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mv1simp · 9 months ago

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for the bully!Max, Leclerc!Reader and chubby!reader simps in my requests…I heard you and I’m here to deliver 😼😼 enjoy!!

You Belong To Me ♥️

Bully!Max Verstappen x Chubby!Leclerc!Reader

say it louder, say it louder, who’s gonna love you like me (who’s gonna fuck you like me?)

Growing up as the youngest daughter in the Leclerc family, you’d had a childhood crush on your brother’s rival and friend, Max. But when you grew older he turned into your worst nightmare, always bullying you. You’ve been able to avoid him for the last 5 years - but now with your new engineer job on the paddock, you can’t hide from Max any longer…and can’t stop the feelings you still have for him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub, dark! Max who bullies innocent virgin!reader, dub con, brainwashing, bimbofication, somno, yk all the good shit, WC 9k 😨

You shiver as you walk into your family’s childhood vacation home along the Cote de Azure, despite the summer heat. It’s been a long time since you’d visited this house. Even though your Mama and three older brothers came by often, looking for a weekend break from their busy lives or a romantic getaway with gorgeous girlfriends, you’d always turn down their offers to join once you were in college. They'd always be confused at your hesitance - but then again, they don't know just how many bittersweet memories this home holds for you. You’d grown up here in the summers, the youngest daughter of the famous Monegasque Leclerc family. Racing was in your bloodline, and your beloved Papa had instilled his passion into all of his children before he’d passed away.

Your older brothers, who were all handsome, tall and athletic, made natural drivers right from childhood and easily progressed through the karting competitions. Meanwhile, you were the youngest and the only daughter, and were raised in a far gentler manner as the apple of your family’s eye, their cute bunny as they’d nicknamed you, after your favourite childhood pet. In comparison to your brothers who ran around outdoors, you were more shy, preferring to be left with your books and colouring pencils in the safety of the patio.

Of course, with all your differences, there had been the healthy sibling rivalry of brothers vs sister growing up. They hated being forced to play house or pose for your scribbly drawings (not Arthur though - even at age 5 you were convinced he secretly loved when you made him join the Barbie tea party.) And in turn, you'd alway complain when you’d be dragged to cheer on Charles from the sidelines as he won his karting competitions. You would sulk, childishly annoyed at your parent’s attention shifting from you to their middle son’s rapidly growing racing career.

But it all changed when Charles raced against Max Verstappen for the first time at age 11. The blonde Dutchman aggravated your competitive older brother immediately with his aggressive driving tactics. You’d heard Cha, as you’d been calling him since you were little, furiously ranting about the illegal moves Max had been pulling and your 7 year old brain tuned it all out. But when you first saw the mysterious blonde in question, your heart fluttered with a feeling you’d never felt before and a bright blush overtook your chubby cheeks.

You immediately became infatuated with the older boy, who was far nicer to you than Charles had been back then. Your middle brother's idea of “sibling time” involving hiding beetles in your bed and laughing when you screamed. So it became a common sight to see you wandering after Max instead of being by your family’s side, tugging on his shirt sleeve and showing him the racecar drawings you’d made. Max always entertained you, ruffing your hair and smiling back toothily, telling you that you were a much better artist than his little sis Victoria.

You’d beam from the praise, only leaving Max’s side when his scary father Jos would approach and eye you with disdain. You scampered back to your family, to your older brothers who accused you of the worst crime imaginable to the loyal Leclerc blood - exchanging racing strategies with the enemy Dutch. Your mother had hit all three sons on the back of the head and told them they could learn a thing or two about treating Bunny with respect like that cute boy Max did.

As you grew older, your pigtails were replaced with cute pins and headbands in an effort to look pretty whenever Max would come around to your summer home. By now, his rivalry with Charles had turned into a reluctant "frenemies who also spent summers together to discuss racing". You'd get to be with Max all day, swimming in the turquoise ocean and eating sweet stroopwafel that he always brought. An in the evenings, the two car-obsessed 14 year olds would be arguing about overtaking strategies at your family’s dining table. You’d pout, childishly wanting attention at age 11, interrupting whatever stupid point you're sure Charles was making to bat your eyelashes at your guest. Holding up your now detailed drawings of a black kart, you asked Maxie - as you’d taken to calling him - if he liked your recreation of his.

He’d grinned at you, still boyishly handsome and in the lanky phase of growing up as he told you he loved it, should he sign his autograph on it? with that Dutch accent you adored. Charles watched your shenanigans with a roll of his eyes, snidely muttering (in French, thank god) that the annoying little bunny wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her crush on the enemy Dutch. You flushed, frantically checking to make sure Max hadn’t been able to understand, and had run off with a red face to tearfully rat him out to your Mama. Unlike Charles, she found your crush on Max rather cute, and always encouraged you to give your favourite ribbons and bows to Max for a good luck charm the way you did with your brothers pre-race (Traitor, teen Arthur and Charles mouthed at you).

She eyed you knowingly when you do your best to avoid blushing as you grew older still, this time seeing Max when you were 14 and him 17 with an impressive winning streak in the Junior Redbull team. He’d started to develop into his tall 6 foot frame now, towering over your tiny 5”2 frame like your brothers did. What, no drawing of a racecar for me to sign Bunny? he gently teased, leaning down so you could shyly kiss both of his cheeks - a Monegasque tradition Max had become accustomed to from your family. You stuttered out your no, of course not, you were too old for that now! making him laugh at how cute you looked before walking off. Arthur watches the exchange with a smirk, elbowing Cha when he emerges from the changing rooms. Your middle brother’s frenemy status with Max was more of a friendship these days, and his earlier accusations of you being a traitor had turned into something much more annoying. Max and Bunny, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-

But by the time you turned 16, your Maxie changed from the sweet, laughing boy you’d always trusted into someone darker, someone who you felt scared of at times. You were at the age where you now wanted Max as your boyfriend, naively thinking that the 19 year old driver would return your affections when he’d attended your Sweet 16th. You’d spent hours getting ready, styling your long curly hair and wearing a cute dress all your friends had insisted you would be irresistible in (but had almost given your older brothers an aneurysm). It was tight and short, and although you'd always been a chubby kid, you feel a self conscious of the new plush curves around your hips and chest, in comparison to your older brothers who now looked very handsome and muscular.

You’d lit up when you saw Max across the fancy yacht club, flooded with all your schoolmates and family friends who’d come to celebrate the baby Leclerc’s birthday. He'd looked so handsome, his muscular frame now filled out and catching the eye of many girls. There was a devilishness in his smile that came with the confidence of being the youngest F1 driver in history. Lately, your innocent crush had started to drift towards naughtier, dirtier fantasies about what Max’s large hands and lips would feel like on you, if he snuck into your bedroom in the middle of the night and told you he loved you as you willingly gave him your first kiss.

But all your naive hopes come crashing down when you see a slim, sexy blonde approach Max where he’s talking to Charles intently, drinking a beer. His hand squeezes her ass in a familiar motion as she wraps her arms around him, leaning up to give him a kiss. You quickly turn around in the crowd before you can be seen, heartbroken, and drown yourself in blurred conversations and slices of birthday cake. Max doesn’t even come to wish you happy birthday like he normally did, always with a special gift in hand. At some point in the night you’re talking to Charles and try to subtly ask who that blonde girl with Max had been. Your older brother gives you an amused look, asking if you still had your silly little childhood crush on Max? You adamantly deny it, and he smirks and tells you that was Giana, Max’s girlfriend and an Italian model. You’re upset, of course, but thankfully he changes the topic to tell you how Max had recommended his old F2 seat go to Charles, wasn’t that amazing Bunny? You nod mutedly, having become used to Cha being less and less aware of anything that went on outside his racing career these days.

After a sneaky shot of tequila your friend gave you, you have the courage to go approach Max. His girlfriend is still at his side and raises an eyebrow, pointedly glancing down at your figure to make it clear what she thought of your curvier body. What shocks you, though, is seeing an annoyed look on Max’s face as well, as he demands to know why you’re interrupting, couldn’t you see he was busy? You’ve never heard him speak like that and are confused, asking him why he’s being so mean, did I do something wrong, Max-

He cuts you off, smirking as he asks why you weren’t calling him Maxie anymore. The girl laughs at that, saying no way, she’s such a kid, she calls you that? A few of your older schoolmates have wandered over, curious to see what was going on and you flush from the embarrassment of having Max treat you like this in front of your friends.

From then on, Max just became crueler and crueler to you. It’s like he enjoyed seeing how you'd react, your cute chubby cheeks darkening with embarrassment as you avoided his gaze. Once he'd officially moved to Monaco, you ran into him everywhere as him and Charles formed a close friendship and would often hang out. Max would always time his harsh remarks just when your brother wasn't in earshot. He'd mock you about everything, from your childish appearance, to your innocently conservative outfits, your nerdy perfect grades, your animated Italian gestures and accent which he'd always seemed to adore growing up. Your popularity in school plummeted as your friends watched the talented F1 driver roll his eyes and mutter how pathethic you were when he heard you were reading romantic novels on Friday night instead of partying, saying the only reason you had any friends was because of your talented brother’s fame. Your family had no idea what was going on - as Max’s bullying started the same time your Papa becomes unwell and landed in hospital. Your brothers thought the change in your sweet demeanour was because of your sadness for your father.

If only they knew the real culprit was right under their noses.

It seemed there was nothing teen Max enjoyed more than seeing your big brown doe eyes welling up with tears. He’d use everything you told him growing up against you, making gossip and rumours fly around your school constantly. Any guy who tried to talk to you was assumed to be doing it as a dare. The first few years of high school had been like hell - the only thing making it bearable being your perfect grades and promising future. Unlike your older brothers who were natural sportsmen, you were the opposite and excelled at academics, and you’d used it to get a full ride scholarship at a prestigious engineering course in the UK.

That’s what you reminded yourself to get you through a graduation party at the end of high school. You'd been reluctantly dragged by the small group of friends you’d thankfully kept despite all the bullying and rumours. In true Monaco trust fund kid fashion, the party was hosted on one of your schoolmates' yacht, with many juniors and older siblings tagging along as well. Towards the end of high school, Max’s bullying was less common as he became busier with his racing - something Charles had become fully invested in with his new F1 Alfa Romeo seat. And you’d grown up, too, maturing into your curves and pretty dark Italian features, catching the eye of a few boys in your year.

It seemed you’d been briefly relieved of your duties of being a social pariah when you're yanked into a circle of already wasted partygoers playing 7 minutes in heaven. But when your friend pulled out your name with a drunken flush, you could only widen your eyes in horror when the next name she announces was one you'd never expected - Max.

And then you see him, on the other side of the deck, leaning against the railing and ignoring the girls trying to speak to him as his ice blue eyes intently watch you. You squeaked out your protests, begging your friend to try again, but it's hopeless when the circle begins chanting your name and Max’s. Giving up, you turned around and ran through the crowd, trying to reach the ramp and get off the boat -

-when a large, warm hand wrapped around your waist and easily pulled you into a broad chest. Before you knew it, you're in a tiny, dark storage room, with Max Verstappen blocking the door and smirking down at you. Your naive heart still ached with conflicting feelings for Max, who was your childhood knight in shining armour, who always stood up for you when your older brothers ganged up on you, always knew how to make you laugh when you were crying from their teasing. But this was also the same Max who made your high school life hell, had teased you mercilessly behind your brother’s back, and used all the secrets you'd trusted him with against you. He'd make you look like a childish little girl in front of your effortlessly cool, rich peers. This reminder brought you back to your senses and you quietly but firmly ask him to let me out.

He hadn’t let you leave, of course, instead leaning down until he was whispering in your ear with his deep voice that still send shivers down your spine, mockingly asking if you’d had your first kiss yet or if you're still the same stuck up Leclerc who thinks she's too good to be fucked by anyone here?

Heart racing furiously from nervousness, you mumble out that you hadn’t had your first kiss, avoiding his ice cold eyes as he chuckled. You know his game well enough by now to understand he wouldn’t let you go until he gets his answer. You hated the boy you once hoped to give your first kiss to. He’d ruined your reputation beyond repair, had made it so no guy at school would touch you even if they found you pretty.

Well, apparently except for one boy.

Turns out Max himself had no issues laying his hands on you, hidden in the darkness of the storeroom. His hands had pushed you up against the wall, your face cutely scrunched up in confusion, and then your jaw almost dropped in shock when he pressed his lips to your ear. He huskily whispered how pretty you looked, how he’d hated the way boys had been checking you out all night. They didn’t know you’d already promised to marry Max when you were little, yeah Bunny?

And then he’d captured the surprised gasp you let out, shocked that he’d remembered your childhood wish to be his vrouw, his wife, when he leans down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss against your soft lips. When he pulled back, his face remaining close to yours, your brown doe eyes looked into his with whirling confusion and hurt - but also desire flickering in them. And then you’d both gotten lost in another kiss, then another, and then Max being Max had starting running his hands all over your body. Squeezing his hand into your juicy ass to make you shyly moan, and then greedily slipping his tongue inside.

That’s how everyone had found you when they yanked the door open, with Max having you moaning his name, one hand sliding up your skirt and the other running over your tits. The darkness in his gaze returns as he pulled back and left you leaning against the wall with wobbly legs. He laughed as he strode off the party, saying it’d been so easy to get you to beg for him like a little slut, who would’ve guessed with your innocent appearance?

You couldn’t wait to graduate high school and go to university after that. And it had been amazing, moving far away from Monte Carlo. No one knew who you were or how deep your history with world famous athletes like Charles or Max went. You reinvented yourself, becoming confident after months of therapy and your intelligence becoming something you were admired for instead of teased. You’d though that was the end of it, that you’d never have to be humiliated or have your heart broken by Max Verstappen again. Until 5 years later when you got a call from Lorenzo asking you to come home.

With the intimate engagement party of your oldest brother being held at your family’s scenic vacation home, you’d been unable to refuse. You knew Max was going to be there, but you’d taken a deep breath and reminded yourself that things were different now. You were 22, a qualified engineer and had used your own hard work to get a job within the Alpine garage - even using your mother’s maiden name as your last name because you wanted to prove it was because of your skill, not connections. Charles had been bewildered, begging you to please come work at Ferrari, bebe but you’d been adamant about needing to prove your own worth. You loved your family, and were so happy for Cha’s success as your relationship with your brothers blossomed into a close, loyal one as adults. It had always been your father’s dream to see him in the red suit. It was unbelievable to have millions of Tifosi literally worship your older brother - and their adoration extended to you, his sweet younger sister Bunny. You make rare appearances on the paddock but were hailed as a good luck charm when you did, Tifosi cheering when you affectionally kiss your brother on both cheeks and tie a hair ribbon to his suit. You always made sure to stay well away from the Redbull garage.

And you’d become radiant in your beauty, too, in pretty, flattering dresses and fitted miniskirts that showed off your soft stomach and thighs, your generous cleavage and juicy ass. Full, lush lips and long dark curls framed your sweetheart face and you’d been finally been able to put makeup on without fear of being mocked. A few guys had tried to ask you out in college, but you hadn’t been quite there yet in your confidence to say yes. Max had seemed to put you off all men, for now at least….and your protective Italian brothers seemed to make it their personal mission to protect your honour and integrity. Very dramatic, you’d said to them with a fond roll of your eyes, secretly enjoying how they cared for you despite their luxurious celebrity lifestyles. So you’d ended up still being a virgin at your college graduation, wanting to save it for the man you fell in love with.

You reminded yourself of all that you had to offer, of how you weren’t the same nerdy little girl who was going to be bullied, when you heard Max would be joining your family prior to the engagement party. The night before he was meant to arrive, you’d been overthinking and anxiously wringing your fingers so hard that your whole family had started demanding to know what was troubling you. After giving them some weak excuse about being worried about your new job, you'd gone to read one of your romance novels by the pool after dinner to destress. You had ended up falling asleep under the stars, your tired mind eager to rest.

You didn’t know the man you were desperately hoping to avoid had landed a night earlier with his private jet. When he’d greeted your middle brother late in the night, saying he would crash for now and greet everyone properly in the morning when they were awake, Charles had gone to bed and the last remaining light of the house switched off. Only the silver moonlight illuminated your pretty face and unsuspecting figure when Max Verstappen stepped outside his bedroom's French doors, hoping to cool off - but instead felt his blood pumping heatedly at the sight of you.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to see you for years as you'd understandably fled to the other side of the continent the second you had the change to escape. You’d turned from a nervous, cute schoolgirl into a gorgeous woman, and his intense gaze hungrily roams over your peaceful sleeping body. He was going to ruin you, he thinks wickedly, gently stroking your still chubby cheeks that subconsciously leaned into his touch.

He decided to give you one last night of quiet as he left you in deep sleep, walking back inside with dark desire brewing. The childish bully he’d been as an angry teen, desperate to prove himself, was gone. He was now a thrice proven world champion, a millionaire, a man who’d been with dozens of women but found only one he still wanted through it all. And it was none other than his racing rival's sweet younger sister, the one who'd stayed loyal to him since she was little. He was ready to make you his, whether you still wanted him or not.

When you finally saw him at breakfast the next morning you had been suspicious at his pleasant behaviour, greeting you like he would any family friend and asking how college had treated you. Your whole body had gone stiff, eyes distrustfully following his every move. You’d been forced to respond back politely as your family watched you, your mum still grinning as she rooted for her daughter to become romantically involved with her childhood crush. If only your family knew how much Max tormented you, they’d never let him get within 10km of you again. But to your surprise, Max kept up his kind manner even when your family would be out of the room, laughing and smiling easily at you and somehow bringing confusing butterflies back to swirl in your stomach. After the week he'd spent at your vacation home, you'd naively started to think maybe he had changed. Maybe the five years away had made him mature into the charming, funny driver you'd seen in numerous interviews and ads, being unable to avoid his far reaching fame.

But it turned out his respectful behaviour, all through the engagement celebrations and the after party, only served as a ploy to get you to foolishly lower your guard. Max had greedily collected up all the information he’d missed over the years, about what your likes and dislikes were now, about how you’d gotten a job with your own means at the F1 paddock. And then he casually informed you over dinner that he’d spoken to Horner who was coincidentally looking for a mechanical engineer - and had wanted to interview you after seeing your resume. Your family had been ecstatic at a job for you in a prestigious garage, despite their blood thirsty Ferrari loyalty. Even Cha had caught you after dinner, telling you that it was thoughtful of Max to look out for you, that as your big brother he’d feel so much better if you were working in a winning team’s garage and being protected by Max, instead of alone in a poorly performing team.

You were so confused, couldn’t understand why Max was trying to get involved - and you told him so that night, hushed angry whispers in the hallway after everyone had gone to bed. He’d smirked, leaning down to press you into the wall, saying Wasn’t it obvious Bunny? I want you.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you stammered out your confusions, asking him why he would say such a thing, only to feel his lips brushing your ear. His deep voice murmured his explanation of how his father didn't think Max had been focused enough when he was younger, had wanted him to throw all distractions to the side...including you. I'm a three time world champion now, Max said with a cocky grin. It doesn't matter what he says anymore, I do what I want.

Although his initial words about how the change in his behaviour being due to his controlling father sent a pang of empathy through you, you hadn't come this far to just give in. You pushed him off you with all your might, only being able to get a couple of inches as you glared and said you're delusional, Max, if you think I'd ever forgive you. Much less want you back after the hell you put me through. Storming off, you naively thought that was the end of it, that Max would back off once he saw you weren't the same lovesick girl he could toy with anymore. Not gonna call me Maxie anymore? he teases at your retreating back.

You should have known Max always got what he wanted, because he finds his way into your bedroom later that night. It was stupid to not lock your room because you think he wouldn't lay a hand on you when under the same roof as your brothers. Softly closing the door behind him, Max's dark gaze took in your curvy, sleeping figure in your childhood room. It was still decorated with your younger self's belongings as your Mama had always wanted you to feel welcome - but you had never come back after graduating. So you slept against a large plushie Bunny, cutely dressed in a pink matching shorts and camisole set. The twisted desire to corrupt the sleeping beauty in front of him rushes to Max's head - and his hardening cock- and he doesn't hesitate to slowly run his large palms over your body. He teasingly slides one hand up your sheer camisole to graze your large tits and the other down your shorts, to lightly toy with your pussy through cotton panties. The sweet dream you'd been having started to turn into a dirty one from the stimulation, and you instinctively grind back against the warm, hard body pressed into your back as you moan sleepily.Your dream is getting more and more heated as Max plays with your sensitive body, and only when you’re starting to drench your panties with slick do your eyes hazily blink open. Your adorably confused expression turns him on even more as he captures your gasp in his mouth, using his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth. Soon he has your panties pulled to one side and his thick finger sliding into your dripping folds. Your muffled protests have started slipping into confused moans, and he doesn't need to keep you silent any longer as start kissing him back when your body's frustrated needs take over your mind's denials. Max looks down on your face, memorising how pretty your wide brown eyes looked as you teared up, and he whispers filthy things in your ear to send you off the edge and spiralling into your first orgasm. You're so sensitive, bunny, you’re still a virgin aren’t you? Saved yourself just for me like a good girl, hmm?

You’d silently cried into your plush toy as you buried your flushed face into it, feeling lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you knew you shouldn't be feeling, that was wrong but felt so right. Drool stained your poor bunny plush as you bit down on it to muffle your scream of Maxie as waves of satisfaction rolled over you. You'd fallen back into a deep sleep after the overwhelming stimulation, distantly feeling Max's lips press a goodnight kiss to your tear stained cheeks. And when you awoke in the morning, you almost thought you'd imagined up the whole thing, a particularly naughty wet dream, but when you found that your panties were missing underneath your cute pajama shorts you knew there was only one person who would have taken them with him.

You didn’t even get a chance to confront him because you find out the very same day that Max had gotten his lawyer to cancel your Alpine contract and have Redbull send you a new one, complete with a generous signing bonus that anyone would be a fool to refuse. With your family watching you expectantly, you knew it would be too hard to explain your way out of this. So you reluctantly signed the 1 year contract, telling yourself it was only a temporary problem, that you would surely be hiding out the back of the garage and in the workshops, well away from your childhood bully.

That’s all Max needed to get you alone, to start his corruption of you, his favourite Leclerc sibling. Right from your first day, he’d welcomed you with a firm hug, his swollen biceps pressing you against his broad chest, squeezing your plump ass and making you squeal - but striding off before you could say anything. Or coming up behind you when you were bent over, tinkering on something, and making sure you could feel his impressive semi against your covered slit. You'd always desperately try to move away, anxious someone would see - but you stood no chance against the adult Max's strength when he tightened his grip around your thick hips and grinded himself on your jiggling ass.

He still teased you, sure, but now it came off as harmless flirting, steeped into your childhood friendship. And conflicting feelings swirled in your chest when you saw the lucky ribbon you’d gifting him as a kid somehow still tied to his seat, an ever present good luck charm. Everyone else would smile at you two encouragingly, saying you looked so sweet together, where you secretly a couple? No one seemed to share your nervousness around Redbull's champion driver, or pick up on the undertone of darkness in his intense gaze when he looked at you.

Soon he has you travelling exclusively with him, staying in all the same hotels, under the guise of being his personal mechanic for any last minute corrections. Charles loved it, saying this way Max could always keep a close eye on you when you were away from home. If only your overprotective brother knew he was sending his little sister right into the den of the lion. And the so called Dutch Lion was no longer holding himself back from taking your sweet innocence all for himself.

You'd always belonged to him, after all.

It first started when he’d gotten absolutely furious seeing you at a race afterparty in Miami, giggling cutely in a pretty minidress with an engineer you’d started to flirt with at work. Max had all but dragged you to his private booth, tossing you over his strong shoulder when you tried to stand your ground and stand firmly in your strappy high heels. He kicked all the models and B list celebrities trying to leech out of the dimly lit room, pushing your head down till you were staring up at him, your pretty face bathed in the red neon lights as you anxiously bite your glossed lip.

If you wanted to get fucked so bad, he growled deeply, unbuckling his belt and making your eyes go wide with fear as the biggest cock you’d ever seen emerges, you can just beg for it nicely like the good little slut you are, hmm? You’re sniffling, tears emerging in your wide doe eyes as you beg him please Maxie, please don't do this, I promise I’ll stop-

But he doesn’t listen to one pleading word, his twisted mind obsessed with one thing and one thing only - making the pure Leclerc sweetheart gag and choke on his mean cock. You knew better than to get in the way of what Max wanted, because he always ended up getting it. Instead you let your mind go blank, letting the guilty pleasure cloud your senses to ignore the reality of how mean Max was being, your pliant mouth dropping open as you let him ruin your throat. There isn’t a glimmer of his childhood sweetness in his dark, icy blue eyes as he memorizes the hypnotising sight of your chubby cheeks slurping at raging erection, the tears falling down your face at performing your first blowjob on your knees at a nightclub just making him impossibly harder. He groans as your sweet mouth slurps on his warm length, continuing to whisper his filthy promises to punish you and slipping into dutch as he climaxed. Fuck, fuck, erg lekker, so fucking good- He made sure your crying cheeks was pressed right into his tense abs when he finally emptied his load inside you, panting heavily from how good your heavenly tongue felt. He didn’t move until you followed his instructions and tried to swallow every drop. Your inexperienced mouth struggled, half of his sticky cum leaking out the corners of your mouth. He tutted mockingly, smearing his release all over your swollen lips with his thumb and saying he’d have to give your throat so much more training so it knew how to suck a cock, hmm?

Your cheeks burned with humiliation at failing to please him properly, even though he was practically forcing you to deepthroat him. The next day, when you woke up with no voice, you’d had to pretend you had a cold when seeing Cha for brunch the next morning.

And when he’d have a bad qualifying, he’d easily swipe his way into your hotel room two doors down from his. He often finds you in a cute silky babydoll, getting ready to sleep after a long day in the garage but making sure to dress prettily because you never know when Max is in a bad mood and wants to take it out on you. You had one more job to do, and that’s to make up for whatever mistake you must have made with the car and fucked up his hot lap, Max would argue. An angry Max always scared you so you would sweetly beg for his forgiveness, even for a mistake you would never have made on the car, letting him abuse your petite frame to vent his frustrations.

Tonight, he wanted to play with your breasts, sliding the silky straps off your nightie off your shoulders to hungrily eye your curves, tanned nipples quickly tightening from the chill. Can’t get enough of these pretty fucking tits, he said as he sloppily fucked them while you obediently kneeled in between his spread legs. You’re squeezing your plush chest together to cushion his raging erection, his angry red tip making you squeal when he growls and splatters cum all over your deliciously tanned skin. Knowing he’d get mad if you don’t let him mark his territory, you rub the sticky cream all over your hardened nipples and large breasts before you clean up his drooling cockhead with your mouth. He cooes his praises at you, telling you see, you’re perfect at this, maybe he’ll have you promoted from engineer to his personal cocksleeve to relieve his stress, hmm?

You feel so dirty at the wetness gushing between your legs at his filthy words, biting your lip at the thought of Max fucking you in his driver’s room while your brothers stood just a garage over in Ferrari. But despite his constant teasing, he knew to never cross the line fully and actually fuck you. That would scare you away, make you too anxious, and although he played rough and mean when he'd been younger, he now had the patience to wait and leave you wanting more, so that you'd be the one to come to him. So he edged you constantly, working you up only to pull away just as you almost climaxed, his name on your tongue like a prayer. Or pulling you into sleep against his bare muscled chest, so that you'd feel his morning wood against your soaked panties but be unable to do anything except dry hump him.

And his plan worked because after only a few months, your once pure and innocent mind has become utterly ruined for Max’s attention. The Dutch Lion has convinced you that you’re meant to be his plaything, and you can’t find it within you to try and deny him any longer. Would it truly be so wrong to give in to the naughty desires you’d been having about your childhood sweetheart, your school bully, your brother’s rival on track but friend that had been trusted to keep his little sister safe? When you’d grown too desperate to satisfy yourself by grinding on your pillow or your tiny fingers, you’d decided to entice Max even more in the hopes that he’d properly take your innocence.

You’d certainly caught the Dutchman’s eye, as well as many other hungry gazes, when you started arriving on the paddock in cute heels and floral minidresses. And of course, your generous cleavage was out on full display in sweetheart necklines, instead of conservatively hidden in an oversized Redbull shirt. You’d made sure to have your lanyard tucked right in between your bouncing tits too, the label of Max Verstappen’s Enineering Team dangling and drawing attention with each bounce of your tits when you walked. Because you knew your Maxie just as well as he knew you, after all - and he was a intensely competitive and jealous man. You hadn’t even had to wait till the debrief as he’d hightailed it right out of the meeting room, taking you to his motor home through a back passage.

You still play the clueless little virgin, adamant on trying to resist him even though you're secretly finding it just as dirty and hot as Max does when he shoves you against the door, locking it firmly. Fuck, your body drives me wild, it’s all your fault that I’m getting distracted like this. How can you be such a naive virgin but walk around with the body of a slut just begging to get fucked, huh?

You frantically shake your head, trying to plead your innocence but he doesn’t hear your words, instead grabbing a hold of your miniskirt and asking if you understood girls with thick asses like you shouldn’t be showing them off unless you wanted attention, yeah? You started crying easily, already finding your thoughts going fuzzy as you slipped into submission, craving the way he’d degrade you for his own pleasure.

He’d have to punish you for distracting him, he said, even though he’d won P1 it had been torture seeing your fat ass bending over when you dropped your phone in front of him. You were lucky no one else had seen your cotton panties or he’d have to fucking kill them.

His possessive words make you shiver, doe brown eyes staring up at him expectantly and waiting for his orders. He swears at your obedient expression and guides your hand to his sizeable bulge, making you squeal, hoping it sounds like fright and not eagerness. He rubs your tiny palm across his pants, demanding to know just how the hell he was meant to focus with a hard on the whole race?

When you can’t answer him properly he smirks and tells you that you’ll just have to take your punishment like a good girl, then. Within seconds he has you lying across his lap, your miniskirt up around your hips and white cotton panties pulled down to snugly trap your thick thighs together. And then he’s spanking you with his large hands, telling you to count and meanly restarting each time you lost track when he hits extra hard to watch your ass bounce. By the time he’s finally content your cheeks are red and burning, and you’ve left drool all over his sofa from your desperate efforts to muffle your wails.

You like that, don’t you bunny? He asks meanly. You start sniffling again at his mean words, cheeks burning with humiliation because it had felt soooo good but you felt so naughty for enjoying it. You'd die if he found out. So instead you tell him he was being so mean, Maxie, couldn’t he just be nice to you like when he’d been younger?

Your eyes widen as you blurt the words out instinctively, making Max’s expression grow stormy at your bratty reply. Ripping your panties off entirely, he stuffs them into his pocket and tells you to explain why you’re fucking dripping all over me then, hmm? - running his thick fingers along your dripping cunny and smirking at the long strands of sticky wetness that connect to his fingers when he pulls away. When you don’t respond, too embarrassed by how your body has given you away, he slides the fingers into your closed mouth despite your attempts to turn your head. He makes you lick him clean, tasting yourself on him, murmuring if you were a good slut and spread your legs for him he might consider eating you out.

The ache between your thighs is almost as painful as your tender ass now, and your virgin cunny tingles from the idea of Max kissing you down there. Even though he’s being so mean, you can’t help but sit down willingly against the sofa arm and slowly part your thick thighs, blushing all the while as he examines you intently. You whine when his hungry gaze continues to linger, but he doesn’t stop, even taking out his phone to snap photos of your pussy after holding your thighs open to stop you frantically closing them when you see what he’s doing. It’s so cute and wet he murmurs distractedly, looking entranced as he slowly sinks a single thick finger in and finds it completely sucked in by your tight, drooling pussy. Really, you’ve never let any boy except for me touch you here, not even with his fingers? At the shake of your head and shy murmur of no, just my own, I promise, Maxie he breaks into an evil, satisfied grin. So this little hole is really all mine to claim, huh?

It turns out going down on you was really more of a punishment than a pleasure because he makes you cum multiple times with his skilled tongue. You’re begging him to stop, feeling overstimulated and completely wrecked, mascara stained tears running over your chubby cheeks. When he finally eases his sadistic torture after teasing flicks of his broad tongue have you squirting a third time, you’re too fucked out to protest him separating your puffy cunny lips and spitting onto it, as if it belonged to him. Bunny, if your brothers knew the kind of things I was doing to their precious baby sister, Max says, chuckling darkly. They’d want to slam me straight into the nearest barricade and have my head on a spike.

But your brothers remain as oblivious to your corruption as ever, with an endless supply of work excuses easily being used by Max and now you, as you started to fully give in and enjoy the intense pleasure being his personal fucktoy brought you. He’d taken your sweet virginity on a hot night in Singapore after beating Charles to P1, telling you that the best reward wasn’t the trophy but knowing he got to cum raw inside your untouched cunny. After plying you with champagne at the yacht afterparty, he'd taken you back and fucked you on the French chaise, not even making it to the bed. He’d been gentle the first time, huskily whispering praises in your ears as you desperately tried to adjust to the size, his cock so much larger than his fingers. He licked away the tears at the corner of your eyes as you bite his shoulder, lost in the waves of pleasure as you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally carries you over to the bed, climbing over your satisfied figure, you’re fooled into thinking he’s going to cuddle you. He’s turning you onto your front and you’re expecting to feel him behind you, bringing you into him as his little spoon like he does ever night. But your sleepy eyes go wide open when your thick hips are suddenly pulled up into the air, and your flushed face pressed down firmly into the sheets. And then he huskily whispers it’s time to fuck you properly, be a good bunny for me and take it, okay?

You wailed into the cushions, your open mouth leaving drool all over the pillowcases, as his cock bullies your tight cunny over and over. He reaches around to toy with your sensitive clit, smirking when your crying turned into confused moans of pleasure as the pressure in your pussy starts to feel so good. Soon he’s slamming his hard length into your twitching figure, slapping your red plump ass repeatedly and telling you how funny it’d be if Charlie found out his rival had claimed your virginity, hmm? Should he tell him next time the Ferrari driver tried to one up him on the track? You sob, begging him not to tell your protective brother, shaking your ass onto him and telling him he could even cum inside if he wanted instead of telling your brother. Max groans at your gullibility. Silly girl, he croons as he bends down to whisper in your ear, his muscled abs pressing down on you. I was always going to do that anyways, hmm? This ass belongs to me.

And then he’s moaning into your drooling mouth as his hips still above yours, draining his heavy balls into your pussy that had already been stuffed full of his thick, creamy load from the first round. Rivulets of your mixed juices run down the inside of your thighs, overflowing from the sheer amount of cum he’s pumped you full of. You know better than to ask him to wear a condom, instead praying that it was the wrong time of the month to get knocked up. Especially when he doesn’t let you get up and try to pee it out, instead murmuring he’s just going to stuff a couple of fingers inside and make sure you don’t waste anymore, okay? You try to resist, crawling away and wanting to save your poor, overstimulated clit but once again Max easily holds you still. Hmm, guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson and use my cock to plug you up, he threatens meanly, making tears fall down your face again and his dick twitches with interest. Every man had his pleasures, and world champion Max Verstappen’s was to see the Leclerc baby sister crying and begging for him. Sick bastard, you think distantly through a pleasurable haze as he sinks back inside your gummy walls and makes you keep his cock warm.

Your secret affair with the Dutch Lion continues easily throughout the year. And at the end of your contract, at the yearly FIA prizegiving, you attend with Charles instead of with the Redbull team, dutifully doing your part as the Leclerc sister now that your term at a rival garage was done. At one point you get up from dinner, saying you had to find the bathroom, but end up gone for 20 minutes, missing Cha being awarded overtake of the year for when his Ferrari had divebombed the leading Redbull. Later, when everyone is mingling, Charles walks over to Max’s table, shaking his hand and taking a seat to reminisce about the season. They’d come so far together from their childhood karting days, wasn’t it heartwarming now that they stood together on the F1 stage?

The two men laugh, catching up on missed updates during the busy end of season. Soon they’re talking about their love lives, Max congratulating Cha on his relationship he’s recently made public. The Ferrari driver warmly returns the compliment, saying whoever the Redbull driver was seeing recently must be treating him well because he’s never seen Max so relaxed before. He’s seen the gossip magazines speculate who the silhouette of a mystery girl seen making out on Max’s lap in a paparrazi shot through his car window. Max slyly commented that it was good the camera hadn’t been able to go lower, because then they’d have seen that she’d actually been bouncing on my dick underneath her skirt. Charles laughs at Max’s deviousness, patting him on the back for being such a shameless fucker.

Charles had forgotten to go find the youngest Leclerc, which was just as well because he would never have been able to guess where you had been hiding. You’re diligently on your knees, drooling on Max’s cock underneath the tablecloth, safely tucked in close between his spread legs. Your brother is completely unaware that the girl he and Max are joking about is his innocent baby sister, who’s currently worshipping his rival’s thick length eagerly. Paying the price for her brother’s overtake on the track with her glossy pink lips, just as Max had ordered you too when he found out what award his rival was getting tonight.

As the night continues, all formality lost as the party goers make use of the open bar, it was all to easy for the blonde Dutchman to make you follow him to the private bathroom. It’s so degrading, so mean of Max to do this, to have you on the dirty bathroom floor with your pretty curls unpinned from the classy updo you’d spend ages styling. Your expensive red silk dress hangs off your hips and exposes your bare, bouncing tits to his hungry gaze. So slutty, no bra and all, hmm? You wanted me to fuck you tonight, didn’t you? Answer me! He slaps his hard length repeatedly against your chubby cheeks, spraying precum everywhere and making your perfect makeup run.

Soon mascara stained tears are dripping down your face as Max makes you finish sloppily sucking him off, his phone camera on you and recording every single filthy sound that fills the air. It’s obscene, the way his huge cock stretches your small plush lips open all the way and your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his tip grazes the back of your throat. Hmm, so eager to drink my cum, aren’t you? He coos, and you nod dazedly, your doe eyes glassy. Fuck, you’re such a good little slut, letting me do whatever I want you to your body. My own personal fucktoy. Bet you’d even let me piss down your throat if I wanted, huh?

You gag at this, trying to shake your head but finding it impossible with the strong grip he has on your hair. Max chuckles at your panicked expression, reassuring you not to worry, he wasn’t that mean. You don’t believe him, because later he bends you over the bathroom counter and makes you look in the mirror to see where his leaking cock repeatedly sinks in to the hilt, stretching your cunny out yet again, filling it with his thick seed. You text Cha some excuse about feeling unwell and leaving early as Max buckles you into his passenger seat, knowing there was no way you could explain your absolutely wrecked appearance to your brother afterwards.

You’ve realized that the legal end of your Redbull contract really had no say on anything. Because at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was what Max wanted - and he wanted you to stay by his side, forever. So you let him take your hand in his a few months later at Lorenzo’s wedding, revealing the secret relationship to your family. Your mother is overjoyed, telling you both that you always had her blessing, ever since you’d been kids. Your brothers take a lot more convincing, of course, as well as Max swearing privately to Cha that you certainly hadn’t been the girl from the paparazzi car incident, he’d never treat the Leclerc princess like that of course! He was a playboy before, sure, but for you he was willing to stop all that and commit.

Charles gives you two his begrudging yes, seeing how attentive Max was with you, always intently watching you whenever you entered the same room as him and always knowing where you were if you walked away. And the way you’d look up adoringly at the blonde, desire and love clear in your doe eyes. Soon you’ve accepted Max’s offer to move into his penthouse, unpacking all the lingerie and diamond necklace sets he’s been buying you for months. And when he comes home at the end of a tiring day, sighing and settling on the living room couch, you now know to anticipate Max’s needs before he has to tell you. You crawl over to him, wearing skimpy lingerie in his favourite colour, nuzzling your face into his clothed thigh and asking please Maxie, could you please suck him off, your mouth felt empty without him?

He places a loving kiss to your forehead and unbuckles his belt for you, cooing praises at what a good little pet you were being for him. This time, when he cums, you have no issue greedily swallowing every single drop of his hot, sticky cum, licking your well trained lips. So yummy, Maxie…Would you like my pussy or my ass next?

He smirks down at your slutty words, a dazed expression on your face, dumbly ready to please him however he liked, whenever he was in the mood, wherever he wants it. Nothing quite beats having his own personal toy, even if it’s taken some time to break you in. Doesn’t matter now, though, because it has been worth it. Because you’ll never leave his side again, completely devoted to him, the concept of being with any other man ruined for you.

Time for him to make good on his childhood promise, Max thinks. Make you his vrouw, his wife, once and for all.

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jjjjisun · 3 months ago

Text

Ask Your Daddy (Part 1)

Minju X Male OC | 16785 words

TW: Incest

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Part 1 / Part 2

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Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

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Author's note: I will publicly post this earlier than planned because I have a full schedule next week (work + fics + life)

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The droning of tires on the road - was a familiar and comforting sound to Jae, especially when it would soon lead to a beer in hand in his favorite chair by the lake.

The rambling sound of his wife's voice as she sat beside him in the car was not so soothing. He'd learned to appear engaged as she prattled on about problems at work or the things he hadn't fixed in the house. Mostly, he loved hearing his son and daughter chatting and getting increasingly excited in the backseat as they neared their destination.

The cabin had been in the family since before Jae was born. He and his wife had renovated it significantly and added a wing a few years after their second child, Minju, was born. Now, the house was a staple of their summer vacation and a place everybody in the family looked forward to visiting.

"Are we there yet?" Minju whined jokingly from the backseat.

"I'm not sure," his wife said, looking up from her phone. “ask your daddy."

"Getting close, Minju," Jae replied. We should take the scenic route with that great view of the lake. It should only add an hour or so to our schedule—what do you think?"

"NOOO!" both his children said in unison without hesitation. Jae looked at his wife to see her smiling; they both knew he'd only said it to get them to rise. Everyone was eager to arrive and stretch their legs after a three-or-so-hour drive.

Minju was already in her swimsuit; he knew she'd be of little help unloading the car once they arrived, as she typically headed right for the dock. His eighteen-year-old daughter was nothing if not predictable. Beautiful too, he observed as he saw her anxious blue eyes smiling at his in the rear-view.

He'd never say it aloud, but Minju was the one he looked forward to seeing most after a long day at work. They just got along so well, probably driven by the tense relationship Minju had with her mother. Do-yun, his twenty-four-year-old son, had become his own man since moving away for a job. Jae was very proud of him, but they talked nowhere near as much as he and his sweet little girl.

Jae knew things would change when Minju went off to college the next year. He wasn't looking forward to that or being left home alone with his wife. Most nights, he spent time with Minju curled up next to him, watching late-night television or taking a trip out for ice cream. Minju had friends and went out some nights, but she did seem to like spending time with him, and he felt lucky for it.

"The Son’s are going to be here on Thursday, you know," his wife's voice interrupted the pleasant thoughts he'd been having of Minju. So I want you all to be on your best behavior, including you!" his wife, Eunju, said, pointing Jae's way, "and especially you!" she continued, turning back to look Minju in the eye.

Of course, his wife always had some kind of agenda. She'd invited her friend from the country club, Son Mi-Young, and her family to the cabin for a few days. Eunju had been dropping hints for the past week or so to both Jae and his daughter about how 'respectful' and 'motivated' Mi-Young's son Sun-woo was. Jae and Eunju had been high school sweethearts, so no doubt she had designs to set their daughter up the same way. Sun-woo was some kind of engineer and going into his senior year in college. He may have a great career in front of him, thought Jae, but the kid was kind of a dud. He couldn't help but agree with Minju as he watched her roll her eyes and then smirk at him in the mirror when her mother looked away.

Jae remembered being in college, and as he looked at his eighteen-year-old in the backseat, he prayed that she wouldn't encounter too many wildmen like he was. He felt like he'd done his absolute best to instill good instincts in Minju, and hoped that she wouldn't take on too much of his wife's "settle down with a man who makes good money" mentality. He was confident Minju would be just fine.

Jae made a left turn onto the familiar street with the odd antique store on the corner. They were getting close. He watched Minju sit up in the backseat, obviously excited. Her young breasts were perked up in the swimsuit, visible as her cover-up top had slipped down over her shoulder. Her tummy showed beneath the top and of course, it was slender and smooth from all that yoga and other nonsense that Minju did. He knew he shouldn't be looking, yet he gazed at those impossibly tiny, white shorts that were riding up and leaving about ninety-nine percent of her long legs open to view. Minju was staring out the window in anticipation, so she couldn't catch him staring; Jae had to pull his eyes away. He was starting to worry about the fix-up his wife had planned for her this week, thinking that Sun-woo, the boring enginee,r would probably find her irresistible.

As soon as the car came to a stop in the wooded driveway that led up to the cabin, both of the rear doors to the car flew open. His two kids were in full-sprint to the water before he could even get out to yell after them. 'Oh well,' he thought, grabbing the discarded wrapper and coffee from his center console and walking with his wife at his side to the front door. He watched Minju and Do-yun hopping on one foot as they stripped off their clothes at the edge of the dock.

Their laughs spread a warm, comforting feeling through his chest, and the jingle of the keys in his hands meant they had finally arrived. Pushing the door open, the smell of the old cabin flooded his nostrils, and their vacation began.

Jae and his wife got the bare minimum from the car, leaving the rest for their two rascals before they grabbed a beer from the cooler and settled down on the sundeck. They probably had a lot of work to do to get the place in tip-top shape, but it could wait.

"...I'm not saying she's going to marry him," argued his wife after they'd been out on the deck chatting for a while, "I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt for her to meet a nice boy who had his head on straight like Sun-woo."

Jae wasn't going to argue with her about it; it wasn't worth it. "Well, don't expect me to be forcing any kind of interaction with him on Minju," he warned her. " Last time they met, she didn't seem too keen on him."

"Well, she just doesn't know a good boy with a bright future when she sees him."

"She's only just turned eighteen Eunju, I don't expect her to."

Truthfully, Jae wasn't going to force any interaction on Minju because he didn't want to jeopardize the time she'd spend with him. His daughter was sure to be his favorite part of their vacation, so he'd be damned if his wife's obnoxious friend or her uninteresting son stood in the way.

His wife hardly listened to him, and he went on about how Mi-Young had told her that Sun-woo was a wonderful writer and that he was the chairman of some club in his college. "Smile and nod," Jae repeated in his head.

After an hour or so, Minju and Do-yun came ambling up to the porch. Minju's dark brown hair was soaking wet and dripping down onto her youthful frame. No way is she wearing that bikini when our guests get here, Jae swore to himself. Minju must have had that bikini since she was fourteen because, despite her slender form, she simply filled it out too well. He was pretty sure her breasts were a 32C in a suit three sizes too small; they looked like they could pop out of her suit at any second in that top that she'd had since she was just a girl. The bottoms too, were much too small to contain her cute little butt.

"What's the matter, honey?" Jae said to Minju, "Are your parents depriving you so much that we haven't bought you a new bathing suit since the sixth grade?"

Minju looked down at her suit, directing his eyes to her mounded breasts and the beads of water still rolling down between them.

"Sorry Daddy, I just always liked this one," she reasoned.

"I don't think it's too bad, Jae," his wife interjected. I think you should wear it when Sun-woo gets here, too, to let him see you're all grown up."

Jae shook his head, and Minju quickly walked away. He hoped Eunju wasn't going to be doing this all week.

"Give it rest, will ya?" Jae asked her as he watched Minju saunter off. His wife just shrugged.

"Don't forget to unload the rest of the car!" Jae called after his kids as they went inside, hearing them grumble in unison.

Everybody eventually got around to doing the necessary tasks to get their cabin in order. Jae had to take off the storm windows, bring some things out from storage, replace a few light bulbs and then he and Do-yun got the boat in the water. Minju helped him fix a few posts on the dock, and thankfully she'd put her top back on so he could focus on the task at hand. As usual they were laughing and horse-playing the whole time.

"Daaaaaaad!" Minju yelled when he splashed her as he hopped down into the water.

"Minjuuu...." Jae mocked, "Quit your whining and give me a hand.

He pretended to look away as the young brunette stripped off her top. Jae's ability to focus would be short-lived, apparently. She hopped in next to him and watched as her father submerged to grab the post as low as possible. She had helped him many times before so she knew where to hold the platform and such, but she was always impressed at how strong he was to pull the pole out of the muck and how long he was able to hold his breath. The water always got so murky so she couldn't tell if her dad was making any progress.

"Ooouuuph..." Minju cried as she felt hands on her waist.

Her legs were quickly swept out from under her and she only had time to take one gasp of air before the water enveloped her.

When Minju came up, rubbing water from her eyes and taking a deep breath, she found her father grinning with pride.

"You jerk!" she cursed him, smacking him on the chest. Her hand connected with a thud; she knew it was because her father was diligent about his workouts.

"That's no way to talk to your father," Jae scolded her,

"Then you shouldn't be such a child and drown your daughter when she's trying to help you!"

Jae laughed and pulled his daughter against him, feeling her bikini-covered chest heaving while she caught her breath. Her fingers snaked around his side, and they joined in an impromptu hug. It lingered long enough that Minju felt the warmth from her father's manly frame against her in the cool water.

"I love you, Dad," she said, looking up into his eyes.

"Aww," he replied, "I love you too Minju'."

Her dad was the only one she let call her that. "I'm so excited about vacationing with you. Can we hang out just the two of us on this vacation?"

"Of course honey," Jae replied, "did you ask your mother what she had planned for the week?"

"Yep," Minju affirmed cutely.

"And what did she say?"

"What she always says: ask your daddy."

"Well, in that case, we can spend as much time together as you want."

Minju smiled again and they finally ended the embrace. She couldn't know, fortunately, but Jae was aware that having the teenager pressed against him for so long was causing a reaction beneath the surface of the water. He'd have to be careful to avoid that.

Jae swiftly lifted his little girl from the water by her waist, surprising her again with his strength. As he set her down on the dock, his eyes were close to level with those undersized bottoms, and again, he found himself remembering what it was like to be her age and constantly daydreaming about sexy young girls and what would undoubtedly be a tight tiny opening within those bottoms. Minju's lower half was alluring as any young girl he remembered from when he was her age, and her legs had just the right tone. Jae was tempted to run his hand up from her knees to that forbidden place he shouldn't even have been looking at until he snapped out of his fantasy and went back to repairing the dock.

With each passing moment with Minju, Jae was all the more glad to hear that his little girl wanted to spend time with him alone on their vacation. He felt closer to her than ever, almost forgetting that they weren't the only people who'd made the drive until he heard his wife call them in for dinner.

Minju felt much the same way, starting to realize the fact that she'd be out of the house for college soon and no longer able to spend time with her dad like she loved doing. She felt truly bad that she'd be leaving her dad without anybody but her mother to keep him company. Their relationship wasn't awful, but it was strained over the last few years and Minju was worried that her Dad would be lonely without her around. He was such a good man; he didn't deserve all of the nagging that her mother subjected him to, especially since he was the one working so hard to provide for everybody. She intended to be really good to her dad this weekend, so if nothing else they both remembered her last summer as fondly as possible. She held his hand as they walked back up to the house, smiling at him and looking into his eyes intently while he gazed back.

Later that night, as Minju was helping her mother do the dishes, Eunju brought up her friend's son Sun-woo again. After the same spiel about him being good husband material and respectful and such, Minju got to speak:

"Mom, I don't know if I even like him, And even if I did, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Minju, I'm not saying you have to fall in love with him. I'm just telling you that you'd do well to figure out what a good man is like—a good man who respects women and will make good money to provide for your family—like Sun-woo."

"Ooookayyyy," Minju responded, "And what about him? How do I know he'll like me back?"

"Well you can start by behaving, not fighting with your brother, and doing your chores when asked while the Son's are around. But all men like different things, why don't you ask your daddy? You two seem to be getting along all buddy-buddy today I'm sure he can tell you how to talk to Sun-woo."

Minju's mother seemed to be done with that conversation, and it couldn't have come sooner. Essentially, she was just done telling her daughter about how great this boy was and she'd made up her mind about whether he was good enough for her daughter. 'Why don't you just be with him or something,' Minju thought, imagining how that would leave her dad's attention almost entirely to her. She felt guilty about wishing ill on her mother, but certainly wouldn't mind being the center of her dad's world.

So, later that night, when their mother had gone to bed and Do-yun was off somewhere talking to a girl on the phone, Minju decided to talk to her dad about getting boys' attention.

As usual, Minju pulled her knees up tight and tucked under her father's arm on a couch on the screened-in porch.

"Hey Dad?" she started when there was a quiet moment.

"Yes, sweetie?" Jae replied. Minju loved the deep sound of his voice and the way that he was so calm and ponderous as he looked out over the lake.

"So... I was talking to Mom today, and she brought up that boy again," Minju told him

"Big surprise there," Jae said with a note of attitude. Minju giggled.

"I asked her how to make a boy like me and she said..."

"Wait," Jae interrupted, "let me guess: ask your daddy?"

"Yup," replied Minju as she looked up at her dad.

"Well, what do you want to know?"

Minju thought for a minute, "How do I talk to him?"

It might have seemed like a simple question to Jae, but he understood why his little girl would ask it.

"Hmmm..." Jae started, "Well to be honest, you don't need to do much more than you do with me. Ask him questions about himself, tell him what you're interested in, and definitely smile. You know you have a pretty smile right?"

As intended, Jae saw a big smile on his daughter's face. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his arm, and he pulled her in tight.

"Just be yourself, honey, and don't worry about being chatty; let the conversation come naturally."

"I'd rather just talk to you than some dumb boy that Mom is pushing on me!" Minju complained.

"Well I can't do much to help you with your mother, but you can talk to me whenever you like Minju'," Jae assured his teenager.

They were quiet for a moment. Minju didn't really feel like she needed to talk to anyone on this vacation other than her dad. And just like he said, the conversation came naturally; yet she could just be silent in his arms, and it felt perfectly alright.

"Do you think he'll be attracted to me?"

"Ha," Jae laughed, then looked down at his little girl to see a confused look on her face. "Oh don't worry sweetie, I only laugh because I'd be shocked if he didn't."

"What do you mean daddy?" Minju asked innocently. He couldn't tell if she was feigning innocence or not.

"Minju, not all girls your age look the way you do..." Jae said, seeing that his daughter still didn't fully understand. He was glad to have a few beers in him, otherwise the words might not have come as easily. "You see... you are a very pretty girl, you have a lot of... features that boys... and men find attractive."

Minju was surprised her father was being so candid with her, and yet she was positively flattered. Jae's eighteen-year-old hadn't really considered that her father might find her pretty, but here he was admitting it to her. Minju felt an inexplicable urge to prop herself up, smooth out her top, and not slouch so much like she needed to live up to her father's image of her or something. It was a similar feeling to the way she felt when she'd caught a boy on the football team staring at her from the sideline, except she was more nervous with her dad. The tiny brunette felt slightly confused about her feelings.

"I think you're just saying that because you have to Daddy," Minju protested, "If I wasn't your daughter I bet you wouldn't."

Jae laughed again, "If you weren't my daughter I'd probably be saying something much different."

Jae almost put his hands to his mouth, thinking that if he moved fast enough, he could stop the words from blurting out. But it was too late; his daughter had already heard them. Thankfully, she didn't look too taken aback; she couldn't truly know what he'd meant by the beer-induced slip of the tongue.

Minju just let the words hang in the air, which made her father anxious to know if she'd read into them. Looking down at her beneath his arm, Jae knew his confession had been completely truthful, but hearing himself say it aloud was a strange feeling. Even harder to grasp was the deep, welling feeling in his chest as Minju smiled at him unassumingly. God did he love his beautiful daughter, thought Jae. The promise of spending two weeks with her close at hand was a most rewarding thought. If he could just keep his more inappropriate thoughts at bay, Jae knew this vacation would be one to remember.

He didn't know what time it was when the two of them had finally drifted off to sleep, but he certainly remembered Minju whispering that she loved him as her eyes closed and her tight little body began to go limp at his side. The moon shone bright, and crickets were abuzz when he opened his eyes again and decided to carry Minju to bed.

Jae was intimately aware, as he picked up his slumbering daughter, that she was still wearing that damned bikini. As he lifted Minju and found himself unable to adjust his hands without waking her, Jae felt his hand securely palming one soft cheek of Minju's butt. Obviously, he hadn't intended it yet couldn't help savoring the feeling of her teen bottom.

Jae's mind wandered as he carried the sleeping brunette carefully through the cabin and upstairs to her room. He was thinking of his favorite position: the wife riding him and his hands aggressively holding her ass while she did... man did Jae wish it hadn't been so long since he and Eunju had sex like that. There was no helping it as the image of Minju in his wife's place crossed his mind. He doubted his little girl had ever done anything like that; she better not have. But, as rambunctious as she was Minju would probably be sexier atop him than his wife. Jae would certainly enjoy finding out.

'Damnit!' Jae chastised himself, 'you're her father for Christ's sake. Not only would a stunning young eighteen-year-old like Minju never want a man like you, but it's incest.' Jae resolved not to think any more of the subject if he could help it. But that word, that act, the image of making love to his beautiful daughter ,and the thought of her naked and moaning for him... As he set her down on the bed and pulled the sheets over her enticing figure, Jae wondered if he could keep his composure for an entire week of watching her frolic around wearing hardly anything.

Jae's head hit the pillow, and he drifted off to sleep more easily than he'd expected. Minju, just upstairs in her room above the master bedroom, was equally curious about the days to come. She hardly ever slept through the many times her father had taken her to bed, so the place where her father's hand had rested tingled gently and lulled her to sleep with a heavy feeling in her heart.

------------------------------------

"Morning, Daddy!" Minju said cheerfully, wrapping her arms around her father's shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. The smell of her father's body wash and that cup of coffee in his hand opposite the newspaper would always be her favorite thing to wake up to.

"Morning, little one," Jae replied, "There's coffee there if you want it, and I got some donuts from that bakery you guys like."

"Mmmm..." Minju said, carefully selecting the maple one she'd fallen in love with a few years ago and taking a bite, "Jeez Dad, it's vacation. You must have been up at six or something. Can't you ever sleep in?"

"I'll get all the sleep I need when I'm dead." was Jae's retort.

Minju gasped, "Don't say that Dad!" She padded over to him and hugged him almost too tightly around the neck. Minju never could stand even the suggestion of being without her dad.

Jae playfully hooked his youngest around the waist and whipped her around so she was sitting on his lap. Her little butt just seemed to fit so perfectly atop him, though they never seemed to do it when anyone else was around. Jae pulled Minju quickly toward him and snuck a kiss. He could taste the sweetness of maple frosting on her lips, and feel his daughter smiling through the kiss because she knew it. Minju pulled back an inch or so, slowly. She felt a little cross-eyed but still wore an adorable grin on her face as she peered into her father's eyes. Those beautiful blues, her father thought, he hardly even knew where they came from in her heritage, and yet there they were staring back at him mesmerizingly. A few charming freckles decorated the tops of Minju's cheeks, no doubt more plentiful due to all the time she spent in the sun against his wishes. He could only admire her for so long until it became inappropriate to remain so intimately close.

They broke apart finally, and thank god because Minju's mother came trudging loudly into the kitchen. She was annoyed about something as per usual, but Minju and her father remained content to tune her out as she bitched about 'Minju's already messy room.' Father and daughter shared a few loving glances as Eunju mouthed off, each wondering if the other was experiencing the same blooming admiration.

But when Eunju called Minju a brat for whatever she'd been ranting about, Jae refused to be silent. "You know what Eunju, that's enough."

Everyone was quiet for a second.

"This is my vacation, and that is our daughter." He wasn't yelling; Jae's words were calm and commanding.

"It is the first fu..." Minju watched as her father paused to collect himself. She was smitten by his self-control. "It is the first morning of our vacation, and you can't help yourself trying to ruin it for everyone."

Eunju scoffed. She was speechless, but not because she was surprised. Jae could see it in her face that she knew he was right.

"Minju," Jae said in a tempered tone, "Would You Do me a favor and keep your room reasonably better than your usual disaster area?"

The troublemaking brunette shrugged bashfully and shook her head in compliance. She quickly padded off to respect her father's wishes. She could hear her parents arguing downstairs, but her father quickly put the issue to bed.

As Minju closed her door behind her and flopped back onto her bedspread, she realized she was positively taken by the way her dad had stood up for her. Something in her wanted to go down there, wrap her whole body around him, and kiss him a thousand times. Minju doubted her mother would appreciate that very much; she'd have to wait until they were alone again.

The argument blew over eventually, but not without some obvious sulking by Eunju as the family set about their first day on vacation. By the time they got out on the water, Eunju had cooled down and with a beer in her hand, she was actually quite pleasant. Minju didn't even mind when she brought up the boy stuff again.

"So..." she prodded, "did you ask your dad about talking to boys?"

"Yeeeesss mother," Minju replied.

"And? What did he say?"

"He told me to talk to boys like I do with him. And to be myself, and a few other helpful things." Minju answered, recalling some of the more interesting parts of her time alone with her father.

"Good, good!" Eunju said, obviously excited that her husband had gotten on board with the plan. That's not what Jae had intended to do, and Minju certainly didn't plan on using any of his pointers on the pompous guy she'd met that one time her mother invited him over. But, if it made her mom happy, Minju would pretend for a while.

"Do you have any more questions?" Minju's mother asked.

The teenager looked to where her father was driving the boat; he obviously couldn't hear them with the wind whipping past as he moved.

"Well, I asked him how to talk to boys, but that's not all there is."

Minju's mother furrowed her brow and then smiled, knowing that she was asking for more intimate details.

"You're right about that one, Minju," her mother said with an intoxicated grin,

"So...? " Minju asked. What about when you're talking and you want to show a man, I mean boy, that you're interested... like physically?"

"Well first of all, and this goes without saying, you are only eighteen and you should absolutely not be having sex, so don't even think about it." There was the mom Minju knew, and obviously a liquored-up one for so freely talking about sex.

"Getting pregnant at your age can happen like 'that'," she said snapping her fingers. "And if it's not with the person you plan to live forever, it isn't going to work out too well for you. Which is why I haven't put you on the pill, so you don't get any ideas..."

"MOM!" Minju interrupted, "Stop. I won't have sex okay? I didn't mean that. I just meant like flirting and stuff!"

Minju really hadn't been thinking about being pregnant, but thoughts of sex had definitely entered her mind recently. She was a virgin, but Minju didn't feel totally clueless. Sure, she'd hardly done more than kiss a boy at a sleepover her parents didn't know there would be boys at, but she'd picked up a few things and obviously knew how it worked. The young teenager knew from friends that sex was a very significant thing and most of them said that they absolutely loved it. Minju just simply hadn't ever been in a situation where it felt right, and she wasn't going to force it with somebody she didn't care about completely.

She wanted to know more, like what men like about sex and how could she become good at it. What did it feel like? What is foreplay exactly... a million questions rattled around in her head. Needless to say, her interest was piqued, but she obviously couldn't ask her mom about it - maybe her dad?

"Well, to be honest," her mother started, loosening up a bit, "your dad was my first and last boyfriend, so I only know what he likes."

Eunju saw curiosity in her daughter's eyes so she continued, "he always loved laying side by side, spooning, but you be careful doing that with a boy because they can get carried away easily! And having his hair played with, right around the front of his hairline."

The information tickled Minju. It was funny to hear about her dad like that.

"Let's see...what else... he gets very bashful but excited about showing any kind of affection in public: running my fingers on his arm or leg, or whispering in his ear when nobody else can see. Your body language can tell a lot to a man. Tell him you want him, or that you don't." Minju had a feeling that her dad had become accustomed to the latter of the two, and again she felt sad for him. "Alright Mom, no more, please!" Minju said, laughing and imploring her mother to quit embarrassing her.

The inexperienced teen was fascinated, it seemed she knew very little about how to work her way into a man's heart. It was strange to her, however, that she already did some of the things her mother was describing when she was around her dad. Minju guessed that she didn't have to work for a spot in her dad's heart and most of it was just natural dad and daughter stuff. She wondered if the same things would work on the boy who would visit in a few days, not that she really wanted to try it.

Jae noticed the ponderous grin that Minju had on as he looked back at her. He didn't know what the two girls had been talking about, but he was glad to see that it hadn't ended like their first conversation that morning. He was starting to feel like his thoughts were becoming a broken record, but as he gazed back at his daughter Jae was again struck by her beauty.

She didn't wear the undersized bathing suit from the day before, this time opting for a beautiful bra-style lime green bikini. It pushed her teenage breasts up wonderfully and supported them so that they bounced each and every time the boat hit a wave. Her skinny little hips were hugged by matching bottoms, with a bow on each side where they tied up to keep from falling off.

Jae wondered what he might see if they did. He certainly didn't see his young daughter in the bathtub anymore; what if one of the carefully tied bows came undone and the green bottoms fell to her feet? A small part of him guessed that she would be shaven and smooth.

'Damnit,' Jae thought, wondering what was causing his thoughts to stray so consistently to inappropriate imaginings of his own little girl. He knew she was far from little anymore, evidenced by the way he was picturing her as he watched her stretch out with her arms over her head in the back of the boat. But why was she now becoming a different kind of object of his love? Perhaps it was how she was smiling at him, as she did when she caught his eye in the rearview mirror. Or maybe it was the thought of losing her to a distant home in college, missing a chance to explore the curious change that had manifested in the time before she left. And likely, talking about more adult themes with Minju was not only getting him on the topic, but also thinking about his daughter in the same context.

With the way she looked in her swimsuit... tan skin looking warm and inviting to his wandering eyes and anxious fingers... breasts tucked snugly into each cup of her top and large enough to make her father proud of what he'd made... He wondered what would happen if he just went back to her and pulled the ribbon of the cute green bows holding her suit on and exposing her sexy little body in front of her mother, brother, and most importantly - her increasingly interested father. Something told him that was not a great idea, and Jae was scolding himself yet again as he cast his eyes away from Minju in hopes of quelling the desire he had felt. In the back of his mind, Jae was hoping to have another night with his baby after everyone else had gone to bed. He didn't intend to act on any of his fantasies... 'Absolutely not,' he promised himself, but having the beautiful teenager in his company was reason enough to be excited.

The sunset couldn't come soon enough, and then there was the obligatory family time on the screened-in, and finally, the exchange of excuses for going to bed or staying up, as Minju and Jae each anticipated their alone time.

"Wanna go and sit on the dock Dad? The moon is really pretty tonight." Minju asked after she and her father had shared a moment of unspoken admiration and eye contact.

"Sure honey," Jae replied, trying not to sound too eager. "Don't you think you're going to be a little chilly out there?" They both looked at her in a small pair of pink cotton shorts and loose loose-fitting spaghetti-strap top. There was no sign of a bra, and yet her young globes were perky as ever underneath.

"Well," replied Jae's underdressed young daughter, "we can grab a blanket, and then I have you of course! You're always so warm Daddy, you should have enough heat for both of us."

Her voice was sweet and innocent. but both father and daughter were assigning a deeper meaning to Minju's words in their own minds. As Jae watched his little brunette trot over to the sliding glass door of the house and slip inside for a blanket, his eyes fell upon her long, tan legs. He wouldn't mind keeping her warm and, in turn, feeling the smooth skin of her calves and feet rubbing against him under a blanket.

That's just how things played out after Minju came back out and they walked with Jae's arm slung casually around his baby's waist. Minju shivered when she felt the hem of her shirt ride up and her father's rough, masculine hands come into contact with her skin. Neither of them missed that, nor did they fail to enjoy the intimate, if unintended, contact. But then Jae sat down first on the large bench at the end of the dock and Minju followed shortly after, Before Jae pulled the blanket over them, his daughter slung her legs over his and pulled his arm around her tight.

For a few quiet moments, they sat together and listened to the sounds of the peaceful lake. There was a lot going on in both of their minds. Minju always loved the sound of water lapping at the dock below, but at that moment she was more focused on the strong heartbeat in her father's chest. She was snuggled up so close that it felt like it was thudding right against her breast. Jae could feel his daughter's chest rising and falling in her cradled position at his side. Her legs felt even better than he'd imagined as she fidgeted to get comfortable and rubbed her legs along the length of his.

"Can I tell you a secret dad?"

"Of course, you can," replied Jae.

"This is my favorite part of the day. I've been looking forward to everyone else going to bed for hours now." Minju was looking right into his eyes for approval.

"That's sweet honey," Jae said, then paused. "I've been looking forward to this since I put you to bed last night."

Minju leaned in even closer to her father in thanks, quieted by flattery.

"Can I just a few more questions like last night Dad?" Minju requested, laying it on thick.

"Don't you know the answer to that by now Minju'? Of course, you can," Jae was careful to hide his eagerness. "I saw you and your mother talking again today, how'd that go?

"Oh, fine," Minju told him. She didn't get mad at me, which was nice. I was just asking her a few things about flirting and stuff, and she told me a little, but I wanted to know more. She told me to ask you again."

It was adorable the way Minju sometimes spoke in streams of consciousness, her father thought.

"So... shoot." Her father urged her.

"Okay, well... how will I know when I like a boy enough to be in a relationship, and how will I know he likes me?"

"Hmm... coming out of the gates with a hard one huh?" Jae rubbed his chin and Minju noticed the stubble on it; her father always looked so manly with his 5 o'clock shadow.

"Honestly, it's a pretty obvious feeling when you realize you're with somebody you want to get to know romantically. You'll get close and want to touch and feel each other; it's an inexplicable feeling, almost like a big magnet is pulling you towards her or something."

Somehow, that made a lot of sense to Minju She thought it was kind of funny how her father had switched to talking about 'her,' like he was imagining a scenario instead of teaching her about something. Jae felt his teenager shift her bare legs around like she was trying to tangle up in his even more than she already was. He wished she would stop because he couldn't help that the added touching was making not only his heart beat deeply, but his pants stir in response. 'Stop it,' he chastised himself.

As Jae went on, Minju listened intently. Her father told her how it was important to have a mutual attraction to each other, how imbalance could cause problems in a relationship, and how becoming more intimate required time and comfort with her partner. When Minju reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, Jae felt like he would tell her anything she wanted to hear at that moment.

"I feel kind of dumb asking this," Minju started with the most innocent care in her voice, "but I don't really know what you mean about being more intimate. Like, say I want to do that with this kid mom's pushing me, what would I do?"

This felt off-limits. Jae knew he should avoid discussing intimacy and his attractive young daughter in detail. But suddenly, he felt a pang of jealousy and the spark of competition, which caused him to overlook his reservations.

"First of all," Jae said with a noticeable edge, "I resent that your mother is making you think you owe this boy some kind of attention. You don't."

Minju thought she might have crossed a line with her father; he seemed jumpy at the topic, and it made her feel curiously anxious. Jae decided to backtrack a bit:

"But...." he resumed, pulling Minju close and making her feel more at ease with the conversation. There are a lot of things involved when it comes to flirting. Some of it you'll just do without thinking about it."

Minju wondered if her dad's gesture of running his fingers up and down her side but over her shirt was meant as an example of what he was saying.

"Of course, there's always touching with your fingers. Men and women have all kinds of spots that well... turn them on. Do you know what that means?"

"Duh Dad!" Minju blurted, "I don't live under a rock."

"Okay, okay," Jae felt so at ease with his little girl; their chemistry was undeniable. "So you know then that there are some obvious spots that we won't talk about because you're eighteen, and I won't pretend you're as innocent as you look." And despite glossing over them, both Jae and Minju's eyes darted down to the blanket, at each other's respective 'spots.'

They both noticed the glance when their eyes met again, and Minju choked out a laugh. It was inappropriate to acknowledge, but Jae couldn't help joining his teenager in giggling about the unspoken awkwardness.

"But there are other things too," Jae continued, feeling his daughter quiet and her giggling stop after a time, "like what you're doing with my hair right now."

Minju bit her lip adorably and continued messing about with her father's thick, dark strands.

"So you know about touching the hair... neck is a big one." As he said it, Jae took his free hand and made a 'V' with his thumb and forefinger on his daughter's neck. As soon as he touched her there, Minju held her breath. He followed the path of the stunned brunette's collarbone with his fingers until just low enough to feel the beginnings of her mounded breasts. When he finally lifted from her chest, Minju was able to take a breath.

Her whole body felt numb. 'Oh my God that was crazy,' Minju thought to herself. She couldn't believe how one simple motion by her father had made her feel so wholly consumed by his touch.

Jae didn't have to ask. He had felt his little girl's reaction, and he knew she understood.

"And the way that you're sliding your legs around honey," her dad acknowledged, "you better be careful with those things, they're dangerous."

Minju blushed and retreated deeper into her father's hold. She was buzzing with thoughts and feelings she felt totally unfamiliar with. She hadn't expected the conversation with her father to go this way, but was glad where they'd ended up. Still, after the way her dad had commented on Minju rubbing her legs again his, she didn't like that he had since curbed the attention he'd been paying her. Jae was trying his best not to take their 'lesson' too far, and Minju had noticed. She decided to push her luck a bit.

"Is that it Dad? I mean Sun-woo might like some of that, but so far you've only told me about using my fingers in his hair and rubbing my legs on him. I'm already doing that with you, so that can't be everything!"

Even though Jae had fully recognized the inappropriateness of what he and his teenage daughter were doing, he forgot himself again to protective instinct. Minju was his own daughter, and she wasn't to be peddled off to some boy she didn't care about. He was right there, obviously madly in love with her, and more than willing to help her understand what being intimate with a man meant.

Surprising her, Jae pulled Minju from her seated position beside him directly into one on top of his lap. Knowing that his cock had gotten unintentionally hard from all the suggestive talk, Jae made sure to slide her so that his erection was tucked behind her and not right up into her thin shorts. When she came to rest, Jae could feel the sexy eighteen-year-old waiting expectantly for his next move.

She felt so perfect in his lap. Her cute little butt was cupped by his larger lower half. He'd seen her youthful and round cheeks enough times to make his head spin while she frolicked about in her swimsuit earlier in the day, but feeling it against him was far better.

"It's not always as simple as touching; it matters how you do it too." Jae taught, "Do you want me to show you?"

As he asked the question, her father gently placed both hands on Minju's hips. She was spellbound completely submitted to her father.

"Mhhh hmm." Minju granted.

Jae slowly but decisively grabbed hold of his daughter's hips. She immediately found herself arching her back as his thumbs dug into the dimples of her lower back. His fingers came in contact with her hipbones as he massaged her backside. Minju couldn't help herself from forcing her butt further into her father's lap. Jae knew where things could head from there. If he followed his most primal instincts, he would have slid his hands up her sides and finally taken her teenage breasts into his palms while grinding back into her. He felt compelled to, instead of stopping, wrap his thumbs around her waistband and slide her shorts down those thin legs so she was bottomless for him.

Minju mewwed. Nobody had ever touched her like that before. There was that. But nobody had ever made her feel quite so desirable either, and that was before she had even propped up on her father's lap. Now Minju was pining for her father's touch and she didn't have the capacity left to consider why. She could only press harder into him and hope he wouldn't stop.

For a few moments their suggestive contact continued. Minju wasn't exactly grinding her ass onto her father's cock, and Jae wasn't technically giving his attractive young daughter more than a lower back massage, so it seemed alright.

"Just so you know, lips are one of the most important things to pay attention to," Jae said, speaking quietly now into Minju's ear.

"Obviously I won't actually kiss you, but getting close works too." As he spoke, Jae placed his mouth at the nape of his daughter's neck. While he was speaking, Minju could feel her dad's breath caressing her skin; she didn't completely agree that he shouldn't kiss her.

Minju's hips moved on their own, as did her arms as they stretched above her and backward. With her tiny frame splayed out in his lap and his head in her neck, Jae was treated to an uninhibited view of his daughter's breasts within her shirt. He didn't want to stare too long, but his eyes stayed put regardless. He could just make out the pink circle around her nipple, the moon was so bright it lit her naked front up just for him. When her hands came into contact with the back of his neck and the sensitive spot in his hair, Jae thought he might lose his reserve.

"Oh god Daddy," Minju cooed. Her father's hands were tight on the soft spot of her pelvis and beginning to urge her hips back and forth at a very slow but noticeable pace.

"What Minju'?"

"Don't stop, I like that," said his little girl.

It felt incredible, and the young teenager in front of him was the girl he loved most in the world, let alone the most incredible beauty. But hearing her ask him to continue was too familiar, the only time he'd heard that Jae had soon heard a girl crying his name as he made love to her. He couldn't do that with Minju. As much as we wanted to rip the skimpy clothing from her youthful body and show her the full extent of what she wanted to know, he simply couldn't. Though he was hard as ever and feeling Minju's plump little butt gyrate against his cock, he just couldn't do more.

"I think you've learned enough for one night...I think it's time for bed," Jae said, in an attempt to put an end to things.

Minju froze. She was stunned. Her daddy had started all of the touching and she didn't think it was fair for him to stop now. But maybe he didn't want to continue, maybe he was only teaching her like she'd asked. After all, she had asked, not him. Minju felt sad that her dad was removing his hands from her and obviously expecting her to follow suit. Minju felt heat inside her body that she'd never felt before.

"Do we NEED to go in Dad?" Minju tried in one last effort to continue.

She felt her father close his hands around her hips and squeeze tightly once more. She squealed because he pressed so hard around her hipbones that he hit a pressure point or something.

"Yes honey," Jae said when finally lifting his daughter off his lap. He looked down to see that her shorts had ridden up, as well as her shirt. If he'd looked any closer he would have seen that between his baby girl's legs was a wet spot caused by the feelings he'd brought out in her.

Minju walked mindlessly next to her father on the way back into the house. She was lucky to have his hand wrapped around her waist and guiding her or she might have wandered off the dock and into the dark water. Both of them were glad for the renewed contact, even if it was far from the distance they were silently hoping to go.

"Do you want to have some you-and-me time again tomorrow?" Minju's heart skipped a beat when she heard her father ask it.

She simply looked up with big puppy-dog eyes and nodded at him. Jae loved the way she bit her lip and lifted her shoulders like she was embarrassed to say yes.

Minju grabbed at her dad's shoulders to get him to lean down so she could kiss him. Usually, it was just a short kiss and goodnight. This time, both father and daughter lingered a few seconds before connecting. They just sensed each other, and the hesitation felt right. Then Minju stood on her tiptoes and brought her lips to her dad's. It didn't last too long, but it sure felt different.

When they broke, both were silent; the quiet felt natural. As Jae watched his little girl open her bedroom door, he got one more good look at the ridiculous night-clothes she was wearing. When the door closed, he was tortured to know if she'd be taking them off. Minju was hesitant to even allow the thought, but as she began to undress she wished she wasn't doing it herself.

Both Minju and Jae went to bed staring at the ceiling. They were so in-tune with each other that their thoughts were practically the same.

Minju swore at herself for being so careless with her dad. He was only doing what she'd asked. He'd never do any of those things for real with her. And yet, she was pretty sure she'd felt a stiffness in his pants when she'd gotten the chance to wiggle her butt around on him. And his hands weren't just showing her where to touch, they were touching her deeply. She felt bad for her dad, that he probably hadn't gotten the chance to touch her mother like he had with her. And Minju certainly didn't mind letting him do so with her, in fact her only wish was that he'd show her more.

Jae resolved not to take one more step with Minju. It was no use beating himself up for being aroused by the eighteen-year-old's perfect body... or those soft, shapely breasts... or the graspable bottom that he'd felt grinding backward into his lap. Damnit, he couldn't even keep his thoughts contained long enough to scold himself. He had to be indifferent, he had to cut out the temptation and be a good father. But she'd practically begged him to continue; how was he going to keep saying no. How could he deny her when he now lay in bed wishing that he'd just kept going, that he'd gotten his hands all over the fully naked and willing teenager that happened to be his daughter.

They both fell asleep within a couple of minutes of each other despite the separate rooms.

-----------------------------------------

Sleeping it off turned out to be a good thing. Jae and Minju both awoke without the intoxication of each other to cloud their judgment. Minju didn't see her dad until she had already showered and come downstairs for breakfast.

"Think you and your brother are up for going into town today?" Minju's mother asked.

"Sure, Mom," she replied, grabbing some bacon from the plate on the countertop. " What time?"

"Soon," replied her mother, "but you can take your time and eat your breakfast first."

Minju sat down next to her dad, looking for his eyes to be directed her way but not finding them. Jae flinched when she accidentally brushed her leg against his. Nobody could know that he'd done a hell of a lot more the night before with his eighteen-year-old daughter, but he felt skittish nonetheless. Minju was admittedly confused by her dad's behavior.

He warmed up, though, and when her mom and brother let Minju sit shotgun on the way to town, the two lovebirds were soon chatting and talking as normal. His eyes had this new kind of familiarity in them. Minju felt like he was continually acknowledging a secret between them, and each time, it made her heart jump beneath her breast.

Even better was when her mother and brother Do-yun wanted to stay and listen to a gathering at the main crossroads.

"Minju and I will go pick up a few of those toiletries we forgot at the convenience store while you guys do... this," he said, motioning at whatever was going on with disinterest. Minju was on board. The guy talking sounded stuffy and looked like one of her old history teachers.

While they were walking, Jae watched his youngest skip around restlessly in her jean shorts and baseball shirt. Of course, she'd tied the shirt up to show off her tummy and the ring on her bellybutton that she was so proud of. She looked cute as ever, and he expected nothing less.

There was some horseplay between the two as they perused the aisles of the store. Jae got what he thought he was supposed to, but wasn't really paying too much attention. Minju kept coming up behind and trying to knock him down by bending his knee suddenly on the side he was leaning to. She got close a few times, but mostly he just let her continue because he liked feeling her chest press against him and her tiny hand on his forearm when she did it.

"What are you looking at now?" Jae asked, seeing his daughter stopped a spot on the aisle in front of him.

When he got closer, he saw and whoosh of breath escaped his mouth as he realized.

"What are you doing over here," Jae asked, much more quietly now, not wanting to call attention to the fact that he was standing with his eighteen-year-old daughter in the condom aisle.

"I dono," Minju said bashfully, "I just haven't ever seen one before... I wouldn't know how to use one."

Jae didn't have an answer for her, but somehow he wasn't surprised at what he heard next.

"Mom definitely won't teach me about this..." she paused, then looked his way with those damned big blue eyes pleading, "...will you daddy?"

"Wha... no I coul.... no way..." Jae stuttered. Minju thought it was funny that she'd caught her dad off guard.

"Relax, Dad," she said, hand on his arm again. It's not like I plan on needing one or anything."

"Honey I don't know.... I don't think I sho...hmmm..." Jae was unprepared for this.

"Please daddy?"

"Can't you ask one of your friends or something?" He attempted.

"My friends that are boys?" Minju asked suggestively.

"No!" Jae had to catch himself and lower his volume to prevent anyone from noticing him and his daughter, who had now taken a pack of condoms in her hand and was flipping the box around. "No, you better not!" he said, feeling oddly protective again.

"Come on daddy please?" Minju was getting louder now, the little brat. "Won't you teach me how to use a condom?"

"Minju shushhh!" Jae cautioned.

"You don't want your little girl getting pregnant, do y...mphhh" Minju couldn't finish because her dad had reached out and covered her mouth and that teasing little smirk she had on it when she was goading him.

"Cut it out," he said as he looked down at her and then around the store. She could tell by the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth that her dad wasn't actually mad, but she decided not to test him anymore.

"Fine," he said, "I'll get them but you have got to go stand outside. I can't be seen buying condoms with my beautiful eighteen-year-old right next to me."

"Nobody knows I'm your daughter, DAD," she replied with inflection but then being much quieter, "and it's not like you're buying them to have sex with me either!"

Jae flinched for the second time that day; a pang of guilt that he didn't intend struck him. Just the thought of buying a condom around his pretty teenager and that incredible body she'd been dangling in front of him put two opposing themes together in his mind. Sex...his daughter...sex.... his daughter. No, he couldn't allow the thought that the box of condoms in his pocket were for anything other than education. He certainly wasn't going to give them to his little girl so she could try them out on someone else. No... he'd teach her what she needed to know, but nothing more.

Jae was considering how to go about showing his daughter how a condom works without crossing any lines when his wife and son found them again. Minju surprised him right before they joined up by shoving her hand down into his pocket. She pushed the box down further; it must have been showing.

"I don't think we want mom or Do-yun seeing those, huh?" Minju suggested.

"You've got a point there Minju'," Jae responded.

While they watched Eunju approach, Minju hooked her fingers on her father's belt and stood up to speak in his ear. Jae was immediately nervous that his wife might perceive the contact as strange but determined it was only because of the box he had in his pocket.

"I'm really curious. Can you teach me about these tonight when Mom goes to bed?" Minju asked sweetly.

"Sure sweetie," Jae said quickly, giving her a playful shove with his shoulder in hopes that he might shift her from the suggestive position. Of course, Minju made sure to let her chest brush against her father's side plenty before she returned to her spot at his side.

"What did you two get?" Eunju asked them, holding a bag of her own.

Minju quickly looked up at her dad, raised her eyebrows and smiled. 'She is just the worst!' thought Jae as he saw the knowing glance from his brunette teenager.

"Got everything you had on the list," responded Jae, wondering if there was any hint of a lie in his voice.

"And a few things you didn't!" sang Minju.

Jae tried hard not to look stunned as his eyes darted down to his little girl. But then Minju brought a candy bar to her mouth and crunched off the tip while still looking at him and Jae breathed easy.

He was starting to wonder how he was going to deflect the trouble they were stirring up with all this somewhat inappropriate interaction. Jae tried to remind himself of the promise not to let things go any further with Minju. Looking down at her, seeing the cute face he'd grown to love so much and further down the alluring, bare skin at her stomach, Jae worried about how hard keeping that promise would be.

But things just always seemed to work out for him. Nobody noticed a thing. Not one sideways glance from his wife or prying eye from an onlooker. Even when he wrapped his hand around Minju's waist, fulfilling his aching desire to touch the bare skin of her stomach - nothing. Jae surmised he was just being paranoid, which wasn't exactly a bad thing, but at least he could relax and enjoy his beautiful teenager's company.

"Hey Dad, stay there for just a second," Minju directed without explanation.

They'd walked into a local shop and the family was mulling about the store. Minju seemed to always stay close to her father, which Jae was glad of. He didn't like having her out of his sight for some reason, probably because she was so damned fun to look at.

But then he watched as his little one crossed her arms over her head and pulled off her shirt in one swift motion. She was cornered by a couple of clothing racks, but certainly not enough to just disrobe in the middle of the store!

"Minju what are you..." Jae started and then stopped, seeing that his daughter had pulled her bra off as well. She was turned away from him but he definitely got a clear view from behind of her perfect breasts jiggling free of the bra. He quickly moved closer to her to protect anybody else from seeing.

"You can't just do that!" He said in a hushed voice, watching his wife to be sure she wasn't looking their way.

"Oh, don't be such a tight-ass dad," she replied, "what do you think?

Jae turned around to find his daughter pulling a dark tank top down around her stomach. It was cut low enough that he could already see her cleavage, and she hadn't even adjusted it yet. 'Damnit,' he thought, 'Why did she have to wear that? How did she know that he loved shirts like that?'

Her breasts even showed a little bit on the side, and Jae could make out a little nub where her nipple was. If he wasn't so incredibly turned on and still stunned that she'd changed right there in the store, he would have been pissed that she was wearing it at all.

"It's nice, honey. Why did you pick that, though?"

"No reason," Minju lied, "I guess I was a little warm and it looked comfy."

She'd done it because of what her mother had told her the day before. She knew her dad would like it, and she'd seen him stealing looks at her all day. When she finished pulling down the shirt over her upper body, it left a thin strip of skin just above her low-riding shorts, and Minju reached up to make sure her breasts looked good too.

When they were checking out, her mother asked, "Don't you think that shirt is a little revealing?"

"Relax, Mom," Minju said snidely. Nobody here knows me. And besides, I've got Dad to protect me if any boys come after me."

Jae rolled his eyes; his daughter was unbelievable. But then, he liked the thought that Minju was his to protect.

Once again, the day flew by. Jae had to fend off Minju reaching into his pocket to grab at the box of condoms in there for whatever reason she was doing it - probably to cause trouble. Always he was unsure whether she was intentionally positioning herself so that he could see down her shirt, or feel her little body against him or whatever other antics she decided to pull next. And always there was a building apprehension about how he should react. Certainly he wasn't supposed to feel turned on, but the erection he kept getting didn't seem to care one bit.

"Thank God!" Minju finally gasped after her mother had yawned and decided to turn in.

Suddenly, she was bubbly and full of energy again. As if some kind of switch had been flipped, Minju suddenly acted like it was okay for her to drape herself over her dad on the loveseat of the screened-in porch.

"I saw you and your mother talking again today; more life lessons?" Jae asked his daughter as he held her tight,

"I asked her about being pregnant, and she actually told me all about it," answered Minju. First, she told me I better not even dare think about it until I'm with a man who has a good career, and we're married and all our money is saved up... blah blah blah blah."

Jae laughed as he heard his daughter imitating Eunju and then felt her shake with a lovable giggle against his chest.

"You know she's not totally fully of it Minju, right?" Jae salvaged, "It can't be just anybody, you have to be sure you love each other and want to be together."

"I knoooow Dad, do you know how many times she's said that to me?"

"Okay, I'm just making sure," Jae relented, "So what else did she say?" "She said that it hurt, a lot!"

"There's no doubt about that, I was there when you came out and man was your mother screamin'!" Jae told.

"But she also said that it was wonderful too. Having a baby growing in her was incredible, it's what makes women so much better than men. You can't survive without us. Then she said to ask you about what it was like." Minju repeated.

"Yep, that sounds like your mom," Jae said with a roll of the eyes. "You know, a lot of couples say it's the best thing that ever happened between them - pregnancy."

"What do you mean?" Minju asked, sounding curious.

"Well, having a baby together is a big thing. It means you're committed to each other and to being together—most people would say forever. It means you love each other enough to raise a child."

Minju stayed quiet. She liked hearing her dad describe it that way; it sounded a lot more beautiful than the way her mother had. Minju knew from experience that he was a good dad, but he also made pregnancy sound like a wonderful thing for both partners.

"Everybody looks at it different I guess," Jae continued, feeling his daughter nuzzling him closer, "I guess I just romanticize it because I got such a beautiful daughter out of it."

Minju couldn't possibly have buried herself any deeper into her father's hold. She was so flattered she could just die. Jae was instantly struck to his center with enthralling happiness as he watched his daughter react physically to the compliment. He felt her body against him, saw her bite her lip the way she did, and then watched as she sat up and looked him straight in the eye. There was a few seconds of silence before Minju spoke.

"I love you so much, Dad... I can't even explain how much"

"I think I know how you feel," said Jae. "I love you too, Minju."

Minju hugged her dad again, trying to wrap her arms around him but finding his big shoulders too much to contain. Of course, Jae's arms encapsulated his daughter with more than enough to hold her and then some.

"Would it be too much to ask you to teach me some more Dad?" Minju requested as she pulled away from the long hug.

"Nope, fire away!"

"I know I'm not supposed to have sex. I'm not saying I want to," Minju reasoned, "I just don't want to feel dumb when all of my friends talk about it."

"So... " Jae prompted.

"Can you teach me about condoms?"

"Oh shit... those..." He'd totally forgotten for a moment, all the talk of pregnancy with his daughter had his brain doing that awful association dance again. And of course, his pants were threatening to tent as he wasn't exactly soft when thinking such troublesome thoughts. He was grateful, though, that he didn't have a noticeable erection so Minju didn't get any ideas.

"Yeah, I guess I can teach you," Jae agreed, seeing Minju sit up with excitement. He had to conceal his. "You're gonna have to go get something we can use as a prop. I'm pretty sure I saw some bananas your mother bought from the market."

Minju hadn't been sure what to expect, but she was suddenly disappointed. She didn't like the idea of using a prop, though she wasn't exactly going to suggest using the real thing.

"Better bring your dad a drink, too, I'm not equipped to show my eighteen-year-old daughter how to put on a condom without at least a couple fingers of scotch."

Minju was okay with that. But on her walk back into the house, she decided on a change of plan. She found the bananas right, but she didn't like the look of them. She quickly opened the trash and threw them in, shuffling things around so they weren't on top. She did the same thing with the cucumber in the fridge, and she pushed the tall jar of cherries to the very back, though she didn't think it would have worked anyway.

She opened a few drawers and tossed the ice cream scoop, a turkey baster, and some other weird tube-looking thing in a cabinet nobody would find. The kitchen wasn't very well equipped, so it didn't take long before Minju had covered all her bases. By the time she was done, the teenager realized her heart was racing. She quickly poured her dad a big glass of his favorite scotch with one ice cube before running up to her room to change.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Jae said, taking the glass over his shoulder that his daughter had put there after he heard her approach from behind him.

He took a long drink, finding quite a bit more scotch than necessary in the glass. Still, it warmed him just right. When he tilted the glass back, he sprayed the lingering fluid from his lips as he caught a glimpse of his daughter.

"Minju!"

She had changed again. This time it was simply unacceptable. She was wearing an incredible matching set of bra and panties. The bottoms were a sheer black boy-short style. He could see most of her hips and the 'v' between them, leading to a hardly substantial patch of opaque fabric that covered where her tiny opening would be. They were revealing enough for him to know that she shaved. The top was equally as striking, a dark black cup that left as much of her incredible, young breasts atop them as was possible. If he just pried toward him with a finger, her nipple was sure to be shown.

"What?" She said. Even his troublemaking little girl couldn't pretend she didn't know that what she was wearing was inappropriate.

"You can't wear that around me!" Jae chided, "Who am I kidding? You can't wear that around anyone!"

Minju looked hurt. Jae tried to look away. So much of his beautiful girl's body was on display for him. The shadows from a dimmed overhead light showed all the curves and tight spots of his daughter's tight little body. If there was an outfit that made her look sexier out there in the world, Jae had to see it. Indeed, he wanted to see her, and though he knew he should have sent her right back inside to wear an oversized t-shirt or anything more suitable, the words didn't come.

"Do you want me to change? Don't you like it?" Jae couldn't answer, "I never get to wear anything like this, Dad. It's not fair that I can't fool around with any boys or have sex or even wear things that make me feel sexy."

She had a point there, it seemed a crime not to let the beautiful, athletic, young brunette show off her absolutely incredible body. And he was lucky that she was showing it only to him; he couldn't trust anyone else to treat her the way she deserved with that outfit on.

Jae sighed, and Minju saw the way he tried to avert his eyes. It made her feel just the way she'd hoped.

"Alright...fine...just..." he was still taken aback, "It's not that I don't like it," Jae said, finding his words, "I do; you look beautiful, baby. It's just that I'm your dad, and I'm not supposed to see you like this. You're practically naked!"

"Not all the way naked, Dad. Do you want me to be?"

Jae couldn't believe his ears, "What? No! Why would you need to be naked?" He was trying to keep his voice down, but he was understandably excited.

"Well, it's just that I checked the entire kitchen and there's nothing to use for the condom."

"And...?" Jae begged of her,

"I don't know..." she said, looking innocent, "I thought maybe you could use a little encouragement."

Jae's eyes stayed wide.

"I thought maybe if I dressed up like this you might find me pretty enough for your 'penis' to get hard like it did yesterday," Minju whispered quietly when she said penis like somehow that was crossing a line. "I'm sorry I assumed, I guess I was wrong."

His daughter looked too gorgeous and yet too hurt for him not to reassure her.

"Honey, I didn't say you weren't pretty enough."

With that, his eyes found her body again, she had sat on the edge of the seat and was close enough that Jae's heart could feel the proximity. Minju was still staring down, pouting. He pinched at her side just below her bra and watched her well supported breasts shudder as she flinched. A small smile cracked on her lips but she clearly didn't want it to show.

"Come on, Minju. Don't be like that," he said, pulling her closer. She allowed him to do so, and he thought he felt her arch her back a little as she slid forward into the seat, but her body language still said she felt unwanted.

"I just have a hard time seeing you when you look like that because I'm not supposed to think my daughter looks sexy..." Jae knew he was walking a line, "...even if she does."

Minju finally looked up. She'd gotten what she wanted, or at least part of it. The other part was not so well hidden by a big bulge that she could see in her father's pants. Jae's hand came to rest on his daughter's side, just above the thin band at the waist of her bottoms. He wasn't shy about holding her either, and the way his fingers pushed against her skin was enough for Minju... for the moment.

"So you're telling me that there's nothing up there to use for me to teach you about these?" Jae said, grabbing the box of condoms out of his pocket. "This isn't just one of those 'I'm too lazy, I can't find it's type of things?"

"I swear, Daddy, I looked. You know there's not much in the kitchen."

He supposed she was right. He could have sworn there were bananas right next to the knife block, but he could be wrong. Jae took another swig of the cold liquor; it wasn't enough to get him near drunk, but as he started to weigh the options of how else to teach Minju about using protection, the choices didn't seem as taboo. But then, neither did the way his hand had started to massage around the soft skin above her hip.

Minju inhaled deeply, she would accept whatever attention her dad dared give her. She could feel his eyes on her, and responding to the way he was touching her, she rolled her hips and pushed out her chest so he could see her tits a little better.

It was working: the booze, the soft glow of the lights, the hum of night critters, and the enabling privacy of a father and daughter alone on the porch at night. It wouldn't be so bad if he just showed Minju what she was obviously implying. After all, it was teaching her about safe sex. He didn't even like the thought of her having sex with another man, but being pregnant by one he could not abide.

"Are you sure you know what you're asking Minju? Daughters aren't supposed to see their father's private parts on purpose."

"I know, Dad, but you're just teaching," she seemed to have the perfect response for everything, "It's okay, I know to keep it to myself. I just want to see."

The perfect response... the perfect body... the most perfect daughter that a man could ask for. Jae was content with their agreement as he tipped the remains of the glass into his mouth and savored the woodsy flavor of it. He had a little buzz, but maybe that was because he was anxious about what they were thinking of doing next.

Minju took the glass out of his hand and put it on the table. She looked ready for action and probably a little too eager.

"Okay, here goes nothing," said Jae, handing her the box, "You take out one of those, and I'll take out..."

The two of them chortled at the phrasing. Minju's hands were a little unsteady as she held the box and opened it. They were wrapped just like anything else, like candy or something, she thought amusingly.

Minju watched excitedly as her dad unbuckled his belt and fidgeted with the button, "Do you need me to do anything to make it hard..." Minju's jaw dropped.

Jae had decided not to prolong the act of revealing his cock to his daughter for fear that she, or more likely he, would change his mind before it could happen. As soon as he pushed the waist of the pants and underwear past the right spot, his staff sprung free.

He found himself smirking a bit as Minju took him in with a look of awe on her face. Indeed, she hadn't prepared herself for the actual sight of what she'd been asking for. But the way she was fidgeting around at the hips in her perched position, Jae was pretty sure she wouldn't ask him to stop.

"Yeah," Jae said knowingly, "I think you see now why I was worried about you wearing that outfit around me, Minju."

"Uh huh," sounded his daughter, swallowing deeply. "It's...bigger than I expected it to be."

Before he sat down Minju got a good look at the impressive length of her father's manhood and the way it stood at such an angle. From the one time or so that she'd accidentally seen her dad's penis after a shower, she couldn't believe how it looked so solid and straight. Her eyes never left it, even after her father took a seat next to her and tried to relax under her gaze. Jae decided it was fair, as he was silently memorizing each and every curve of his daughter's body.

"Well," he said, startling her, "should we move on to the next part, or do you just want to stare?"

"Oh, sorry, Dad! I just didn't know that it would already be full like that. How will this thing fit on there?" Minju asked, looking at the relatively small ring showing through the wrapper.

"Just hand me the condom, and by the way, that's what happens when my daughter gets almost naked around me, I can't help but think about her ACTUALLY naked."

"Ohh, I'm sorry I didn't know that's what you wanted," Minju apologized innocently, "Should I take off my bra and panties for you too, Daddy?" As she said it, she reached around her back for the clasp in her bra, jutting her teenage breasts toward her father as she did.

"No!" Jae replied without hesitation. But the damage was done; both Minju and her father saw his cock stiffen noticeably at the thought of having his beautiful eighteen-year-old naked in such close proximity to his bare cock. Having revealed his desire involuntarily or not, Jae knew such a thing was an accident waiting to happen. He couldn't let it go that far. He didn't want to mislead Minju again, though:

"That would be too much for your old dad, Minju," he said. Why don't you just open that, and I'll show you how to put it on?"

Minju complied, tearing the packet and letting the rubbery inside slip out onto her palm. She immediately understood how to use it. When her father reached over to take it from her, Minju closed her fingers on it.

"Wait," she said, "that's it? Last night, you told me about massaging and kissing, and then all of a sudden, we put on a condom?"

"Well, no, things come in between." His shaft remained standing at attention. Now he was thinking about whether he'd have to show Minju how a man might rub her little pussy until she cried out with pleasure. That couldn't happen.

"What kind of things?" She asked sweetly.

"Come on Minju, you know what I'm talking about," he said while looking intently into her eyes, "touching each other, you know... things we can't exactly learn about together."

Minju giggled again; she liked pestering her dad. Of course, she knew about that stuff.

Jae reached for his daughter's hand again, and she pulled it away. He felt frustrated and horny, and for some reason, he had this image of pushing all the furniture away and laying Minju down on the rug to do... something.

"Minju," he said sternly, "I thought you wanted to learn?"

"I do, I do..." Minju hesitated, "but I want to put it on myself."

He should have expected that. He should have known that Minju would push the envelope once again. His silent desire indeed agreed with her, even if his reservations didn't. Yet, Jae stayed quiet for the time being. If he had wanted to he could have denied her on the spot.

"Please daddy," she pleaded, "I can already see your hard cock right in front of me. Would it be so bad if I put the condom on you so I can learn how to myself?"

No, not. That's what Jae should have said. That's what he wanted to say. That was until he blinked and was reminded how incredibly sexy his daughter looked in that black lingerie and how she was still probably the most stunning girl he'd ever come across, regardless of their relationship.

He let go of her wrist; he'd been holding it as he debated her request. Seeing the look in her father's eyes, Minju knew she could continue.

She opened her palm again and then examined the rubber ring inside. Flipping it over, the mischievous little brunette found what looked like the side that would roll easily down her father's shaft.

Then she looked right into his eyes. This was it. She was going to 'learn' by putting a condom on her father... her father whose cock was hard for her. The thought made Minju squirm.

Keeping her eyes on his as much as she could, Minju carefully directed the condom so it was resting on the very tip of his upright pole. She watched her dad take a big breath as she did what came naturally and slowly pushed her fist over his head. Jae could only stare with amazement.

The rubber stretched taught in no time before she could even get her whole hand around him. His penis looked even bigger, with her tiny fingers wrapping around it. Minju wasn't sure the rubber circle could stretch anymore, but seeing the apparent look of pleasure on her dad's face, she had to try.

"It's kind of fun," she told him with a cheeky smile, "does it feel good when I do this?"

Jae had to hold out. He couldn't let this turn into more. It was his obligation as a father. "It's alright," he said, gritting his teeth.

Minju wouldn't be discouraged. She felt the lubrication on the part of the condom she had exposed and brought her hand back up to the tip to push down again.

'Fuck,' thought Jae. Either she knew what she was doing, or he was just unlucky. If Minju kept touching him that way, he'd soon lose out in the battle to NOT enjoy her hand on him.

Jae watched as his daughter continued gripping his shaft and urging the condom further down on him. Again she lifted her hand and started at the tip like she was trying to smooth out the layer of rubber between her hand and his bare cock.

He focused on that: his young girl wasn't technically touching him, only the condom. But the way she was still gliding her hand over the slippery surface was much more like stroking than simply applying the protection.

Looking at her, Jae was once again enamored by the wonder in her eyes and the apparent fulfillment of her youthful curiosity. He loved so much about his daughter, not least her beauty, but watching her, Jae was reminded of what an excellent companion she'd been to him for so long. He'd watched her grow into this intelligent, adventurous female with striking beauty. He'd taught her so much, and so he allowed her to continue 'learning' rather than stunt the potential of their exchange.

"I don't think it can go any further, Daddy; your thing is too big," alerted Minju.

"That's normal," said her father. Some are made a little bigger, but these ones always fit me best."

"But what about here, dad?" Minju said, moving her hand directly to the base of her father's penis and grabbing on tight.

"Oh, Minju'!" exclaimed her dad. 'So much for her not touching me directly,' he thought.

"What?" she asked, immediately understanding from the way she felt the underside of his shaft pulse in her hand. Jae didn't answer; there was no reason to, and so Minju continued:

"If you put it inside me, couldn't someone still get out around here and get me pregnant?" She had the perfect, innocent look as she asked.

Minju was probably just being entirely hypothetical, but how could her father prevent the immediate thought of both of those things? One: his cock, which she held in her hand, being inserted inside his little girl. Just by looking at the faint outline of his daughter's lips behind those cute black boy shorts, Jae was sure it would be a difficult fit. And two, even though she was mistaken, his cum accidentally got in Minju's young womb, and what a forbidden yet alluring thing that was. The thoughts just seemed to come more naturally when his little girl was gripping his cock in her hand.

"No, baby. It works just fine that way," he said, trying to shake off the forbidden images she'd instilled in his mind. You see how there's a loose part at the top?"

Minju slowly brought her hand up, making sure she had her fingers wrapped around for the entire motion. She couldn't get enough of the feeling of her father's cock in her hand; it was surprisingly warm and thick enough that she couldn't touch her two fingers together without trying hard. She could feel his heartbeat pulsing within when she paused for a second. Truthfully, she wanted to feel his whole cock without the condom on, but instead, she just crossed her fingers that he wouldn't end the lesson too soon.

When Minju's hand touched her father's tip, Jae inhaled again. Everything about her touch seemed to make him anxious for more.

"When you're having sex with one of these on and the man ejaculates, hopefully, all of it stays up here."

"Ohhh.." Minju replied, repeating the motion of bringing her hand from base to tip again. "Hopefully?"

"Well, it's not common, but sometimes the condom can break, and that's not good."

"Obviously!" said Minju adorably. "Is it only during sex?"

"That it can break, or that a man has an orgasm?"

"Well," she pondered, moving her hand deliberately along her dad's length, "both, I guess?"

Jae hadn't meant to say it aloud, but trying so hard to stay composed had him mixed up, "Well if you keep doing that, I might cum right here."

There was no taking it back, and Minju didn't miss a beat: "Keep moving my hand like this daddy?" Her hand moved more consistently, up and down on her father's protected pole.

She was emboldened by the pleasure in her father's voice when he'd admitted it. Minju thought that might happen. She hoped it might, so she kept her attention and watched as her dad rolled his head back and let her continue.

Then he surprised her. Of its own volition, Jae's hand found the thigh of his cross-legged daughter. His hand had been resting on her tiny hip for a while, but his fingers wanted more Minju was sitting facing him the whole time she'd been practicing on his cock, and it was too easy to shift his hand simply.

First, he rubbed firmly at the soft surface of her leg, moving in circles as his fingers experimented and stroked his daughter suggestively. Her skin was just as warm and inviting as it looked, and Minju instantly enjoyed her daddy touching her. It felt like the right thing to do at the time, and feeling her unapologetically was empowering. Jae wanted more. He'd made promises to himself, yet his fingertips disobediently inched closer to the bottoms he'd been admiring. Her father's touch made Minju nervous. She was aware of what was happening and completely willing, but nobody had ever touched her there. Minju knew she was worried for no reason. She could feel safe with her dad, yet her hastened, excited breaths didn't stop.

And then her dad's fingers were at her panties. They pushed firmly on the mound above her shaved pussy. Minju quietly cooed. She was burning for him, though she had no idea of her dad's intentions. He was slowly moving his fingers and touching everywhere, but the burning center of her pelvis, and she was pretty sure that's where she wanted him the most.

Feeling a bit frustrated after a moment of that, Minju's hand, which had continued stroking her father all along, felt the ridge of the silly rubber ring that still covered her dad's penis. Each time her hand rolled up, the ring did too. It would pop back off if she did it a few times.

And it did. By the time Jae finally put his fingers directly on the cloth-covered mound of his daughter, he didn't dare stop her from holding his bare cock in her hand. Minju just rolled the condom back the way it had come and let it fall to the ground. Her hand still had enough of the lubricant on it that she could slide it on her father's naked shaft; she liked it much better that way. There was even a little fluid coming out of his tip by then, thought the teenager, and she used that to ease her strokes, too. If she kept up the good work, he'd orgasm just like he told her. She wondered what that would be like without the protective condom on.

His fingers felt so wonderful on her. Jae was doing what Minju liked the most, though he couldn't have known, and that was to gently rub his finger between and around Minju's sensitive lips. She was so fired up that it immediately made her shudder excitedly. Minju scooted closer to her dad, still facing him and letting him get closer to rub her pussy better.

"Oh, sweetie, keep going," he instructed her. You're going to make your dad come."

Jae had promised not to go any further. This was only supposed to be a lesson. But she felt so good, and looking at her, he was proud to watch his beautiful daughter stroke his cock as he rubbed her tiny pussy through her panties. It seemed only a shade more taboo for them to touch each other than to simply learn how to put a condom on. He wasn't having sex with Minju, after all, only teaching her about foreplay and how to please a man.

"Oh fuck, Daddy, you're good at that. It feels good when you touch me."

"You too, honey. Lay back a little. I'm getting closer."

"Oh, keep going, Dad! Don't stop touching my pussy," she was writhing her hips around in rhythm to her father's firm, massaging fingers. The way he was pushing them just right on her clit and the thin lips of her quim was inexplicably excellent. Minju quickly obeyed her dad and leaned back in the chair so he could do what he wanted to her. She could only hope for him to do something more.

Minju saw the way her dad was positioning himself between her legs as she stroked him. It couldn't be, but a part of her wondered if he was thinking what she was. If he just reached down and pulled off her underwear, his big cock would be so close to her pussy. Would he ever consider teaching her about that, about how it would feel if he slid his hard penis inside of her and became the first man to claim her virgin pussy?

No, they couldn't. Minju had taken the condom off her dad, and there was no way he'd risk getting her pregnant, she reasoned. It was so naughty of her to think about it, but somehow, the thought of her getting pregnant with her dad didn't deter her as it should have. She couldn't know it then, but a similar idea had also crossed her father's mind.

"Are you going to cum daddy?"

"Yesss..." her father hissed. "Do you know what's gonna happen, baby?" He had instinctively lined up in front of his daughter because it was what he wanted but he hadn't thought to ask her permission.

"Are you going to squirt your cum on me, Daddy?" Minju asked between breaths as she was trying to focus her attention on her dad and not on the escalating distraction of pleasure.

"Uh-huh, do you want me to Minju'? Jae requested.

"Yes, Daddy.... mmmnnhh...oh fuck. You're gonna make me cum, too," she looked so beautiful as she continued moving her hand and simultaneously wriggling under her dad's fingers. "Don't stop...no...don't stop..." Minju begged. She was doing such a good job, thought her father.

Minju was trying so hard to please her dad when she started to shudder from the onset of her climax on his fingers. She brought two hands to her father's cock and prayed that she was doing it right. She couldn't even keep her eyes open or at least point in his direction. She'd never felt so much tension and desire released in an orgasm as the one her dad was causing her to feel. She knew she had succeeded when she felt the first warm spray of her father's cum on her bare stomach.

Jae looked down at his little girl. She was beautifully laid back on the arm of the couch and shaking visibly as her father continued to stimulate her pussy through the release. His cock spurted an incredible amount onto the eighteen-year-old's midsection.

"Daddy... oh my god... fuck... please!"

He just kept going, and her hips tried to lift in retreat. It had come on so quickly, but Jae was going to make sure his teenage daughter had every bit as powerful an orgasm as he was. And still Minju held on with two hands and pumped her father's cock right at her, coaxing each jet of white semen onto a different vacant stretch of her stomach.

Minju's orgasm lasted longer than her father's, and it was a beautiful thing to watch. She moaned loud enough that Jae worried she would wake someone up. Fortunately, the closest room was his wife's, and she was a heavy sleeper. A few times, Minju's eyes stared into her father's when she could tear her concentration away from all the stimuli.

When she finally came to, they both looked together at the mess they'd created all over the surface of Minju's abdomen. That was not what Jae had in mind when his daughter asked to put a condom on him. Yet, he didn't feel even slightly compelled to complain.

"Your cum is so warm, dad! I can feel it all over my tummy!"

"You like that feeling, Minju? Your dad liked feeling you make him come, honey."

"Yeah, daddy, I like it almost as much as the orgasm you gave me!"

She looked beautiful with the ropes of his white semen shot on her tan skin. It was so wrong and simultaneously one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. Minju wearing that incredible black lingerie just for him was a treat enough, but the act of coating her with his sperm after teaching her how to put a condom on seemed too much to comprehend. He had to admit that couldn't have worked out better for him.

"You know, you said you just wanted to put a condom on me, honey, were you lying?"

"No, Daddy, I swear!" Minju promised, "I just... I don't know, I wanted to make you feel good, and you're penis felt so big and warm, and I just wanted to keep jerking it. I couldn't stop!"

He loved hearing her prattle on. She was so innocent and yet sexy at the same time. Jae quickly flipped around and maneuvered Minju so she could lay back in his arms. His hand came to rest around her shoulder, with his fingers resting right at the tops of her breasts. Of course, he immediately began caressing the tops of her mounded breasts. Below, the fresh ribbons of cum on the pretty high schooler's stomach began to cool, and Minju could feel the night air tickling all the wet spots down there. But her dad was warm enough to keep her comfortable.

"It's okay, baby. I don't mind. You did such a good job, too. Should we clean you up now?"

"No, Daddy, just let it stay like this for a bit. I like it, and it's like you marked me yours."

Jae loved that thought and loved even more that his daughter saw it that way. In his eyes, Minju was his very own.

Exhausted after all of it, father and daughter dozed off. The image of holding his teenage daughter in his arms, her flat stomach still glazed with his cum, and the peaceful look on her face as she fell asleep was something Jae hoped never to forget. He dreamed of Minju, even as he held her, exploring unspoken curiosities of what lessons she might ask of him next.

#izone smut #minju smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #izone #minju #smut #kpop #izone minju #girl group smut #kactress smut #kactress #actress #kdrama smut #kdrama

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kittenan2 · 18 days ago

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Mission: Pineapple

Genre: Chaotic rom-com, fluffy smut, arranged marriage, cracky slow burn Pairing: Shy!ArrangedHusband!Jin × SlightlyEvilButSoft!Wife!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+), detailed smut, fluff, bickering, intense love Word Count: ~6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (m/f), light food play, chaotic foreplay, unprotected sex (assume contraception), bickering, fluff, mild embarrassment kink, Jin being a flustered mess, Reader being unhinged but loving.

You’re losing your mind, and it’s all Kim Seokjin’s fault. Your husband of three weeks—thanks to your families’ insistence on a “traditional” arranged marriage—is a walking paradox: a Greek god with the social skills of a nervous librarian.

His face is unfair, all sharp jawline, plush lips that look like they were designed for kissing, and big, doe-like eyes that make your heart do embarrassing cartwheels. But he’s so polite it’s infuriating. Every time your hands brush, he jumps like you’ve electrocuted him and mumbles, “Sorry,” like he’s committed a federal crime.

This morning, at the breakfast table, it happens again. You reach for the sugar at the same time he does, your fingers grazing his. He yanks his hand back like you’re made of lava, nearly knocking over his coffee. “Sorry!” he squeaks, ears turning a shade of pink that should be illegal. He pushes his glasses up his nose, staring at the table as if it’s about to reveal the meaning of life.

You sigh, loud and dramatic, leaning forward until your chin is practically in your cereal. “Jin, we’re married. You don’t have to apologize for touching me. It’s not illegal.”

“I—I know,” he stammers, adjusting his glasses again, a nervous tic you’ve clocked about 47 times in three weeks. “I just… don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? You’re so in love with this man it’s physically painful, like your heart is staging a daily riot in your chest. You want to climb him like a jungle gym, pin him to the nearest wall, and kiss him until he forgets how to apologize.

But Jin? He’s treating you like you’re a porcelain doll in a museum, complete with a “Do Not Touch” sign. It’s driving you to the brink of insanity.

Last night, you tried to up the ante. You “accidentally” dropped a spoon while doing dishes, bending over in your tightest yoga pants to pick it up, giving him a full view of your assets. He turned red, muttered something about needing to water the plants (you don’t own plants), and fled to the living room.

The night before that, you wore a slinky silk camisole to bed, hoping he’d get the hint. He complimented your “nice pajamas,” offered you an extra blanket, and slept so far on his side of the bed he nearly fell off. You’re one more “sorry” away from staging a full-on seduction coup.

In a fit of desperation, you left a spicy romance novel—The Duke’s Forbidden Desire—on the coffee table, open to a particularly steamy page. You watched from the kitchen as Jin picked it up, curious, only to drop it like it burned him when he read the words “throbbing manhood.” He spent the next hour reorganizing the spice rack, avoiding eye contact. You’re married to a man who’s allergic to innuendo, and it’s going to kill you.

You’re sprawled on the couch, scrolling TikTok like it’s your job, while Jin sits in the armchair, reading a book on The History of Korean Pottery (because of course he is). Your phone pings with a voice message from your best friend, Mina, the human equivalent of a chaos gremlin. You pop in your earbuds and hit play.

“Girl, you sound desperate,” Mina cackles, her voice dripping with mischief. “Your man’s too shy to make a move? Feed him pineapple. It makes… you know taste better. Plus, it’s got enzymes that can boost sexual arousal, like, rev up his engine. Trust me, my hookup last week said I tasted like a tropical vacation. Get him hooked, and he’ll be begging to get in your pants.”

You choke on air, nearly yeeting your phone across the room. It lands on the rug with a thud, and Jin looks up, alarmed.

“You okay?” he asks, all sweet concern, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“Fine!” you squeak, scrambling to retrieve your phone, your face hotter than a jalapeño. Pineapple? TASTE BETTER? Your brain is a fireworks display of filthy possibilities.

You glance at Jin, who’s gone back to his book, oblivious, his lips pursed in that unfairly kissable way. A plan forms in your unhinged mind, so chaotic it could only come from Mina’s terrible influence. Mission: Pineapple is born. If you can’t seduce him with yoga pants or smutty novels, you’ll seduce him with enzymes. It’s foolproof. Probably.

You leap off the couch, startling Jin again. “I’m going to the store!” you announce, already halfway to the door.

“For what?” he calls after you, confused.

“Fruit!” you yell back, slamming the door before he can question you further. You’re on a mission, and nothing—not even Jin’s crippling politeness—will stop you.

At the grocery store, you load your cart with enough pineapples to start a tropical plantation, ignoring the cashier’s raised eyebrow. Mina FaceTimes you mid-checkout, screaming, “YOU’RE REALLY DOING IT? Get some whipped cream too—make it sexy!”

You hang up, mortified, as the cashier smirks and an elderly woman behind you mutters about “kids these days.”

The next morning, you’re a woman possessed. You’ve blended a pineapple smoothie so aggressively it’s practically a religious experience, the kitchen smelling like a tropical island.

You slide the glass across the counter to Jin, beaming like you’ve just invented sliced bread. “Drink this,” you say, trying to sound casual but probably looking like a manic fruit salesperson.

He blinks at the vibrant yellow liquid, suspicious. “What’s in it?”

“Pineapple, banana, a dash of chaos—er, I mean, love,” you say, winking. Your wink is more of a twitch, but you’re committed now.

Jin raises an eyebrow but takes the glass, wrapping his lips around the straw. Oh no. Oh no. His lips—those perfect, plump lips—purse around the straw, and he sucks gently, his throat bobbing as he swallows. A drop of juice escapes, sliding down his chin, and he wipes it with his thumb, licking it off absentmindedly.

Your brain implodes. Holy fuck, he’s going to ruin me with that mouth, and he doesn’t even know it. You imagine those lips on your skin, trailing down your neck, your thighs, lower, leaving a sticky trail of pineapple juice.

Your core clenches, and you grip the counter, your filthy thoughts screaming: I’m trying to seduce you with fruit enzymes, you gorgeous idiot, and you’re making it so much worse!

You picture him pinning you against the fridge, licking juice off your collarbone, whispering your name in that low, rough voice you’ve only heard when he’s half-asleep. You’re so lost in the fantasy you almost drop the blender.

“It’s… sweet,” Jin says, oblivious to your internal meltdown. “You made this for me?”

“Yup! For your health. Vitamin C and all that.” Your voice is an octave too high, and you’re pretty sure you’re sweating. He smiles, all soft and grateful, and you combust internally, retreating to the sink to pretend-wash a perfectly clean plate.

Thus begins your reign as the Pineapple-Pushing Menace. Over the next week, you’re relentless:

Monday: Pineapple chunks in his lunch, cut into little hearts because you’re extra. He raises an eyebrow but eats them, commenting, “You cut these into hearts?” You nod, muttering, “Just eat it, Jin,” while imagining him sucking the juice off your fingers.

Tuesday: Grilled pineapple skewers with dinner. You watch, practically drooling, as he bites into one, juice dripping down his chin. You hand him a napkin, your hand shaking, and he thanks you like you’ve saved his life.

Wednesday: Pineapple cookies, which you spent an hour shaping into perfect hearts. He eats three, looking increasingly baffled.

Thursday: Pineapple salsa with homemade tortilla chips. You “accidentally” brush his hand while passing the bowl, and he apologizes, making you want to scream.

Friday: A pineapple smoothie and pineapple-glazed chicken. You catch him sniffing the chicken suspiciously, and you chirp, “It’s tropical! I tried watching online.” He nods, but his eyes are narrowing.

Saturday: You sneak pineapple into his morning oatmeal, blending it into a puree so he can’t escape. He eats it, but his expression screams, What is happening to my life?

By Sunday, you’ve escalated to pineapple pancakes, and he’s staring at the plate like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve. “You really like pineapple,” he says, his tone half-amused, half-wary.

“Good for Vitamin C!” you insist, your smile so wide it’s probably terrifying. Inside, you’re screaming: Please, for the love of god, figure out why I’m doing this and kiss me senseless.

You’re a walking disaster, and it’s all because of Jin’s stupidly perfect face. Watching him eat pineapple is your personal hell. Every bite, every lick of juice from his lips, sends you spiraling into a fantasy so vivid you’re surprised you haven’t spontaneously combusted.

You’ve started dreaming about it—him pinning you against the counter, whispering your name, pineapple juice dripping everywhere. You wake up all sweaty, then spend ten minutes staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, ranting: “I’m trying to seduce you with enzymes, you beautiful, oblivious man! Why is this so hard?!”

Last night, you tried another seduction attempt, “accidentally” spilling water on your white t-shirt while doing dishes, rendering it see-through. Jin took one look, turned the color of a fire engine, and offered you his hoodie, muttering about how you “must be cold.” You’re one step away from hiring a skywriter to spell out “I WANT YOU” over the house.

The final straw comes at dinner. You’re both eating pineapple salad—because of course you are—and a drop of juice slides down your chin. Before you can wipe it, Jin leans across the table, his expression soft but focused, and gently swipes it away with his thumb. Then, without breaking eye contact, he licks the juice off his finger.

Your brain short-circuits. Sparks fly behind your eyes, your heart stops, and you’re pretty sure you’ve ascended to another plane of existence. Did he just—? Is he flirting? Is this allowed?

You imagine him licking juice off your lips, your neck, your everything, and your core tightens so fast you nearly fall off your chair. You stare at him, mouth open, as he calmly resumes eating, oblivious to the fact that you’re mentally writing your will because you’re about to die of horny.

“Messy eater,” he teases, a small smile playing on his lips, and you choke on a pineapple chunk, coughing dramatically while he pats your back, all gentle concern. You want to scream, “STOP BEING CUTE AND FUCK ME ALREADY,” but instead, you wheeze, “Thanks.”

After ten days of your pineapple onslaught, Jin’s starting to crack. He’s sitting at his laptop in the living room, glasses slipping down his nose, looking like a sexy professor who’s just stumbled onto a conspiracy.

You breeze in with a plate of pineapple cupcakes, frosted with little pineapple-shaped sprinkles, because you’re nothing if not committed. “More pineapple?” he asks, his voice laced with suspicion, like you’re trying to smuggle contraband.

“Yeah Vitamin C... enhances immunity!” you chirp, but your grin is so manic it probably looks like you’re auditioning for a horror movie. He takes a cupcake, eyeing it like it might explode.

That night, you’re in the kitchen when you hear a muffled gasp from the living room. You peek around the corner to see Jin hunched over his laptop, eyes wide as saucers as he Googles, his face lit by the glow of the screen.

“Why does my wife keep feeding me pineapple?” The top result is a Reddit thread titled “Pineapple and Intimate Benefits: The Truth.” Jin’s hand hovers over the keyboard, trembling, as he clicks the link. His eyes scan the page, and then—oh no—he chokes on air, slamming the laptop shut so hard the couch shakes.

You burst into the room, pretending to be casual. “Everything okay?” you ask, holding a pineapple smoothie you definitely didn’t make just to mess with him.

He jumps, nearly falling off the couch, his glasses askew. “F-Fine!” he squeaks, his voice hitting a pitch only dogs can hear. His ears are so red they could guide Santa’s sleigh. “Just… work stuff!” He clutches the laptop to his chest like it’s a bomb.

You raise an eyebrow, sipping the smoothie loudly. “Work, huh? Looked intense.”

He nods, sweating, and bolts to the bathroom, muttering about needing a shower. You cackle internally, knowing you’ve got him on the ropes. He knows. He totally knows.

The next day, you catch him at work, cornered by his coworker, Namjoon, who’s trying to be helpful but is clearly out of his depth.

You’re dropping off lunch (pineapple salad included, naturally) when you overhear Jin whispering, “She keeps feeding me pineapple. Every day. I looked it up, and… I think she’s trying to do something.”

Namjoon, bless his soul, looks horrified. “Like… poison you?”

You freeze, your hand on the lunch container, and deadpan internally: My stupid idiot husband and his stupid idiot friends.

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t fall out, biting back a laugh at the sheer absurdity. Poison? Really, Namjoon? You’re tempted to barge in and yell, “It’s not arsenic, it’s foreplay!” but you hold back, savoring the chaos.

“No!” Jin hisses, glancing around like you’re a spy. “Like… you know.” He makes a vague hand gesture that could mean anything from “sex” to “jazz hands.” Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he pats Jin’s shoulder like he’s consoling a man headed to the gallows.

“Maybe just… talk to her?” Namjoon suggests, and Jin groans, burying his face in his hands.

You slink away, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Mission: Pineapple is working.

Jin’s behavior shifts dramatically. He’s quiet now, his eyes tracking you like you’re a puzzle he’s too shy to solve. When you offer him pineapple upside-down cake, he hesitates, his ears pink.

“I’m… good,” he mumbles, pushing the plate away like it’s cursed.

You panic. He’s onto me. So you double down, going full Pineapple Overlord. You make pineapple tea, pineapple salsa, even pineapple-scented candles for “ambiance.” But the real chaos comes from Mina, who’s taken it upon herself to be your seduction coach, texting you increasingly unhinged ideas.

“Wear a pineapple bikini! Like, cut pineapple slices into little triangles and tie them with string. He’ll lose his mind.”

You stare at your phone in the grocery store, horrified. A pineapple bikini? Is she trying to get me arrested for fruit-based indecency? You imagine yourself waltzing out in pineapple slices, and Jin fainting from shock. You text back, “I’m not a fruit salad, Mina!” but you cheeks are flushing.

“Spray pineapple juice on your neck like perfume. It’s sexy and subtle.”

Against your better judgment, you try her suggestion, spritzing a little juice on your wrist before dinner. You feel like an idiot, but when Jin leans close to grab the salt and sniffs the air, confused, you nearly drop your fork. Oh my god, it’s working. Or he thinks I’m a smoothie.

You’re torn between embarrassment and arousal, your face hot as you stammer, “New… lotion?” You nod slowly, his eyes narrowing, and you want to crawl under the table.

“Feed him pineapple in bed. Naked. Like, put a chunk on your stomach and make him eat it off you.”

You choke on your coffee, spraying it across the kitchen counter, when you read her latest text. Naked pineapple feeding?

You imagine the logistics—sticky juice everywhere, Jin’s horrified expression, you accidentally rolling onto the pineapple and squishing it into the sheets.

“Mina, I’m trying to seduce him, not start a fruit massacre!” you text back, but the idea lingers, making you giggle hysterically in the bathroom later. Jin knocks on the door, concerned. “You okay in there? You’ve been laughing for ten minutes.”

“I’m fine!” you yell, but your voice cracks, and you hear him mutter, “She’s losing it,” through the door. His concern is adorable, but it only fuels your panic—he’s noticing your weirdness, and it’s making him nervous. You catch him eyeing you warily at dinner, like you might whip out a pineapple and start juggling it.

Mina’s final suggestion comes via voice note: “Sing a sexy song about pineapples. Like, ‘Pineapple of my eye, come and take a bite.’ Instant panty-dropper.”

You delete the message before Jin overhears, but you’re cackling so hard you trip over a chair, and Jin rushes to help you up, his hands lingering on your arms.

“You’re acting… strange,” he says, his voice soft but laced with worry. You grin, manic, and say, “Just excited about fruit!” He blinks, clearly unconvinced, and you know you’re one pineapple away from a full-blown intervention.

Your families, in their infinite meddling wisdom, send you to a “bonding” weekend at Jin’s family’s farmhouse on Jeju Island. It’s a sprawling, rustic place with creaky wooden floors, a chicken coop that smells like regret, and—oh no—only one small bed. The bedroom is freezing, with a single, lumpy mattress under a quilt that looks like it’s been through a war. You’re losing your mind.

The farmhouse is chaos incarnate. The first night, a rogue chicken escapes the coop and somehow ends up in the kitchen, clucking furiously as you and Jin chase it with a broom and a spatula.

“Why is there a chicken in the house?!” you shriek, diving for it as it flaps onto the counter, knocking over a jar of pickled radishes. Jin, red-faced and laughing, grabs it, only to trip over a rug and land in a pile of flour you’d spilled earlier while attempting to make pineapple pancakes. You both collapse, wheezing, covered in flour, the chicken smugly strutting out the door.

Next day, you cook pineapple fried rice, smirking as you set the plate in front of him. The farmhouse kitchen smells like soy sauce and tropical dreams, but the vibe is pure chaos—a goat wandered in earlier and ate half your ingredients.

Jin stares at the rice, then at you, his eyes dark with something new. “Do you… want me to do something after eating this?” he blurts, voice cracking, his glasses fogging up from the steam—or maybe his nerves.

Your brain short-circuits. “What?”

He’s red from his neck to his ears. “I—I read online. About pineapple. And… you know.” He gestures vaguely, like he’s trying to mime sex without actually saying it, his hands flailing in a way that’s both adorable and mortifying.

You choke on your own spit. “I—NO! I mean, yes! But not because of the pineapple! Well, maybe a little, but—” You’re flailing, words tumbling out like a clown car crash, and the goat chooses this moment to bleat loudly from the corner, startling you both.

Jin knocks over his water glass, and you slip on the spilled liquid, crashing into him. He catches you, and for a moment, you’re pressed against his chest, his heart pounding against yours.

Then, to your shock, he leans in, his lips brushing yours, soft and hesitant. You melt into a puddle of pure want, the goat still bleating like it’s judging you.

The kiss deepens, and you’re gone. You grab his shirt, pulling him closer, and he makes a soft noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. “Jin,” you gasp against his mouth, “I’ve been trying to seduce you for weeks.”

He pulls back, eyes wide, lips swollen. “With pineapple?” he asks, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice now, his shy demeanor cracking to reveal a playful edge.

“You thought feeding me fruit would get me to… what, ravish you on the kitchen counter?” He laughs, a rich, warm sound, but his eyes are sparkling with amusement, like he’s just discovered the funniest, cutest thing in the world.

You flush, mortified but also charmed. “It was Mina’s idea!” you blurt, then clap a hand over your mouth. “I mean—not entirely! I just… wanted you to want me.”

His smile softens, and he cups your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You’re adorable,” he murmurs, and the word makes your heart stutter.

“You’re this chaotic little mastermind, shoving pineapples at me like it’s a secret code. I’ve wanted you since the wedding, you know. I just… didn’t know how to say it without sounding like an idiot.”

You stare, then laugh, half-crying, half-hysterical. “You’re the idiot? I’ve been practically throwing myself at you, and you kept apologizing!”

He grins, leaning in to kiss you again, softer this time. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips, and you groan, shoving him playfully. “Kidding! But seriously, the pineapple thing? Genius. Ridiculous, but genius.” He’s teasing now, his confidence growing, and you’re smitten with this new, playful Jin who finds your unhinged plan endearing.

You tackle him, kissing him hard, and he catches you, stumbling back against the farmhouse counter. A basket of radishes clatters to the floor, and you both freeze, then burst into giggles, the goat bleating in the background like it’s cheering you on.

You’re a mess of hands and lips, knocking over a rusty watering can as you drag Jin to the bedroom. The farmhouse bed creaks ominously under your combined weight, and you’re both laughing, but his eyes are dark, hungry.

You tug at his shirt, and he helps, revealing smooth skin and a lean, toned chest that makes your mouth water. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, but he’s kissing you again, hands sliding under your sweater.

“You and your pineapples,” he teases between kisses, his voice rough. “What’s next, a mango seduction plan?” You groan, half-laughing, half-aroused, and yank his belt off, fumbling in your haste. He chuckles, guiding your shaking hands. “Slow down, pineapple queen,” he says, but his breath hitches when you slide your hand over him, feeling him hard through his boxers.

You pause, staring, and he blushes, covering his face. “Don’t look like that,” he groans. “Like you’re planning to eat me with a side of fruit.”

“Maybe I am,” you retort, smirking as you ease his boxers down. He’s perfect, thick and hard, and you can’t resist. You grab a pineapple chunk from the bedside table—because of course you brought some—and trail it down his chest, the juice leaving a sticky path. “Let’s see if you taste tropical,” you tease, and he chokes out a laugh, his hands gripping your hips.

“You’re insane,” he gasps, but he’s grinning, watching as you pop the pineapple into your mouth, then lean down to lick the juice off his skin.

His hands tangle in your hair, and you move lower, your lips brushing the tip of him. You lick a slow stripe up his length, savoring the mix of his taste and the faint sweetness of pineapple lingering on your tongue.

He groans, a low, desperate sound, his hips twitching as you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head. “Fuck, baby,” he pants, the pet name making you feral. “You and this damn pineapple kink are gonna kill me.”

You hum around him, the vibration making him curse, his hands tightening in your hair. You work him slowly, teasing, enjoying the way he’s unraveling, babbling your name and half-coherent apologies.

A drop of pineapple juice from your chin drips onto him, and you lick it off, making him groan louder. “You’re filthy,” he gasps, but his eyes are reverent, like he’s never seen anything sexier. You don’t let him finish, pulling back with a wicked grin and climbing up to kiss him, the taste of pineapple and him mingling on your lips.

He flips you onto the bed, and you squeal, delighted, as he peels off your clothes with surprising confidence. “My turn,” he murmurs, wicked and filthy, a side of him you didn’t expect.

He grabs another pineapple chunk, trailing it down your stomach, the juice pooling in your navel. He licks it up, slow and deliberate, his tongue dipping lower until you’re arching, whimpering.

“Jin, please, don’t make me wait. I’ve been dying since our wedding,” you beg, and he grins, sliding your panties down. His mouth is on you, hot and slow, tongue circling your clit with devastating precision, the faint pineapple sweetness adding a decadent edge.

You cry out, hands fisting the sheets, as he works you over, one hand pinning your hips, the other teasing your entrance. “Tastes better than pineapple,” he murmurs against you, and you laugh, breathless, until he sucks gently, and your vision whites out.

You come hard, trembling, and he doesn’t stop, licking you through it until you’re oversensitive and giggling.

You push him onto his back, straddling him, and he looks up at you like you’re a goddess. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, but he’s grinning, grabbing another pineapple chunk and popping it into his mouth before kissing you, the juice dripping down your chin. You both laugh, licking it off each other, a sticky, chaotic mess.

“Condom?” he asks, voice strained.

“No!! I want to feel you,” you pant, aligning yourself over him. He chuckles and nods, eyes locked on yours, and you sink down slowly, gasping at the stretch. He’s big, and it’s intense, but the way he watches you, reverent and wrecked, makes it perfect.

You move together, clumsy at first, laughing when the bed creaks like it’s about to collapse. A pillow falls, then a lamp, and you both dissolve into giggles.

“This farmhouse is cursed,” you gasp, and he retorts, “No, it’s your pineapple obsession!” Then it clicks, and it’s electric—deep, rolling thrusts, his hands gripping your hips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He flips you again, pinning you down, and the angle changes, hitting just right. You’re both loud, moaning and laughing, pineapple juice sticky on your skin.

He reaches between you, rubbing your clit, and you shatter, clenching around him, screaming his name. He follows, groaning, “My pineapple queen,” as he comes, and you cling to him, riding out the waves of pleasure, the bed creaking one last protest.

You collapse together, sweaty and dazed, tangled in the lumpy farmhouse quilt. Jin’s face is buried in your neck, his breath warm and ticklish, and you’re both giggling like teenagers who just got away with something naughty. The room smells faintly of pineapple and sex, and the goat outside bleats once, as if giving you a sarcastic round of applause.

Jin props himself up on one elbow, his glasses slightly crooked, hair a glorious mess. He’s grinning, that playful, confident side of him fully unleashed. “So,” he says, voice teasing, “was the pineapple worth it, my little fruit seductress?” He pokes your side, making you squirm and laugh.

“Shut up,” you groan, swatting his hand, but you’re grinning too, your face hot. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re here, all… ravished.”

He laughs, a rich, warm sound, and leans down to kiss your nose. “Oh, it worked. But I’m gonna need a pineapple detox after this. I’m one bite away from turning into a tropical smoothie.” He grabs a stray pineapple chunk from the bedside table, popping it into his mouth with exaggerated flair, winking at you.

“Mmm, still delicious. But not as delicious as you.” His voice drops, teasing but sincere, and your heart does a somersault.

You snatch the quilt, pulling it over your face to hide your blush. “You’re the worst,” you mumble, muffled by the fabric, but he tugs it down, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Nope, you’re the worst,” he counters, tickling your ribs until you’re shrieking with laughter, flailing to escape. “Who spends weeks seducing their husband with fruit? You’re like a sexy, evil mastermind. I’m framing those heart-shaped pineapple cookies as evidence.”

You gasp, mock-offended, and tackle him, starting a playful wrestling match that sends more pillows flying. “You loved those cookies!” you accuse, pinning him down (or trying to—he’s stronger than he looks). He flips you easily, trapping you beneath him, his hands gentle but firm on your wrists.

“I love you,” he says softly, his teasing fading into something so tender it makes your chest ache. He kisses you, slow and deep, and you melt, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But seriously,” he murmurs against your lips, “what does pineapple do to you? I need to know for… science.”

You gasp, smacking him with a pillow, and he cackles, rolling off you to dodge your attack. “You’re never letting this go, are you?” you groan, but you’re laughing, pulling him back for another kiss, the quilt tangling around your legs.

“Never,” he promises, his voice muffled as he nuzzles your neck. “You’re stuck with me and your pineapple obsession now.”

Months later, you’re happier than ever, Jin’s shyness a distant memory replaced by a playful confidence that keeps you on your toes.

You’re in the kitchen of your shared apartment, attempting to bake a cake (chocolate, because you’ve finally branched out from pineapple, though you’ve got a can on standby). Jin sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and stealing a swipe of frosting from the bowl, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Hey!” you scold, swatting his hand with a spatula, leaving a smear of chocolate on his knuckles. He grins, licking it off with exaggerated slowness, his eyes locked on yours in that sinful, teasing way that takes you right back to the farmhouse. Your body tingles, and you’re half-tempted to abandon the cake and drag him to the bedroom.

“What?” he says, all faux innocence, leaning against the counter with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to be distracting. “Just taste-testing for my favorite baker. Gotta keep my energy up for… later activities.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks are burning.

“Keep that up, and I’ll start another pineapple campaign,” you threaten, waving the spatula like a sword. He laughs, grabbing it from you and pulling you into his arms, spinning you around the kitchen until you’re dizzy and giggling, the floor creaking under your feet.

“Oh, please do,” he teases, his voice low and playful, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m ready for round—what is it now, 47? 48?—of Mission: Pineapple. Maybe this time we’ll make a baby and name it Pineapple. Little Pineapple Kim, our tropical legacy.” He waggles his eyebrows, and you burst out laughing, shoving him playfully.

“Pineapple Kim? Are you trying to curse our hypothetical child?” you gasp, but you’re cackling, imagining a tiny human with Jin’s doe eyes and your chaotic energy, possibly wielding a pineapple like a scepter. “They’d be the weirdest kid in school, and it’d be your fault.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who started the fruit seduction,” he retorts, catching you as you stumble from all the spinning.

“We’d dress Pineapple Junior in little pineapple onesies, teach them to flirt with fruit by kindergarten. It’s a family tradition now.” He’s grinning so wide his cheeks must hurt, and you’re so smitten it’s absurd.

“You’re unhinged,” you say, but you’re kissing him, chocolate frosting smudged on both your faces. He lifts you onto the counter, and you knock over the sugar bowl, sending it crashing to the floor. Neither of you cares, too busy laughing and kissing, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Only as unhinged as you, my pineapple queen,” he murmurs, stealing another kiss. You spot the can of pineapple on the counter, and you both freeze, then dissolve into giggles. “Round 48?” he suggests, waggling his eyebrows, already reaching for the can.

You yank him toward the bedroom, leaving the cake half-frosted and the kitchen a mess, ready for another chapter of your deliciously chaotic love story. “Pineapple Kim’s gonna have the best origin story,” he calls after you, and you laugh so hard you nearly trip, pulling him closer for more.

A/n: Guess what... I am eating pineapple while writing this sin. And yes Jin... I am filthy for you. And I am not sorry for that.😩😏😈

Taglist: @the-djarin-clan . @jeonjamiekim . @moonjinniecafe . @minpdrecs . @bontensbabygirl . @this-most-assuredly-counts . @taolucha . @mytaegiheart . @dear-mono . @lilyficrec . @janeluvwonuuuu . @k-fan-fics . @iztrouble . @pikajooni . @namluvili . @alonahh . @paradise172 . @stay-tiny-things . @micdropitlikeitshot . @softhaes . @littlebluhellfire . @niqueesthings . @nocturnalsingularity . @syudoeslove . @namjoonbaby17-blog . @mar-lo-pap . @naesarang07 . @diame93 . @themwordsblog . @crizoosblog . @bebabido

#seokjin fanfic #seokjin smut #jin fanfic #jin smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jin fanfiction #bts fic #BTSFanfic #SeokjinSmut #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts x reader #kittenanwrites #kim seokjin #seokjin #bts jin

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ivyues · 3 days ago

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June Rain ⋅ Seungmin

You didn’t expect the soft summer rain to complement your first vacation as a couple. (A/N: you surely know those -> X)

The engine hummed softly beneath your fingertips, the highway unfurling ahead of you like a silver ribbon winding through the quiet countryside. You stole a glance at Seungmin, seated in the passenger seat, hood pulled up and a hand curled under his chin as he looked out the window. His eyes were calm and thoughtful, following the blur of green and low, cloudy skies.

It was your first holiday together – just the two of you. A small cabin, tucked away about four hours from Seoul, rented off a cute Airbnb listing that Seungmin had found and sent to you with a message that just said:

“Too cheesy? Or just cheesy enough?”

You’d replied with a heart emoji and booked it before either of you could change your mind.

Seungmin shifted in his seat, glancing at you. “You sure you don’t want to switch soon?”

You shook your head with a small smile. “I like driving. And you’d just fall asleep behind the wheel.”

“I would not,” he said, but his grin betrayed him. “Okay, maybe I would. But I’m great company.”

“You’ve been silent for 40 minutes.”

“I’m providing comforting presence,” he countered, sitting up straighter and stretching. “But seriously, this is nice.”

It was. The air was easy between you – occasional conversation, music low in the background, and the unspoken comfort of being together with nowhere urgent to be.

By the time you arrived, the sun was playing peekaboo through the clouds, casting soft light over the wooden cabin. Nestled between gentle green hills, it looked like something out of a Ghibli movie – wooden beams, a little porch, surrounded by early summer flowers.

You stepped out of the car and stretched, breathing in the mossy air. The quiet was heavier here, soft in a way that made your shoulders drop a little. Seungmin opened the trunk but paused to take it in too, his eyes following the lazy sway of tall grasses on the hill.

A couple of hours in, the rain began. Not a storm, not a dramatic downpour – just that soft, steady June kind of pattering against the roof and windows. The kind that makes the world feel wrapped in cotton, damp and close but not unpleasant. You both stood at the window for a moment, watching it wash over the trees and the little patio outside.

“Well, so much for our hike,” Seungmin said, holding two mugs of hot coffee and handing one to you.

You shrugged and smiled over the rim of your mug, the steam warming your face as you watched a waterdrop slide down the glas. “It’s kind of nice, though.”

Later, you played music from a speaker, low and lazy, a half-read book in your lap and a small stack of board games pulled from the cabin’s shelf on the coffee table. Seungmin insisted on playing a game that he swore he remembered how to play. It turned out he didn’t. Instead, he made up the rules halfway through, and you called him out for it, but he just grinned like he knew you’d let him win anyway.

When the rain slowed to a mist, early in the afternoon, you both ventured outside. The world was painted in deeper greens, the leaves still dripping, the sky a pale gray above. The air smelled of petrichor and damp earth, with that strange, clean scent that only comes after summer rain.

You stepped carefully over a puddle to not dreanch your sneakers, holding Seungmin’s hand. “On the bright side, at least my allergies are taking the day off. Thank you, rain.”

He chuckled, feeling the pull as you stepped over the puddle. “You’re glowing with less congestion. It’s very attractive.”

“Wow. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

“I try.”

Seungmin chuckled as he followed you. As you walked beneath a low-hanging branch, a single droplet slipped from a leaf and landed squarely on Seungmin’s head. He blinked in surprise, water trickling down his forehead. “Maybe we should have actually taken the umbrella with us."

“Ah, city boy can’t handle a little rain, huh?” you teased with a smirk, reaching over to shake the clear drop off his hair.

He just smiled, looking at you a little longer than necessary. There was something in the way your cheeks flushed in the cool air, in the way you skipped over puddles and the fact that your hair slightly curled because of the damp air.

He liked this version of you – freer, softer. A little wild in the rain-damp woods.

You walked in silence for a while after that, just the two of you and the quiet hush of the world post-rain. The occasional bird call and the distant sound of water dripping from leaves.

masterlist

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venus-vault · 7 months ago

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Friend of the Family

Mr.Reed × Fem!Reader(Mid-20s) [18+]

Synopsis: Part 1 - (y/n)'s boring family Christmas vacation to Colorado doesn't exactly go as anticipated...

⚠️TW: Boring Family Dynamic, Age Gap, Alcohol Consumption (all parties of age), Oral Sex (Male & Female Recipients), Raw P in V Penetration, Breif Mutual Masturbation, General Smut. ❄️

"So do I even *actually* know this guy?" I interrogate, unsure why we're staying there instead of some mountainside Airbnb. "Of course! (y/n), you've met Mr. Reed plenty of times, you were just, y'know...smaller." Dad explains, cheery. "Okay... but when you said 'Colorado Christmas Vacation' I thought we'd be like... snowboarding, or hanging out in a cute mountain town, or at least renting a cool cabin in Telluride... not like... the middle of nowhere part of Boulder with some guy I haven't seen since I was a kid..."

He sighs, defeated by my expectations yet again. "Listen. He's my best friend, a few years back he lost his wife, and its true, I haven't gotten around to seeing him in person since you were four, Bug."

He drones on,

"He's a really nice guy, and super cool. He loves that Lana Del Rey girl you're always talking about, and he's got a really nice collection of records and books, its like a mini Barnes & Noble in there! You might find you have more in common than you think!" He offers.

And I decline : "With a 64-year-old retired engineer from England? Yeah thanks, I'll pass. I'm just gonna stay out of the way, keep my headphones on, and let you two reconnect."

I pull out my phone, pop in my earpods, and open Tumblr, pretending to care at all about the latest posts on the Spencer Reid tag. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell I've hurt his feelings, but fathers never say the right thing, and he can withstand a little sting every once in a while. It's what he deserves for not telling me where we were staying til halfway through the plane ride.

Our plane finally touches down, we funnel through Boulder Municipal into a cab and I won't be the first one to speak. I take one earpod out just in case, which Dad takes as an invitation. "Just got a text from Mr. Reed, and I hope you're hungry Bug, because there. will. be. pie." He beams as though this is some great revelation, elaborating "He's got this wild recipe with earl grey in the crust and lemon zest in the filling, it's award-winning. Seriously! He enters it in the local contest every other year and it's only lost once!"

Despite how riveting my father finds Mr. Reed and his Great British baking exploits, I do not, and apparently it shows as his smile tamps down to a simper. "Sweetie, I'm really trying here. I can't convince you it's gonna be the best Christmas ever, hey, we'll probably both have altitude sickness the entire time, but let's just make an attempt, okay? Nothing has to be perfect." He's an idiot but he's right and I agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll be nice." I sigh "That pie does sound pretty good, I guess..."

The cab rolls through the city of Boulder as Lana lilts gently in my earpods about 'haaa-aa-ow toooo disappear~' and maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

We're finally dropped at the gate to Mr. Reed's house and -you're fucking kidding me- his driveway, long and winding, is gravel. I wince inwardly at the realization that I'll have to lug two wheeled suitcases up that path and flash Dad a fake 'I'm so glad We're doing this' smile before yanking them out of the trunk and making my way up to the stoop. This pie better be incredible.

Once Dad and I are situated on the stoop, out of breath and travel-weary, I assault Mr. Reed's doorbell. It's cold and I need a shower.

ding. .... nothing. ding-ding. nope. dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding-

The door opens, finally, and a sweet-looking older man in a well composed cardigan-button down combo and jeans steps out to greet us, smiling bright as his eyes fall on Dad.

"Jonathan!!"

"Reed!!"

Laughter ensues as I observe their embrace, holding back a heavy eyeroll. Somehow I am already third-wheeling.

"Oh my god, Mr. Reed, you remember (y/n)? She's just finished a semester at Oxford!" Dad smirks, gesturing to me and I give a shy wave as Mr. Reed's eyes scan over me, widening in surprise.

"(y/n)? As in, little (y/n), (y/n) who was- ?" He holds his hand flat, bringing it down by his knee as he looks between me and dad in disbelief.

"The very same, can you believe it?"

I purse my mouth into a smile, just completely overwhelmed by how awkward this interaction is.

"Well look at you! You've certainly grown up, haven't you?"

"I suppose so!" my best fake laugh.

Mr. Reed's eyes trace my form again and he pulls me into a quick side hug. He's warm and smells like lemon zest, vanilla extract.

"Let's get you two in then, supposed to be a blizzard tonight."

He grabs one of my suitcases and we follow him as he shuffles back inside.

His house is simple and a little cramped, but I do smell pie. 'Bless This Mess' reads a framed piece of embroidery on the wall, and if there is a God, I hope he does.

We toss our bags into our respective guest rooms at the top of the stairs and I finally get to take my shower before making a way back downstairs to the dining room.

We sit through a meal -shepherd's pie, what is it with this guy and pie?- and my dad and Mr. Reed discuss people they both know who died or lived or have moved or haven't moved and I am in hell until-

"Little after dinner drink then?"

My eyes snap up from my plate to meet his, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. His eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles, warm and comforting and it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Reed is...handsome... If he were 20 years younger he'd definitely be my type, in fact...

"Alright! So that's one, me makes two, Jonathan, little shiraz with your pie?"

"Well how could I say no to such a generous offer?" Dad beams.

We move back into the living room and sip and I pick at the pie. It is good and after a glass and a half of shiraz Mr. Reed looks just as appetizing, but I decide I'm not going to eye-fuck this old man in front of my father, or at least not in an obvious way.

So I sit, tepid, on my phone and pretend not to be bothered by the lack of service while I half listen to their conversation, looking up strategically to ogle Mr. Reed every now and then. His eyes find mine and I watch him nibble at his lip and does he know?

"So then (y/n), Oxford, hm?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'm in their creative writing MFA program right now... its... interesting."

"Interesting boring or interesting incredible?" He crosses one leg over the other and leans in, attentive.

"Uh, I mean it's going well, people in my classes are a little...er.. pretentious..?" I giggle, nervous.

"Exactly as I remember it, then!" He laughs loudly, and dad joins in, snickering along. His laughter is infectious and this wine is making me blush and I smile.

"You're an alum?"

"What, the accent didn't give it away?" A chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I was lucky enough to take about an eon of courses in engineering sciences there, immigrate in the 90s, build this place, blah blah blah, but enough on me, it seems we may just be in the midst of the next great American novelist, eh Jonathan?" A wink.

"I don't know about that," I tear my eyes away from him, focusing in on the details of a floorboard.

"Oh (y/n) don't be modest, Reed you'd love her stuff, she's got some of the most well-metered prose, and-"

"Dad." I warn, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Oop, sorry bug," He cringes "Didn't mean to dad-out on ya."

"I'd love to read some of your writing sometime, granted you'd be comfortable enough to share." Mr. Reed interjects.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sometime..."

"Can I top you up?"

"Sure." He fills my glass just to the midpoint and does the same for himself.

"Jonathan?" He smirks playfully at dad.

"Ah, I dunno, I should probably be getting some shut-eye actually."

"Aw come on,"

"No, no, these days if im up past 10 with a drink in hand I'll be totally useless the next 24 hours." He stands, patting my shoulder. "Night, y'all. Don't have too much fun without me!" And there go the finger guns so now it's my turn to cringe.

He finally leaves the room and I'm alone with Mr. Reed. There's a heavy silence in the air and I take a small sip of my drink.

"So, (y/n), big on Lana Del Rey I hear?" He smirks.

"One of my favorites." I breathe, forcing a smile.

"Norman Fucking Rockwell or Blue Banisters?"

"NFR."

His eyebrows raise "it's okay to be wrong."

"But I'm not."

"Lust for Life or Born To Die; Paradise Edition?"

"... you ask hard questions, Mr. Reed."

"And you... answer them."

"And if I give you another 'wrong' answer?"

"Why would it matter? Are you trying to impress me?"

"...Paradise." I squint at him.

"Mm, see? We agree on something."

I'm powerless to the smile that forms on my face.

"Yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah,"

"What drew you to her, originally I mean?" He looks me over.

"Well, like a lot of young women I do have the obligatory depression diagnosis and Tumblr account combo, and things spiraled out from there I guess..."

"Ah, and here I thought it was just your ill-suited attraction to old men!" He lets out a warm chuckle at his own joke and I must've misheard him.

"What?" I shift a bit in my place on the couch, called out.

He scoffs. "Come on, (y/n). Let's not play this game. You've been eyeing me up since dinner, sitting there and sipping your drink and sucking berries off your fork in the most salacious way, letting your gaze linger, innocent and doe-eyed yet so apathetic to it all," he rolls his eyes like he might be as well, "when in reality, it seems, correct me if I go wrong, but you've been looking at me all night like you want me to touch you. Is that accurate or am I projecting a fantasy?"

The tip of his tongue trails his lip, my gaze following its path and I'm warm. His eyes search mine, that was supposed to be a question.

"Uhm... no that... that sounds...accurate..." I admit almost silently, eyes boring into the floor as I sheepishly take another sip of my wine.

"Hm. I see. And in front of your father too...tsk, naughty girl. Lucky for you the man's terrible at reading body language or subtext of any variant,"

Mr. Reed rises from his chair across the coffee table and plants himself on the edge of the sofa next to me. "I, however, do not have that problem." I look up at him and his eyes are two blue marbles behind those wireframed glasses, his cheshire smirk enough to melt me, it's overwhelming.

My face grows hot and my body tight as he delicately removes the wineglass from my hand, sets it down on the coffee table, and leans down to kiss me.

He's tender and gentle and his lips are soft, his tongue stained with blueberry filling as it finds mine, and he strokes my cheek. I place a shaky hand on his knee and one of his covers it as he presses his forehead to mine, breaking the spell. "Are you certain this is something you want, (y/n)? I wouldn't want to impose-" I cut him off with another, more assertive kiss because I need this.

The holidays are stressful and I'm horny and he's here. Fuck it.

As we continue making out, Mr. Reed scoots onto the couch beside me and I find his zipper. His dick jumps to meet my hand through the fabric as one of his hands slips under my sweater and he moans at the softness of my breast.

I pull away to unzip his pants and stroke him a couple times before moving to kneel between his legs. I look up to him, reverent, then back down to his cock, throbbing in hand. Giving him a few steady strokes, I lean forward, parting my lips.

"Can I?" I blink.

He nods eagerly, transfixed.

I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and swallow as his tip hits the back of my throat.

I hear him suck in a breath and his hands find my hair as I start to bob my head over the length of him, holding his balls with one hand and methodically stroking his base with the other. His breath catches, ragged and I feel him spasm in my mouth. I need him. I finally come up for air with a gasp and wipe a tendril of spit off my lower lip as I look up at him. "Mr. Reed, I want to fuck you," I breathe.

"Well all you had to do was ask," he sighs and I pull myself up off the floor, undoing my jeans and tugging them off my legs as quickly as I can before tearing off my sweater and within seconds I'm standing before him in just my panties and bralette. His eyes trail over me. His teeth sink into his lower lip as a hand wraps around his dick and I place a knee on either side of his legs, straddling him. Fair is fair and my fingers slip under the hem of my panties so I can work myself for him as he takes me in.

"How do you want me?"

"Turn around."

I follow his blunt instruction and as I do his fingers hook into either side of my panties, pulling the dampened fabric down my legs.

"Now, you're going to squat down for me... slowly."

I do as I'm told and he guides my hips, lining himself up with my center. Mr. Reed rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me further down into his lap and I gasp as I feel him begin to penetrate me. I knew it was big, I mean, he could barely fit in my mouth, but christ. I swivel my hips in an attempt to adjust to him, and hear him draw in a breath.

"(y/n), I want you to bounce for me, and you. will. not. make. a sound. understood?"

"Y-yes Mr. Reed."

I start to raise and lower myself slowly on him and gasp sharply as I feel myself tense. He holds me steady by my biceps and guides me up and down.

"Good, that's- ohh that is good, just keep going... mm, mhm, just. like. that. you. Are. Brilliant..." he murmurs, squeezing my ass and I bite back a moan

"Shhhh-shh..."

"Ssorry Mr. Reed," I manage quietly.

He continues to guide my movements, faster now, and I watch his head tip against the back of the couch. His cock twitches inside me and gasp sharply.

"(y/n), stand for me?" And I do.

He turns me around by my hips and I blink down at Mr. Reed and he's panting, glasses perched on top of his head, looking me over hungrily.

"Lay back on the couch here, pet."

He sets a pillow down for me to rest my head on and I do as he says, watching him part my legs, settling between them as he presses gentle kisses up my inner thighs, staring intently into my eyes as he does.

He hovers over my core and I gasp at the warmth of his breath. I watch Mr. Reed's eyes close for a moment as he inhales the scent of my sex and smirks to himself.

"Does your pussy taste like Pepsi Cola then, (y/n)?" He lets out a low chuckle at his own corny little quip, bringing his mouth closer "Shall we find out?"

He pins my thighs open and slowly licks a wide stripe up my vulva from entrance to clit. I can't hold back the whimper that slips from me at the heat of his tongue, and it's even harder to silence msyelf when he dips two fingers into me, curling the pads of his fingertips just slightly as he steadily works me, his tongue moving in a synced rythym against my clit.

The sensation is almost too much and I gasp as I feel myself spasm a couple times around his fingers. He hums into me and the vibration sends a shudder through my body. He tilts his head up, panting as he continues fingering me, and my hips arch up to meet his hand.

He removes his fingers, pressing them against the plush of my lower lip and into my mouth. I suck and lick impatiently, and before long his mouth is on mine again as I feel his cock slip back into me. I can't help the soft moan that escapes my lips as he begins to slowly rock his hips into mine.

"Mister Reed?" I breathe

"Mm?"

"It's... you're just...so big...." He smirks.

"Oh, I'm aware dear." He picks up his pace some "You're taking me so well, though..." he presses a kiss into the side of my neck and I gasp.

"Being so good for me..."

A loud creak interrupts us from overhead and Mr. Reed stops moving, eyes glued upwards as he clamps his hand over my mouth.

Heavy footsteps make the floorboards groan above us as he slowly starts to fuck me again and I take in a sharp breath through my nostrils, looking up at him, panicked.

"Shhh, shh-" another low creak.

Mr. Reed quickens his thrusts and I involuntarily whine against his hand which finds it's way to my neck instantly, holding firm.

"I said. Be quiet." He whispers sternly.

I bite my lip in an effort not to cry out, nodding and I begin to feel that familiar tension coiling inside as he bucks into me, my mind going totally blank at the way his hand feels wrapped around my throat.

The footsteps and floorboards finally stop, his grip on my neck releases some, and a warm haze overtakes my body as he continues to forcefully piston into me. I feel myself starting to tense up and struggle for breath as I unwind completely under him.

Seconds later, Mr. Reed lets out a low groan and I feel his orgasm pulse out acutely within me as I weather my own.

We lay there for a few minutes and as we come down together, the weight of our indiscretion settles in some.

I've just fucked my dad's best friend. Three days before Christmas. And I liked it. A lot.

"Needed.. that..." I huff.

"I could tell," he chortles.

Mr. Reed slips out of me, grabbing one of the discarded linen napkins from the coffee table to clean himself off with, before gently tucking it between my legs.

"Oh, and... it does, by the way."

Part 2❄️

#em.fic4 #friend of the family #hugh grant #mr reed #heretic #mr. reed #mr reed x reader #mr. reed x reader #mr. reed x fem reader #friend of the family fic #mr. reed smut #smut

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angelnoe9 · 3 months ago

Text

Love beyond Deepspace

Chapter 5: Falling From the Sky

Summary of the chapter:

What was meant to be a peaceful ride turns into chaos when you wake to find yourself falling from the sky. Just as panic sets in, someone catches you mid-fall, pulling you to safety. Who are they?

🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎⋆⭒˚｡⋆🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎⋆⭒˚｡⋆🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎⋆⭒˚｡⋆🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎

Now that you are back in your world, life has settled into its usual routine. With your project deadline fast approaching, work has been keeping you occupied, leaving little room for distractions. It’s been a week since your last unexpected visit to that world, and though you try to push it to the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a subtle sense of detachment.

Whenever you have a free moment, you find yourself playing Love and Deepspace, the game that ties you to them. A new event has recently launched—a rerun banner featuring When Tides Echo, Rafayel's limited Myth card set. You missed it the first time around, so this is your chance. The event pool showcases Rafayel's Temple Myth Pair: Rafayel: Temple’s Promise and Rafayel: Temple’s Sunset. Collecting both unlocks Rafayel: God of the Tides and his special Myth, Forgotten Sea.

Determined, you’ve been pulling whenever you can, saving up and trying your luck. After countless attempts, you finally manage to obtain the full set just before the banner ends. A wave of relief washes over you as Rafayel: God of the Tides appears on your screen, and for a moment, you feel an odd sense of connection—like he’s truly there, watching you.

Just as you’re admiring the newly acquired card, your phone buzzes with a series of notifications. It’s your group chat—your friends, who have been planning a vacation for months now.

"Hey, don’t forget about our trip next week! You better have taken leave from work!" one of them texts, followed by a string of playful threats about what will happen if you back out.

Another call comes in almost immediately. You barely have time to say hello before your friend’s excited voice bursts through the speaker. “We’ve been planning this forever! You are coming, right? Tell me you put in your leave request.”

You blink, momentarily pulled back into reality. With work keeping you busy and your thoughts lingering on Love and Deepspace, you nearly forgot how close the trip was.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you sigh, already pulling up your work calendar. "I’ll make sure everything’s sorted before we leave."

The excitement in your friend’s voice is infectious, and as you confirm your leave days, you realize—maybe a break from everything is exactly what you need.

Just as you finalize your leave request, another message pops up—this time from your best friend.

"I hate that I can’t go with you guys… Rehab is taking longer than expected. Stupid fractured hand."

You frown slightly, feeling a pang of guilt. She had been looking forward to this trip just as much as you, but after her hospitalization, traveling was out of the question.

"I know… I wish you could come too," you reply. "But focus on getting better first. We’ll plan another trip when you're fully recovered!"

"You better! And bring me back something nice, or I’m disowning you as my best friend."

You chuckle at her dramatic text before switching to the group chat, where your other friends are discussing the details. Instead of traveling together, everyone is meeting directly at the vacation spot due to different schedules.

After a few minutes of scrolling through the messages, you realize there’s still a lot to take care of. You haven’t booked your flight yet, and you’re leaving in just a few days. You pull up a flight search engine and start browsing options. After a few minutes of scanning different airlines and prices, you find a reasonable flight that fits your schedule. The departure time is early in the morning, which means you'll have to wake up pretty early to catch it, but at least it gives you the whole day to settle in once you arrive.

You finalize the booking and feel a sense of relief—it’s all sorted now. You send a quick message to your friends in the group chat to let them know you’ve booked your flight. Everyone’s excited to meet up and relax after weeks of work and planning.

The morning of your vacation finally arrives, and despite the early hour, you're filled with excitement. You quickly get up, groggy but determined, and go through your usual morning routine—brushing your teeth, packing the last few items in your bag, and double-checking your passport and tickets. You make sure everything is in order for your trip, knowing you can't afford any last-minute surprises.

After gathering your belongings, you grab a quick breakfast and head out the door. The airport is about 30 minutes away, so you make sure to leave plenty of time to check in. On the drive there, you feel the butterflies of anticipation building up. It’s been a while since you’ve had a proper break, and the thought of a few days of relaxation with your friends is exactly what you need.

Once you arrive at the airport, the familiar hum of busy travelers surrounds you. You check in, drop off your luggage, and make your way through security with ease. You glance at the time—there's still plenty of time before boarding, so you grab a coffee and settle in at the gate, taking a deep breath.

Everything’s falling into place, and soon, you’ll be on your way to a much-needed vacation.

Once it’s time to board, you head down the jet bridge and enter the plane. You find your seat, the window seat—just the way you like it. You settle in, adjusting your seatbelt and pulling your bag up to stow in the overhead compartment. After a few moments, the plane starts to move, slowly making its way toward the runway. You can feel the slight vibrations underfoot as the engines roar to life. The cabin settles into a quiet hum, and the anticipation of takeoff fills the air. Through the window, you catch glimpses of the airport ground crew, bustling around, preparing for the flight ahead.

As the plane picks up speed on the runway, you grip the armrests, bracing yourself for the lift-off. The force of acceleration presses you back into your seat, and then, with a gentle push, the plane rises into the sky. The landscape below becomes a blur, and soon, you’re soaring above the clouds.

Looking out the window, you see a sea of white and fluffy clouds stretching endlessly, bathed in the soft morning light. The calm view gives you a sense of peace, and with the early start to your day, the weariness begins to catch up with you. The rhythmic hum of the engines is like a lullaby, and the gentle swaying of the plane creates a comforting sense of stability, as if you’re suspended in time.

Deciding to take advantage of the quiet moment, you close your eyes and lean back, letting the gentle motion of the plane lull you into a much-needed nap. The stress of the past few weeks, the long hours and the constant rush, all seem to melt away as you sink deeper into the seat. It’s easy to forget you’re even flying, the familiar feeling of weightlessness and the soft drone of the engines weaving together like a cocoon.

But then, just as your body begins to relax and your mind drifts off, something shifts. The faintest tremor ripples through the plane, just a subtle jolt that you barely notice at first. It’s nothing unusual, just the kind of shift that happens during long flights. Yet, the moment you close your eyes, the world around you begins to feel… off.

It was supposed to be a simple vacation—a relaxing getaway. But the moment you closed your eyes on the plane, everything changed.

You wake to an overwhelming sensation of cold wind rushing past your face. You try to scream, but no sound escapes your lips. Your heart races in panic as you realize you’re no longer inside the plane. Instead, you're floating—no, falling—high in the sky, plummeting toward the unknown.

The world around you spins, your breath catches in your throat as you try to scream again. But the sound doesn’t come. All you can focus on is the endless drop, the terror that tightens in your chest with every passing second.

Below you, there’s a blur—something massive, almost unreal—floating in the distance. It’s a sprawling island, futuristic in shape, like something out of a dream. But you don’t have time to think about it. The ground is rushing up too quickly, and you know, with horrifying certainty, that you won’t survive this.

Just when you think it’s over, something pulls you upward. A powerful, invisible force wraps around you, halting your fall with a sharp jolt. You’re yanked gently into the air, the descent stopped completely. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—unnatural, yet strangely comforting. And for the first time, you feel safe.

You’re pulled toward the ground, toward someone waiting below. In an instant, you’re in his arms.

His large, warm hand cups around you with an ease that leaves you breathless. His grip is firm, steady—reassuring in a way you never knew you needed. His purple eyes meet yours, sharp with intensity.

Caleb holds you gently in his arms, his presence still striking despite the calm way he cradles you. He’s tall, with dark brown hair that’s slightly tousled, falling in soft waves around his face. A light stubble frames his strong jawline, adding a rugged edge to his features. His purple eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that feels both commanding and protective, as though he’s keeping watch over you. There’s an undeniable strength in his calm demeanor, the kind that makes you feel both safe and somehow… captive.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, his voice calm, yet carrying an undercurrent of something else. “You're safe now.”

Still in shock, you try to breathe, but panic keeps clawing at your chest. His grip tightens slightly, almost possessive—like he’s unwilling to let go. You feel the pull of his presence—comforting, but also a little overwhelming.

“You’re safe,” he repeats, though the words almost feel like a command as he cradles you, his fingers gentle yet unyielding. He doesn’t let you go—not even for a second. There’s something in his touch that makes it clear he won’t.

“How did you get here?” he asks, his brow furrowing with confusion. His eyes scan the sky, trying to make sense of what just happened, but always returning to you—steady, focused.

You can’t find your voice, your mind racing to catch up with the overwhelming circumstances. The shock, the fear, the strange force that pulled you to safety—it's all too much to process at once.

His expression shifts, something flickering in his gaze as he watches you tremble in his arms. And that’s when you feel it—his grip tightening just a little more, a hint of something darker seeping into his touch.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice firm, with an unmistakable possessiveness underneath. His fingers flex around you, just enough to remind you that he’s in control now.

He pulls you closer, cradling you gently, as if you’re something fragile—something he needs to keep close, something he won’t let slip from his grasp.

He carries you toward his apartment, and you realize that you’re not just in anyone’s space—you’re in his. A minimalist, sleek apartment that feels both intimate and cold. The quiet atmosphere mirrors the way he holds you—possessive, as though he’s not letting go.

“Stay with me,” he says, and although his tone is soft, there’s no room for argument.

For now, you’re safe. But something about Caleb’s unyielding grip—the way he holds you so close—sends a shiver down your spine. His presence is overwhelming, and you can’t help but wonder how long this strange, unsettling connection will last.

Once inside, Caleb carefully lowers you onto the couch, but his hands don’t retreat. He hovers close, his eyes scanning your face with a desperation that’s impossible to ignore. His concern is so raw, so real, it takes you by surprise. There’s no confidence in his demeanor now—just worry.

“Are you alright?” His voice trembles slightly, betraying his calm. His gaze is fixed on you, like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as he is you.

You nod weakly, but the words you want to say are stuck in your throat. Everything still feels too real, too overwhelming. The fall, the fear—you're struggling to process it all. The fact that Caleb is still holding you like you might break any second only makes it feel worse. You can’t decide whether you feel safe or trapped.

“You were so close,” he murmurs, and this time, his voice breaks slightly. His hand hovers near your face, but he doesn’t quite touch you. “If I hadn’t—” He pauses, unable to finish the thought.

You try to sit up, but Caleb gently presses you back down, his hand warm on your shoulder. His expression softens, concern in his eyes, though a flicker of something deeper lingers—an intensity you haven’t seen before.

"Take it easy. You’re safe," he says, his voice steady, but his own breath betrays him. He holds your hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles over your knuckles, trying to ground you—and himself.

It’s clear: he’s shaken. Not just by the fall, but by what almost happened. What would have happened if he hadn’t caught you.

"I… I couldn’t lose you," Caleb admits, his voice barely a whisper now. His gaze flicks away briefly, as though he’s embarrassed by the rawness of his words. "Not like that."

The vulnerability in his tone strikes you harder than anything else could. You want to say something to comfort him, but the weight of the moment presses on you. Words don’t feel like enough.

Instead, you just look at him, trying to convey everything you can’t put into words. The room is silent, save for the soft sound of your breathing, and Caleb’s eyes soften as he realizes the depth of what you’re trying to say.

After a long pause, Caleb exhales deeply and rises to his feet. He doesn’t say anything, his expression still tense with worry. Without a word, he heads toward the kitchen. You hear the soft clink of glass as he pours water, the sound oddly grounding in the quiet space.

He returns with a glass in hand, his gaze soft but filled with concern. "Here," he says, carefully helping you sit up. "Drink. It'll help."

You let him assist you, your body still feeling a little weak, and take the glass from him. His fingers brush against yours as you take the water, and you sip slowly, the coolness soothing your dry throat. Caleb watches you quietly, his eyes not leaving your face, always attentive to your well-being.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice steadier now, though still a little shaky.

He gives you a small, reassuring smile, nodding slightly. "Don't worry."

As you finish the glass, you start to feel the tension in your chest ease, the panic beginning to fade. Caleb doesn't rush you, simply staying close, his presence a silent comfort. He watches you carefully, giving you space but staying near, as if making sure you’re okay.

“You’re okay now,” he says softly, his voice gentle and steady. It's not just a reassurance—it’s an unspoken promise. You nod slowly, the calm after the storm finally settling over you.

The silence between you both feels different now. More peaceful. There’s no need for more words, just the quiet understanding that you’re not alone in this moment. And for the first time, the unsettling connection you felt earlier doesn’t feel so frightening. It feels like something you can hold onto.

As you start to calm down, your breathing returning to a more natural rhythm, Caleb’s gaze softens. He looks at you with a mix of curiosity and concern, his brow furrowing slightly as he leans forward.

“So… how did you fall down from the sky?” he asks, his tone gentle but still filled with a quiet tension.

You take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. It’s hard to explain, but you try anyway, your voice a little shaky as you speak.

“I… I was on a plane. I was heading to a vacation,” you start, glancing at the ground as you try to make sense of the jumble of feelings. “I decided to take a nap. And when I woke up… I was falling.” You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It happens suddenly. I’ve been transported to this world before, but each time, it’s different. I’m just pulled here without warning. No explanation.”

Caleb listens closely, his eyes focused on you, his expression softening as he processes your words. You can tell he’s trying to understand, trying to make sense of the situation just as much as you are.

You swallow hard, the memory of the fall still fresh in your mind. “I was scared… really scared, when I realized what was happening. But then… I saw you. You caught me.” You look at him, the gratitude in your eyes. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

For a moment, Caleb doesn’t say anything, his gaze steady on you, as if weighing your words. Finally, he speaks, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m glad I was there too.”

It’s strange, the way the words feel comforting coming from him. The fear that gripped you just moments ago seems to loosen its hold, replaced by a quiet sense of relief. For the first time since you fell, you feel like you might be okay. Even if you don’t understand what’s happening, Caleb’s presence here—so calm and steady—makes the unknown seem a little less terrifying.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, as if choosing his words carefully. When he speaks again, his voice is steady, but there’s an edge of protectiveness in it. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The weight of his words settles in the space between you, and despite the uncertainty, you find yourself holding onto that small promise. For now, it’s enough.

As the silence lingers between you and Caleb, a sudden, unmistakable sound breaks through—your stomach growling.

Your eyes widen in embarrassment as heat rushes to your cheeks. Of all times for this to happen… You quickly glance away, pretending it didn’t just betray you, but Caleb definitely heard it.

He blinks at you for a second before a small chuckle escapes him. “You’re hungry,” he states, amusement flickering in his voice.

You clear your throat, still avoiding eye contact. “...Maybe a little.”

Caleb shakes his head, standing up. “I’ll make something for you.”

Your head snaps up at that. “Wait—really?”

He glances back at you, one brow slightly raised. “Yeah. You need to eat.”

A small spark of excitement flickers inside you. You’ve seen him cook for your character in the game before, but you never thought you’d actually get to eat his cooking yourself.

“Okay,” you say, a little too quickly, and then try to compose yourself. “I mean… that’d be nice.”

He smirks slightly, as if he caught the excitement in your voice, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he simply says, “Wait here,” before heading toward the kitchen.

As you watch him go, a wave of excitement bubbles up inside you. Despite how frightening before the fall was, something about this moment feels almost surreal—Caleb, here with you, moving around his kitchen to cook you a meal. It’s not just comforting—it’s a little thrilling. You’ve only ever seen him do this in the game, always for your character. But now, it’s real. This time, he’s doing it for you.

After sitting for a while, you start to feel restless. The scent of food fills the air, warm and rich, making your stomach growl again. Unable to sit still any longer, you get up and wander into the kitchen, stopping beside Caleb.

"What should I help with?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

He glances down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It’s okay. The food will be ready soon."

Still, you linger, trying to catch a glimpse of what he's making. Standing on your toes, you peek around him, but he’s too tall, blocking most of your view. You puff out your cheeks in mild frustration.

Caleb notices and chuckles softly. Without a word, he tilts the pan slightly so you can see. The golden grains of fried rice mixed with tender pieces of chicken glisten under the light, the rich aroma making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

"Hungry?" he asks, amused.

You nod sheepishly, and he plates the food before leading you to the dining table. He sets down a plate in front of you, then another for himself.

The moment you take a bite, warmth spreads through you. "Delicious!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up.

Caleb watches you, his expression softening. "Good. I was worried it wouldn’t be to your taste."

You shake your head. "This is the best!"

He chuckles again, reaching out to gently pat your head. The gesture is so natural, so warm, that you can't help but smile.

But as you continue eating, you realize his fork is still untouched. You glance up at him, only to find him watching you intently, his violet eyes filled with quiet adoration. It’s as if he’s memorizing every little reaction you have to his cooking, savoring the sight of you enjoying it more than the meal itself.

"You should eat too," you tell him, pausing between bites.

Caleb nods and finally picks up his fork, but his eyes never leave you as he eats. There’s something almost fond in the way he watches, as if seeing you enjoy his cooking is more satisfying than the meal itself.

Maybe it’s because you were so hungry, but before you know it, your plate is empty. You set down your spoon with a content sigh just as Caleb glances at your plate.

"Want seconds?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No, I’m full."

He hums in acknowledgment before getting up and heading to the refrigerator. A moment later, he returns with a carton of apple juice, pouring you a cup.

"Here," he says, placing it in front of you.

"Thank you," you reply, taking a sip. The cool, crisp sweetness spreads across your tongue, and you take another, savoring the taste.

Meanwhile, Caleb rises from his seat and begins gathering the dishes. You watch as he effortlessly moves around the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves before rinsing the plates, his movements practiced and efficient.

You watch Caleb as he cleans the dishes, the sound of water running in the sink strangely comforting. In this moment, everything feels so peaceful, so ordinary, it’s hard to remember how chaotic and terrifying everything just was. For now, you could almost forget it all, as if nothing had happened.

Your mind drifts, wondering what will happen when you return to your world. Will you still be on the plane, caught in the moment of falling? You shake your head, pushing the thought aside, as Caleb finishes cleaning the last of the plates.

He walks over and sits beside you, his expression gentle. He turns to face you, his eyes soft, and asks, "How are you feeling now?"

You nod, feeling better now, and offer a soft smile. "I’m better, thank you."

He smiles back, his eyes warm. "It’s okay."

There’s a pause as Caleb seems to think for a moment, his gaze softening. Then, he says, "You should take care of yourself a little more."

You blink, surprised, as he continues, "I know you’ve been eating junk food because you’ve been busy. And sleeping late… it’s not good for you."

You think back to your hectic week—late nights, deadlines pressing in, barely any time to cook or even breathe. You didn’t get enough sleep, didn’t take care of yourself at all. A warmth spreads through you, knowing that Caleb has noticed, that he cares enough to worry for you.

You give him a teasing smile. "Well, if you’re at my place taking care of me, maybe it’ll be okay."

Caleb chuckles, his eyes gleaming with playful intent. "If I could, I would," he says, his voice low and teasing. "I wouldn’t even let you work. I’d pamper you all day."

You can’t help but laugh, a soft sound escaping your lips. The thought of him wanting to take care of you like that feels oddly comforting.

You notice the way Caleb’s gaze softens when you laugh, and it makes your heart flutter just a little. He seems genuinely happy to see you smile, and it warms you in ways you didn’t expect.

But then, the thought hits you. You should probably tell him about how you could suddenly get pulled back to your own world. You don’t want him to worry when it happens.

You take a deep breath before speaking, your voice steady. “I need to tell you something,” you start, your voice a bit hesitant. “Just like how I ended up here suddenly and randomly,” you continue, “I get pulled back to my world the same way. No warning, no control over it. It’s been happening a lot, and I think it might have something to do with the Deepspace tunnel… Sylus mentioned it the last time I was here.”

Caleb listens intently, his expression thoughtful, as he takes in every word. When you finish, he’s quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I see… Even I don’t understand how that tunnel works,” he admits with a slight shake of his head. “But...”

He pauses, and you catch the faintest trace of hesitation in his eyes, though he doesn’t say anything outright. His fingers twitch slightly, as if he’s trying to hold back something he wants to say.

“I just… I don’t want you to be in danger again,” he finally says, his voice softer than before. “Like today. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

You can hear the unspoken words in his tone, the worry he’s holding back, and the weight of his concern. It’s clear he wishes he could be there, every time you get pulled back into this world, to make sure you’re safe.

“I wish I could be with you, to protect you, every time you come here,” he adds, his voice a little quieter, as if he’s reluctant to admit it.

His words linger in the air, and for a moment, it feels like the room is charged with something unspoken between you two.

You can see the worry etched in Caleb’s eyes, the silent desire to protect you, to be there for you whenever you’re in danger. It’s overwhelming, how much he cares, and it stirs something deep inside you.

Without thinking, you find yourself moving closer to him and you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. Your hands gently pat his back as you try to offer him comfort, the soft rhythm of your movements somehow easing the tension in the air.

"It's okay," you murmur softly, feeling his warmth against you. "I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry so much."

You pull back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, trying to make him understand. "Every time I end up here, I always have someone to protect me. I’m sure, if you’re near me when I get here, you’ll be there to protect me too, just like today."

You feel him hesitate for just a moment before his arms wrap around you, pulling you back into the hug with a gentle but firm embrace. You can feel the relief in his body as he holds you, like he’s finally able to breathe again. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment.

"I will," he whispers softly, his voice steady, almost a promise. "I’ll always protect you, no matter what."

And in that moment, everything feels a little bit lighter, like the weight of his worry is shared, and somehow, just maybe, everything will be okay.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as the realization hits—how close you two are, how natural it feels to be wrapped in his arms. The warmth of his embrace is comforting, but the proximity... it stirs something inside you. His breath, steady and gentle, tickles the top of your head, and you can feel the faint beat of his heart against you.

For a moment, you just stay there, caught in the closeness, not knowing whether to pull away or to stay. His arms are strong but gentle around you, and you feel like you don’t want to move. It’s not overwhelming, just... sweet, the kind of intimacy that makes your heart flutter in a soft, unexpected way.

You try to pull back slightly, not wanting to make it too awkward, but he holds you there for a little longer, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. The simple, quiet act feels surprisingly intimate, a subtle connection that doesn’t need words to speak volumes.

You pull away just enough to glance at him, and his eyes meet yours, soft and steady. He doesn’t look away, his gaze deepening, and you feel something shift between you two. Slowly, he leans in, just a little closer, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. Your lips are only an inch apart now, and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are—if he might kiss you. Your heart races, the tension palpable, and without thinking, you instinctively close your eyes, waiting for something that never comes.

Suddenly, a voice breaks through the moment—the flight attendant’s voice, clear and professional. “We have arrived at our destination,” she announces, snapping you out of your daze.

You blink, eyes flying open, only to find yourself back in your seat on the plane, the seatbelt sign flashing. The realization sinks in slowly—you’re back in your world.

You sit up straight, the hum of the airplane engines grounding you as you glance around. Everything looks normal. Too normal. No Skyhaven, no Caleb, no warm apartment or comforting presence beside you. Just rows of passengers gathering their belongings, the soft rustle of bags, and the polite announcements from the flight attendant echoing overhead.

And yet, your heart is still racing.

Your thoughts drift back to that moment—his face so close, his breath brushing your skin, the way you closed your eyes, expecting… what, exactly? A kiss?

Your face burns as the memory crashes over you. Oh god. You hadn’t even received the kiss, but just thinking about how ready you were for it—how willingly you leaned into that intimacy—makes your chest tighten with embarrassment.

You shift in your seat, trying to calm the flurry in your chest. One thing’s for sure—you can’t forget the way it felt. And you definitely can’t forget the way he looked at you like he didn’t want you to go.

Back at the apartment, Caleb’s arms tighten around empty air the moment she vanishes.

One second, her warmth is pressed into his side—the scent of her hair, the gentle weight of her hand on his back—and the next, she’s gone.

He stays still, eyes fixed on the empty space beside him, the weight of her absence sinking in fast. His hand lowers slowly from where it had rested on her back, curling into a loose fist as silence settles over the room again.

“…I wasn’t ready yet,” he murmurs to no one. The room feels colder without her. Quiet again. Too quiet.

Caleb stands slowly, his steps carrying him over to the spot where she had been sitting just moments ago. His gaze drops to the glass of juice she had left behind, barely touched, the faint warmth of her presence still lingering in the air. As his fingers trace the rim of the glass, he notices something—a faint lipstick mark, barely visible, but there nonetheless.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as his heart stirs with something both tender and inexplicably possessive. He leans closer, his breath catching in his throat, before he presses a gentle kiss to the spot where her lips had been.

His mind replays that last moment—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her breath had hitched, the way his heart had leapt with something far more terrifying than freefall. He had been so close, so close to something he wasn’t sure he was ready for. But in that instant, he had felt her trust, her presence so fully in his arms.

He picks up the glass carefully, as if afraid it might vanish too. His gaze drifts to the window, the soft light of Skyhaven flickering beyond the glass. The world outside continues on, oblivious to what has just transpired within this room, while inside, time feels suspended.

He leans a hand against the window frame, his forehead brushing the cool surface, staring out into the distance.

"Are you back in your world now?" he murmurs softly, the question more to himself than to anyone else. "Are you safe?"

His thoughts drift to how close they had been—how close he had been to her, to something he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. If she hadn’t disappeared…

He exhales quietly, his eyes fluttering closed.

He wishes he had been able to hold on longer. Next time, he promises himself, he’ll be ready. He’ll find her. And maybe this time, he won’t have to let her go.

🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎⋆⭒˚｡⋆🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎⋆⭒˚｡⋆🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎⋆⭒˚｡⋆🍎︎ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆°•☁︎

Taglist below.

If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please leave a comment or send me a message.

@beaconsxd @young-adult-summer @froleineeeee @dissociativewriter @mansonofmadness @michiluvddr @m0ss-gremlin @mephisto-with-a-knife @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @yoongi-tunes @ladyof-themoon @jadeloverxd @shewrites247 @sinnamon-bunn @imhere2dosomething @mysticcollectionvoid @poptrim @godoffuckedupcats @babyx91 @browneyedgirl22 @szafficat @notleclerc @crystalfay

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thepersonnamedsam · 2 years ago

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hello! i was hoping I could request something between gen z reader x the grid where she gets an anxiety attack or gets really anxious during press and how they would react or try to help her, could be due to something about the race or personal, love uuu<3

you’re gonna go far

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: social anxiety and social stuff don’t mix very well

word count: 2.3k

warnings: anxiety attack, angst, sexist comments

note: hiya!! yk i love your requests!! thank u <3

i have social anxiety myself, it’s written from my perspective - anxiety is experienced very different, pls remember that! and pls respect anyone who is experiencing anxiety or any mental disorder that is!

masterlist / taglist

We ain’t angry at you, love, you’re the greatest thing we‘ve lost.

The song blasted through her ears, tears started forming in her eyes. She missed home, so, so much. She felt guilty to leave all her friends and family at home to pursue her dreams. And this song, written by the brilliant Noah Kahan, just always made her cry and think about her hometown.

Well, maybe not always, mostly the days her anxiety sparks up - and today was one of those days. Usually media didn’t stress her out, but today was different. Her mood shifted and hyper sensitive, overstimulated and overwhelmed. And she usually had someone she trusted by her side at media, but not today. Today was just shit.

Paired with Lance, Kevin, Sergio and Niko, she just wished the day would be over. She was just glad that Daniel, Max, Oscar and Lewis would be after her, they would maybe wait for them to finish, so she could see them.

She was trying to help her calm down. Thinking about good possibilities and not bad ones. Not about how she would sit stiff and uncomfortable between Lance and Sergio. Or how she and Niko never really got along. Or how she couldn’t seek refuge in a known face. Or how she had to answer all the questions by herself and not have Max there to defend her and be her bodyguard.

And she was doing it again.

What was she gonna do? Breath, just breath - that’s what she told herself. She was in desperate need for a break. She knew what she was getting herself into, but it was still so very much. She was glad that Hungary was the second last race before the summer pause. She would go home, maybe vacation a bit, but definitely head home and see her friends and family.

Her feet dragged her through the media pit against her will. She didn’t want to go there, she just wanted to curl up in her bed with a good book and some music. Her headphones still present on her head, at least she had her music.

She was so focused on the words of You’re gonna go far that she didn’t see Lance in her peripheral vision. He patted her on her back and she flinched as he passed her. He gave her a funny look as she just gave him a shy smile.

She sighed, she didn’t know how she could face this day. She wished she had Lewis or Max or Danny by her side, someone to lean on, someone who would protect her and help her out. But she was all alone in this world right now. That’s what she thought at least.

Sat next to her was Kevin and Sergio. Her leg was bouncing, her fingers couldn’t stop picking at her nails. Her breathing was fast. She knew that things would turn out bad pretty fast. She just knew it.

„So, the next question is for y/n. Seeing as you’re the only woman on the grid, do you feel intimidated by all of the men or do you actually like the challenge?“

Her mind raced. What? She wished for Max who would give a sassy comeback or for Lewis to out the comment as borderline sexist. Or just anyone to stand up for her at that moment, but no one did.

„Uh, thank you for your question. Uhm, I am not the only woman on the grid. There are lots of women working behind the scenes - mechanics, engineers, catering, strategists, everything. So, to answer your question, no, I don’t feel intimidated, because I know that I come from a powerful gender.“

Her answer was clip and clear, not even her voice was shaking, which she half expected to. But the interviewer grew visibly irritated.

„Can you go into it a bit more? Or could you please comment on the statement Christian Horner did? Here, I’ll refresh your mind: F1 is bringing in a young generation. It’s bringing in a lot of young girls because of all these great-looking young drivers.“

What had that to do with his question beforehand? Horner made that statement a longer time ago?

„Uhm yes, obviously we all know Christian by now, don’t we?“, she nervously laughed. „But uhm, he is obviously still wrong, like I originally commented when he first made that statement“ Her eyes were searching for something or someone familiar, but she couldn’t. Her vision occupied by interviewers and flashing cameras.

Her breath started to get faster, She tried to breath through her nose, not make it too obvious that she was having a moment. This would make headlines. Female driver gets anxiety attack whilst commenting on sexist statements.

Why wasn’t Lewis there? He knew what to do. He had caught her like this before - breathing rapid, fists clenched and fingers white. Eyes not focusing on anything particular and her chest heaving up and down from all her heavy breathing.

It was after she had found out that people were speculating about her - specifically that she had to sleep with her or any team principal to get her seat in F1. Her head was leaned against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest and her body was rocking back and forth.

„y/n, y/n, listen, look at me. Listen to me, can you please look at me, love?“, he pleaded. And when she finally did, Lewis let out a breath of relief. „Okay, look at me, darling, and follow my breathing, yes? It’s easy, you can do it, I believe in you.“

He grabbed her hands and put them to his own chest, so she could feel his breathing. Feel his calm heartbeat, even though he felt anything opposite calm. He looked her deep into her eyes and tried to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

„You’re gonna go far, y/n, listen to me, I know it, you’re gonna make it far.“

Her breathing had normalised and the tears stuck in her eyes, finally flowed down her cheeks. The soon turned into full on sobs and the older driver hugged the younger one. Embracing her and reassuring her, that none of the drivers would have believed the tabloids - they’ve seen her driving and know very well why she got offered her seat in F1.

She had thanked him about a thousand times and made him promise not to ever tell anyone. But if somebody else knew, maybe they could’ve helped her in this situation.

But luckily for y/n, this was all broadcast live, well, maybe not for her per se, because she knew about too many people were watching her lose herself on live television and her PR manager couldn’t just pull some magic strings to not have this air, but what she didn’t know was, that Seb was watching - her specifically.

And he did the only reasonable thing he could do, he called Lewis.

„Hey dude, what’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a long time. How’s retirement treating you?“ Lewis had a lot of questions for the German. The later laughed a bit, but turned serious pretty quickly. „Listen, I’m watching the pre-race interviews right now-“ Lewis interrupted him: „Yeah? I’m on next, you should definitely wait and see me on TV then.“

„Yeah that’s great Lew, but y/n is on right now. I think- no I’m pretty sure she’s having an anxiety attack on live television.“

Lewis was silent for a moment. „She is having what?“ - „An anxiety attack, you know what that is? It’s, uhm, when you get too overwhelmed and your psyche tells you that you’re experiencing immense fear at the moment and“, Lewis was tuning him out.

She was having an anxiety attack? Right now? During the pre-race interview? He had to help her.

„I’m on my way, thanks Seb“, and he hung up. He had to get there as fast as he could. Sprinting through the entire paddock to the media pin. On the way he almost crashed into Max, who was also making his way to the pin, Daniel by his side. The only looked at Lewis weird but soon we’re running with him, as he shouted: „It’s y/n!“

They arrived but no one wanted to let them in: „It’s not your turn yet, they’re still going. You have to wait until it’s your turn, you’ll be on in 10.“

„Listen, y/n, if you’re reacting this way to my question, you’re clearly not made for this sport, maybe you should go into something more ladylike, like horseback riding or tennis, at least you’d look pretty there.“

„And you’re clearly not made to interviews, asshole!“

All of them heard, the viewers heard, the drivers heard, the interviewers heard, but y/n was the only one who didn’t hear it.

Maybe you should go into something more ladylike, like horseback riding or tennis, at least you’d look pretty there. That was all she could hear. At least you’d look pretty there.

The other drives next to y/n didn’t know what to do. Their colleague was definitely having a though time, but they didn’t know how to help, they opted to just tilt their heads towards the floor and look just as uncomfortable as everyone in the room did - but no one stood up for her, expect Max.

„Maybe you should just fucking leave this pit before I will bash your disgusting face. Maybe you should scramble and flee. Maybe you should eat your on dick as you seem to like to put tiny and degrading things in your mouth. Maybe-“, Daniel stopped him, Max has said enough and made his point.

Lewis was already making his way up to her. Scooping her up and carrying her out of the pit.

At least you’d look pretty.

The sentence was going through her head like a loop, like a vinyl that’s broken and repeats all the worst parts. She felt like a broken record - cracked and well, broken.

„She‘s hyperventilating“, Danial pointed out. „Yeah no shit, sherlock.“ - „Max, let’s just focus on her right now, okay?“, the seven time world champion told the two time world champion. „Who’s garage is the nearest?“, Lewis asked into the round. „The Ferrari one is the first one on the grid“, Daniel said. „Let’s go then.“

Daniel led the way, fetching Lando on the way, she’d appreciate the support from the youngster. Even though he complained a lot to Danny.

„Don’t look, don’t look, we’re just passing through“, Daniel said as he tried to shield her and Lewis from all the cameras in the Ferrari garage. „What are you guys doing here?“, Carlos questioned, but as soon as he saw the crying mess in Lewis‘ arms he helped Daniel shield y/n. Carlos led them to Charles‘ side of the garage, as he had his closed off for anyone from the outside.

„What’s going on?“, a confused Charles asked the group now standing in his garage. „Charles, we need to go somewhere quiet, is that possible?“, Lewis asked the Ferrari driver. He nodded and led them to his drivers room, even though it was pretty tiny and probably wouldn’t fit all of them in it.

They set y/n on his sofa and Lewis was hovering in front of her. Lando sat on her right side, while Max was on her left. He took her hand in his, squeezing it, so she knew that he was there. „Hey y/n look at me. We’re in Charles‘ drivers room, in the Ferrari garage. Away from the media pit, okay? You’re safe with us now“, Lewis told her. „Breath with us.“

„In and out, just like that, darling, follow Lewis‘ breathing“, Daniel complimented y/n. „You’re doing great, shatje. So, so great. We’re all so proud of you.“

„You can let it all out, we won’t judge you“, Charles told her and just as he did, the dam broke. Her tears fell down onto her knees, she sobbed uncontrollably. She leaned her head on Landos shoulder and he pulled her close into his side. „You’re doing so well, love.“ - „Just keep breathing, don’t forget to breath“, Carlos told her. He was standing in the doorway with Charles, acting as bodyguards.

Danny walked around the room, trying to find something for y/n to drink out of. „Hey Charles, do you have some water or a bottle?“ The driver clad in red reacted fast and brought the Australian a tall glass of water. He brought y/n the glass and she had to stop crying to drink. Afterwards she got the hiccups. „There, there love, everything’s okay“, Lewis took her glass and patted her knee. „Remember what I told you? You’re gonna go far, okay? Don’t let that prick tell you otherwise.“

„At least you’d look pretty there.“

„Huh?“, the room asked, as she mumbled the sentence.

„At least you’d look pretty there. That’s what he said“, she looked up from her seat, to the room full of supporting people. „At least you’d look pretty.“

Max was so angry again, he could’ve killed that man, if it wasn’t for Daniel holding him back. „I am going to kill that man“, Max growled. y/n giggled: „Maxie, don’t, he doesn’t deserve death. He deserves to live a long, pitiful life.“

„We’re glad you’re laughing again, y/n“, Charles said. „Yes, very much so.“ Everyone agreed with Charles. „I love you guys, but how’d you even know that I was having a tough time?“, y/n asked confused. Lewis had to laugh: „Seb called me. Said he saw you on the TV all riled up and ready to cry and that I should already be on my way to help you, but I talked over him the whole time“ He scratched his neck and y/n laughed a loud belly laugh. „That’s so typical!“

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #fernando alonso #genz driver #sebastian vettel x reader #kevin magnussen #nico hülkenberg #lance stroll #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #female driver #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader

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seat-safety-switch · 11 months ago

Text

We are in sort of a crisis, you and I. Amazon has its tentacles in every industry across the globe. Once, we cheered the death of the old gatekeepers of retail, only to find ourselves now not knowing who to trust. When you order a part from KZYBYG Tools, how do you know if it's any good compared to POIYAT?

Reviews won't help: they're run by teams of millions of robots, swarming on each new brand. After enough actual humans get mad at their two-swings-and-you'll-miss-it hammer, they simply wrap up the brand entirely and buy another thousand cybernetic evaluations. Be that as it may, I still left reviews when I was wronged by a tool.

Early on in childhood, I discovered that I have a unique power to make those in authority insanely angry for no good reason. Book reports, field trip reports, court stenography: these were all theatres for massive conflict in my younger days. I bring this power to the Amazon reviews now. My words puncture egos half a world away.

How do I know that it actually makes them angry? Because I've lured out the engineers. That's right. My technique is two-fold: one, call out a technical detail of the tool, and two... get my facts wrong. They can't resist responding to that. Then I just ignore them. Eventually, some pencil-neck cost-reduction asshole shows up on my front lawn, demanding to debate me about whether or not external-Torx security screws are in fact weaker than the regular kind.

This can't last forever. Eventually, the tool manufacturers are going to realize that all their prize cheap-ass engineers have mysteriously disappeared after taking an unannounced rage vacation to my property. By that time, though, me and the dozen or so engineers that I've trapped in my basement are going to have our own garbage tool brand all over Amazon, slamming their sales down. Customers can't resist: the shipping is slightly quicker. We might even try to make a store or something, where you can come in and buy it. Same day. We'll have them on shelves. Just ignore the handwritten notes inside, pleading for help or at least food and water. That's what we call a quality guarantee.

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tastesousweet · 1 year ago

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

#this took way too long #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #tattoo matt n yn

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