise (I’m drawing a blank on her name) who will believe you when you explain how the Absolute influenced Zevlor, but that doesn’t lead to forgiveness.

Zevlor is deemed unimportant on a literal, narrative level. He is very easy to miss in the pods (I nearly did on my first play-through) and the game does incredibly little to dissuade you from that mistake. Putting aside for a moment that obviously an Origin companion is more significant than a minor NPC, compare this to Shadowheart screaming from her own pod, the game making it abundantly clear that this is someone in need of help—someone worth rescuing. She’ll even say later that you could have run past, more concerned with your own survival and the big picture heroics to bother with her. How must it feel then, if Zevlor ever learns that Tav was there and never stopped for him?

If you do miss Zevlor… oh boy. We’ve probably all seen at least a recording of Orin’s so-called gift. There are plenty of characters who can meet untimely and devastating ends, but very few go through this level of horror. Zevlor—after being held captive, remember—is tortured by God’s Favorite Torturer. He is stripped of his personhood and reduced to a mere “message,” a “pet.” Zevlor is further humiliated in death by being literally stripped of his armor—not just vulnerable in his nakedness, but denied the last symbol of his faith, his status, his power—and it’s always struck me that this is the closest we see to him 'enjoying' an intimate moment, this parody in Orin’s painting. Zevlor is one of the NPC’s most in need of physical comfort and instead he’s forced into this torturous mockery of a sex scene. It also hits hard that when Tav first spots his body the narration says that Zevlor “might almost be sleeping.” Undoubtedly this is a man who isn’t taking good care of himself. He needs a good night’s rest, yet this horrifying trick is all he gets.

As if all this weren’t enough, most of your companion are VERY critical of Zevlor while commenting on his demise. It’s one thing for the tieflings to believe the worst given their ignorance and the fact that they are the ones who suffered from Zevlor’s failure, but your company understands the Absolute and the ways that she gets her hooks in people. Still, Astarion calls him a “wet rag” even if he did deserve better than this. Shadowheart wouldn’t have wished this on him either, but she can’t help but slip in a “no matter his failings.” Lae’zel, often the most blunt, straight up says that he was “always destined to fail his people—and to fail us.” Wyll shakes his head and intones that “even good intentions can lead us down deadly paths.” Only Gale and Karlach stick to mourning the dead rather than airing his shortcomings.

When I spoke to my allies before the final battle Zevlor didn’t have a cut scene. It became clear to me later that this must have been a bug in my play-through, but at the time it only reinforced my feelings that his story was incomplete. Looking on Youtube I’ve found recordings of him saying that he is a Hellrider once more and he would “die a proud man if [he] were to die this day”… but that rings as terribly hollow given where we left him. Last we were together, Zevlor was saying in no uncertain terms that he could not be trusted, he would fail again, he was unworthy of forgiveness. Where did this change of heart come from? It makes perfect sense that he would help Tav in this moment—he begs to be of some use after getting free—but not that he would present himself with such confidence. Within the story as it’s been told this feels… fake. Like Zevlor is putting on a mask to fit the mood of this lively, optimistic party. Which, in turn, gives the “I would die a proud man” line a terrifying implication to me. Does Zevlor expect to die this day? Does he intend to? What would persuade him not to lay down his life here and now? His mission is complete. The tieflings are safe—though not by his hand. There's no hero's welcome waiting for him after this battle. They hate him. He hates himself, and by his own admission the one thing that could still make him proud would be to die at Tav’s side, trying to do one last bit of good. If someone said that to me after everything Zevlor has been through I would keep them far away from the front lines.

(I did, for the record lol.)

I’m not saying anything new then when I go, “Larian, PLEASE add more to his story.” Give us a Zevlor side-quest to renew his oath. Let us invite him to our camp. Something to link the broken man mid-game and the confident fighter at the end so that the latter doesn’t feel like an alarm bell with two legs and a tail. I mean yeah, I get hooked on minor characters so 75% of this is simply me wanting more content of a fave, but I also I do legitimately believe that BG3’s story would benefit from tying up loose ends like this.

Zevlor is a fantastic character, someone who contains an astounding amount of complexity for so little screen time. You have to follow up on that complexity though. If he’s meant to be a purely tragic figure, okay, fine, that’s the ending you get with Orin. But one where he joins you with a smile and reclaims a title he's previously rejected with such fervor requires more work in the middle; a through-line that explains how someone with so much self-loathing learns to think of himself as the hero again.

Because it does all come down to Zevlor’s perception of himself. He was always a hero, flaws and all. He always was and always will be a Hellrider.

The UI knows what's up :)

[pandorxxx]

Crazy about you

Lo’ak (21) x omatikayan fem readef (18)

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, bondage, p in v, oral,spitting, spanking, bruising, cursing, squirting, DOM-Lo’ak.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

Now this wasn’t like any other love story; where girl gets boy and they live happily ever after. This was a story of an unhealthy obsession, and the beginning of a toxic relationship. You knew that your attraction to lo’ak was affecting you, but you just couldn’t help it. It had been this way ever since he started training you to become a warrior. The way he scolded you, yelled at you, snatched you up for being a trouble maker….it sparked a desire deep inside of your heart that couldn’t be put out until you got what you wanted. Until you got him…

These feelings were not reciprocated, however. He felt as if you were unhindered, and he knew that your obsession for him was not healthy. Not that he doesn’t like his women being obsessed, but you were….crazier, and he shied away from you because of that. At first, lo’ak thought the little crush you had on him was cute, but now it was scaring him. Scaring him to the point where he wanted nothing to do with you, ending training with you all together. So you could imagine his surprise when you still showed up for sessions.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” He asked sternly, walking over to you. He grabbed you with ease, pulling you to a nearby tree so that none of the other warriors or trainers could hear.

“Training silly!” You smiled, tracing his chiseled body up and down, not being able to keep your eyes off of him. He stood up straight, looking around before leaning back down to you.

“Stop looking at me like that, little one. I already told you that I canceled training with you. Do you not remember?” He asked in a calm tone, handling your feelings with care because he knew…

He knew this good girl act that you put up was just a façade, and deep down, you could lash out at any second, and there was no telling how far you’d go.

You tilted your head, pouting up at him. “I remembered, but I thought I’d come anyway. Why don’t you want to train me anymore?” You croaked, tearing forming in your eyes

He sighed, running his hands down his face. “Y/n. Go home.” He said, melodic voice ringing through your ears like your favorite song. You smiled, gripping his arm to pull him closer. He pulled away immediately. He growled, wrapping his hand around your neck.

“GO. HOME.” He mumbled, clenching his jaw before letting you go harshly, causing you to stumble back. “I love you too, lo’ak! See you later!” you chirped, swinging from side to side.

He growled in frustration, rubbing his hands through his hair rougly. “Do NOT come to my hut later. I’m tired of kicking you out every night, bro. I need you to stay away from me. Got it?” He whispered angrily, with his hands on his hips.

Before you could answer, he walked off. Going back to train another warrior. Your eyebrows shifted in confusion, before turning back around, walking away from him.

As you trailed back to your hut, you couldn’t get over how stubborn lo’ak was being. Why was he acting like he wanted nothing to do with you? Why did he cancel training? Did he think you were crazy? Unhinged?

“Hey, y/n! Wait up!” You heard a familiar voice speak. You turned around to be met with Neteyam, jogging towards you to catch up.

“Oh, hey Neteyam.” You sighed, turing back around to walk forward. He finally caught up to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“I saw what happened, little one. Are you ok?” He asked in a concerned tone, looking down at your dainty figure.

“Maybe you could tell me. What is the matter with me? Why doesn’t lo’ak like me anymore?” You asked, stopping in your tracks to face Neteyam.

“Maybe he believes that you are too young for him, yeah? I mean, you just turned 18.” Neteyam chuckled, gesturing calmly.

“Tis not it, teyam! And you know it! Tell me why he doesn’t want me!” You lashed out, crossing your arms as you glared up at him. He sighed, gripping either sides of your arms in his large hands.

“Lo’ak just thinks that you may be alittle….obsessed.” Neteyam tilted his head, lifting a brow at you. “Is that true, y/n?” He nodded, already knowing that you were obsessed with lo’ak, but wanting you to admit it out loud.

“I am obsessed, but there is nothing wrong with that! I would never hurt him!” You shouted, pushing the ball of your finger into his chest.

“Maybe he’s afraid that you will?” His voice raised an octave, statement coming out more like a question. Your gaze softens at Neteyam’s words. Was that it? Lo’ak thought that you would hurt him? You would NEVER hurt him?

“Oh no! I-I dont want him to think that I would eve- I’ve gotta go talk to him!” You stuttered, walking away before Neteyam pulled you back.

“H-How about I talk to him for you? He’ll listen to me. I don’t think it’s smart for you to go back there right now. Give him some time to cool off.” Neteyam explained. Neteyam knew you were unhinged, and it was no point in adding fuel to the fire. So as lo’aks big bro, he took the heat for him.

You looked up at him with narrow eyes, scanning his face for any detection of a lie. “Tell him to meet me back here, eclipse.” Neteyam’s eyes widened. Lo’ak didn’t really listen to him on a regular day, so making him confront his stalker, in the middle of the forest? Now that was going to be a challenge.

“o-ok!” Neteyam nodded, smiling nervously. You squealed him happiness. “Thank you teyam! You don’t know how much this means to me.” You hugged him before skipping away. Leaving him in his thoughts about how in the hell he was going to get lo’ak to meet her tonight.

It was almost eclipse when Neteyam finally decided to bite the bullet, and confess to lo’ak that he got him in a…sticky situation. Neteyam hesitated walking into lo’aks hut, but he needed to talk to him.

“Umm, lo’ak?” Neteyam squinted his eyes, knocking on the, already, opened door to get his brothers attention.

“What’s up, bro.” Lo’ak looked at Neteyam breifly before putting his hair in a ponytail, getting ready for bed. Neteyam walked further in with a nervous smile.

“Uhhh, What happened with you and y/n today? She seemed upset.” Neteyam asked cautiously, leaning back on the wall. Lo’ak chuckled, shaking his head.

“Brooo.” Lo’ak sighed, turning to Neteyam with wide eyes. “That crazy little bitch can’t get enough of me. I mean, I get it, look at me!” He started, turning back to his mirror, taking his neck piece off.

“It was cute at first, because she’s kinda hot. But she’s too obsessed with me. I might wake up to her trying to kill me or something.” Lo’ak chuckled, turning back to his brother. Neteyams hope for lo’ak meeting you tonight….was dwindling, but he had a plan.

“Well! You know that they say about crazy girls.” Neteyam smirked, walking closer to lo’ak. Lo’ak nodded his head, all knowingly before plopping down on his cot, sprawled out as he looked towards the ceiling.

“Hell yeah, bro.” Lo’ak smirked, licking his lips just think about it. He quickly snapped out of it, jolting up to meet neteyams gaze. Lo’ak eyed him up and down in confusion.

“What’s going on here? Why are you asking about y/n?” He squinted his eyes. Neteyam sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“Don’t be mad, but I kinda told y/n that you would met her in the forest in likeeee…..15 minutes or so.” Neteyam smiled widely, shooting lo’ak a thumbs up as he nodded his head. Lo’aks eyes almost popped out of his skull.

“WHAT THE HELL, BRO!” Lo’ak shouted, standing to his feet immediately. “I’ve told you how many times this girl has stalked me, and you set me up on a DATE with her? IN THE FOREST?…..AT NIGHT?” He yelled, gesturing angrily.

“I-I know, DAMMIT! I’m sorry! She just really wants to talk to you, lo’ak. Cant you give her that? Just a conversation? The girl is madly in love with you.” Neteyam confessed calmly, almost feeling sorry for you. You were so relentless with lo’ak, and nothing could stop it.

“You think you know y/n, but you don’t. She wants to do more than talk, and I don’t wanna go down that road with her. You think she’s crazy NOW? She’d need a straight jacket if I gave it to her.” Lo’ak explains, shaking his head before looking in the mirror again. Neteyam rolled his eyes in disgust, walking towards the door.

“Just go and talk to her. It would make her day, and you know it. Be nice for once.” Neteyam spat, stomping out of lo’aks hut. Lo’ak rolled his eyes before staring at himself in the mirror.

“I mean, what could her little ass do to me anyway? I’m not scared! Im a warrior, dammit! I TRAINED HER!” He riled himself up through the mirror. He huffed, growing angry with himself for running from you like YOU were the threat. No, HE was the threat, and you were just a crazy little girl in his eyes. He stomped out of his hut, coming to confront you like he should’ve done a while ago.

You sat on the mossy ground, looking into the sky. You thought about what you would say when he finally got here, or what he would say. All you’ve ever wanted was him, and you hated that he stepped back every time you took a step closer.

“Y/N!” You heard lo’ak shout from a distance, startling you. You whipped around, seeing him stomp towards you with vengeance.

“Get up.” He muttered through gritted teeth, snatching you off the ground by your armpits, pinning you to a nearby tree. For the first time, he genuinely scared you with his anger.

“Ouch! What did I do now?” You whined, throwing your head back on the tree. “You just can’t seem to get it through your head. I DO NOT WANT TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU!” He screamed, just inches away from your face making you flench with every syllable. You looked up at him, plastering that crazy smile of yours across your face.

“Oh, but lo‘ak! If you’d just give me a chance, I’d think we’d be perfect for eachother.” You confessed in your sweet, innocent voice as you rubbed his arm. He shook his head with a quick chuckle of utter disbelief.

“No we wouldn’t! First off, im too old for you. Second off, YOURE CRAZY!” He confessed, looking down at your confused face. You tilted your head as your eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m crazy about you, baby. Don’t you get it?” You asked, bringing him closer by the band of his loincloth. He towered over your small frame, sighing loudly as he looked around, then back at you.

“What do you want? Huh? You want some dick? Is that it? Will that shut you up?” He asked, looking for your eye contact, but you were too fixated on his growing bulge. “Mhmm!” your ears perked up as you hummed, nodding frantically.

“If I give it to you, do you promise to leave me alone? We can be friends, but the obsession has to STOP! Do you hear me?” He replied sternly, letting you go completely. You nodded slowly, waiting for his command before you went completely feral. He put his hands on his hips, eyeing you up and down to see what to do with you first.

“Okay, so I’m guessing you’ve never done this before. I’ll take it slo-“ he was cut off by the impact of the ground. You straddled him, pinning his arms down.

“DAMN! wh-what the f- aghh! fuck a-re you doing?!?!” He stuttered, struggling to get you off of him as your insatiable habits had taken the forefront. You took your hair out of its ponytail, wrapping the string around his wrists quickly. With that, you pushed his wrists above his head, leaning down to his face.

“I give you the green light, and THIS is what you do? You couldn’t give me a minute? SHIT!” He shouted, trying to wiggle his way out of the tight string.

“I’m sorry baby, I just couldn’t wait any longer. I want you soooo bad.” You giggled, attaching your lips to his neck. You trailed up and down his jugular, planting soft kisses and lightly sucking it. His wiggling slowly came to a halt as he purred in pleasure. You reached down to his loincloth, untying it slowly. You grabbed his throbbing cock, causing him to jolt up. You moved to his lips, planting tiny kissed across them.

“u-untie me.” He growled, panting as he looked you in your eyes. “Why? So you can run off? I’ve finally got you where I want you.” You spoke lowly, trailing your kisses down to his stomach.

“No! So I can give you what you want, and we can get this OVER WITH!” He growled, muscles flexing with every strain of his voice. You ignored him completely, trailing all the way down to his aching cock. You wasted no time, immediately engulfing him in your mouth.

“Shit! y-you couldn’t give me a warning?” He asked breathlessly, watching you bob your head up and down his huge shaft. You made it sloppy, spitting down onto his cock, before taking him all in your mouth again, gagging and chocking on him.

“Damn, girl. w-who taught y- fuck! You this?” He stuttered, moaning loudly under you as he wiggled weakly. You looked up at him through your eyebrows, slowly sliding your mouth off of him, making sure to make a popping sound. You jerked his cock, as you licked his sack, engulfing it completely, still glaring at him with nothing but lust in your eyes

“Ohhhh shit! b-be gentle with that!” He threw his head back, his face screwing In pleasure. You sucked his balls slowly, juggling them in your mouth before pulling away. You sat up in between his legs, gently pulling your top and loincloth off as you maintained that lustful eye contact.

“Can I ride it, lo’ak?” You asked crawling up to his chest, positioning yourself above his cock. He wasn’t even listening to you. He was way too focused on your perfect breasts that were inches away from his face, and He couldn’t even touch them. “Huh?” He muttered, still glued on your chest. You giggled, bending down to his face. “Wanna touch ‘em?” You asked seductively, kissing his chin.

“How if you won’t untie me?” He asked in an irritated tone. You sat up again, reaching over his head to grab his wrists. You pulled them up to you, attaching his hands to your soft breasts. He immediately squeezed them, biting his lip in the process.

“Happy?” You asked, placing your hands on his chest. He nodded frantically, eyes threatening to pop out of his head. Without warning, you slid onto him, sucking him in with one fell swoop. Your mouth went wide, as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“Damn! You’re so f-fucking wet, mama. All for me huh?” He asked with a smirk, watching you bounce up and down on him.

“yessss!!! it’s all for youuu!” You whined, balling your pretty little face up in pleasure. You sped up the pace, looking him in his eyes.

“Untie me, I won’t leave.” He huffed, watching you Please yourself without any of his help.

“You promise?” You moaned, leaning in to place your forehead on his. “I promise.” He grunted, thrusting up into you as he bit his lip. Your mouth flew opened, as you fell into his chest from the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“See? Now Imagine how good I could make you feel if you untied me.” He muttered in your ear, nibbling on the lobe. You reached down lazily, untying his arms as he rutted into you. Once free, He immediately dug his fingernails into your hips, bring you down onto him with every hard thrust. You let out a broken scream that muffled with every stroke.

“You feel amazingggg!” You whimpered, throwing your head back in pure bliss. All he could do was stare at your bouncing breasts, almost sent into a trance by them.

“Comere.” He growled, grabbing your neck harshly, pulling you down to his face. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He grunted, slapping your breasts before massaging them.

“YES! YES! Please, lo’ak!” You screamed, feeling your orgasm build in your lower abdomen. He smirked, pulling you into a sloppy kiss as he thrusted into you relentlessly. He kissed you hungrily; sucking on your lip, spitting in your mouth. You pulled back a-little , moaning into his lips.

“Lo’ak, I’m g-gonna cum!” You squealed, holding the side of his face. He slowed down his pace , rolling his hips into yours to massage your sweet spot with his swollen tip. “Do what you gotta do, mama.” He whispered before taking your sore nipple into his mouth, sucking it softly, as he pumped into you at a steady pace. The overwhelming stimulation sent you over the edge.

“YES! RIGHT THERE!” You screamed sharply, convulsing and cumming hard before falling into his chest. “Yes, just like that baby! I’m gonna fuck the crazy outta you.” He growled, pumping into you slowly as he held your trembling body in his arms. You cried into his chest, feeling jolts of pleasure shoot through your spine with every thrust.

“I thought you were ready? I thought this was what you wanted?” He asked in your ear, as he felt your tears pour over the sides of his waist. He flipped over, prying you off of him to put you on all fours. Your head immediately fell to the ground, hips still in the air.

“No sleeping, mama. We’ve go unfinished business. You brought this upon yourself.” Lo’ak chuckled, slamming into you. Your eyes widened as you tried to get up, but you felt a strong hand pushing your head into the mossy ground.

“Stay just like this! Don’t fucking move!” Lo’ak growled, rutting into your sensitive cunt, making your legs tremble.

“Lo’ak, pleaseee! I w-wont stalk you anymore!” You whimpered, reaching around to push him out of you, as the pleasure was too much for you to bear. He grabbed both of your arms, pinning them behind your back as he took his ponytail out, tying the string around your wrists to secure you.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” He asked, bending down to your ear as he thrusted into you at a fast pace. You cried out, trying to crawl away from him to no avail.

“I-I-mmm!- I GET IT! I will a -ngh!- Leave you aloneeee!” You whined, tears blurring your vision from the indescribable pleasure.

“If you think I’m letting this pussy go, you’re sadly mistaken. You fucked up, little one.” He chuckled, slapping your ass hard. You whimpered into the ground, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach. He trailed his strong hand all the way up your back and to your hair, pulling you flush to his chest by your braids, harshly. You yelped in pain, feeling your hair rip with every harsh pull.

“This pussy is mines now right? Say it!” He grunted, hitting your bruised sweetspot everytime.

“Fuck!” You squealed, earning you a slap on the ass. You jolted in pain, wiggling under his touch.

“That’s not what the fuck I said!” He growled in your ear, shaking your head with every syllable. you couldn’t even form a collective thought, the pleasure was eating you alive.

“I-I , thi-“ you stuttered. Lo’ak grew angry as he pushed your head back down into the ground, spanking you until you did what he wanted.

“SAY THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!” He yelled, spanking your ass as you tried desperately to squirm from under him.

“LO’AK! MERCY!” You begged, as you felt your ass stinging from your punishment.

“NO, FUCK THAT!” He roared, growing irate. He continued spanking you, harder and harder until you said it.

“T-This pussy is yours, lo’ak!” You screamed, tears running down your face.

“And I’m the only one who can handle your crazy ass, RIGHT?” He shouted, making you scream in fear. “YES, LO’AK!” You whimpered.

“Say you love this dick!” He commanded, rutting into you at the speed of light, slapping your bruised cheeks one more time.

“Ohhhh I love this dick! I love it sooo much!” You moaned, shutting your eyes tightly. Before you knew it, your legs started shaking under him.

“I’m g-gonna cum soon!” You screamed, feeling him hit your sweetspot one good time, making you cry out. You collapsed to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably under him. You let go, squirting all over him as stars flooded your vision.

“Mhmmm, just like that.” He bit his lip, still rocking in and out of you as he felt his high quickly approaching. “Ohhh shit, y/n!” He grunted, pulling out of you. He jerked his cock quickly, letting his hot and sticky seed squirt all over your back as you laid there lifeless.

“Fuck yessss!” He hissed, throwing his head back. You groaned in exhaustion, falling in and out of consciousness. He looked back down at you with a sadistic smirk, watching you twitch occasionally from your lingering orgasm.

“You ok, mama?” He asked, smacking your bruised ass, making you wince in pain, flenching under his touch.

You moaned in agony in response to his question. He shook his head, picking you up to toss you over his shoulder. You whimpered through the whole ordeal. He grabbed both of you guys cloths, walking out of the forest.

“Don’t worry little one, you’re mine now.”

Y’all, not this taking me all day to write😒. I like it thoughhhh period! As always, I love y’all to death, and I’ll talk to y’all later!!

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @pullandhug @ameliestsblog @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @thecutieyahia @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair

[digitaldiarystuff]

Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?) Pt. 2

summary: You meet a boy at a club on a night out but realize he looks younger than he says he is

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

genre: fluff/ smut

————

You woke up with a massive hangover and for a second forgot about last night. That was until you picked up your phone to a hundred messages from Pablo, Pablo Gavi.

They started with a slight denial.

“What makes you think that??”

Then got a little freaked out.

“Did someone tell you that?”

And then came the confession.

“Yeah, I am.”

But it didn’t stop there.

“Okay yes I lied but you would never talked to me if you knew, I could sense your panic while asking my age and I freaked out I’m sorry but I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

“Did I blow my chance?”

Then he got agitated.

“Are you going to leave me on delivered for ever?”

“Why aren’t you saying something?”

“Are you asleep?”

You were in shock for most of the texts but him asking if you’re sleeping via text got to you and you started cracking up. He was a little too needy and now that you know you have a 4 year age gap and he’s a football star you just couldn’t continue this. However, his infatuation with you kind of made your heart flutter, he was too sweet and persistent for his own good. One text won’t hurt, you thought.

“Yes, I’m asleep at the moment.” you said and got a response in less than a minute.

“Ha ha very funny, have I told you I have a thing for funny girls?”

“You apparently also have a thing for older girls?” you teased. His age was still a problem.

“Maybe I have a thing for you.” and when you didn’t answer “Look I really am sorry I was just afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me if you knew my age.” and another “You know billions of people in relationships have age gaps and they all get along well.”

“Are you only this talkative when you’re sober or did I drink too much last night?”

“Okay I understand I’m not on your best side right now but I’m free tonight if you want to meet and I can show you why age doesn’t matter.”

Your mind went blank for a second and you remembered how his hands and lips made you feel last night, you hadn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time and to be fair, Pablo looked far more attractive than any guy around you and his text just rose your heartbeat but your obsession with his age was nagging your brain constantly.

“I’m busy” you said terrified about his effect on you.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t”

“The day after?”

“Can’t”

He sent a frowny face emoji and you thought it was the end of the conversation. It made you a little sad but you wouldn’t admit it but a few minutes later you got another text.

“What are you doing now?”

You stupidly thought this was just an ice breaker and said you were at home not doing anything.

“Then send me your address” he texted and you realized he wouldn’t give up easily. You mentally slapped yourself but gave him the address anyway. He said he’d be at yours in half an hour which was too little in your opinion, your home was a mess and so were you.

After taking a quick shower you weighed your options about outfits, it should be put together but not too fancy or he’d think you wanted to look good for him, which you did.

Finally you decided on biker shorts and an oversized crewneck. And you also applied some concealer under your eyes and started putting the dishes in your dishwasher and even stuffed all your clothes lying around your room to your closet hoping he wouldn’t snoop in there. Thank god your roommate was at work and you didn’t have to worry about her. As you were finishing up cleaning around the doorbell rang and you took a breath and saw Pablo on the side, your drunk mind didn’t play any games to you and he still was gorgeous. His hair was wet and he had a duffle bag on his shoulder smiling widely at you.

“Hi” he said timidly.

“Hi, come in” you said and let him in. “Were you at training?” you asked given his outfit and bag. He sat down on one side your L shaped sofa and you sat on the opposite side.

“Yeah, I came straight out of practice.”

“So when you texted me”

“Yes I was still on the pitch.” he said giggling.

You loved how much effort he put into just texting you but also hated how it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Would you like to drink anything?” you asked whilst getting up.

“Just water would be fine.” he shrugged and you got 2 bottles giving him one. You hated how your eyes diverted to his biceps while he was grabbing it. He really made this hard for you.

You both took sips and didn’t talk for a moment.

“Look Pablo, I” he cut you off with a kiss. His hands found your cheeks and you reciprocated after a second placing yours on his chest. He backed down after a moment to seize your reaction. But he saw you, eyes closed and enjoying yourself so he kissed you again. This time he was much more confident in his moves, he grabbed your waist and made you straddle him like you weighed nothing, getting you more aroused. Your legs were on both his sides as you never broke the kiss. He then started kissing your chin and neck making his way around your body and you used this opportunity to get rid of his shirt.

His hands held your lower back and you involuntarily rolled your hips against him invitingly. His eyes rolled back for a second and said “Can I?” and you just nodded. He took your hoodie off and saw you weren’t wearing any bra underneath.

“I see you’ve prepared for me.” he cockily smirked and you rolled your eyes but his confidence made you want him even more. He hungrily attacked your breasts with his mouth while you were rocking your hips and pulling the hair on the nape of his neck. You could feel his bulge underneath you growing every second. He then made you lay down on the couch and went for your leggings, looking to your eyes for permission.

“Please” you said in a small voice and were shocked about how needy you were. This was new to you.

He smiled and rolled your leggings down your legs. Suddenly you felt overly exposed and reality hit for a second until he saw you were wearing a burgundy lacy thong, he smiled but kept his mouth shut. You could practically see the lust in his eyes and that made all insecurities disappear. He started toying with the hem of your underwear and you were barely able to wait.

“C’mon Pablo I need you to show me age doesn’t matter.” you whined hoping to get some action and it seemed like it worked. He didn’t even took your thong off just shoved it aside and started to pepper some kisses around your core. He also started to rub your inner thighs and when you were about to complain again, he shushed you with a lick across your folds and all your words disappeared immediately. You forgot how to breathe for a second but Pablo kept on going and going until you were arching your back and screaming his name. After you came, he wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath but he was about to explode if he stopped now. He was a goner as soon as he heard his name roll over your tongue as high pitched moans. He freed his member and started running his hands over it a few times before reaching out his pocket and pulling a condom out, you rolled your eyes again but he smirked and said “I was hoping you’d want me as much as I want you”

He put it on your entrance and checked if you’re okay with this but all you could muster was a nod. You were still seeing clouds because of the orgasm he gave you mere seconds ago. He coated himself with your juices and pushed it in. You yelped at the feeling but he wasn’t going to give you time to adjust as he started thrusting with all his power. All the practice he goes through daily made his stamina another level and his movements never slowed down only sped up and after a while you both became undone.

Both of you were still trying to catch your breaths, his head was on your chest and his arms around your waist. He looked up at you and you melted, he looked like an angel even though he did some devilish stuff to you minutes ago, his eyes were the best brown you’ve ever seen with hints of honey and his post hair sex was even more appealing than his regular hair.

You didn’t say anything but he still understood what you wanted to say and kissed your lips, not like the previous ones fueled by lust, just adoration and you smiled into the kiss realizing maybe age really didn’t matter.

————

note: okokok just hear me out, this is the first time i’m ever trying to write smut and i don’t even know what to think but i hope you enjoy it, lmk if you have any ideas

[lxclerc]

𝐝𝐮𝐝𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

SUMMARY: in which charles’ wife gets drunk and he’s less than amused about it. WARNING: none. fluff. WORD COUNT: 952

masterlist

You’re a fun drunk. Where others throw up and cry their hearts out, you turn giddy and happy, giggling your way through the night and tonight is no different. Charles’ arm is secured around your waist as he too laughs along with whatever stupidity you blurted out, far too happy to care about anything else. 

You’ve always loved these nights. Of course, you’re there for the heartbreak and the crashes but seeing Charles so happy after winning a grand prix tops it all. You love the ghost of a kiss he keeps peppering you with and the way his chest rumbles when he lets out a particularly loud laugh. You love the neon lights illuminating in his eyes and the way he keeps bringing your hand up his lips to plant a kiss.

However, a few minutes later and you decided that you needed to go to the restroom to which you spent another few minutes convincing Charles not to join you. It isn’t until you’re on your way back that you caught sight of Kelly Piquet who immediately wrapped her arms around you. Sending Charles a quick text telling him you’d come find him after catching up with Kelly, you allow yourself to relax as the two of you order another round of alcohol. 

But catching up turned to downing shots of tequila as the two of you gossiped and joked around, Max and Charles eventually finding you in a booth together, arms around each other’s shoulders as you talked about everything and anything. Shooing the two men away, you both promised that you’d stay in your booth, assuring them that they can spend the night with the other drivers. 

Eventually, Max and Kelly call it a night and you’re far too drunk to look for Charles which is how you found yourself outside the club, sitting on a curb with your eyes closed and your legs to chest. 

Charles is quick to notice your absence however, seeing your booth empty. He immediately dials your number, his phone ringing for the longest time before you finally answer.

“Amour?”

“Charles,” you muttered from the other side, a giggle escaping your lips. “Hi, my love.” 

“Where are you?” He asks, already pulling himself away from the crowd, eyes scanning the crowded bar but it’s quiet on your side, or at least much quieter than where he is, so he knows you’re no longer here. “Did you go to the restroom? Stay where you are, I’ll come find you.” 

You only giggle, a hiccup escaping you. “I love your accent.”

“Mon amour, I need you to tell me where you are so I can get to you.” 

“Oh, um…” you look around your surroundings but your vision is hazy and you shudder from the cold air hitting your skin. “I don’t know.” 

“Try please,” he says, exiting the club. He doesn’t have to look far before his eyes catch sight of you, hunched over a curb, phone lazily pressed to your ear. Charles quickly pocketed his phone, jogging over to you. 

The grin on your face immediately turned into a frown as you faced him, eyes squinting in an attempt to get them to focus as the man kneeled before you. 

Charles placed a hand on your shoulders, gently attempting to pull you up. “Ma chérie, I thought you said you're staying in your booth with Kelly.” 

But you're still frowning at him, making yourself heavier so he can't move you. “Excuse me, sir, but I don't know you.” 

“What?” Charles stared at you. Face red, lips pouting, arms over your chest as you completely shut him out. 

“My husband Charles won't be very happy that you're touching me. He's very big and scary.” 

Charles burst out laughing then. The thought of him being big and scary is laughable. But you only pout more, taking his laughter as mocking in your intoxicated state. 

Trying to compose himself, he places a gentle hand on you again, making sure to put space between the two of you so as to not spook you. This isn't the first time you've been like this, so drunk that you can barely recognize him but somehow still finding a way to let everyone know that you have a husband named Charles who wouldn't appreciate anyone touching you. One time, you had refused to sleep in the same bed as him, kicking him to the couch till you woke up in the middle of the night asking what he's doing there. It's endearing to know that despite your incoherent state where you barely recognize yourself, you still remain loyal to him. 

“Come on, Mrs. Leclerc, I’ll help you up so we can find your husband,” he says softly, playing along. In a few minutes, you'd be so tired and will pass out, giving him the opportunity to carry you back to your hotel. 

Smiling now, you jump to your feet, wobbling as you did so. “Thank you, good sir. You're a great friend.” 

Now, that's where Charles draws the line. Perhaps it's his own tipsiness speaking as he took offense to your words. “Friend? I'm not your friend.” 

You squint your eyes at him again, the frown on your face returning. “Dude, calm down.” 

Charles’ jaw dramatically fell. “Dude? Y/N, I am your husband.” 

“No. My husband is better looking than you, bro.”

“Oh, I’ve had enough of this.” Charles rolls his eyes, grabbing you by the waist and placing you over his shoulders, causing a yelp to escape your lips. 

“Kidnapper! You’re kidnapping me!” You exclaimed, hitting his back repeatedly. 

Charles taps at your ass, smiling sheepishly at the people who began to stare. “Don’t worry, she’s my wife. Just extremely drunk, no kidnapping happening here.”

[onewithblankets]

pro tips for administering your own t shots

aight so i’ve been doing the whole self injection thing for nine/ten-ish months now, and as someone who’s always been, and still is, a little squeamish around needles, here are some things that help:

when you wipe down the injection site (I do my thighs, intramuscular injection) with an alcohol wipe, wait a little bit for the skin to dry before sticking the needle in. i’ve found this helps reduce the sting a bit.

listen to music. it helps make the whole process a little less nerve-wracking when you’re humming along to a song you like as you prep your syringe.

along the same lines as the last point, I like to use certain beats of a song as a ‘countdown’ almost, to hype myself up for the injection itself. instead of going “three-two-one” and then sticking the needle in, i’ll go “alright, i’ll put on cotard’s solution and stick it in when he starts screaming.” definitely makes the anticipation of the needle itself more bearable.

the anticipation is always worse than the actual injection. don’t let your own brain psyche you out of taking your t for fear of pain. i came into intramuscular injections thinking it’d be awful pain all the time, but half the time it’s barely more than a slight sting and usually doesn’t feel like anything after I put the bandaid on. i think i was more sore in the first couple weeks than i ever am now, though, so i may have just gotten used to it.

don’t inject too quickly, once you have the needle in your flesh. testosterone is pretty thick, so it’ll be a little slower coming out, and trying to push it too hard too fast will just make it uncomfortable or a little painful. 

do all the prepwork and keep everything together in front of you before you even uncap the first needle. make sure you have all the alcohol wipes, needles, vial, bandaids, and sharps box right next to you. you don’t want to pull your needle out of your thigh and then realize you don’t have a bandaid to put on the bleeding hole. that stuff gets everywhere.

alternate your injection sites. don’t do the exact same spot every single week (or however frequently you do your injections) or it will build up tougher tissue and make it harder for you to do injections. i just switch between left and right thighs every week.

once your t is in the syringe, keep your fingers/palms FAR AWAY from the plunger until the needle is inside you. you do not want to know how many times i accidentally squeezed some t out of my syringe because i was moving things around and absentmindedly squeezed on the plunger just a little too hard

check out Howard Brown! very good high quality videos on how to do subcutaneous and intramuscular injections + how to draw medicine out of the vial in the first place. highly recommend.

that’s all i can really think of atm. might update this later if i think of more things/figure something new and cool out for myself, though. hope it’s at least a little helpful for some of you funny internet people.

[fenricken]

DCxDP Week 2023 Day 1

Day 1: John Constantine | Found Family | Oops

Continued in Day Two

John opened the door to the House of Mystery, ready to stumble over to the beaten-up couch in the living room and knock out for the next couple of hours. Unfortunately, it was occupied. 

“Billy, who’s this?” John asked, pointing at the black-haired tyke he didn’t recognize. Billy barely managed to peel his eyes away from the telly. 

“Oh, this is Dani.” He went quiet, engrossed in staring at the static snow dancing across the screen. 

John settled himself down on the other side of Billy, looking at the telly himself. 

“I helped him out with a thing,” the girl offered. She had considerably less trouble than Billy looking away from the telly.

“A thing?”

“A demon, I think. Doesn’t matter to me, just kick their butt all the same.”

John looked at her for a quiet moment, before nodding. “Makes enough sense to me. I’m headed up to bed. Make sure Billy doesn’t stay up too late watching the football match or whatever you’ve got on there.”

He stood, stretched, and left the room. He could feel the weight of Dani’s eyes on his back until he was out of sight.

When he woke up the next morning, Billy was sound asleep in bed. Dani was gone.

She showed back up in his kitchen about two days later, munching on his Bat-O’s.

“Looking for Billy?” John asked. 

“Uah.” She said, mouth full of cereal. John made his own bowl. 

“He’s off-world. Got a mission.”

“Oh. I was hoping to get some help with this.” She plopped a really, really cursed amulet on the kitchen counter between them. 

John sighed. “Can this please wait until after coffee? I’ll show you where we put the evil necklaces after.”

Dani let out a small gasp “necklace jail for naughty necklaces…” before returning to her cereal. 

The girl does have the decency to let John finish his coffee. She’s also kind enough not to comment on the absolute mess that is their “artifact jail” as she put it.  After depositing the necklace, she walks with John back to the entrance, where she pauses, before turning to look at him. 

“I really like House. She’s very welcoming.” She says, before leaving. 

There’s a weight to her words that reveals that she means something far more than just what she said. However, John’s JLD pager has been going off for the past 5 minutes, so he figures whatever she meant is a problem for future John.

He doesn’t see her for a few months, and almost forgets about her. He’s on his way home from the pub, trudging through the filthy snow and trying to ignore the Christmas music blaring out of the stores. He pushes past couples and groups, heading out on his own. There’s a display of tellies, blaring some ad from some American mogul about the morals of the holiday and why they mean you should spend money on his company.

His eyes are drawn to a small figure staring at the TVs solemnly. He’s about to continue on his way, not wanting to get involved, but blue eyes snap to his.

“Er…Darla was it?”

“Dani, Mr. Constantine”

They’re silent for a bit, watching each other. Dani has clearly been crying, but John figures she doesn’t want attention brought to it.

“Enjoying the holiday?” he settles on.

She glances at the telly, watching the ad for VladCo drone on.

“My brother hates Christmas” she says, before going quiet again. John’s getting cold, even if Dani doesn’t seem to be suffering from it.

“It’s bloody freezing out here. Come on, let’s go to House where it’s warm and I have some cocoa.”

After he invited her back, she tended to come by more. She always came with an excuse, whether it was an artifact she thought would be safer with him, or looking for research materials. He was pretty sure she usually came to either hang out with Billy or him, even if it’d be just sitting together in silence.

Billy asked if John was planning on inviting Dani to stay permanently, then showed him a new room that popped up in House. John’s first thought was of what Dani told him so long ago.

His second thought was that it wouldn’t be bad to have her move in. If she wanted of course.

John was having trouble bringing it up to her, despite Billy’s needling. Everytime he started, he chickened out. Even now, they were sitting on the couch together, and Dani was regaling him about an adventure she had in Egypt involving a sentient cat statue, some pompous anthropologist, and a papaya. He was trying to pay attention, but was too busy stressing out about asking if she’d want the room.

“--You should have seen his face, Dad! He didn’t even see that coming!” She laughed, loud and hearty. John tensed. She petered off when she realized he wasn’t laughing with her.

“John?”

“...you called me ‘Dad’”...”

Her face paled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… of course you wouldn’t–” John put his hand on her head, trying to stop her freakout.

“Dani, I wanted to ask–”

She burst into tears before he could continue. “It’s just, my dad didn’t want me, so why would you? I’m just a failed copy–” John pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.

“Dani, it’s fine. Hey, it’s fine. “ He just kept repeating that until she stopped sobbing and hugged him back. After a few beats when it looked like she wasn’t going to stir, he took a look to find she had cried herself to sleep. Figuring there was nothing else for it, he scooped her up, and tucked her in the bed in the room House had made for her.

He stayed up through the night and into the morning, too worried Dani would wake up and decide to leave. Then he’d have to expend a lot of energy to track her down. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. She trudged down the stairs after Billy, who had come home late last night.

The two made an odd sight, Billy clearly ecstatic that Dani had stayed, and Dani looking nervous, and at anything but Constantine.

John pointed at the table. “Sit, I’ll make us some bangers and eggs.”

They sat, and thankfully Billy took pity on John and broke the silence. “How did you like your room? House made it forever ago! Uncle John’s just been too much of a coward to let you know before.”

Dani cautiously answered his questions, and the two fell in to their own conversation while John finished making breakfast and served everyone.

After they finished breakfast, Billy swept up everyone’s dishes, and out the door. “Bye Uncle John, Bye Dani! I’ll see you after monitor duty!”

John and Dani sat in silence for a bit, while she picked at a notch in the table. John took a swig of coffee, wishing it was something a bit stronger.

“My mum died giving birth to me. Growing up, my da did not let me forget that her life was on my hands. It was a shit upbringing, and it burns me to think about. Took Lucifer Morningstar giving him a talking to before anything changed. But despite all that, my da’s issues with me and my birth say nothing of my worth as a person.”

Dani was looking at him now, taking his words in. She scrunched her nose a bit, before breaking into a smile. “You know Lucifer?”

John snorts. “Yeah. Lovely bloke. Likes divesting people of their kidneys.”

She laughed at that, before quieting down. She glanced at him, then back at the table. She took a deep breath in.

“My dad’s name is Vlad Masters…”

“Okay, you can come in my house, but don’t touch anything you don’t recognize. The whole house is magic, and you don't have a good track record with it.” John said, opening the door to the House of Mystery.

Batman and the Flash came in after him. “How long will it take you to find the information on what’s threatening the Watchtower?” Flash asked

John pointed at the couch, indicating they should sit. Almost by habit, he disregarded Dani, who was sitting in the uglier armchair with a bowl of popcorn, watching her static-show again.

Neither Batman nor Flash moved to sit on the couch, both staring at Dani.

“Why’s there a kid here?” Flash asked, waving a hand to indicate Dani.

“It’s called the House of Mystery, lot of mysteries here.” John muttered. Dani immediately followed up with “You’re just jealous because I was willingly invited, you whore.”

She threw a piece of popcorn at Batman, who just stared at her.

“Don’t try to fistfight either of them, Dani. You two– wait here and I’ll bring the research materials.”

John quickly found all the books that might pertain to space vampires, before returning to the living room. The static program had been switched to a documentary on the Nazca Lines, and now Dani was chucking popcorn pieces at Flash, who was catching them in his mouth.

He plopped the books he found on the wobbly coffee table, and Batman pulled out the photo taken from the Watchtower security tapes.

Dani peered over his shoulder. In a small voice, she said “That’s Vlad…”

John glared warningly at Batman and Flash, before softening his glance and looking at Dani. “You sure?”

She nodded, sticking close to John’s back. 

John turned to Batman and Flash. “Looks like he’s a ghost. Current Watchtower defenses should be able to keep him out, but if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to add something a little extra to make sure the bas-punk’s life is a little worse.”

 Batman looked at John for a moment, before taking a quick glance at Dani. “When you have the defenses prepared, let me know. I’ll meet you on the Watchtower so we can get everything installed.”

------

A/N:

Got a bit tired at the end here, thinking about continuing it with another of the days. But in any case, just left it open-ended for more Constantine + Dani shenanigans.

[mulloey]

Imagine poly minsung with children. Like, you get pregnant by them both (is possible, I searched it up) and you just raise them together. It'll be so fucking cute🥺🤧 Imagine how their dynamics would be

Wow this is really cute but unfortunately I’m a massive pervert so we’re gonna have to talk about that too

I will put a warning before the nsfw stuff because this is pregnancy related and I know some people are uncomfortable with sexual things related to that. I have been pregnant before so I have some experience but it didn’t end as happily as it does here, so I’m not sure about some parts of this so this is my best guess. Love 🖤🖤

At first you’d be terrified, staring down at the positive pregnancy test in disbelief because how the fuck did this happen? You were on the pill and you were definitely not ready to have a child of all things. Not to mention what this would do to you physically — you liked your body, and you especially liked what could be done with it by your two boyfriends, but as soon as they found out you were carrying a child — their child — they’d freak out and treat you like glass. Minho already had a tendency to do this, always worrying that he’d gone too far or hurt you too much after an intense session, and when he found out about this he might refuse to fuck you altogether. And to be honest that was the scariest part

When you tell Jisung he’d be silent for a moment, then the first thing he’d do is go get Minho because the older man will definitely know what to do. Minho of course, however he may feel inside, calms you both down, assuring you that it’ll all be fine, they’ll take care of you and the baby, if you want to keep it.

A few hours later once all of your heads are clearer you finally pose the “are you still gonna fuck me” question to Minho and he laughs, assuring you that yes, of course he’s still going to fuck you and so will Jisung. Jisung of course would get that grin on his face that tells you he’s about to say something disgusting as he tells you that he’s gonna be fucking you non stop until you give birth. Minho jokingly tells him to go to the corner but it does make him think a bit more.

⚠️ nsfw - breeding, minor free use etc

At first he was just planning on fucking you even though you’re pregnant, but now that Jisung’s put the image in his head he cant stop thinking about what he could do with you *consensually* during this time. The thought of you so swollen from your masters’ cum that you can barely move, leaving you totally at their mercy for nine months does something for him and he can’t stop thinking about how helpless you’ll be pretty soon. They could keep you all comfy in your bed, ready to be used whenever they want to. Keeping you filled with cum to ensure you’re always this pretty and helpless. You’d look so sweet with your swollen belly and glassy eyes, so weak and full that all you can do is whine and beg him to help you too…

And as soon as he reveals these thoughts Jisung would go fucking feral, almost fucking you right there. The little perv would go wide eyed too picturing being able to fuck you whenever he wants. He’d come inside every time to make sure you’re always full of him. He’d be gentle, of course, not wanting to hurt the baby he’s put in you but you go dumb so easily he doesn’t even have to do anything

⚠️ nsfw over !

Aside from the sex they’d take fantastic care of you during your pregnancy, waiting on you hand and foot and always praising you for how perfect you look carrying their child. When your hormones are affecting you they’d do everything they can do make you feel better even if that means leaving you alone for a while. The amount of new clothes you receive from them for you and the baby would be ridiculous. Minho would decorate the nursery, asking for your input but you trust him to make it beautiful and he does. He’d enlist Hyunjin to help him paint it, not letting you see until it’s done and when you finally walk in for the first time you’re overcome by how beautiful it is, how loved this child is going to be and already is

But Jisung especially would worship you during this time, in disbelief that you’re actually having his baby. He’d touch your stomach whenever he can, eyes wide and when he hears the baby’s heartbeat and feels it kick for the first time he’d get so emotional, staring up at you in wonder, never more in love than this moment. He’d constantly be bickering with Minho over who gets to take care of you, help you around and hold you and rub your belly. Sweet boy just wants to do everything he can for you because he’s so in love and so grateful that you’re having his child. It might get a little overbearing at times because he’s just so determined to take away every bit of discomfort but Minho would be there to make sure it’s alright for you, and he’d tell Jisung to relax a bit if he feels he’s doing too much

And once the baby’s born it would just be so beautiful. I always picture Minho with a daughter, so from the moment she’s born she’s always in his arms, dressed in some tiny outfit Jisung chose for her. Neither of them would ever want to leave her side, happy just to stare at her in silence for hours. None of you can believe how tiny and pretty she is or that she’s yours, your baby that you made together. Staring at her tiny little nose, her tufts of hair and little hands and feet as she sleeps so peacefully, you just can’t believe that you made this little person solely out of love. She’s a representation of the most beautiful parts of your relationship and you can’t believe how much you love her. Minho would cry sometimes for the first few months of her life, just overcome by her while Jisung would be a lot more playful. He’d definitely be the first to make her smile and laugh, the most beautiful noise any of them have ever heard

If you’re picturing them still being idols in this, they’d probably want to keep her out of the public eye so they’d work extremely hard to protect her privacy and yours, so I doubt they’d post any pictures of her, but they’d definitely talk about her whenever they can. Minho would send bbl updates about her progress, what he did with her that day etc while Jisung would post pictures of the little outfits he makes for her. He’d take her to the studio occasionally and she’d always be the first to hear the new music he’s working on, even before you, so occasionally he’d send bbl updates telling stay about however she’s reacted to what he played for her. If she ever cried during a song he’d grumble about it on live and joke about how much it hurt his feelings and how mean she is to him. I doubt they’d reveal her name because again privacy, but maybe they’d have a nickname they use to be able to talk about her with fans. In any case she’s the most loved little girl by the whole group but of course especially by her dads. They wouldn’t want her to be an idol because they know how hard it is but they’d definitely want her to be interested in music and dance. I’m sure she’d love it as much as they do and as she grows up they’d be at every showcase she does with her music or dance class, so proud of the little person she’s become. And of endlessly in love with their mother. Whether or not you have more children they leave entirely up to you because you’re the one that did all the work of course, but whatever your choice you’ve already made them the happiest men in the world by giving them their daughter and of course, being their girl. At the end of the day you’re always gonna be their baby, even if you have your own.

I just think they’ll be the best dads and most caring partners to you on this journey together. Hope you enjoyed reading this and if you do have kids in the future do not settle for ANY LESS than Minsung to do it with‼️‼️bc everyone deserves someone like them

[cevansbrat0007]

Okay so kind of a dramatic ask, but what if Andy bear was out of town for a business trip. And reader just had a shit day. She just wanted to come home and cuddle her man, but he was gone. So she just cries. And lays down. Doesn’t want to eat, shower, you know how a bad day gets you down. She calls Andy to hear his voice and just loses it and cries. How would our Andy talk her off the ledge and be there for her from a far?

Safe With Me Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Minors DNI ___

So, that's not very dramatic at all. Andy really shines in these moments, because it's not often that his overly headstrong Baby Girl lets him in without a little prompting. Especially early in their relationship.

When she lets down her guard and allows herself to be vulnerable, that's when Andy knows that his woman feels safe with him.

The first time she allowed herself to have a moment with him was when he took a trip to Washington D.C. - right after the events in The Key. While it may have taken a little convincing, Baby Girl did finally agree to stay at Andy's place until her asshole of a landlord, Rodney, got around to fixing her heat.

A couple days into her stay at Casa Barber, she had a really bad day. It was one for the books. We're talking shitty clients, missed deadlines, issues with the commercial printer. You name it - everything that could go wrong did. And she unfairly took quite a bit of heat for mistakes and hiccups that were not her doing.

And all she wanted was to crawl into bed with her Andy Bear and have herself a good cry. She knew he wouldn't hesitate to wrap her up in his arms, sitting patiently while she took her time getting settled in his lap. And once she was comfy she could just let it all out.

They usually FaceTimed every night, or at least they tried to. But she also didn't want to necessarily bother him either. However, it also didn't stop her from climbing into his bed, grabbing his pillow, and burying her face in the soft fabric so that she could inhale his scent.

That way she could maybe pretend that he was there. That, instead of a pillow, she was curled up with the real thing. Her Big Man.

Because she's in a mood, instead of waiting for him to initiate their nightly call she decides to take a chance and dial him early. And when he doesn't answer, she resigns herself to the fact that he's probably busy with more important things. So she leaves him what she hopes sounds like a bright and cheery voicemail before simply giving up.

Because she's a grown woman. And she doesn't want to be a bother. So it's back to wallowing she goes. She doesn't want to eat. She doesn't to shower. She's lucky she somehow managed to strip off most of her clothes before getting in bed, even though she left them all over the bedroom floor.

And she'll be damned before she picks that shit up and puts it in the hamper.

But let's remember that this is Andrew Barber we're talking about. And he does not play when it comes to his Baby Girl. This man - her man - is also unbelievably perceptive. And when he hears the little hitch in her voice he automatically knows something is up.

When he calls her back via FaceTime roughly ten minutes later, she does eventually allow him to see her face onscreen. Albeit, after a fair bit of coaxing on his part. But Andy already knows she's not fine. He doesn't necessarily need to see her face to put all that together.

But his gorgeous girl also needs to be reminded that it's okay to not be okay - especially with him.

"Aw, sweetheart...it's okay." He coos, his gentle eyes filled with concern. "It's okay. You're safe with me. Take your time and let it out. And then we can go from there."

As it all comes bubbling out of her, Andy leans back and listens patiently. While it goes against his instincts - that pragmatic part of his brain that tells him to swoop in with a solution and save the day - he realizes that what his Baby Girl needs now is his ear.

And what's more, she needs his support. It doesn't matter that it's coming long-distance. Even though the only thing he wants to do right at that very moment is hold her close.

While she's talking, her ever-attentive boyfriend quietly busies himself with ordering takeout from her favorite Chinese spot. He makes sure to order all of her favorites - cashew chicken, house special fried rice, egg rolls, potstickers, crab rangoons.

All of it.

And then he takes it even further, surprising her by having it delivered right to his front door. Meanwhile, Andy orders room service so that they can share a meal together.

Turns out, that's just what she needs. By the end of their date, his sweet Baby Girl seems to be almost back to her old self. But just to be sure, he graciously volunteers to hang around while she runs herself a bubble bath so that she can enjoy a nice soak. Under his watchful authority, of course.

Andrew Barber is nothing if not supportive.

Later on, when she's fresh out of the bath and wrapped up in one of his old t-shirts, he reads her bedtime stories until she falls asleep. He makes sure that her last thoughts are of him before she drifts off. It's only when he hears the consistent sound of her low, even breathing that he finally ends the call.

Because while you can say a whole lot about Andy Barber - you can never say that he doesn't love his Baby Girl. Both on good days, and the really fucking bad ones too.

___

Does that answer your question, my dear? Let me know your thoughts. Thanks for the ask!

[soobpricity]

anti-romantic

chapter 6: this night is flawless

synopsis : anti romantic, college student choi yeonjun who thinks he’s seen everything in a relationship, promising himself that he won’t go through another relationship ever again to prevent himself from going through another heartbreak. that was until he sees yn, a classmate, chasing his heart. will his walls be enough to scare yn away, or will they continue chasing yeonjun with all they have ?

“yn, do you have everything ?” soobin inquired, his hands placing a few treats into your picnic basket. your eyes focused on the hair clips that went through your hair.

“umm i think so, i packed drinks right ?” you turn your head over to soobin. soobin loved to pretend to be cold hearted, but in reality he was the most genuine person within your friend group. even though he pretended to be uncaring, he always made time for his friends, he always cared about the people around him. he loved to help his friends, he was the only one who took time out of his day to come help you. soobin went over to your apartment in the morning to help you get groceries and to help you plan an outfit. while you prepared yourself for the date, soobin fixed up little cute snacks and sweets for you and yeonjun to share.

“yeah, they’re in here, i think everything’s ready..”

“thanks again, soobs. i don’t think i could’ve done it without you.”

“yup, just do your best today..” soobin spoke, handing you the basket, he took one more look at your outfit ensuring that it would have the ability to swoon yeonjun. your pink hair clips, two different colors but it didn’t matter because it matched perfectly with your outfit. a pink dress with puff sleeves, soobin definitely felt like it was cute, and it was the perfect attire for a picnic date.

“see you later, soobs, thank you- oh and have a good night.” you said, exiting your own apartment, thankful that soobin didn’t make you wear any shoes that would cause any aching to occur.

the han river wasn’t far from your apartment, the wind from the river didn’t cause much of a problem, not that it usually did. the weather around the river was always nice and sunny. the light of the sun shined brightly, a cute warm tone complimenting the scenery. it didn’t take long to make it to the river, yeonjun’s figure standing next to a tree, his face looking down at his phone, as he frowned, messages from yoojung still being sent. he wasn’t sure what continued to stop him from blocking her, it’d be the easy way to break contact with her, however, everytime he was about to do it, something held him back.

“yeonjun, hi !” you greeted, hand waving as you walked up to him, yeonjun immediately put his phone in his pocket, looking a bit startled.

“hey.” he was dressed nicely, dark blue high waisted pants with a tucked in blue striped button down. a thin silver necklace decorated his neck, silver rings occupying space on his hands. recently dyed black hair, which went down his neck.

“i was wondering if you wanted to go visit a convenience store and get some ramyeon before settling down..”

“uhmm.. sure, is that all you had planned..”

“of course not, don’t be so impatient with me.” yeonjun chuckled, he was excited to see what you had planned. he really doesn’t mind if it’s not much, he just hopes that you put thought and care into it. “oh actually, can you go to the store ? sorry to make you go on your own but isn’t better to claim our spot..”

“it’s up to you, yn, doesn’t really bother me, but what do you need me to get you ?”

“surprise me !” you exclaimed, smile plastered on your face as the two of you made your way to a picnic bench.

“okay, i’ll be right back.”

“be careful and stay safe.” yeonjun simply nodded to your words, your eyes following as his silhouette disappeared from your sight. taking a plaid throw blanket and setting it up at a certain angle onto the table. the image was already coming together, an image that you and soobin managed to create at around 6 in the morning: candles beautifully lighting up the area, paper plates taking their spot in front of the both of you, utensils laying on top of the paper plates. a pale blue and purple set of hydrangeas adding a bit of flare into your setup.

after all this night had to be flawless

battery operated fairy lights, a yellow hue setting the mood, as the moon began to grow more apparent. the sun nearly completely gone. it was shocking, in a second the sunset had vanished and the night had fully embraced the earth.

you took a seat, the scenery that you had managed to set up was absolutely breathtaking.

“so that’s what you were setting up this entire time.” yeonjun’s voice spoke up, causing you to flinch a bit due to the sudden surprise. his hands full, two cups of ramen in both of his hands, as his forearm had a bag securely hanging off of it. you quickly got up, helping him with one of the cups of ramen. “that one’s for you,” he placed down his own cup. “i also got a few drinks and snacks, i didn’t know what you liked so i grabbed an assortment of things.”

“that’s good, thank you…” you paused, “do you like it ?”

“hmm..? the set up ? it’s pretty cute- it’s obvious that you put time into this-“

“oh, yeonjun, i actually have something for you !!” you reached into the basket one last time, your hands grabbing a bouquet of pink dahlias and white peonies. yeonjun was quite astonished, he didn’t let it show on his face. but his mind was kind of flabbergasted. he had never felt so pampered, not that he minded, a change was needed in his life. he took the bouquet from your hands.

“t-thank you.” he placed the flowers next to him on the bench as he took a seat right across from you. he wasn’t sure if there was a light blush appearing on his cheeks, but he surely felt a lot warmer than he felt just a second ago. “yn.. how’d you come up with all of this in less than a day.”

“mm.. takes a friend or so, but it’s really easy to plan something especially when it’s something that i one day hope to experience. i’m quite a hopeless romantic, so i want you to be treated the way that i dream and hope to get treated like.” you send a smile his way, as he observed not just your features but your behavior.

he admired that about you. especially since he had just been cheated on, he loved your mindset, would yoojung ever want to get cheated on ? of course not, who would want to feel the immense heartbreak that came after experiencing your lover cheating on you with someone else ?

“yn, tell me more about yourself, what about you ?”

“me ?” your cheek rested in your hand, a recently poured glass of water. “there’s not really much to say about me. we’re in the same class, so surely you put two and two together.. like what i’m there for.. and i have a rather small group of friends, what is there really to share ?”

“don’t make me resort to ice breakers… what’s your dream job ?”

“uhmm- i’m not too sure- i’m studying to start a fashion brand, but i’m having doubts..” you softly spoke, embarrassment arising from the fact that you were studying to become a fashion designer and somehow you weren’t sure if it truly was your dream job.

“doubts about what.” yeonjun listened intently, he cared about passion, he cared about whether or not someone had the drive inside them to truly get them through the world.

“i don’t know, there are times when i feel like my creativity is going to be pushed away if coming up with ideas becomes a ‘chore’. but i really love doing the things that it involves.. not just that but a career is not certain..”

yeonjun watched as you began to play with the top of the glass cup, thumb circulating around the cup. a smile rested on his face, he knew he wasn’t the only one with worries, however he was just able to relate to yours more than others especially now that you had vocalized such worries to him. his mind always wondered during the night right before he was going to bed. he always found an answer to calm his mind down, but he was never 100% certain.

“you’re not the only one, i ask myself all those things too.. but it’s going to be like that with every pathway. whether it drives your passion, creativity, strength and even intelligence away.. you have to stick with it, hope that your mind alone is enough to overcome those things. going to university is difficult, it’s not easy, you’re always going to have questions about your future because it’s always going to be uncertain. but you just have to hope and do the best you can.” yeonjun lectured, and he’s right, no matter what someone is doing.. there’s always going to be questions. “here i thought that i was going to learn something from you.. you really seem to spread your wisdom quite often.”

“i don’t have that much wisdom to spread, yeonjun.. i usually just guess.”

“if you were just guessing, then you wouldn’t have me here with you. depending on how you end the night off, then i’ll give you a definite chance, yn. i’ll let you court me. but you have to prove that this entire set up isn’t just a one time thing. people don’t work this hard to impress me, but you seem to really be stubborn about the situation.”

“well… it’s just that, i really want to change your mind.”

“i have a question though,” yeonjun lead, his hands messing around with the sleeve of his striped shirt. “why ?”

“hmm ..?”

“why do you want to change my mind so badly ? especially if you’re not going to stick around.”

“what do you mean ? who said i wasn’t going to stick around. do you think this is just a fling ? yeonjun, i’m giving it my all for you to see the world as it truly is, it’d be contradicting to just leave you. i would never think about leaving you, even if we aren’t an actual thing, i want to support you.”

“how come ?”

“because yeonjun, that day that you came in after you broke up with yoojung. heartbreak was written all over your face, nobody deserves that. nobody deserves to wish for true love, only to have their heart broken. so give me a chance, trust me.”

“i will..” yeonjun replied, “just.. don’t let me get attached only to get hurt.”

“jun.. i wouldn’t do that, i plan to stick around, so you’ll actually actually let me court you.”

“i’ll actually actually let you court me.” yeonjun smiled, he couldn’t help but say that he was quite excited, a small blush arising once again. the nickname that slipped out of your mouth had you quite giddy. the idea of experiencing a true love had him excited, he still didn’t believe you 100%. true love at this point seemed like such a fictional thing to him. but he saw the amount of work that you put into a simple picnic date, he wasn’t usually on the receiving end of such affection. but he wasn’t willing to go off-guard simply over a date and a few gestures.

although yeonjun admitted that the night went well, conversations sparking over common likings and similarities, small tiny debates over differences, but at the end of those debates, the two of you simply laughed it off. he loved it. he loved how laid back he was able to feel. typically on dates, he would never feel so relaxed and comfortable.. but there was something different today.

the same went for you, the nervousness that had built up throughout the night and morning, it finally had dissipated. a large grin plastered on your face. growing tiredness from waking up at dawn without getting a good nights sleep. yeonjun could visibly tell too, your eyes beginning to droop.

he would have taken it the wrong way, but he did see that you had the right intention of staying awake and preparing for the entire date.

“hey yn, let’s go home.”

“i don’t wanna go home, i wanna stay here with you.” you spoke, a yawn exiting your mouth. “i’m having fun with you jjunie..”

“i know, me too, but you got up early today.. you sent me a text at 5 in the morning.. and we stopped talking around 2 in the morning.”

“ ‘m just wanted everything to be perfect, you deserve that..”

yeonjun felt his heart pound, you were right though, after all he went through.. he at least deserved to get treated well.

“mm you’ve done enough, c’mon, let’s get you home.”

yeonjun stood up, grabbing everything that was spread out on the table and placing them in your basket. being sure to not forget his bouquet of flowers, the two of you walked side by side as he walked you back to you’re apartment. the night sparkling with small little stars. the street lights guiding the two of you safely back to your apartment.

eventually you met the face of the wooden door, taking a look at yeonjun. the basket in his arms, bouquet leaning against his chest.

“you don’t want to stay over ? i know it’s a lot for a first date, but it’s pretty late and i don’t want you to go out when it’s already so late..”

yeonjun grinned, “just say you don’t want me to leave..”

“well i don’t, that’d certainly be a perk of not leaving, we get to be together longer.”

“hmm..? maybe next time yn, i don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“trouble ? please you’re anything but trouble..”

“are you sure ? fine, but i’ll sleep on your couch.”

“ouch, you seriously don’t want to spend the night with me.” you beamed, opening the door wider, inviting him in.

©️soobpricity

taglist : @soobadooba @beoms-sugar @yxnjvnnie @myahfig4 @sato-chan-2709 @grayscorner @run2seob @lol6sposts @destairea @forever-in-the-sky2 @cutesince2000

an: lowkey felt myself projecting my dreams into this chapter. #somebodylovemepls #somebodytreatmelikeaqueenjustlikejunniepls

[human-sweater-vest]

okay so we’ve seen glenn and ron so far in season two and they’ve been kind of what I expected.

glenn is pretty much the same as he was season one. it makes sense, he’s set in his whole thing, he’s vibing in hell with morgan and is sporting the same chill stoner vibes as before. the notable thing with him was that there wasn’t really animosity between him and nick (which also makes sense given their whole deal in season one). he’s always been far removed and it makes sense that in season two he’s still rockin with it.

ron then was a really touching surprise because he continued to grow as a person (insert beth may snickering here). he connected easily with scary and hit me like a fucking freight train with the line about him being sorry that she didn’t realize that losing terry jr. was her loss too. he’s this strange intermediary between the men in their family because willy took advantage of her needing someone to validate her pain, terry jr. was seen as a cause of it and therefore couldn’t help ease it truly (until things were too late), and then ron is here being his odd little self and extends sympathy to her because he also lost terry jr. and can understand. kudos to beth for ep. 41 because she rode the line between comedy and genuinely heartfelt and deep emotional moments like a champ.

and now here’s where we turn to speculation:

I’ve seen a lot of folks saying they’re worried about henry (and I feel like he’s probably going to warrant that because duh, it all comes back to the oak family when it comes to the doodler). however! my first point here is that we shouldn’t ignore darryl.

I feel like we see the most thought going into the oaks (and again, rightfully so, will and anthony are serving us trauma and drama on a platter) and I think one of the sacrifices with that comes at the extent of the wilson boys. the darryl/grant arc was the first time I really, truly got what dndads was all about. specifically, matt’s incredible line where darryl is replying to the other dads saying that he should showcase vulnerability to grant with darryl snapping and saying that he can’t be fully honest because he’s putting on a brave face because he doesn’t know if they’ll make it out and if he and carol will even stay together if they do. that line then contrasted later when he says that if grant asks him a question he’ll do his best to answer truthfully which allows for the big emotional connection they were lacking.

the wilson father/son relationship hinges on the idea of not being able to love the pain away and we see that extend into the next generation in a deeply tragic way. grant can’t make his mental illness magically disappear by loving his son despite how badly he clearly wants to. he can’t “we’ll talk about it later” his way into a healthy relationship where he’s able to offer his son both stability and truth. he’s fucked up and traumatized and never fully dealt with things and he’s dealing with the ramifications.

so how do we think darryl feels about that? how do we think darryl would feel knowing that he couldn’t love away grant’s mental illness (which isn’t something you can do, but he feels immensely guilty about in season one) and seeing the disastrous effect it had on the relationship between his son and grandson to the point where linc no longer refers to him as a dad? I personally really do think that he’ll act as a balm between the two and finally provide that space for them to become father and son again.

there’s truly so much I could say on the wilson family because I’m fascinated by the transition between the most stereotypically masculine family dynamic to a queered one (in both senses of the world) and how the thru line for the generations is this idea of not being able to 1. disclose the truth out of a sense of protection (see: frank hiding his marital and monetary issues, darryl hiding his martial issues and fear of not surviving faerun, and grant hiding who he is and what he does) and 2. love away the pain/illness.

and now we turn to the oak boys. I’m operating on the assumption that henry will be the last dad that they seek out because 1. glenn and terry jr. are in the same spot which means we get a two for one combo deal in hell 2. lark and sparrow clearly have a bad or at the very least strained relationship with their dad and will be less likely to jump on seeking him out and 3. the oak family started the whole doodler thing in this show so it makes sense that they’ll end it.

and for the sake of transparency: here’s where my bias comes through. henry was my favorite season one dad. normal is my favorite season two kid. will campos if you’re reading this, I want you to know that if I could simultaneously give you an academy award and sue you for emotional damages, I would.

the oaks have the most literal device explaining their generational trauma. hildy was ripped from her world after her companions were brutally killed in front of her, barry is a piece of shit, henry has the weight of both his father and having to be a father despite not having a role model, lark and sparrow are fucked up beyond belief in a manner of ways that starts at fucking their twin’s spouse and ends with starting the literal apocalypse. and then there’s normal. bearing the brunt of it all when he wasn’t even given the support to. he’s been carrying the weight of expectation since birth. his sister is hero, he’s normal and yet he’s anything but. that’s a whole other essay (catch me writing that when it’s not 2am).

back to the twins and henry though. from their view it’s bad right? lark hates his dad and destroyed the world. sparrow was an accomplice. I can’t imagine that things were easy after the doodler was released in the oak-garcia household. ESPECIALLY — and this has had me uncomfortable since we learned it offhand in episode 29 of the season — because henry and mercedes had another kid. first things first (and this might just be a me and my cultural background thing), but a minimum decade age gap between your first and second kids is A Lot. especially given the context here that henry struggles with being a father for the aforementioned reasons and his children literally Ended The World. I dunno about you but I think that I’d avoid having more kids at pretty much all costs at that point. but he and mercedes don’t. and hey maybe birdie/birdy was an accident. but my suspicion here (and I very much might be reading too deep into something mentioned in a literal “see you again” parody) is that birdie was a second chance kid. which would fucking blow if you were the aforementioned dad-stabbing—eldritch-creature-releasing child because it would look like your dad had gone “okay well that didn’t work out I can’t find a way to make these kids work so let’s try another one” which would justify the distance and dislike of henry from both of the boys.

I’m a very big fan of henry. he’s fucked up in the exact way I like my fictional men and also reminds me of guys from the city I grew up in which is both appalling and endearing. however, this is absolutely a move I could see him justifying to himself which morally makes me wanna walk into the sea and from a character/story standpoint makes me wanna jump up and down in glee. I really, truly am hoping that things pan out like that and we see a henry who loves his beautiful boys very deeply, but also gave up on them in exchange for a do-over.

I’m especially excited to see how he interacts with normal because my first instinct based on season one without my fucked up and evil birdie theory is that he’ll love normal and make him feel special and seen while my second post-birdiegate instinct is that he’s just not going to care anymore and therefore do fuck-all for normal. he has the energy of a man who eventually just stops trying because he can’t ever make everything better. will campos, if you deliver on that, I’ll figure out how to sneak the oak family into an academic paper.

finally (for now), I’m predicting that the familial reunions will reflect the how the anchors broke. glenn, ron, and darryl will be love while henry will be hate. I think there’s a lot of possibility there that I can break down when it’s not almost 3am. thanks for reading! lmk what you think, I really want to discuss this with folks and get your takes!!

[zeltqz]

for the nsfw prompt , no1 with aki hayakawa 👀

I GOTCHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

first time writing aki, kinda nervous lmfaooasofafasofasofjasjfkasfaosfoskoaskfoa anyways.

PROMPT: “Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?”

length: 2.1k words

content: possessive!aki, name calling (slut), unprotected sex, unfinished orgasm, reader gets punished for misbehaving

“What are you wearing?” Aki looks at you from the far end of the hallway, head tilted in confusion, eyes slightly narrowed as he soaked in your outfit. It wasn’t that you looked horrible—no, it was the complete opposite. 

You looked fucking amazing. Too amazing in fact. You were only going to a friend’s house; that was what you told him. So what business did you have wearing that outside. 

“I’m wearing an outfit?” You look at him as if the answer wasn’t obvious. You soak in his obvious annoyance, amused by the way his lips press together into a thin line, how his eyes narrow even further, clearly not enjoying your answer. 

“Don’t fucking joke around with me, (y/n).” 

You roll your eyes, slapping a palm to your forehead, fed up. “Aki, you always do this—”

“Do what?” Now it’s his turn to sneer at you, answer your questions with the most stupidly sarcastic answers. By the way your lip curls up he can tell you’re getting agitated. Good. “Let you dress outside looking like that?”

You walk into the living room, ignoring him and choose to look at yourself in the mirror. “I look fucking amazing, what’s the issue.”

“No, you look like a slut.” 

Your breath stutters, shutting your eyes closed and counting to three in your head before you do something you’ll regret later. “Actually, I don’t think I look slutty enough. Is it the skirt? Should I cut it shorter? Or should I wear my black heels upstairs? You know, the ones you said make my legs stand out? Or should I put red lipstick on instead of my—”

Aki stands up from the couch so abruptly it catches you offguard, heart thumping three times as hard as he approaches you with a look on your face that should intimidate you, but instead finds yourself pressing your thighs together. “Do I look like I’m messing around?” He starts, voice flat and low. When he’s met with silence, his hand darts out to your wrist to tug you closer to him. “That wasn’t rhetorical. Answer me.”

You could continue acting like a brat, could walk out that door right now but you don’t want to deal with Aki when he’s annoyed. Though, the dicking would be worth it, it’s not worth the argument. “...no.”

“Do I look like I won’t punish you?”

“...no.”

“Then go change.” He lets go of your wrist and you glare at him as he turns around to head back to the couch. You storm up the stairs, taking off the skirt you decided to wear tonight, frowning as you place it in your drawer. 

“You’re dressed like a slut.” You mock his voice as you change into a pair of shorts. “Does it look like I’m messing around? Go fuck yourself, peice of shit.” You put a new t-shirt, one that’s less revealing and change shoes before heading back downstairs. “You happy now?”

Aki gives you a side-eye, not wanting to give you the attention you clearly want so badly. “Yeah.” 

“You know—” You start as you walk into the living room, stopping until you’re standing right in front of him, “I only changed because I wanted to. Not because you told me.”

He looks up at you like he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, and quite frankly you don’t blame him, because you also didn’t believe a word you were saying. “I can dress however I want.”

“Then go outside dressed like that and see what happens.”

“...”

“Well?” He quirks a brow at you and you purse your lips into a frown, unsure whether or not to take the bait. 

“Fine. I will.”

He chuckles, not saying anymore before leaning back into the couch, flicking through the different channels. 

You wait for any sort of reaction…but you’re met with nothing. So you head back upstairs to change into that same outfit you had before and walk down the stairs with a newfound smile on your face. “I’m leaving now!”

You close your eyes, initially waiting for his outburst, hoping he gets angry enough to choke you the way that you like. The sex is always better when he’s angry.

 “Okay, bye have fun.”

What? He isn’t even looking at you. He’s not even paying you attention, not even bothered by the fact you’re about to head out dressed like this— 

“Aki? Did you hear me? I said I’m going.”

“I know. Have fun.” 

Oh fuck, he’s mad at you. This didn’t feel as good as you thought it would. He won’t even look at you. “Aki?” You stumble into the living room, flopping down next to him on the couch. You trail your index and middle fingers walking up the length of his arm and rest your head on his shoulder to grab his attention. “...Aki?”

Two fingers hook under his chin, pulling his face towards you. For the first time in what feels like forever (it’s been about two minutes), he finally looks at you. “Aki.” You repeat his name for the third time and he raises his eyebrows at you with a soft nod, basically asking what you want.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“You mean that?” You lift his hand, placing it on your thigh. You expect him to caress you like he usually does, but he keeps it there, almost still like a mannequin. “Babe?” You test out the waters, pressing your lips to his quickly to see if he would deepen it, but it was as if you were kissing a doll. 

He didn’t even reciprocate. 

You slide your purse off your shoulders, kicking off your heels, not caring about where they land in the room before you’re lifting a leg up to straddle him.

He moves his head away from your body, as if you were merely a distraction and tries to look at the TV instead. You didn’t like that. Not one bit. Grabbing onto his chin, you lift his gaze up to your face. “Kiss me.”

You smile when you see him finally cave, sliding his hands up your waist, resting them on the flat of your back before moving them down to your ass. You lean down, cupping the sides of his face, pulling him as close to your body as possible.

His tongue pressed between your parted lips, giving you ticklish kitten licks before you wrap your lips around the muscle. The taste of mint from the gum he’d been chewing earlier lingers on your tongue the longer he kisses you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter against his lips, pressing your forehead against his own. Your hands slide down from his face, tracing a path down his chest, lingering on his stomach a little bit before grabbing onto his hands. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

He looks down at where your hands are connected before trailing his gaze back up your body. You look so good tonight; he’s just itching to touch you, mark you, fuck you. 

The thoughts of everything he wants to do to you invade his mind, filthy thoughts going straight to his dick and you feel it harden underneath you. “Someone’s excited.” You smirk and roll your hips down and biting your lip at the friction.

“Shut up.” He smiles, leaning back against the couch and pulling you forward. The action happens so fast, you barely have time to brace your arms on the backrest of the couch by his head.  You giggle when you feel his lips on your neck, gently kissing your skin and sucking hard enough to feel the blood rushing to the surface. 

“You look good tonight.” His voice is muffled inside your neck but you heard it. 

“Even though I look like a slut?”

He presses one last kiss to your neck before he’s pulling away to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, but you’re my slut.”

You hide your face in his neck and groan with a strained laugh. “Don’t say things like that…”

“What’s the matter?” He rubs a soothing hand along the spine of your back, enjoying the feeling of your nose breathing out air against his neck. It’s ticklish. “You know you’re mine, right?”

“Yeah.” He runs his hands down past your skirt, lifting the fabric up and over your ass, grabbing it with his big hands. You let out a shaky groan against his neck as one of his fingers run past the line of your panties, barely crossing the space between your folds and the fabric.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, a shudder escaping you when he finally pushes your panties aside to feel how wet you are. 

“Does dressing like a slut turn you on this much?” He says in reference to your slick on his fingers. You’re almost embarrassed with how wet you are, the moist noise coming from between your legs the longer he traces your folds with his middle finger. “Wanted people to stare at you, didn’t you? Hm?”

“No…”

“Yeah you did.” He places a hand at the back of your head, holding you in place to avoid your squirming around  as he pushes a finger inside. You gasp out against his neck, lip quivering as he stretches your walls out, pushing his finger into the hilt.  “Want people to daydream about what they can’t have, hm?”

“...”

“Say something.”

You curl your hands into fists as you gasp out, “Want you inside me…please.” 

You almost regret your words because he’s pulling his finger out almost immediately. Your pussy clenches around nothing, the stiff coldness in the living room fans against you. “Hurry, please.”

“Yeah, hold on.” Aki lifts you up and off his lap, wiping his finger across his jeans before he’s pulling them down enough to pull out his cock. “Alright, come here.” He’s urging you forward with a hand on your back and you’re eagerly bracing your hands on either side of his shoulders, lifting your hips high enough for him to align his cock.

You lean down to kiss him, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip as you start to sink down on it, relishing in the feeling of his strong hands slowly pushing you down to the hilt. You tilt your face the opposite angle as your hips press against his own, moaning into his mouth at the sensation of his cock filling you, how deep he is right now, the small twitches his cock gives as it’s nestled perfectly between your walls.

“Move.” He mutters, sitting back to watch you ride him like his slut. Biting your lip hard you almost draw blood as you lift yourself up and off, slowly…

You throw your head back, shaky hands finding refuge on his knees behind you and start rolling your hips in a way that has his cock stimulated from every possible angle. 

“So good for me.” He digs his neat manicured nails into the plush of your hips, pressing a wet kiss to your neck, licking up the line of your throat before spanking you, groaning deep and low when you clench around him. “Work for it,” he pants against your skin, tongue sliding out to lick your jawline.

A single hand flys to his hair, keeping him pressed as close to you as possible while you balance yourself with your other hand on his knee. His soft lips nipping at the skin just underneath your jaw has you spirialing, heat bubbling inside your stomach the longer you sit on his cock.

It’s not enough though. There’s a spot inside you, itching to be touched, but you can’t reach it from this angle. “Aki—help please.” 

He breaks away from your neck to look at your desperate face. Your lips are parted, breathy pants escaping out of it, your eyes are unfocused and he’s sure you can see two of him right now. “Help with what?”

“Can’t reach—nn—spot, please.” You know you sound ridiculous, unable to form the most basic of sentences right now but you don’t care; maybe you can feel embarrassed about it later, but right now? You need him to reach that spot.

Aki smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips before he’s pulling you up and off his lap. You frown, unhappy at the now emptiness inside you but realise he’s probably just switching positions.

It’s a shock to you when you see him lay you down on the couch and stand up, tucking his still hard cock back into his pants. “Aki—?”

He leans in, arms caging you inbetween him and the couch. A sneaky smirk crawling onto his face as he mutters, “I told you I’d punish you didn’t I?”

Unbelievable. “But I was so—”

“You can finish yourself off.”