#it’s not that louis that i knew and fell in love with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pennyellee · 4 months

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily) masterlist

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem receiving), forced oral (m receiving) spanking, squirting, cum swallowing, creampie, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language, oppressiveness

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so as I said in the preview, this did not go as planned but I really enjoyed writing this to the point that I might do a part 2, perhaps 3, but we'll see about that. JK is delulu af here and the reader does not think through everything. For those who did not read preview and came upon this just now - originally what i wanted to build around was how Rachel Green from Friends was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris and Ross did not want her to go - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went a bit darker than i intended so instead of rom-com, i'd rather listed it as dark romance and yandere. Hope you'll enjoy it! Love, always.

1996

“He said what now?!” The sentence burst out of you with a high-pitched tone, nearly causing your latte to spill all over your pristine white blouse and grey blazer. Not exactly the ideal way to kick off a new month, you mused as your friend dropped the bombshell about a certain someone.

“That you’re the future mother of his children,” said your friend, an amused smirk playing on her face. “I seriously don’t know how you can still resist him, girl.” But resist him, you did.

Jeon Jungkook was undoubtedly one of the most sought-after and sexiest heartthrobs of the decade, possessed the best face card in the industry and carried the biggest ego in all of New York City. You could vividly recall the day he strolled inside of your office with the head of your department. A cocky, playful grin plastered on his face the moment his eyes landed on you.

Right from the very beginning, you made it crystal clear to Jungkook that your relationship would be strictly professional during your collaboration on the Calvin Klein project. He was given his own collection of men’s wear, and the job to work with him fell upon you.

You knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you to elevate your standing within the fashion circle. Jeon Jungkook’s fame was immense, and your name would be signed on the collection too. It’s not like you are head over heels that your name would be associated specifically with Jeon Jungkook, but you understood right away that this could put you on the radar. Your boss had even hinted at the possibility of a higher position within the department.

He constantly teased you, flirted shamelessly, and crossed boundaries by touching you as if you were his girlfriend. It was wildly inappropriate, especially given that the two of you had never even gone out for a work dinner or lunch alone. There were always other people from the team, and yet he always managed to find a way to sit right next to you. But it seems Jungkook was still living in an illusion where you were his girlfriend.

Your gaze shifted to the majestic Twin Towers, standing proudly in the distance, as you let out an annoyed puff of air.

“He’s ridiculous,” you finally declared.

“Or cute,” countered your friend, opposing your viewpoint. She found this pseudo-relationship with Jungkook amusing, but a small part of her secretly wished you’d just give in and go out with him. It was quite some time since you were in a relationship, and Jeon Jungkook would definitely be a nice catch. You were not interested. Or you tried to persuade others that you aren’t.

“No, ridiculous,” you retorted again, lips pursed, and brows furrowed.

“Oh, come on, give him a chance finally!!” she exclaimed.

“Absolutely not! He’s egoistic, manipulative, a cocky little bastard with damn good hair,” you said, your tone rising as you reached your final proclamation, which had simply slipped out of your mind that way.

“See? One good thing — good hair. Marry him,” she laughed it off.

“Now you’re being ridiculous, and I’m going to be late for work.” You said while dusting your black skirt, grabbing your purse, and leaving a few bucks for the coffee. The song on the radio stopped your departure for a moment, listening to the familiar voice coming from it, you rolled your eyes.

“That’s a clear sign, Y/N. Give it a chance!” she called after you, and you couldn’t help but throw a side eye her way, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips nonetheless.

As the day passed, you found yourself increasingly entangled in the whirlwind of meetings, fittings, and photoshoots with an ever-present Jungkook. The photoshoots, in particular, became a source of both frustration and amusement. However today, a bigger problem surfaced.

“Why’s he half-naked, Lucy?!” You hissed at your assistant. Normally, you are very kind and respectful to everyone, but Jungkook had managed to irk you the moment you stepped into your office, finding him already seated in your chair with that smirk you despised. Bringing a coffee for you, which you never drink, or donuts that you always share with the department - not eating one yourself.

Jungkook, adorned in the latest Calvin Klein designs you two had meticulously crafted together, claimed a personal touch of his persona— at least, that’s how he described it. He looked effortlessly handsome, the camera adoring him, but what grated on your nerves was that his attention was solely focused on teasing you.

“We also have shirts, why is he not wearing one?!” You continued, expressing your disagreement to what was before you. What angered you even more was that you could not stop staring at his abs.

“We shot with shirts earlier. They said the underwear and jeans will appear more artistic if his V line and abs—”

“Alright! Alright!” You stopped her in mid-sentence. You didn’t want to look that way nor you didn’t want to admit that showcasing his V-line would enhance the aesthetics of the jeans. Therefore, you took a deep breath and walked towards the refreshments, you were in need of a second cup of coffee.

You heard the photographer call for a break, but you were focused on calming yourself with a steaming cup of coffee. Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny that he looked breath-taking in the outfits you had designed, and it infuriated you.

Suddenly, two arms were laid flat on the table’s surface, caging you in between. You could imagine his devilish grin. He did this way too often, whether it was his fingers lightly tracing your arm or tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, looking intently into your eyes until you were fighting yourself to not get lost in his Bambi eyes.

“We’re almost done for today,” he whispered seductively into your right ear, his lips almost touching it. Your breath stammered.

“And yet you did not learn a single thing about professionalism or work ethic.” You bit sarcastically, turning slowly to face him.

Jungkook’s grin only widened at your remark, and you couldn’t decide whether you were infuriated or slightly flustered by his audacity. He leaned in even closer, his breath grazing your ear as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

“Tutor me then, in bedroom — preferably” he suggested, his lips still dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

“I don’t think so. You’re beyond help,” you shot back, trying to assert control over the situation. His proximity was distracting, and you couldn’t afford to let him undermine the fact that you were in charge.

Jungkook continued to hover over you, the photographer calling for everyone to regroup for the next set of shots. You seized the opportunity to escape his magnetic pull, smoothly slipping out from between the table and his arms, deciding to escape to your humble office, seeking solace in the calmness it provided.

It wasn’t long before the shoot officially ended, and you knew damn well, that the man wouldn’t leave you alone. The door creaked open, and you turned to find Jungkook leaning against the frame, that infernal smirk still etched onto his face.

“We did a good job, why don’t we celebrate it over at my place, baby?” he complimented, but there was an undertone of something else in his voice. You overlooked his physique and leaned back in your chair, narrowing your eyes, making a clicking sound with your tongue.

“Jungkook, again, this was a professional collaboration. Nothing more,” you asserted, emphasising each word. If you did not say this sentence at least a hundred times you don’t know. He never takes it seriously; it appears as he is still trying to hammer his way into your guarded heart.

He pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered closer. “We’ll see about that,” he said, leaving you with a cryptic grin as he exited your office. The only thing you could do is sigh.

Before you went to continue working, you heard how Jungkook’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“I bet I can change your mind, sweetheart!”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath.

“Not a chance.”

The denim collection with Jungkook was taking shape, and the buzz surrounding the collaboration grew with each passing day. A success, your boss was much more than pleased.

This success, however, meant even more for you. You were on cloud nine, basking in the glory of your hard work and the prospect of a ground-breaking partnership. Totally, forgetting to play unreachable when it came to the clinging boy who starred in this iconic collaboration. And that must have given him a false hope, perhaps a narrative in which you were his girl.

You were sitting in your office when you hung up the telephone after speaking with the vice president of Guess that contacted you earlier last week, offering you a part in a project for their brand, in Los Angeles. A dream come true for you. Leaving this place, after years of building your career from scratch, felt overwhelming. You loved working under Klein, yet it was time for you to take it higher. Your boss did not offer you a new position, and therefore, you did not hesitate to take the job opportunity and elevate yourself in fashion ranks.

It was an offer too tempting to resist, and you found yourself diving headfirst into the project, not even looking at the door when someone stepped in without knocking.

“You may leave the reception reports on the table, Lucy,” you said once feeling a presence in your office, not raising your eyesight from your computer, writing the prompts for the project Guess wants you to lead. Your twelve days’ notice already printed out, ready to be signed by your boss. You planned to stop by his office after you would finish writing the draft and sending it to the Guess team together with the copy of your portfolio that you needed to make before you leave.

When there were no reports left on your table after a good long minute, you looked up.

“You can’t just leave.” he said, standing tall in the frame of the door, stepping inside once you finally gave him your attention. You could sense a hint of desperation and anger in his voice.

You raised your brows at him. How does he know? The mere thought of you leaving for LA, leaving him behind, was enough to make him confess the depth of his feelings.

You leaned to the leather armchair and listened to him closely.

“What are you talking about Jungkook?” His eyes betrayed a mix of anxiety and vulnerability as he blurted out his fears.

“What about us? What about everything we’ve built together?” He stepped closer to your desk, looking directly to your eyes. You were taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. The air in the room thickened.

The once-confident man now stood vulnerable before you, stripped of the bravado that had defined him. And you were utterly confused and surprised how delusional this man is.

“What are you even saying, Jungkook?” you questioned, your tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

“You can’t leave me!” He raised his voice an octave higher.

“Calm your tits. I’m a grown-up woman. I can do what I want.” You sassed back at him, tired of this made up situation-ship in his head. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“We’ve built something special, and I can’t watch it crumble because of some job offer!” He continued his rampage. You took a moment to breathe his words in, closing your eyes and counting to ten to calm yourself.

“Jungkook, I appreciate your honesty, but I can’t give you what you’re asking for.” This caught him by surprise. Instead of screaming at him, you chose to play the I’ll stay calm and professional card.

His eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of confusion and hurt clouding his features. “What do you mean?”

Choosing your words carefully, you said: “I genuinely value this project we worked on together, but it’s time for us to part our ways.” To fool him was your goal.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling upon him. “Who are you lying to, Y/N?” His words shocked you.

“I’m not lying Jungkook, I’m telling you the truth to your face, as you were too stubborn to hear it before.” You stood up from your chair, moving to lean on the front of your desk, to show him he cannot get to you.

The room fell into a heavy silence as Jungkook looked deep into your eyes, searching for the truth in your words.

“So, it’s all about the career for you? You’re willing to sacrifice everything else, including us?” Your jaw clenched, but you maintained your composed façade and with flaring nostrils and clenched teeth, you spoke.

“There is no us, Jungkook. Get it into your head already!” So much for being calm. The room crackled with tension as the argument reached an impasse. Jungkook shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

“I can’t believe you’re throwing away what we have because of some job.” Your eyes widened even more and the fact he would not listen boiled your blood.

“Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m not your girlfriend! I was never your girlfriend, and I will never be your girlfriend!”

But Jungkook wasn’t ready to accept defeat. His frustration reached a boiling point too, and without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into an intense, angry kiss. It was a clash of emotions, a tumultuous blend of passion and anger that fuelled the fiery exchange.

Your initial instinct was to resist, to push him away, but the intensity of the kiss ignited a different kind of fire within you. His lips moved fiercely against yours, gripping your ass in his hands, making you moan to his lips. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dishevelled locks as the kiss deepened, your frustration causing to tug them. He growled from pleasure at the sensation.

It was a collision of lips and tongues, a heated exchange that spoke volumes without a single word. Once his hands disappeared under your skirt and the heat intensified, a sudden surge of clarity washed over you, breaking the intoxicating spell.

With a forceful push, you broke away from the kiss, creating a space between you and Jungkook. You locked eyes with him, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of the situation.

“I need you to leave,” you stated, your voice cutting through the lingering tension, you leaned against the desk, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.

Jungkook, still caught in the haze of desire, tried to close the distance again, but you held up a hand, halting his advance.

“Leave!” You growled, turning your back to him. You didn’t want him to see your face anymore, because soon enough, tears would break from your eyes. You’re overwhelmed.

A loud bang of the door signalled that he finally understood and left. Breaking down with tears streaming down your cheeks you gasped for air. Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to regain composure.

You’ve counted to ten again, wiping your tears. You felt taken advantage of. He went too far this time. But this was only the beginning of his tremulous and wicked plan he had for you.

You packed your purse, ready to leave your office, you just needed to grab your work portfolio that you needed to send over to Guess. But the space it always inhabited, on the conference table, was empty. And you had one lucky guess who the thief was. “Fucking bastard.”

In the days that followed, the chaos in your personal and professional life escalated. The stolen portfolio, a representation of your work, became a haunting absence. As if the life source of your hard work was cut down.

Determined to salvage what remained of your career, you began the arduous task of recreating it. But time was not on your side, and as you delved into the meticulous process, news of your termination from Calvin Klein reached you like a punch to the gut.

The phone call was impersonal, a cold voice delivering the news of your dismissal as if reading from a script. Some Jack from the HR department spoke to you, someone you have never ever seen in the building whatsoever. Your boss did not even pick up the call when you wanted to ask what made them push the decision to let you go. You certainly did not deserve this after years of working for the brand. The reasons were vague and you knew this had to source from someone powerful. In simple terms, someone snitched that you’re planning to leave.

As the reality of unemployment settled in, you clung to the remnants of optimism that lingered, but even that proved elusive.

You were hundred percent sure that he is trying to sabotage your whole life when the call from Guess, a reason you did not fight for your position at Klein’s delivered another blow.

Their decision not to collaborate with you crushed the remnants of optimism that clung to your spirit. The dream that had seemed within reach now slipped through your fingers, leaving you in a free fall of uncertainty.

They hadn’t even granted you the courtesy of waiting for your portfolio, even though it wouldn’t be what they expected. Whatever oral agreement had been in place disintegrated. So here you are — jobless.

All this left you reeling with disbelief. The career you had meticulously built, the dreams that had taken years to nurture, all unravelling at the seams. The pain was visceral, a mix of frustration, anger, and a profound sense of betrayal.

You were certain that Jeon Jungkook himself was pulling the strings behind the scenes. And you hated him for it, needed to confront him and say that shit with your chest right to his face— he can go fuck himself. Set the record straight once you’re there.

Whatever he was thinking by ruining your career will force you to do, he better fix it before you’ll sing to the media about his bunny smile and kind heart being all fake. The line had been crossed, and he would face the consequences of pushing you to the brink. Or so you thought it would go how your brain delusional thought it through.

Hence, with a heavy heart and a determination to confront the chaos head-on, you stood before the front door of his infamous penthouse. Emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

With a deep breath, you knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. The door swung open, revealing Jungkook’s bunny smile reaching his eyes.

“Well, well well, are we ready to talk like adults, pretty?” He mocked this whole situation because he knew this would end up in his favour, nonetheless.

He moved back to let you in, and you stepped into his apartment, a mixture of anger and desperation in your gaze.

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise, I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink? —” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you could not help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently, he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—” you pushed him away from you once you heard his words. Grabbing your jacket and storming your way out to the door, angry with yourself that you let it go this far.

“You walk out that door, and you’re done in this city, fuck even the whole continent if I want,” Jungkook declared, his tone heavy with a sense of entitlement. The words hung in the air, a threat laced with possessiveness that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re bluffing.” His eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths.

“You’re underestimating the consequences, Y/N. I’ll snap my fingers, and you won’t get a job. Anywhere.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You did not believe him one bit, determined to try harder at the job hunting.

“You’ve already done enough. You can’t do worse.” You scoffed, the absurdity of his demands pushing you further away. He stepped closer, the air thick with tension.

“You’re not leaving, Y/N. Either you’ll be my good girl and apologise, or all it will take is one phone call.” As you reached for the doorknob, he grabbed your arm with a force that bordered on aggression.

“I am my own woman, Jungkook.” Your eyes flashed with determination as you wrenched your arm free, emphasising every word of the sentence you just uttered.

With that, you swung the door open and stormed out, leaving Jungkook’s apartment and the tumultuous mess behind. The city lights greeted you outside, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere within.

Your telephone remained eerily silent, devoid of the calls and opportunities that once filled it with promise. Jungkook’s vindictiveness had effectively severed the threads connecting you to your professional life, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainties.

A tear escaped your eye as you clutched the piece of paper you fetched out of your mailbox — an eviction notice. You had fallen behind on rent, pleading with your landlord for more time, promising to pay in full for two months once you secured a job. But that ended up not happening, and that’s how you find yourself sitting in a messy apartment full of half packed boxes, no job, little money left, and a bottle of cheap wine.

Moving in with friends or seeking refuge with your parents was not an option. They never supported your dreams enough to provide for you in such dire circumstances, especially at your age. Unmarried, jobless, and on the brink of homelessness, you felt trapped.

Despite your efforts to secure another job, including poorly recreating parts of your portfolio, rejections piled up, and the search for a new apartment proved equally futile. Not like you could afford it anyway.

The city that once held promise now felt like a maze of closed doors and dead ends. The mere thought of dialling his number sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of pride and necessity wrestling within you.

You drank the last of your wine, hiccupped, and cried. With only twenty-four hours to vacate your flat for the new tenant to come in. The friends you once thought you could rely on were facing their own struggles, unable to provide the sanctuary you so desperately needed. You had nowhere to go apart to his clutches if you of course did not want to freeze to death in the bustling city. It confused you how it came to having no other option.

Taking a deep breath, you dialled his number, each ring echoing the surrender of your independence. The telephone rang in your trembling hand. As the call connected, a heavy silence hung in the air and you desperately tried to calm your breathing.

“Jeon speaking,” his voice crackled through the phone. You were shaking in cold sweat, your eyes blood red from crying and alcohol clouded your mind enough to call him.

“Hello?” you heard his voice speak again, and another sob left your lips. The lump in your throat made it difficult to speak, but you pushed through the discomfort.

“I-I’m sorry.” The man on the other line smirked, seemingly thrilled to hear your voice. The next sentence you uttered, however, was even sweeter music to his ears.

“I need you.”

You heard his car park in front of your building the next morning. The boxes were long gone on their way to the heart of Manhattan where Jungkook’s penthouse awaited. It was only you and your suitcase with only necessities packed inside. The reality of the situation hit you as you looked around at the empty apartment. The purple walls, once full of pictures from trips with your friends, were now bare. The fridge stripped of silly magnets you liked to collect, stood empty. Nothing left.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the handle of your suitcase with a sense of resignation. You glanced out of the window on your way out, finding Jungkook casually leaning against his shiny black Jaguar, smiling directly at you. Closing your eyes, you mentally said goodbye to your small apartment.

Your hair, lazily put into a hair clip when you woke up, had a few stray strands escaping, framing your face that still showed signs of swelling from crying all night.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the door closing behind you, the weight of the suitcase in your hand served as a physical reminder of the choice you had made. Is this really your only option?

The sound of Jungkook’s footsteps echoed in the corridor, approaching closer with each passing second. He ran up the stairs just as you were locking the door. His gummy smile met your gaze, a clear expression of his happiness. The heartthrob had finally gotten you where he wanted you all along.

He was dressed in a denim jacket and jeans from the collection you worked on. As if he was intent on reminding you of something. His long curly locks were gone, replaced by a short mullet.

You, on the other hand, did not feel to dress classy and elegant as you usually did. You swapped heels for a pair of white sneakers, a tight designer skirt for simple blue boyfriend jeans and your upper body was covered by a white shirt layered with a pink shirt you loosely tight on your waist, leaving the buttons half open.

“Baby?” he called out. You must’ve zoned out, as now he was holding your suitcase in his hand, ready to leave.

“M’sorry, I was in my head,” you apologised. You didn’t want to upset him by negatively reacting to the pet name even though you irked to tell him you’re not his baby.

He smiled softly, putting the suitcase down, walking over to you. He caressed your cheek, leaning in for a kiss. Turning your face, he landed his lips on your other cheek. The man chuckled and put the freed strands of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry. I got you now.”

The drive to Jungkook’s penthouse was filled with an uncomfortable silence as the city lights passed by in a dizzying display.

“Welcome home!” The words hung in the air, the irony not lost on you. This was far from a home; it was a gilded cage you succumbed to. You did not answer him. You couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

He was saying something about a closet, but your mind totally spaced out looking at the boxes that you packed hours prior, casually sitting in his living room.

“Baby?” You looked at him, eyes wide when you realised you were not listening to him again.

“Do you want to start unpacking or should we head out for brunch first?” He approached you. Jungkook did not stop smiling since he pulled his car in front of your building.

Unpacking felt like an acceptance of this new reality, while brunch felt like an attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy.

“I... I think we should talk,” you finally managed to say, your voice carrying the uncertainty that lingered within. Jungkook’s smile wavered for a moment, but he quickly masked it.

You couldn’t ignore the fact that your life had taken a sharp turn, and the unfamiliar surroundings only intensified the sense of displacement. Jungkook threw himself at his sofa just where you were sitting months prior. He motioned with his hand, silently ordering you to sit.

“I promise not to bother you long. I just need you to get me off the blacklist so I can get a job. I can’t be tied to you indefinitely.” You spoke softly, careful to not anger him just yet. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate the direction this conversation was heading, but you needed to set the record straight. This was temporary, at least in your mind.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, a subtle tension in his features. He sighed. Leaning forward, Jungkook grabbed the remote control of the HiFi that was standing proud, setting it on, and whence the soft tones of Isaak’s “Wicked Game” resonated the penthouse, you could not help but raise an eyebrow.

He petted his knee, a silent invitation. You were not stupid to not understand what he wants, yet you opted to sit next to him instead of where he wanted you.

“Maybe we got lost in translation, love.” He spoke leaning closer to you. The music seemed to underscore the unspoken tension in the room.

“You won’t leave me, baby. I’ll keep you so satisfied and happy; you won’t even want to go.” He whispered to your ear. The atmosphere became charged with a palpable desire. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of temptation and resistance.

“You can’t keep me here against my will, Jungkook,” you asserted, maintaining a thin thread of defiance. Yet, the allure of his touch lingered in the air, clouding your better judgement.

“Try me, love. I’ve got ways to make you stay,” he countered, his tone dripping with confidence.

It took all you have in you to stand up and storm to the large windows that provided a magnificent view of Manhattan. This time, however, he was right behind you.

You heard him growl. He was angry, and he proved so once you found yourself pinned to the large window, your back facing him. He attacked your neck right away, bruising every single inch. His hand roamed over your breast, squeezing them to the point you had to moan. The situation escalated rather quickly, your resistance made him press you to his back even harder.

“I’m so tired of your running,” he groaned into your neck. You put your hands on the glass trying to push yourself away and give yourself space to free from his grasp, but he has put a majority of his weight on you. You can feel his growing pulsating bulge on your heart-shaped bottom.

“Maybe I should show you, who you belong to, princess.” He cupped your sex through your pants, and you whimpered from the sensation. You knew this was utterly wrong; you should not react to his touch this way, but you couldn’t help to notice the wetness pooling in between your legs once he continues to attack your neck with his soft plump lips.

“Jungkook-” You tried to resist, but his hand was already done with unbuttoning your jeans, sliding right down to your core. Your panties were sticky, your head was spinning, and the part of a window was getting foggy right next to your mouth from your hot breath.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He pulled his hand out of your pants for a second to wet his fingers and put them right back on the little bud that was waiting to be touched. He pressed his fingertips on your clit, circling it painfully slow. The heartthrob rutted his hips into your ass, looking for a friction, making you move your hips towards his hand. He chuckled to your ear.

“If you want that job, baby, why don’t you deserve it first?” you could sense a little hint of mockery in his voice. The pulsating beats of the music seemed to echo the rhythm of his movements. Now slow and calculated.

As the song reached its crescendo, his finger entered your vibrating heat. “Hm?” He pried, his finger moving in and out in punishingly slow, drawing silent moans from you when he brushed up the right spot.

“W-what do you want?” You stammered out of yourself.

“You. All of you of course.” Jungkook replied in a heartbeat. Your heart raced and your head was clouded by the pleasure he was providing. Moving his finger slightly faster, you found yourself bowing forward, your body wanted him to reach deeper.

“Please—” you whimpered when he slowed down the tempo again.

“Give me an answer baby, will you be my good girl?” Now it was your mind that raced, grappling with the implications of his question while squeezing your walls around his finger.

“Maybe you need a little more convincing, hm?” He softly bit your earlobe whilst inserting his second finger into your heat, making you moan louder than before. You pressed your forehead onto the glass and looked down at his hand in between your legs. The sight made your pussy clench even harder. A small tear escaped your eye, you are overwhelmed, and the pleasure is clouding your sound judgement.

“What will it be, baby?” His fingers finally raised the tempo, and your eyesight was getting blurry, biting your lip from the sensation.

“Fuck—” you nibbed at your bottom lip a bit harder, trying to fight with yourself. But you couldn’t. He was playing a game, and he was winning this round.

“Yes!” you screamed louder than you intended when he hit the sweet spot, making you see stars. You did not necessarily want to agree. It was more of a reaction to how good his fingers feel inside of you. But Jungkook’s interpretation did not align with yours.

What you did not expect is the sudden feel of emptiness once his fingers abdicated its place. You protested with an unpleasant whine of frustration.

He spun you to face him, being quick enough to grab you below your ass, illocutionary forcing you to jump up. Jungkook leaned in to kiss you while he navigated the apartment blindly, right to the master bedroom.

Now you were feeling thrown. Literally. Your body bounced a little while Jungkook stood at the foot of his king sized bed adorned in black sheets. You could smell his expensive cologne on them. He was very eager to continue what you started.

His shirt was long gone and so were his pants when he was pulling down yours, alongside with your through-and-through wet panties. He very quickly inhabited his head in between your legs. Licking all the dirty juice your pussy was producing.

You could not help but to bury your fingers into his hair, slightly tugging on it once he decided to abuse your clit, sucking on it, his piercing cold against your skin. You were starting to feel the knot inside your lower belly, moaning and panting out loud.

“I’m gonna!—” you breathed out heavily. Squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the heat rushing your body.

“Not yet,” said the heartthrob, parting away from you. You shot your eyes open to look at him towering over you, his briefs thrown away somewhere in the room, and his pride leaning proudly against his abdomen, angry and red. The perfect opposite of soft. You gulped down. He was definitely not lying when he suggested he is thick.

The heartthrob helped you get rid of the rest of your clothes, bending down to lay a single kiss right above your clit, maintaining eye contact with you all the time. Sticking his tongue out yet again, making a straight wet line up your belly, ending at the valley between your breasts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned, squeezing your tits while pumping his dick, he could not take it anymore.

He spread your legs further, making space for him to fit right in. Your walls are trembling from excitement, especially when he presses the length of his cock to your lips, coating himself in your juices.

“Condo—” you went to say when his lips silenced you in a hard passionate kiss. He moaned to your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance, stretching you open. You pressed your hands to his chest, parting away from him. He looked at you with confusion and you repeated yourself.

“Condom, Guk,” you said, using the nickname in an attempt to soften his hard features. Something told you that you might have just pissed him off. The heartthrob sighed and involuntarily got up, walking all the way to the bathroom, giving you a million-dollar view of his ass. Your gaze then shifted to his muscular shoulders, involuntarily admiring his impressive physique. You couldn’t deny he was hot as hell.

Your nipples were perky from the thrill that your body was going through. It was quite some time since the last you got laid. Maybe that’s why it took him minimum effort to turn you into a whiny, needy little bitch.

You heard the light switch going off in the bathroom, and the man himself appearing in the doorframe with the little shiny square in his hands. Tearing it open, he returned to sit on his knees on the bed while sliding the condom on.

He grabbed your legs under your knees with one swift movement, sliding you closer to him. One hand aiming his cock to your entrance the other finding its place on your throat, holding it with the right pressure to elevate your pleasure. Pushing all the way through, you whimpered loudly at the intrusion. He was big, and you felt like you’re going to explode. The heat rushed through you like a momentary fever.

The heartthrob could not wait for you to adjust to his size, and he started to snap his hips into you in a punishing tempo, making your body bounce up at every thrust and clench your eyes shut tightly. Loud moans coming out of you.

“You take me so well, baby.” He whispered into your ear seductively, panting and groaning from the pleasure. He was on cloud nine, finally having the woman he longed for quite some time.

“Got me waiting for this pussy almost the whole damn year.” You met his hungry gaze, your moaning synchronised with his. He crushed his lips to yours one more time before thrusting his cock in and out of your heat faster and deeper.

You bit down on his lip, him groaning at the sensation, slapping your ass in the heat of the moment.

“This pussy was fucking designed for me.” He claimed you.

He was hitting all the right places, making you squeeze your eyes shut again. He upheld his promise to fuck you good. You can regret this after, now it’s not the time.

“M’wanna pound this pretty ass too.” He pulled out of you, turning you to lay on your belly, slapping the already reddened skin before setting you on all fours, ass up. He did not hesitate to rut inside of you again, feeling him all the way in your stomach, you screamed his name.

“Jungkook!” his thrusts set a brutal pace that you were not sure if you’ll survive. Their moans continued to echo in the room.

“You belong to me.” He growled, pounding your pussy, the sound of skin slapping was audible ten times louder than usual. The knot in your lower belly appeared again, got you moaning uncontrollably.

Jungkook sensed that your climax was near and went to rub your clit with the desire to make you cum all over him while getting himself off with you.

“Guk—” you choked on your words, your legs and hands were trembling, tears springing out of your eyes. You desperately needed to cum.

“I know, baby.” He kissed the arch of your back, making his hand and hips move even faster, hitting your cervix. If this is heaven, you don’t want to leave.

“I-I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You shouted, feeling the knot untying itself rather quickly. Jungkook growled right to your ear. He was close too, dangerously close.

“Baby!” He whimpered, feeling the tension rising.

Your juice splashed the sheets as you squirted all over his cock, crying, the orgasm hitting you way too hard. Jungkook’s hips did not stop while he chased his own release, complimenting you, your body, and how you are such a good girl while doing so. With a loud moan and one last deep thrust, he came in you, holding you still while he emptied himself. The warmth of his release felt too authentic, but you were too fucked out to notice.

As you were also too fucked out to notice the empty abandoned condom laying on the ground.

“I love you so much baby—”

It was getting dark outside when you woke up, your head pounding as you looked over your naked body and evident ache in between your legs. The sheer curtains that are covering the floor to ceiling windows, once airy and light, now filter the early evening light into a soft, diffused glow, creating a cosy atmosphere. You cuddled the soft sheets that were wrapped around your lower body, thinking that you could sleep some more.

But when you heard the muted notes of En Vogue’s Whatta Man blasting somewhere in the penthouse, any hopes of serenity were shattered. A curse slipped through your lips as the reality of your surroundings hit you.

“Fuck,” you muttered through your teeth, the small fists pounding against the bed. To muffle the scream of mixed emotions, you seized a leopard-patterned pillow, pressing it against your face.

You had willingly let this happen, all for the pursuit of a damn book and damn fucking job and your damn fucking career. But why was it so precious, you might ask? Your portfolio wasn’t just a collection of pages bound together; it was a culmination of dreams, aspirations, and relentless hard work. Each design you made over the years, a carefully curated piece of your artistic vision, held a piece of your soul.

The portfolio was your identity as a designer, a visual storyteller who poured emotions, creativity, and skill into each piece of clothing. It was something you presented yourself with, and you believed it held the power to open doors. It got you your first adult job after you spent two years in the big apple on your own, dreaming big while washing dishes behind the counter.

And it got you the second job of your early fashion career, a higher position than sales assistant, the head designer at the men’s wear division at Calvin Klein. You were aiming to become the head of the department when a better offer came your way, from Guess.

The project they offered you to be a part of was a kind of interview to get through and sit as the executive director of the women’s department. You were thrilled to accept as you always wanted to design for your gender.

And he fucked it up. So, you have to excuse yourself by letting your guard down, giving him a chance to sway you. You are doing this for you and your career.

You sat on the bed, eyeing the modern bedroom that screamed his name as did the smell of the room. Just like you remembered before you blacked out from all the pleasure he forced upon you.

Sighing, you moved your sore naked body to the edge of the bed. A black leather armchair caught your eye, a clean set of underwear laid out on it, burning under your gaze. You gulped down. This was your mess after all. You let him come too close—extremely close, judging by the recurring ache between your legs.

“Fuck it, it’s fine.” You’d manage somehow, or at least, that’s how you decided to play along with his nonsensical fantasy and possessive behaviour.

You tiptoed down the penthouse, searching for the devil. You knew you were going the right way when the music grew louder. Peeking from the narrow hallway into the living room, he was nowhere in sight. Only the RCA telly with MTV on indicated that he must’ve been there.

The sizzling sound of something cooking and a pleasant aroma hit your ears and nose. He was in the kitchen, cooking. Jeon Jungkook was in the kitchen, cooking. A certain degree of domesticity welcomed you as you stepped into the all-blue kitchen. His kitchen was way nicer than yours, you noted. Large cabinets, the island full of food ingredients he was preparing. Your gaze lingered as your eyes traced his masculine, naked back, tattoos shouting at you. Your knees felt weak at the sight, your body reacting to him as if he were the alpha wolf.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip. He was swaying his hips to the rhythm of the song. Even from this point of view, you could tell he is in a very good mood. It seemed like he was glowing.

You leaned against the arch, contemplating whether to make your presence known or observe from the shadows. Before you could decide, he turned around, planning to cut the vegetables, his eyes locking onto yours immediately. Bunny smile plastered on his face, reaching his ears — a juxtaposition to how anxious you looked in his big shirt.

Quickly circling the kitchen island, he reached you in a matter of seconds. The heartthrob was beaming with happiness seeing you in his kitchen, in his shirt, barefoot, face raw, and all his. At least, that was his perspective after he finally got you where he wanted you.

“Baby!” He squeaked happily, pulling you by your wrists. The movement causes your petite frame to collide with his naked torso. Jungkook did not let you speak even if you wanted to, instead he pulled you even closer, pressing his lips to yours. You yelped, surprised by the unexpected collision. The vulnerability you felt in his presence only heightened as he claimed you, his happiness seemingly derived from having you exactly where he wanted—vulnerable and dependent on him.

The kiss lingered for a moment, and as Jungkook pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours again, gleaming with an unspoken mischief you could not decipher. He seemed to revel in the flustered state he had induced, and a cocky grin played on his lips.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, his warm breath grazing your ear as he finally released your wrists, pecking your lips softly again. The shirt you wore clung to your form.

“It’s almost five pm.” You muttered back after you gave the digital clock on the stove a glance. He laughed it off, not replying.

“How do you like your steak?” he asked, his tone casual as if the passionate kiss hadn’t just occurred.

“M-medium rare,” you stammered, still processing the sudden turn of events. He chuckled, the sound resonating in the cosy kitchen as he came back to the stove to resume cooking, what you assumed is your dinner. Your stomach growled loudly when the delicious smell hit your nostrils, loudly. Jungkook even looked your way, encouraging you to take whatever you wanted from the fridge that was next to him, until dinner was ready.

You looked at the silver double-door fridge, and suddenly, your hunger vanished. Those were your magnets that were on your fridge just hours prior. He went through your boxes and unpacked them. The world was spinning, and your stomach was dangerously twisting.

He noticed the change in your expression, the playfulness in his eyes fading as he followed your gaze to the fridge.

“Something wrong, baby?” he inquired. You swallowed hard, attempting to mask the unease that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“No, nothing,” you replied, forcing a tight smile. His attention returned to the stove, the sizzling sounds and savoury aroma filling the kitchen. The clock on the stove continued its indifferent march towards evening. But your mind stopped.

“I-I think—” you stammered, it was hard for you to speak when there was an evident lump in your throat that wanted to emerge to the surface.

“Baby?” he raised a brow at you, letting everything he was doing to approach you again. You gulped down, trying to breathe it out.

“I think... I need—,” you tried, the words escaping in a breathy whisper. Jungkook’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern as he stepped closer. That got you even more anxious and a quick escape was a way you opted.

Your legs carried you back to the room where you knew a bathroom would be near. You heard him calling your name, but he did not run to get you. He must have thought that you’re trying to run again, but when he saw you going the way the master bedroom is, he did not push it.

You slumped right to your knees, emptying your already empty stomach into the toilet. Tears stringed from your eyes. Before you could calm or clean yourself the door creaked open, and Jungkook’s concerned voice seeped into the bathroom.

“Oh my god! Are you okay baby?” He hovered in the doorway, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. You didn’t have the strength to respond, only offering a weak nod as you continued to empty the contents of your stomach.

His footsteps approached, and you could feel him kneeling beside you, one hand tentatively rubbing your back.

“Easy, baby. Easy,” he murmured softly.

After a moment, the nausea subsided, and you leaned back against the cool porcelain, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jungkook remained by your side, a true concern readable in his eyes.

As you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the familiar objects around the bathroom. Toothbrush, hairbrush, all your makeup and even your pyjamas, had found a place alongside Jungkook’s in the bathroom. He was blurring the lines between your lives.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you winced at the sight of prominent hickeys and bite marks adorning your neck. You caught Jungkook’s worrying gaze but did not pay attention to it longer than you needed to.

“When was the last time you ate properly, baby?” he asked, caressing the small of your back, kissing the top of your head. You touched the tender skin on your neck, a mix of shame and regret settling in the pit of your stomach.

You knew very well that this wasn’t a doing of the lack of nutrition within your body but it did stop you to think for a second. When was the last time you had a proper meal and not a cheap ramen noodles from a convenience store near your building? You did not recall, so you rather opted to shrug your shoulders and reach for your toothbrush that could have melted under your gaze at this point.

“Why don’t you freshen up, and I’m going to finish dinner.” He sighed and kissed your temple. You’ve let him. He has done worse. As he left the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed—physically, emotionally, and now even in your most private spaces. Your eyes lingered back on the assortment of makeup and personal items neatly arranged beside his.

Brushing your teeth never felt so foreign and unnatural. Your eyes darted around his room after you finished, and that’s when you noticed what you did not when you woke up —a closet, half-filled with your clothes. Neatly folded, hanged right beside his. Even your jewellery was sorted by the type of metal. Your shoes, your skirts, dresses, everything. He had seamlessly integrated your wardrobe into his, as if signalling an intention far beyond a temporary stay.

Then all your pictures scattered on the walls as you walked down the corridor back to the heartthrob who swayed you here. Feeling the unease building in your stomach again.

Jungkook stood by the table, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you approach. His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and possession. This all seemed like a stage for a performance you hadn’t signed up for.

The steak, perfectly cooked to your liking, accompanied by a side of vegetables. The spread looked delectable, and your stomach rumbled again, reminding you that you hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The scent of the meal teased your senses.

As you picked at your food, a question lingered in the back of your mind—how had it come to this? Have you really had no choice but him? Was this worth the trouble? Perhaps.

Your parents would think of you as a failure if you returned home. and your pride did not allow you to pick up your old job and be a girl for everything. You worked in the fashion industry and you were willing to do anything to maintain it.

“Are you listening to me, baby?” Jungkook broke the stream of your consciousness, his voice soft yet insistent. You hummed in response but your ears could not pick precise words that left his mouth.

“There’s Grammys next week, do you have any design for the red carpet so we could match—”

“What about the job?” You interrupted him, setting your fork down, staring at him viciously.

“So the Grammys—” he tried to continue without replying to you but you were having none of it.

“So the job, Jungkook.” You said through clenched teeth one more time. You weren’t about to let him sidestep the conversation about your career.

He sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching with a momentary annoyance. The room crackled with tension, the unspoken power dynamics unravelling before you.

“You’ve been a very good girl so far—” he lifted the handkerchief he had on his lap and placed it on top of the table next to his glass of red wine.

“Why do you have to misbehave now.” His attempt to redirect the conversation towards your behaviour only fuelled your frustration.

“I’m not misbehaving, Jungkook,” you shot back, your voice sharp and unyielding. “I need to know about the job. I need to know that you’re actually doing something concrete to help me, not just playing puppeteer with my life.”

“There’s an opening at Givenchy, and Prada or Dior but—” your eyes were full of false hope.

“—until I can be sure you won’t leave me the second you get the new job. You won’t go to any interview.” He leaned back, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as if enjoying the power play.

Your mind raced, torn between ambition and self-respect. You had worked tirelessly to establish yourself, and the taste of success was within reach. Yet, the cost demanded by Jungkook was steep—an indefinite surrender of your autonomy.

“That’s not what we agreed upon—” You whined out, anxiety clutching your insights in tight grip.

“Oh but we did baby.” He answered swiftly, smiling sweetly.

“I—” you wanted to protest, but he was quick to dismiss any argument you wanted to come up with.

“I said I want you, and you agreed, baby. You can’t take it back.”

“What does that even mean?!” You whined out.

“That I won’t let you slip through my fingers again. You belong here with me, and you better learn your place or prepare for a farewell with the magnificent fashion world of yours.” The ultimatum echoed in your mind as his gaze was trying to make you submit. Jungkook’s possessiveness loomed over you, a suffocating force that sought to confine your wings.

“You can’t force me,” words slipped past your lips, a proclamation of your refusal to succumb to his dominance.

“You underestimate the lengths I’ll go to keep you, Y/N,” he retorted, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge.

“You’re sick.” You spat out at him, standing up to leave when he grabbed you and held you tight. You were looking up at his face, seemingly angry with your words. His eyes darkened, a fleeting moment of anger crossing his features.

“Aren’t you a bit ungrateful, my love?” he seethed, his voice a low growl. The possessive tone sent shivers down your spine, but you refused to cower under his gaze.

“I’m providing you with shelter, food, money and most of all my love.”

“It’s sick, Jungkook. This isn’t love,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his grip unyielding. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“You’re testing my patience, Y/N. You’re mine,” he retorted quickly, not letting you go. You wanted to protest, to tell him to fuck off, and even worse things, but he was not finished.

“Think with your pretty little head, won’t you?—” you glared at him, defiance burning in your eyes.

“—you can live like a princess, you can have your dream position and on top of that a loving significant other — me.” The seconds felt like an eternity, the weight of his possessiveness pressing down on you.

“What is success for when you cannot share the joy with someone you love.” He whispered, a sinister undertone in his words. You had a feeling he’s not only talking about you. You had to think, and you had to think quickly.

“You’re asking me to give up my autonomy, Jungkook.” You shot back, your voice unwavering. He scoffed, the air heavy with tension.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, Y/N. You need me—” He chuckled, a condescending tone lacing his voice.

“—what were you gonna do if you didn’t come to me? Hm? Your mami and papi who are disappointed in you or your fake friends who did not bat an eye to try and help you out?—” You turned your face away from him, not wanting to let his words affect you.

“—I helped you. I am here for you!” He shook you, still holding a tight grip on you.

“All I’m asking in return is you to give yourself to me.” With a defiant push, you broke free from his grasp, leaving him seething in frustration. Covering your face with your palms, you sobbed.

“Love and loyalty is not that big of a price when you think about it.”

“You promise?” you choked out through your tears. You were tired, exhausted to the bone, and this was taking a bigger toll on you than you would expect. You wanted to trick him and instead he tricked you. But you needed to play by his rules to win in the game he started. His eyes softened momentarily, a twisted form of concern flickering in his gaze.

“I promise, baby,” he murmured, his tone almost soothing. The fire has ceased for now. Or so you thought. Despite the fragile promise, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were dancing on the edge of a precipice, held by the strings he so skilfully pulled. But the stakes were high, and you couldn’t afford to falter. You had no shelter, almost no money and no one to turn to. For now. You promised yourself, this is temporary. You will find a way out of this arrangement.

You finished your dinner. He insisted. You stripped naked while he was drawing the bath. He again insisted. The penthouse, filled with music and the fragrance of expensive candles. You allowed yourself to be led, like a puppet, your exhaustion overshadowing your instincts. As you sat there in the hot water, vulnerable, he wiped away your tears.

The water lapping against your skin is like an ominous reminder of the depths you found yourself in. Jungkook’s hands traced patterns on your back.

Jungkook, seemingly attuned to your exhaustion, wiped away your tears, the gesture carrying a strange mixture of care and control.

“It’s all gonna feel better once you accept it.” Said he, right to your ear, sending shivers down your naked body. You pressed your legs to your chest to hide yourself, a futile attempt at preserving some semblance of privacy, even though he had seen it all.

“I cannot grasp why you would do this to me, Jungkook,” you sobbed, letting him hold you against his chest.

“I did it for us, baby.” His hands firmly gripped yours now, making them stop hugging your knees. The heartthrob wanted you to relax in his presence. A laughable request considering the circumstances that led you here.

“Stop being delusional. There is no us.” You finally let him move your hands only for you to grab the frame of the bathtub and attempt to pull yourself up and away from him. He did not fancy this attempt of yours, and he let you know that by grabbing a large portion of your hair, dragging you back.

Your body slammed to his naked torso with a loud slap caused by the wet skin on skin contact. It took your breath away for a good minute.

“You didn’t seem to argue about it earlier today when my cock was hitting all-the-right-places, making you squirt, hmm?” Said the raven haired man, still holding your hair in his fist. He did not intend to hurt you, no, it was not as painful as the whole humiliating scenery and the fact you could not break free of him. He’s putting an example of what will happen once you stop behaving again. Putting you in your place — that’s what he called it.

“Matter of fact, Imma show you again that there’s us baby, until you realise it yourself.”

Trying to wiggle out of his grasp, you whimpered every time you pulled your hair back to make you stay still. And as if he changed his mind, your body was pulled out of the warm water, letting your hair go, making you fall down to the bright rug on the floor of the bathroom. Soaking it wet you looked up to him towering over your shivering physique.

“It was about time for you to show me how you are grateful to be my good girl—” he stepped closer. You did not want to look at him, knowing well what he is talking about.

“Open up baby—” you shook your head, pulling away from him and his hard member that he was holding just inches away from your face. You felt it meet your cheek and immediately retrieved yourself again which made him even more frustrated. His cock was painfully hard, and you were not cooperating.

The tattooed hand in your hair pulled you right back, his eyes bore to yours with a hard stare, and you swear they got even darker. His other hand was clutching your jaw, harder and harder until you involuntarily opened your mouth wide enough.

Taking the chance right away, he slipped his thick and hard manhood into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He hissed at how your teeth slightly scraped his dick. You choked on it, but he was unfazed by it, continuing to thrust into your throat, making tears fall down your cheeks.

“I knew you could be my good girl.” He groaned, praising you with each of his hard thrusts into your mouth. Your breathing was shallow, and you tried to get as much air as you could. He was moaning loudly, the wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out of your mouth, covered by your saliva made him even more aroused and hungry for you.

“You just need a bit of a re-education.” He was getting lost in the pleasure your mouth was providing him, and you were deprived of the air you needed. Your hand hit his pelvis when you thought you’re going to pass out soon.

“Just a moment more, baby. I know you can take it.” He said through gritted teeth. Jungkook was panting loudly, mixing it with loud moans of your name.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re my heaven.” Your nails were scratching his abdomen, trying to break free, but his hold was too strong. You were drooling all over his cock, and your hand started to spin from the lack of oxygen and how quickly your head was bobbing.

He was getting dangerously close and his sloppy movements reflected that. He managed to pull one last thrust before he was cumming down your throat. He was letting his dick soften, pressed on your tongue while the hot semen was springing out of his tip.

“Swallow.”

The night wore on, shadows dancing on the walls as you lay there, pressed to his chest, his hand limply laying on your hip, contemplating the surreal turn you took.

If anything arose in you during the intercourse you wish you would wipe out of your mind, it was a determination to break free from the suffocating grasp of the penthouse.

Jungkook laid beside you, his breathing steady, a façade of tranquillity painted on his features. As he drifted into a seemingly serene slumber, you waited for the right moment to seize the opportunity.

When you were certain he was deeply asleep, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, a shiver running down your spine as you tiptoed through the room.

The moon cast a pale glow through the sheer curtains, guiding your movements as you tiptoed across the room. Your hand grasped the cold doorknob, the soft creaking of the door threatened to betray your escape. Your body frozen in time, your pupils shaking, fearing what happens if he wakes up. You wait a minute to make sure he is not coming to drag you back before you open the door in one swift movement.

You rethought the tasks you listed in your plan. Find the portfolio and get the fuck out as quick as possible. Everything else is replaceable for you. The mindset that the portfolio is the only key to all your problems, remained.

The adrenaline surged through your veins, the pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet hallway you walked through to get to the front of the penthouse.

He never took you upstairs, therefore you assumed that’s where he must’ve hidden it.

You approached the staircase, the carpet soft beneath your feet. The air seemed to grow heavier with every ascending step. The possibility of him waking up was not zero.

As you reached the upper level, you noticed the subtle shift in the ambiance. The hallway, adorned with pieces of art that whispered tales of luxury, and all his awards he won during his career, displayed to show his success. You passed several open doors, a home recording studio in one of them, be ridden of what you were looking for.

The hallway led you towards a set of double doors. That must be it. The doors creaked open, your gaze scanning for any sign of your portfolio. Your eyes flickering between the meticulously arranged accolades and the sprawling desk. He must be using this room as his office.

The seconds stretched into minutes, the urgency escalating with each passing heartbeat. You began with the drawers of the glass table, trying to be as quiet as possible. You cannot afford to cause commotion.

Anxiety wrapped around you, a vice tightening with every passing moment. You went through the library too, looked under every surface, you could not find it.

With a deep breath, you steadied yourself. There must be another place he could have hidden it. Your eyes fell upon the stack of papers, leaning your head to the side you examined the tabloid underneath with your face on it.

You fished it out in mere seconds, eyeing it unbelievably. If you were on the cover of a tabloid you would for sure know that. But you were not aware that your face appeared in Star magazine, right beside Jungkook. “Jungkook’s Mysterious Muse Revealed!” the headline screamed at you.

It was not only you after all. Society has convinced Jungkook that you two are sort of an item. A clandestine affair, a narrative spun by the society, linking your name with Jungkook’s in a tale of intrigue.

It was dated right when you started working on Klein’s campaign, back in April. It is almost the end of November now, and this is the first time you’re seeing this. You couldn’t fathom how deeply the web had been woven around you. The urgency of the situation intensified, and you combed through every conceivable hiding spot.

A sudden noise from downstairs snapped your attention. Fear gripped you, and your heart raced. Did he wake up? The urgency of the situation intensified, and you felt the weight of the clock ticking against you.

You sobbed and when you went to rub your eyes, they fell upon the other room diagonally from the one you were searching now. The doors were slightly ajar and you could see soft shades of colours within. In a last-ditch effort you marched towards it.

But ever stepping inside you regretted. The whole scenery that was revealed once you opened the door swiftly caught your breath in your throat.

The soft shades of colours painted a haunting picture—a baby room, unfinished and untouched by time. The sight startled you, sending a shiver down your spine. This can’t be.

“No..” You whispered to yourself, panicking. Your hands found their place in your hair. He is one delusional man. There is no other explanation, he is sick in the head if he thinks he is going to baby trap you.

A sense of dread overwhelmed you, and in your shock, you stumbled over something on the floor, hitting your head in the process. You groaned from the pain, forgetting that this commotion must have been loud enough for Jungkook to wake up.

As you rolled to the side, your eyes widened in disbelief. The portfolio was taped to the bottom of a cabinet. Without a second thought, you ripped it free, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

The rain outside intensified, a symphony of droplets against the windows. With the portfolio clutched in your hands, you ran down the stairs, right to the front door you prayed would not be locked. Would he be that careless? Yes. The degree of his mental instability was enough for him to believe that you are his and you would not think of running. He cut off every single option you had.

First, by making sure that your former employer would get to know you’re planning to leave the brand, enough for them to let you go. Second, he successfully obtained your portfolio that you were stupid enough to not make a copy of, which resulted in not meeting the deadline with Guess and losing that job opportunity too.

Third, he did not expect you to not stay the first you went to his penthouse but he was determined to go to extremes. So, every single fashion brand that had department stores in New York and in the rest of the world, backlisted you. No job application you sent, assistant buyer, a visibly lower position to what you had at Klein, would be turned down.

Fourth, make sure your landlord has already a tenant replacing you, ready to pay double for your apartment if they can move in as soon as possible.

That you’re alienated from your parents played his cards right and he never wished anything bad upon someone else, but how he thanked God that your friends have either too small apartments for another person to live in or they were struggling even more than you were. But lucky for you. He was right there, waiting for your call.

The handle felt too cold in your hand once you pushed the front door open merging the distance to the elevators, you were madly pushing the down button.

The seconds felt like an eternity as you waited for the elevator. Your breaths came in short, erratic bursts, mirroring the frenetic pace of your heart. Quickly stepping inside the metal box you heard it.

“Y/N?!” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. His eyes momentarily locked with yours. You were clutching your portfolio to your chest, the other hand pressing the close button, praying it will close faster.

He must have heard you running down the stairs, or perhaps when you tripped and fell. You even forgot that you’ve hurt yourself. The adrenaline was overshadowing the pain.

“Come back right now!” He was mad, that much you could tell.

With the last determined push, you closed the door on him, severing the visual link between you. Letting out a relieving breath, you knew that this is far from being over. The elevator descended, carrying you away from the penthouse.

He cannot make it all the way down in time before you’ll disappear from the area. You prayed, he would not.

The lobby welcomed you as the doors opened, the room blurred as you stormed towards the exit, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rain. You burst into the rain-soaked night. Clutching the book tightly, a surge of triumph coursed through your veins.

The cold drops pelted against your skin. The relentless downpour soaking your clothes and hair. Running towards the street, you waved at the cars, hoping a taxi would stop.

It took a minute for some yellow car to appear at the curb, not wasting time, you ran towards it.

A smile appeared on your face after a long time. You did not know where you’re going, nor what you’re going to do next but Jungkook was never supposed to be your option and now you got the chance to choose differently or not? This is your second chance, and you’re willing to take it.

Your hand touched the handle of the yellow vehicle, opening the door and planning to leap inside as quickly as possible.

A strong tattooed hand closed abruptly. You gulped down an enormous lump in your throat, almost not breathing. How could this happen? It was mere minutes. Did he run the stairs? Did you take too long to catch a cab? Should you just run as far as possible?

Every single thing you could have done differently would not change the outcome it seems. And every single thing worked out in his favour, again.

His palm pressed on the taxi door firm, you could not open it anymore nor he would let you hop in the front seat. Your heart pounded in your chest, the tension and fear to face him was killing you. The portfolio now felt like a burden, if you make peace with losing it and your career, would you avoid this?

You could feel his eyes burning holes to the back of your head.

“I will not go back.” You said, voice resolute, but inside you were shaking. You could feel his hot breath on your cold skin, similarly you could feel his body pressing to your back. Once he reached your ear, you felt his lips mere inches from it, whispering.

“You will.”

I N T E R L O G U E

Jungkook settled into the plush leather chair after he finished carefully unpacking all your belongings, believing he is helping you to settle down. His fingers deftly dialled his mother’s number. As the phone rang, he gazed out over the city lights sprawling beneath him, a realm he had conquered with ruthless determination.

His new song, obviously written about you, was an enormous hit, granting him another Grammy nomination. But what was his success for when he did not have his love to share it with?

He smiled to himself, he got you. After long months of chasing you, then giving you the space you needed to realise he is your best shot in this world, you’re finally where you belong. Next to him.

The familiar voice of his mother greeted him, warm and comforting.

“Eomma—” Jungkook said, his tone affectionate.

“Jungkook, dear! How is my baby?” His mother’s voice held a blend of joy and concern.

“I’m doing well, Eomma. I have some news to share,” he said, his eyes glancing toward the bedroom where Y/N lay, unaware of the conversation taking place.

“Oh? Do tell,” his mother replied, anticipation evident in her voice. Jungkook leaned back, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“Y/N moved in.” His mother’s delight was palpable through the phone. Jungkook let her know the very moment he stepped into your office that he is very much interested in you. That he met the special one he wants to grow old with.

As he spoke, he subtly weaved a narrative of love and destiny, carefully crafting the tale of their supposed connection. His mother listened attentively, hanging onto every word.

“Are you going to propose over Christmas like you wanted, Kookie?” His mother gasped with excitement. Jungkook glanced at the bedroom once more, satisfaction settling within him. The diamond ring well hidden deep inside of the closet. But that’s given and final in his mind, there’s something more he selfishly wants. Not only will it make sure you won’t be able to leave him any more, it will give you reason to grow to love him back. After all, he would be the only person who you can grow old with.

“We’re trying for a baby, Eomma.”

©pennyellee. please do not repost

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vivwritesfics · 1 month

Text

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Two - Angel

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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READ PLS: hello my lovelies!! So, if you're here from the first part, pls either reread or take note that I have removed all connection to the bianchi family -- the brother is called Louis and the last name is Dupont

Max returned to that spot time and time again. He drove past the café almost every day for his first week in Monaco. Sometimes his angel was there, sometimes she wasn't.

This time, though, when Max drove past, she was there. Sitting in the café with a fruity smoothie in front of her, wearing another sun dress. This time it was green, the skirt slightly shorter and little white flowers decorating it.

Max parked up around the corner. He straightened his tie and climbed out of his car. Always dressed in a suit just in case anybody needed him. Just in case his father called him back to work.

He walked past her, paying no mind as he stepped through the café doors. But then he stepped back, something between a smirk and a smile on his face as he walked towards her.

"Hi," he said, his hand on the back of the chair opposite her own. "Can I ask what you ordered? I'm hoping to get something sweet."

She knew not to talk to strangers. Even before the death of her brother, she had been taught how much danger she was in at all times. Normally Charles would be here to take care of it, to glare a the stranger until they moved away.

But Charles wasn't here. This is what she got for sneaking out.

Thank God this guy was cute. That shouldn't have been a reason to answer him, but she did. She held up her plastic cup and shook it slightly, answering him. "Strawberry banana," she said and put the straw to her lips. Max watched as the pink liquid moved up the straw. "It's incredibly sweet."

Max couldn't stop his smile from widening. He leaned against the chair in front of him now, not just resting his hands on it. "Is it as sweet as you?"

Oh, he was flirting with her.

She couldn't hide her embarrassment. Every time a mad had tried to flirt with her before, Charles had shut them down and scared them off.

But this man, well Charles wasn't there to scare him off. For the first time in her life a man was openly flirting with her. He was flirting with her and it was making het all bashful. And maybe a little bit shy.

He held his large hand out towards her. She couldn't help but take notice of the watch on his wrist. It was no doubt expensive, but that wasn't a surprise, considering where they were. "I'm Max," he said, keeping his hand stretched out.

She took it, but her grip was loose as she told him her name. "But everybody calls me Bunny."

"Bunny," he responded, listening to the way it rolled off of his tongue. He liked it, liked how it sounded. But, if everybody called her Bunny, Max needed something else. He looked at her, really looked at her. Looked at the way her hair fell around her shoulders, the way her fingers, nails painted to match her dress, wrapped around her plastic cups. Looked at the way her pink lips wrapped around her straw. "Angel. I think it's more fitting."

Before Max could say anything further, his phone beeped. Saving her, he couldn't help but think. "Well, Angel, I have to go," he said, standing up straight. "Can I see you again?"

She smiled as she nodded. "You know where to find me," she said and sipped the rest of her drink.

Max looked at her once more and walked away, down the street and back to his car. For the last week Max had been waiting for his father to call him back to work and, now that he had, he didn't want to leave.

Max disappeared and she was alone. She sipped her smoothie and returned to her small sketchbook, pencil moving against the page.

Suddenly, somebody slipped into the seat opposite her. She looked up, hoping it was Max, returning to flirt with her some more. But she was met with disappointment.

"Oh, Arthur," she said when she looked at the youngest Leclerc brother. "Am I in trouble?"

Arthur let out a small laugh and furrowed her brows at her. "You sneak out too often to get into trouble, Bun," he replied as he looked around.

"Not because I spoke to that guy?" She asked innocently.

But Arthur's face dropped. He may have been younger than her, but he was still tasked with keeping her safe. "Do you remember what this guy looked like, Bunny?" He asked as he grabbed her sketchbook and pulled her from her chair.

She nodded her head as Arthur led her down the street. "He was cute," she said and let out a little laugh.

But Arthur wasn't laughing as he looked around the streets. "You know that's not what I meant," he replied as he led her into her apartment building. "You know you're not meant to talk to strangers."

He dragged her up the stairs and pulled her into her apartment. Arthur immediately sat her down and checked every crevice of the apartment. He grabbed the knife from the kitchen and checked inside of the bedroom.

Nothing, her apartment was clear.

"Fucking hell, Bunny," Arthur spat. "You had me terrified."

She pouted as she fiddled with her fingers. "He was flirting with me, 'thur. I think he really thought I was cute," she mumbled and laid herself down on the sofa, pulling her legs into her chest.

Arthur released a breath from his nose as he looked down at her. "Of course he did, Bunny," he whispered and ran his fingers through her hair. "It's just... Charles and I don't know this person. We don't know if they can be trusted.”

She didn't reply.

Eventually Charles came to her apartment. When he let himself in, Arthur retreated to the kitchen. To 'make dinner', he had said. (But, something you should know about the Leclerc brothers is that neither of them could cook very well. Arthur stopped by his mothers every night for dinner and Charles wouldn't eat unless Bunny cooked for him).

The first thing Charles did was stride over to her. He sat on the end of the couch and looked down at her. "I'm not mad you snuck out," he said. Which, although it sounded like it, it wasn't a good sign. If it wasn't because of the sneaking out, he was mad about something else.

She didn't look at him, instead staring at her coffee table. There was a light layer on dust on it, and she made a mental note to clean it later. After this stupid conversation.

"But, Bunny, I need you to tell me who this guy is. Did he give you a name? Any indication of who she was?"

She'd made the mistake of telling Arthur something, she wasn't going to do it again. She tried her best to shrug her shoulders from the position she was sitting in, but it didn't much work. "He just asked what flavour my smoothie was," she said and sat up slightly.

She couldn't tell if Charles believed her or not. He simply let out a sigh and patted her leg. "Wanna get take out?" He asked softly. "We can kick Arthur out, share Chinese food and watch a movie. How does that sound, Bun?"

Her arms were folded over her chest as she sat up and looked at him. "Are you paying for it?" She asked through a pout.

"Yeah, Bun, I'll pay for it," he said and went to the kitchen to grab the menus. At the same time he kicked Arthur out of the apartment (grateful that he hadn't started cooking any sort of monstrosity yet).

Charles knew exactly what he was going to be ordering, but he still handed her the menu. She asked for the same thing every time, and this time was no different. He was on the phone, ordering food within minutes.

He couldn't concentrate on much through the movie. Charles watched her, but he couldn't help but think of some faceless stranger, snatching her in the middle of the night.

He'd let her get away with sneaking out, even if he hadn't meant to. But not again. There was no way Charles was going to let her out of his sight now.

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auras-moonstone · 10 months

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Hey,

Can you write a mini story of Jack and the reader. And can the trope be a fake dating for the media. Also can you the reader as an actress as well. And during their fake dating fling, they developed their feelings for each other but weren’t that sure to admit. So Jack calls it off and starts dating another girl. Later on, he realizes he still has feelings for the reader. And you can write the ending, please surprise me!

hi! i love this trope😫 hope you enjoy it🤍!

lost in translation — jack champion

word count: 2,944

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jack are working on a rom-com together and are asked to fake date. feelings bloom and jack calls it off, breaking y/n’s heart and, as collateral damage, their friendship.

author’s note: this is me claiming my love for louis partdrige (he’s so pretty😫) and lynn painter (read her books she’s amazing)

Y/N HAD ALWAYS BEEN A BIG ROMCOM LOVER, SO WHEN SHE GOT THE ROLE OF LIZ ON THE ADAPTATION OF BETTER THAN THE MOVIES, SHE WAS ON CLOUD NINE. She met Jack (the boy who was going to play Wes, her love interest) on the chemistry read and the director instantly fell in love with their dynamic, and that’s how they got the role.

During the shooting, Y/N and Jack developed a close friendship. But the fans of the well-known rom-com book started shipping them even when the content the community managers shared was very scarce—just a few pictures of them on their breaks or during the filming, and some bloopers. The whole media kept talking about them, about how good they looked together, how their chemistry transcended the screen; and so the people involved in the publicity of the movie made a decision.

“You want us to what?” Y/N asked dumbfounded.

“To fake-date. The press tour is about to start, and we think you two dating can really boost the excitement for the movie” the head of publicity stated. “We can’t actually make you do it, as it wasn’t originally in the contract, but we think this is a great idea. The people love you”.

Y/N looked at Jack, who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since the suggestion. “Jack? What do you think?”.

“Can we talk about it? Alone?” he asked to the man in front of them, who reluctantly nodded before leaving the office. “I honestly don’t know shit about publicity, but if they think it’s going to help, then we should do it”.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Jack nodded “It’s you the one who doesn’t seem sure”.

“I don’t have a problem with fake dating you, I just don’t want our friendship to become weird or anything, because I value it a lot” Y/N told him. Jack’s heart broke, knowing how hard it was for her to establish friendships after her old friends started acting weird and became more interested in the events she could take them to rather than in her well-being and life. He knew he was one of her only real friends and now felt bad she had been put in such a spot.

“Hey, no. It won’t, it’ll be just like when we were filming, right? Just that we will do it in public” Jack tried to reassure her, pulling her into a hug.

“Okay… let’s just promise that if we get uncomfortable or if it’s becoming too much, we’ll be honest with each other and call this thing off, okay? Our friendship is way more important that the publicity” she said, looking him in the eyes.

Jack smiled, and showed her his little finger “I pinky promise”. Y/N laughed, wrapping her pinky with his.

And so their fake relationship began, not knowing that no promises could stop the feelings that were meant to evolve.

THEY COULDN’T REALLY TELL THE EXACT MOMENT EVERYTHING CHANGED. The shift in their relationship was so natural and gradual that they almost didn’t notice.

Everything was done more often—dates, kisses, hand holding—, physical touch seemed to be a need now—it could be just intertwined fingers or his arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers around his waist—, longing glances when the other wasn’t looking, eyes drifting to each other’s lips everytime one of them was talking. They even had dates out of the public sight—even though none of them called it a ‘date’, they simply convinced theirselves it was a friendly hang out. They slept at each other’s houses, waking up the following day with Jack’s arms draped around her waist while her back was pressed against his front or, their personal favorite, Y/N’s head on his chest and arms around his torso while Jack’s was wrapped around her shoulders pressing her more against his chest.

So yes, it was so slow and felt so natural that it took them time to realize they had fallen for each other. Both of them had completely different reactions—while Y/N decided she was going to take a risk and confess her feelings, Jack’s fears blinded him. It’s not that he didn’t want to admit his feelings, but everytime the option of confessing crossed his mind the words she spoke came to him: “I just don’t want our friendship to become weird or anything, because I value it a lot”. Y/N had been so scared of their friendship being ruined because of the fake dating thing, Jack knew keeping his feelings hidden was the best option. But also, he couldn’t keep hurting himself and that was exactly what he was doing by pretending to be her boyfriend when he wanted it to be real.

Friday came around, meaning it was their sleepover day. They had just finished eating the spaghetti Y/N made, and were about to choose a movie to watch when Jack decided to speak up at the same time Y/N opened her mouth to confess.

“Oh, sorry. You can tell me” Jack told her. Y/N shook her head, signalling him to go ahead. “I have been thinking and I think we should call the fake dating thing off”.

Y/N’s mouth was open, yet no words came out of it. She had been thinking for days what the best way to express her feelings for him would be. She had a whole speech planned and was now left speechless.

“Oh… okay, if you feel is the best thing” she faked her best smile, while trying not to fall apart right in front of his eyes. “I just… need to ask, is everything okay? I mean, this is very sudden”.

“I just feel this is becoming too much, and you said we should be honest with each other” he simply answered.

Y/N nodded playing with the remote control in her hand. It was clear, he felt uncomfortable being her fake boyfriend because he only saw her as a friend. “Right, yeah. Thank you for telling me, then. We should talk to the head of publicity tomorrow. The press tour is almost over, so there shouldn’t be any problem”

“Cool” Jack nodded. He should’ve felt relieved that she took it so well, but instead, he felt sad. Maybe even disappointed in the fact that she didn’t fight the decision. And he also felt angry at himself for expecting so much of her part when it wasn’t her fault that he had fallen for her and she didn’t feel the same.

Jack had wanted to save their friendship so bad, he didn’t realize that the conversation had been the first crack in the glass.

Y/N REALLY DID TRY TO NOT LET THE CIRCUMSTANCES INFLUENCE THEIR FRIENDSHIP, BUT THEY WERE SLOWLY DRIFTING APART. The texts were becoming less frequent and drier, the hang outs were brief and filled with awkwardness and so were their conversations.

The publicists thanked all the gods that the press tour was over, because they had never seen two people have less chemistry than Jack and Y/N. It was so hard for everyone to comprehend how two people whose eyes used to spark when they were around the other suddenly became lifeless.

But their breaking point came a few weeks later, it was the thing that made them stop talking for good. No more texting at all, no hanging out—alone or in public—no conversations, no looking at each other, no interactions at all.

Y/N was watching a movie with her friends, Millie and Louis, when Millie suddenly gasped. Y/N and Louis laughed “Mills, if you are with your phone while we’re watching a movie at least be discreet” the girl said, but Millie didn’t laugh or apologise, she just stared at her with saddened eyes, which made Y/N frown. “Is everything okay?”.

“When was the last time you opened social media?” she asked, while Louis took her phone to see what she was looking at.

Y/N saw him clench his jaw, which made her feel more confused “Um, I barely use my phone anymore, just to text… why? You’re scaring me, guys” she laughed nervously, trying to take a peek at the phone but Louis hid it quickly “Lou, give me the phone”.

The boy sitting next to her shook his head “It’s not the best idea”.

“Tell me what is going on, please. You’re making me anxious” Y/N’s voice was almost begging.

Millie sighed “It’s a picture someone took of Jack… he’s with a girl. They are… holding hands and exiting a restaurant”.

“Let me see” Y/N said extending her hand, but Louis just refused to do it. “Louis. Phone. Now”.

“Come on, Y/N/N, don’t be a masochist” Louis told her.

“I’m just going to see it on my phone later, so what you’re trying to do is useless” Y/N pointed out.

Louis sighed in defeat and gave her Millie’s phone. Y/N stared at the picture—Jack was looking as gorgeous as ever and her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She missed him so fucking much, she hadn’t heard his voice in days (now she knew why, he was too busy). And then her eyes trailed to the girl holding his hand. She was very pretty—tall, long legs, blonde, muscular, stylish—and Y/N couldn’t help but compare herself with her.

“Stop it, I know what you’re doing and just don’t” Louis said, turning the phone off. “You’re gorgeous and way too good for him. It’s his loss, and he doesn’t deserve you”.

Y/N broke down for the first time in weeks, her feelings had been bottled up and the glass that held them inside finally exploded. Louis quickly put his arms around her, and Millie joined them in a heartbeat.

“I still have the fucking premiere” she cried harder when she remembered “What if- what if he goes with her? I can’t go”.

“Are you kidding me? You’re not going to miss the premiere. You work so hard for this! It’s your favorite rom-com and you are the main protagonist!” Millie said. “This is your dream. And you’re not going to let this ruin it”.

“I know, Mills. But I won’t be able to handle it. He’s going to be there, and even if she’s not there, I know he’s with her and looking at him knowing that will kill me” Y/N said, brushing away the tears. “Besides I can’t face that alone”.

“You’re not going to be alone. I’ll go with you” Louis offered.

“You actually had a great idea for once!” Millie exclaimed, making Louis roll his eyes and Y/N let out a little laugh. “Lou will be there for moral support, and you won’t feel alone. But you are definitely not going to miss your premiere”.

“Thank you, guys. I love you”

JACK’S MIND HAD BEEN A MESS LATELY. Y/N stopped responding his texts, it’s been two weeks with no signs of her. He would’ve been worried if he hadn’t seen the instagram stories her friends, Millie and Louis, posted with her. So it didn’t take a genius to realize she was ignoring him on purpose, and he didn’t have a clue why. He missed her so much, it was driving him insane. Jack wanted to go back to that night and take back everything he had said, they still would be fine if he hadn’t opened his mouth.

Jack thought that by cutting off the deal, they would go back to being friends and his feelings would have eventually faded away. He even started dating a girl he meet at the gym, but Y/N lingered on his mind all day, every day. And when the day of the premiere came, his eyes searched for her figure as soon as he arrived to the red carpet.

Jack’s smile widened when he saw her. She looked absolutely breathtaking—as always—but then his smile fell when he realized she was with someone else.

“Can you at least be a little less obvious?” Kate asked.

“Sorry” Jack apologised. “Thank you for coming with me, even after our breakup”.

“It isn’t a break up if we weren’t really together. It was just a couple of dates to benefit the other. You needed to get your mind off her, I needed to get my mind off my ex” she answered. “Although I have to say, I don’t know if me coming was the best idea”.

“Maybe not” Jack said, stopping for a picture “I just couldn’t face it alone”.

“He’s with her” Y/N said to Louis, faking smiles as the photographers flashed their cameras at them.

“I know. I’ve been feeling his stare ever since we arrived” Louis replied. “He’s totally jealous, I can feel it”.

Y/N shook her head “You’re speaking nonsense”

“Nope, I know what I’m talking about. And I get it, you’re looking incredibly stunning and you have an eye-candy with extremely good bone-structure on your arm”

“And with a big ego” she added with a laugh. “Let’s go, eye candy”.

“Don’t you need to take pictures with him?” Louis asked in a whisper as they approached Jack and his date.

“Yeah” Y/N sighed, chest tightening as they reached them. “Hi” she greeted, looking at Jack—who looked beyond handsome—and then set her eyes on the girl next to him. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you”.

“Kate” she greeted with a smile “And we both not that’s a lie” Kate laughed, surprising her. “It’s okay. Just, take the pictures and please, for the love of god, talk to each other!”

“Hi, I’m Louis and I’m very confused” the tall boy next to Y/N spoke up. “But I agree with the last part” he added, then looked at his friend “I’ll see you later to see the movie, okay? Let’s go…”

“Kate” the blonde girl reminded him as they walked away.

The two teenagers looked at each other, not knowing what to say. “We should… pose for the picture maybe?” Y/N broke the silence.

Jack nodded nervously “Yeah, yeah”.

He put his hand on her waist, and they both tensed. It had been so long since they were this close, their skin felt like burning and their hearts were beating at a dangerous rhythm. They only posed for a couple of seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. But once it was over, the awkwardness came back.

“Let’s go inside, our dates are waiting” she spoke up.

They entered the place, but as Y/N began to walk away, Jack’s hand grabbed hers making her stop in her tracks. “No. We need to talk first”.

“Jack, the movie is starting in a few minutes”

“A few minutes is all I need. I—we—can’t go on like this” Jack said. “I’m sorry. If I’m being honest, I don’t know exactly what I did, but I’m sorry for not trying hard enough to save our friendship”.

“That’s the thing, Jack. It isn’t your fault, it’s all on me. I’m the one who drifted apart because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings” Y/N let her guard down, willing to be completely honest. After all, their friendship was already dead.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked confused.

“I love you, Jack. I- I wanted to tell you. In fact, I planned on telling you during our last sleep over but-“

“But I called our deal off” he finished, cursing himself.

Y/N nodded “I understood that acting as my boyfriend was too much for you, because you only saw me as a friend. But I just couldn’t go back to being just your friend, I tried for a while but it was really hard. And then, you started dating her and… it killed me. I just couldn’t talk to you knowing you had someone else”.

Jack shook his head, wanting to laugh at the situation “The reason I called it off is because I fell for you, Y/N/N. I didn’t think you felt the same, and I knew how important our friendship was to you. I wanted to protect it, but instead I messed it up”

Y/N looked at him with her mouth open, and then laughed drily “Really? All this time we felt the same thing and we ruined it because we got lost in translation?” she said in a tone of disbelief “And now it’s already too late”.

“What? Why?” Jack asked surprised. “I still love you… you don’t love me anymore?”

“Of course I love you Jack, but you have a girlfriend”

“Kate is not my girlfriend. She never was” Jack told her.

“I saw the pictures, Jack”

“We went to a couple of dates, we both needed to get our minds off the people we loved. But we stopped once we realized how silly it was, we’re just friends” he explained. Jack took one step closer to her until her back touched the wall behind her “I love you and I want to be your boyfriend… that is if you aren’t dating Louis”.

Y/N laughed, her smile now impossible to erase “No, he came as a friend”

Jack smiled in relief “So…”

“So, boyfriend, we should get inside, our dates are waiting” Y/N said, a teasing smile on her face.

Jack laughed “Can I kiss you first?”

“I’m begging you” she said, grabbing the collar of his suit to push him down. Their lips met in the middle and they both smile through it “I missed this, I missed you”.

“God, I missed you too. You have no idea” he said, kissing her harder.

“Hey, this is a family friendly place” Louis’ voice interrupted them “Get inside, love birds, your movie is about to start”.

Jack and Y/N looked at each other with lovey smiles and, hand in hand, they entered the theatre to see the movie that brought them together.

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jack champion fluff #jack champion x reader #jackchampion #jack champion imagine #jack champion oneshot #ethan landry #louis partridge #millie bobby brown #better than the movies #liz buxbaum #wes and liz #wes bennett #jack champion fanfic

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ceilidho · 9 months

Note

“Price won’t let a divorce stop him from being with his wife“

“Like he's taunting you but also not”

this delights me to no end because yeah, he probably signed the papers to make you happy or give you some kind of peace of mind but you’ll always be his—it doesn’t matter if you take off the ring or yell at him, you were his the moment you met, his when you said yes, and you’ll always be tied to because you bore his child. It’s not malicious, not from him—but he locked you down with no real intention of ever letting go, silly papers or not, and that is utterly delightful to me

Or maybe none of this but idk I’m a simp and I love your brain

In this particular verse, it's exactly this. When you first told Price that you were divorcing him, sure it momentarily stung because he hadn't seen it coming (he knew you were frustrated with constantly moving and the military lifestyle, but he thought you'd come to terms with it over the years) and it came as a shock, followed by the immediate thought of, "What did I do? Could I have stopped this?"

But that initial feeling of hurt very quickly falls away to just "Alright, it is what it is." If anything, he approaches the divorce as just another chapter in your story. A fun little side journey. It's not like either of you two would be moving on.

You still have his boys at home and he still has a key to your house (technically, his house too because the house is in both of your names; you didn't sell it because you bought it before property values started going up and it just doesn't make sense to sell the house when it's the perfect distance between school and your work). You still keep his ring in your jewellery box with your other rings and earrings, so he knows you haven't parted with it quite yet (you probably would've made a bit of extra cash if you'd pawned it, but you didn't).

Because he knows that it wasn't totally his fault. In essence yes, it was, because of his job, but it wasn't him. You never fell out of love with him. You still go to him for help around the house, still seek him out when you're in a bind or in trouble, still invite him over for dinner with your parents because your dad still loves Price (they bonded over old Louis L'Amour novels and books about Ernest Shackleton), and still look up at him with wide, desperate eyes when you're aching for it because he knows you'll never find another man that knows you as well as he does.

He's looking forward to your second wedding :) your boys could be the ring bearers this time around.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #john price #captain price #captain john price #cod price #price x reader #price x you

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avatar-anna · 3 months

Note

I feel like we haven’t seen much of youngmom reader super pregnant with her 7 babies??? Maybe I just don’t remember but I’d love to see y/n throughout her pregnancies! If not it’s okay I love ALL YOUR WORK!! ❤️

Baby Fever

Young Dad! Harry Styles x Young Mom! Reader Masterlist

i was too tired to include charlie. sorry!

Simone

Y/n sighed as she looked over her figure in the mirror, her shoulders slumping at the sight of her unbuttoned jeans and swollen belly. Looking down, she glared pointedly at the bump, saying, "Damn you, Harry."

She tried to button up her jeans one last time to no avail, then fell back on the bed behind her. It was Harry's, Y/n didn't feel comfortable enough to call it hers too, even though he insisted his home was hers now. The mattress was plush enough for her to sink into, and the sheets were softer than soft, she just felt like she was a guest staying in someone else's home.

It didn't help that she was alone most days. If Y/n had thought Harry had a busy schedule before all of this, she sorely underestimated the hectic schedule he had on a daily basis. The first half of her pregnancy, Harry was gone on tour promoting One Direction's latest album. When he came back to London, he was gone almost all day for interviews and late night talk shows and performances at radio stations. Work seemed neverending, and when Harry did eventually trudge through his front door, he was pretty much dead on his feet.

It was a weird situation that they were in, but nothing about their relationship had ever been typical.

Not really caring what kind of important meeting or interview he was having, Y/n pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she landed on the right person.

"Y/n! It's good to hear from you! How've you been?"

"Put him on the phone, Louis. I need to talk to him. Please," she said, adding please after realizing how harsh she sounded.

Louis was quick to do as she asked, though. Y/n could hear him rustling and calling out until he eventually found her boyfriend.

There was a time when Y/n didn't think she could call Harry that. She'd always liked him. Since the day they met, they were both absolutely smitten with each other, anyone could see that. But when she found out she was pregnant, things shifted. Y/n and Harry's relationship catapulted into chaos, and before they could even have the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation, they were suddenly nine months away from being parents.

Over time, they got to that place they'd been in before Y/n got pregnant. They had the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation, and now they were happy.

Well, for the most part.

"Hey, love, what's up? Everything okay?"

The sound of Harry's voice soothed and frustrated her all at once. Tears, which had been an unwelcome side effect of her pregnancy, began to well in her eyes.

"My jeans don't fit anymore."

There was silence between them, Y/n's words floating between them until it was eventually broken by Harry's laughter.

"It's not funny!" she insisted, even though she began to giggle alongside him.

"Baby," Harry said once his laughter subsided. "Why are you trying to put jeans on anyway? Are you going somewhere?"

"No, I've just gained so much weight. I feel like a blob, and you're partly to blame."

Y/n knew the baby bump was coming, she knew there would come a time when jeans and tops wouldn't fit and she'd have to buy clothes that were more accommodating to the baby growing in her belly. She just didn't expect to be this emotional about it. It was probably just the hormones.

"I'm sorry, baby," Harry said, a note of seriousness in his voice that Y/n appreciated even though she knew she was being slightly unreasonable. "I still think you're the prettiest girl I've ever laid eyes on."

Groans of protest and disgust erupted from Harry's side of the phone, followed by teasing at Harry's sappy words. "I came in here for privacy! Don't complain when you hear shit you didn't want to hear!" he told his bandmates. He mumbled something about never getting a moment alone anymore and nosy pricks, which made Y/n giggle as he presumably found a new place to talk to her privately.

In a hushed voice, he said, "I don't like it when you cry, baby."

"I wasn't planning on it," she sniffled. "I know I should've anticipated this, but now my belly sticks out and nothing fits me and I look horrible."

"No you don't," Harry said, not missing a beat. He didn't have to see her to know she looked just as gorgeous as she always did. Baby bump or no baby bump. "Put your sweats back on, love. I'll bring home dinner and we'll watch a movie."

"Really?" Y/n asked, and Harry could all but imagine her watery smile. "Because the baby's craving hot wings, and I know you don't like them."

Shaking his head, he promised, "Don't worry. Text me what you want. I'll be home soon."

"I—Thank you. B—Bye."

Harry's breath hitched, his phone still pressed to his ear even after she'd hung up. He knew what Y/n had been about to say, at least he was ninety percent sure he knew. He could only hope she was going to say, "I love you." Neither of them had said it to each other before, not wanting to get lost or caught up in the emotions of having to baby together. But Harry knew. He'd known for some time now. He just didn't want to scare her by just how deep his feelings went.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Harry went back into the green room where the rest of the boys were. He took the ribbing they gave him for being "smitten" and "whipped." But he didn't care. Y/n was waiting for him to bring her dinner, and that was really all he could think about as the minutes ticked by until he could go home.

*.*

Collette

Y/n couldn't help the slacking of her jaw as she watched her husband.

Sure, she'd seen him a number of different ways—working out, doing handiwork around the house, performing onstage, dressed for a red carpet—but here, as he wore a tiara and held a tiny teacup with pretend tea in it and sat across from his daughter, Y/n had never been more turned on in her life.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Yesterday it was the way her husband had offered to go to the grocery store for her, and just an hour ago it was how he hummed to himself while he made breakfast for her and Simone. Shirtless. By now, Y/n was fairly used to her attraction to Harry, but it was as if every little thing he did turned her on.

She'd read about this in a couple articles online and pregnancy books, that some pregnant people sometimes became extremely horny due to the hormonal changes happening in their bodies. When Y/n was pregnant with Simone, she never really...felt that way. Perhaps it was because she was so nervous and overwhelmed by the situation at hand, but now she was feeling it tenfold.

Needing to distract herself, Y/n went upstairs to the nursery to fold laundry. To nest, as Harry liked to tease. They'd been working on the nursery together for weeks in preparation for their second baby, and now it was nearly finished. Y/n and Harry let Simone pick out some of the decorations, like the fuzzy lion rug and Winnie the Pooh themed pillows and pick out toys she thought the baby might like. And now it was pretty much done, all that was needed was for the baby to be born.

Y/n had gone upstairs to distract herself, to keep Harry out of her line of sight so she wouldn't openly drool in front of Simone, but now she was alone with her imagination which was starting to run a little wild. She folded the baby clothes carefully as her mind stubbornly wandered. Harry's hands, his arms, his broad shoulders and sharp jaw. He was all she could think about, and the more she thought about him, the more she wanted him.

Would he want me?

They'd never really hooked up when Y/n was pregnant. Things were different then, more complicated, but Y/n didn't think Harry would be into her when she was significantly more round than usual. She didn't feel sexy or attractive, and she could only imagine Harry felt the same. They kissed and cuddled in bed, but since they found out she was pregnant, they didn't do much more than that. Y/n could only guess it was because she was showing now.

Later that afternoon, Y/n was in bed resting, the baby in her belly moving around a little too much to be comfortable. Simone was napping, and Harry was taking care of some things downstairs. Overall, it was a pretty relaxing day.

Minus the horniness, but Y/n tried to push that down.

She'd been doing a pretty good job of it until Harry burst into the room, sweaty and grimy and without a shirt, the article of clothing in question in his hands and covered in dirt and oil stains.

A flare of heat went straight to Y/n's cheeks as she subtly crossed one leg over the other, her stare zeroing in on her husband's chest. Before she could be caught, she blinked, meeting his gaze.

"What...What happened to you?"

"Your car needed an oil change," Harry said, as if that explained everything. "Might have run into some hiccups along the way, but it should be good to go."

It was enough to shake her from her lust-filled haze. "Why couldn't we just take it into the shop?"

Harry shrugged again as he headed for the bathroom, ditching his clothes as he went. Was he trying to kill me? you thought helplessly, your crossed legs doing nothing to soothe the ache between them.

"I did it. It's fine." Then the sound of the shower filled the bedroom, and steam slowly began to roll past the bathroom door. "The baby still kicking?"

His voice was echoey and faint, and Y/n didn't need much encouragement to imagine her husband all soapy and wet as he rinsed off. He didn't even invite her to join him. If this was what pregnancy did to her sex life, she was never getting pregnant again.

"Y—Yeah. A little."

"I'm sorry, Mama. You know, I read something about babies kicking at this stage. It..."

Y/n wanted to listen, but she just couldn't. She wanted him so bad she could barely think straight. And it frustrated her to no end that Harry probably didn't feel the same. He just breezed right past her when he came into their bedroom, barely even looked up as he shuffled into the bathroom for his shower. Every inch of her body was lined with need for him, and he...he just kept ignoring her.

Harry was still talking as he shuffled out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips. The man standing before her was one big walking, talking tease—rivulets of water running over ridiculously prominent muscles, tattoos that she just wanted to touch, or kiss, or maybe lick, skin slightly pink from the shower, and that towel that seemed to be hanging onto him by a thread. If only she could just—

"Mama? Everything okay?"

Blushing, Y/n tried to pretend it wasn't taking everything in her to not jump him. "Yep. Perfect."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically. "You look a little flushed. Should I get you a cold towel—"

Y/n couldn't take it anymore. Unhindered by her baby bump, she sat up and surged forward, planting her hands firmly on Harry's shoulders and kissing him. To her surprise, he didn't recoil and instead rested one hand on her waist and one in her hair, pulling her closer to him.

His skin, still warm and a little damp from his shower, had never felt so delicious against hers. She wanted him to rip her clothes off, she wanted him to use a little force and push her back onto the bed, she wanted him to be rough with her. Tightening her grip, Y/n sunk her teeth into Harry's lip, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him.

"Mama, maybe we should—"

"Fuck, nevermind," she huffed, pushing Harry away from her. Falling back onto the bed, Y/n tried to make herself comfortable. She would've put her back to him and rested on her side, but her belly wouldn't have made that very possible.

"Y/n?"

"Go away."

"Baby, what—what's wrong? I just—"

Y/n, who had been pointedly not looking at Harry, glared harshly at him. "I get it. You find me repulsive now that I'm pregnant, which, can I just say is despicable—"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Y/n wrapped her arms around herself. "You won't—I mean you haven't—Okay, I'm just gonna say it. I'm horny all the fucking time, and you're—you barely even touch me!"

"That's not—" Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. "That's not even remotely true, Mama."

"Don't Mama me," Y/n said, not believing him entirely.

"Let's get one thing clear, Y/n. I don't find you repulsive," Harry said, inching closer to Y/n on the bed. "I—I don't even think that's possible."

"Then why won't you have sex with me?" Y/n asked, and when he began to laugh, she swatted at his arm. "Don't laugh at me! You don't get it!"

Before she could even think to protest, Harry hauled Y/n on his lap. She tried to stubbornly push him off, but he held her steady, on hand tilting her chin to look at him. "I've been worried about the baby."

"Huh?"

"The baby, darling. I didn't want to, like, hurt you or her or anything by, you know...going too hard." Harry's cheeks flushed, but he pressed on. "You really thought it was because I didn't want to be with you."

Y/n's nod was shame-filled at the hurt in his voice. "I can barely get you to wrap your arms around me, and these hormones are driving me absolutely insane, H."

Gently, Harry kissed the top of his wife's cheekbone. Smoothing back some of her hair, he said, "You honestly think I could resist you, Mama? It's been torture."

"Yeah?"

"Baby," he said, leaning Y/n back toward the bed. "You really think you're not an absolute dream right now? You think I don't want my mouth all over these gorgeous tits? You think I don't want my hands all over you? You think I'm not aching for you all the time?"

"I didn't think—"

"If you think for one second that I don't find you irresistible, then I'm a terrible husband." Harry made sure Y/n was comfortable against the pillows before kissing her once, then pushed the t-shirt she wore past her chest. "I'm sorry, Mama. I've just been looking out for the baby, I swear. Let me make it up to you?"

"H—How?"

"We'll be gentle. For now," he added at Y/n's squawk of protest. "I really don't want to do anything wrong, so let me just love on you, okay? Let me show you how fucking breathtaking you are."

Harry kissed a line down Y/n's entire body, and she struggled to keep it together when he made it to her thighs. Her breaths suddenly became unsteady, Harry's chuckle making her squirm when he finally moved her underwear aside.

Before he went any further, though, Y/n called his name, making him pause. "You really think I'm beautiful. Even with the belly?"

Eyes softening, Harry shimmied back up the bed to kiss Y/n on the lips. His mouth was soft against hers, but firm, a promise in them that she accepted happily. Harry's tongue was both familiar and reassuring against hers, warming her up from within.

"Believe me when I say that I've never seen anyone more beautiful than you, Y/n," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise."

Blushing, Y/n beamed before kissing Harry repeatedly all over his face. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she said. "Now I really need you to fuck me."

Chuckling, Harry pushed his hair out of his face. "Let's start with make love, okay?"

Y/n wanted to pout, but she knew that was perhaps the safest option. It was sensible of Harry to look out for the baby, but now he had some making up to do. So she nodded and settled further into the pillows, kissing her husband once more before letting him worship her.

*.*

Maeve and Julian

"Just like that, Mama. That's perfect!"

Raising an eyebrow at her husband, she asked, "Are you even taking pictures of my face?"

Harry peeked his head from behind the camera. "Well...not right now, but this shot is perfect, I promise. Just a couple more seconds."

Y/n humored Harry just as he asked. He'd been really set on doing an at-home pregnancy photoshoot. Nothing extravagant, just her in a pair of jeans and a bouquet of flowers. Y/n of course said yes, but perhaps she was a tiny bit incentivized by a bubble bath and a back rub from her husband.

She tried to remain still, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. "Simone! Easy!"

Harry looked over to his daughter. Simone played on the lawn where Harry decided the photoshoot would take place, spinning around and around in circles until she fell down in a heap of giggles. The second time she'd done it made Y/n nervous Simone would make herself sick, but Harry put a hand up to keep her where he wanted her.

"Come here, peanut! Let's take a picture with mummy," he called out, beckoning Simone over.

Simone rushed over, face flushed and eyes bright. She looked so much like Harry in that moment—big, squinty eyes, cheeky smile, crinkled nose—that Y/n nearly did a double take.

Setting down the bouquet of flowers, Y/n quickly shrugged on the loose robe she'd worn before Harry insisted on her taking it off. It was light and airy, perfect for the hot flashes she got on occasion, and perfect for what she imagined Harry had in mind until he told her his idea.

"Just trust the vision, Mama, he'd said before offering to untie the strings himself.

Once it was on, she reached for Simone and hoisted her up. Y/n ignored her husband's warning, opting to kiss her daughter's cheek instead. It was so important to Y/n that Simone didn't feel left out or upset about a new sibling when Y/n and Harry found out they were pregnant with Collette.

So far Simone had been positive about having another baby sister in the house, but Y/n was still cautious, still conscious of her oldest daughter's feelings now that she was pregnant again. And baby bump seemed to be growing bigger by the day, and she wanted to hold and cuddle and play with her daughter as much as she could before she couldn't do much more than waddle around.

"I'm sitting on the babies!" Simone giggled, making Y/n laugh too. Harry had stopped his protests, which told Y/n that he was back to snapping his pictures.

"What do you think, little melon? Should we get baby Collette in the picture too?" Y/n asked after Harry had snapped photos from a few different angles.

"Will you at least sit down?" Harry asked, exasperated by Y/n trying to overexert herself.

"You worry too much," she told him, but did as he asked anyway after taking Simone from her bouncer.

Collette nestled against Y/n immediately, her little cheek squished and lips puffed out as she rested on her mother's chest. Simone stood over Y/n and Collette, peering down at her sister's face curiously.

"She's sleepy, Mommy," she said, reaching down to gently hold Collette's hand.

"Yeah, it's almost nap time," Y/n told Simone. Then, to Harry, "How are we doing, Daddy? Collette's going down and I have to pump."

"Go ahead and put her down. Simone and I will play for a little bit, won't we, peanut? Maybe take a couple more pictures?"

"Yeah!"

Simone was always game for anything Harry suggested, as if each word that came from her father's mouth was pure gold. Y/n admired how much she loved her dad, but sometimes they could be a troublesome duo, Simone asking for something and Harry giving in without a thought.

After Harry trotted over to help Y/n to her feet, she shuffled inside, heading up to the nursery to lay Collette down for a nap. She planned to set Collette down in her crib, but something made her head for the rocking chair in the opposite corner of the room instead. Settling herself down with the baby, Y/n began to rock back and forth, humming idly as she waited for Collette's eyes to close.

It didn't take long, but Y/n kept on holding her daughter anyway, content to rock back and forth and rest her legs after the trek up the stairs. She'd never admit it to Harry, but being pregnant with two babies instead of one this time around was taking a toll on her much sooner than her other pregnancies. Her husband was already a mother hen when Y/n was pregnant, she didn't need to add fuel to that well-kept fire.

"Isn't that a sight."

Looking up, Y/n found Harry at the foot of the nursery, looking at where Collette slept soundly against her bare chest. Y/n had undone her robe once more for skin-to-skin contact with the baby, something she liked to do when she was alone. It made her feel more connected to Collette somehow, and she found that Collette fell asleep easier that way. It was a lazy afternoon, there wasn't much Y/n needed to worry about—it honestly felt pretty perfect.

"She sleeps better this way," Y/n said by way of explanation.

"I believe it," Harry replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that Y/n pointedly ignored.

"Where's Simone?" Y/n asked, still rocking.

Harry gestured behind him with his camera. "Downstairs watching a show. We agreed on two episodes before bathtime."

Y/n raised an amused brow at their daughter's negotiation tactics, but decided not to comment on it. "I'll come down in a bit. I still need to put her down and pump."

Grinning, Harry said, "You couldn't get out of that chair, could you?"

"It's a comfortable chair," Y/n said with a shrug, not wanting to let her husband know he was spot on.

"Oh, I know," he said. "I've fallen asleep in that thing more times than I care to admit."

Coming into the room, Harry carefully took Collette from Y/n, kissing her head before laying her down in the crib. Once she was settled and Y/n's clothes were righted once more, Harry reached a hand down to her. She let him help her up, even let him tie up her robe again, resigned to his fussing.

"You need to take it easy. The doctor said early labor is common with twins."

"I know, I am," Y/n reassured. "How can I do anything but take it easy when I have my own personal nurse?"

Harry looked at his wife flatly. "Ha. Ha. Now get your cute butt to our room so you can pump and then help me with bathtime."

"Simone's really quite reasonable—"

"She insists that I do it wrong," Harry said, genuinely confused by his daughter's antics.

Kissing his cheek, Y/n checked on the baby monitor once before leaving the nursery. "I'll be as quick as I can, then I'll show you how it's done."

Harry followed her out, heading for the stairs while Y/n went to their room. "Mum of the year!" he said before jogging down to Simone.

Too right, Y/n thought, a smile spreading across her face.

*.*

Geneva

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, babydoll?"

"How does baby sister get in your belly?"

Y/n's eyes widened as she looked down at where Maeve was pressed against her side. They were relaxing by the pool, watching from the shade as Harry tossed the other kids and splashed around in the shallow end. Maeve had joined in on the fun before, but she'd waded out of the pool a few minutes ago for a break from the sun. Her little cheeks were red, long brown hair stringy from the chlorine. Y/n brushed Maeve's hair away from her face as she tried to come up with an answer. Coming up short, she rested her hand on her protruding belly.

"Why are you asking Maevie?"

"Daddy said baby sister is in your belly," Maeve said, poking Y/n's baby bump with a sun-warmed finger. "But how did it get there?"

"You know...that's a great question," Y/n said, raising her hand to shade her eyes as she looked over to where Harry was waist-deep in the pool. His dark hair was plastered to his neck and shoulders in a curly tangle, water droplets glistening on his tan skin.

To this day, Harry was still the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. Now that they were stuck at home, he took his brief moments of alone time in the form of working out, but only after baking had gained him a few pounds. Y/n never minded, she loved his body any which way it looked.

Eyes dipping down to his waist and below, she definitely couldn't hide how much she appreciated his body now.

"Mommy!"

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she looked down at Maeve, who was clearly determined to get to the bottom of the baby in her mom's belly.

"Right. Sorry babydoll." Y/n hoisted Maeve onto her lap. "Mommy and Daddy...love each other so much. So...when mommies and daddies love each other, they...make a wish on a shooting star...for a baby."

"Really?"

Y/n tried not to laugh at her own ridiculous response as she nodded. "Of course. And then our wish came true, and in a few months, we'll have baby sister."

"Oh." Maeve seemed to think about it for a moment, a small finger on Y/n's belly. "And you wished for me and JuJu too?"

Y/n nodded, holding Maeve's cheeks in her hands. "Absolutely. We wished so hard we got twins!"

Maeve scampered back to the pool a few minutes later, calling out to Harry to help her put on her water wings so she could jump in the pool. Content to watch all the fun from her lounge chair, Y/n stayed back, smiling faintly at all the giggles and squeals of joy as Harry repeatedly tossed one child after another into the pool.

Now alone, she thought about Maeve's question a little more in-depth. As far as she and Harry were concerned, they were done having kids after the twins. Four kids was just the right amount of chaos, and things were finally getting back to normal—or as normal as they could be amid a global lockdown—after the separation.

Not that anyone else in their family seemed to be, but Y/n and Harry were surprised to find out she was pregnant again. At the time. Of course, in hindsight, there was a night when Harry and Y/n couldn't keep off each other. It had been after the first night they'd really spent together as a couple again, and after that, it was as if a dam had broken and Y/n and Harry were reliving their honeymoon phase.

But surprised as they were, they took it in stride. Both of them were nervous about Y/n having a baby in such serious circumstances, but they would take the proper precautions to ensure her and the baby's safety. They were ready for this, ready to do it all again.

"You know Maeve asked me where babies come from today?" Y/n asked later in the evening.

Everyone except for her and Harry were fast asleep, tuckered out from a long day of playing in the sun. Harry had just come back from tucking the twins in and singing them a song like he always did, and now he and Y/n were side by side in their shared bathroom as they got ready for bed.

"Did she? Wait—Can you help me?" Harry asked, gesturing to his red shoulders and back.

Y/n picked up the aloe lotion she kept around just for this reason and squeezed some into her hand and began spreading it over her husband's back. "Not in those words, but she asked how her baby sister ended up in my belly."

"We've never gotten that question, have we?" he mused. "What did you say?"

"That we wished on a shooting star," Y/n shrugged, then explained her short conversation with their daughter about how babies ended up in bellies.

Harry became quiet for a moment. He'd been listening as she rubbed lotion onto his shoulders, but this was different. No one else would've been able to notice his subtle change in demeanor, but Y/n did. She'd known him long enough to read every shift of his posture and line of his body.

"What is it?" she asked, turning him around to face her.

"I just...I just barely stopped short of wishing on stars to have all this again."

Things didn't immediately go back to normal when Harry moved back in. Y/n put on a good front for the sake of the kids, but it was awkward. Neither of them knew how to act around each other, and it took a few weeks for Y/n to trust that Harry was back for good. Even when they had to quarantine, she worried he'd check out, turn to his music for peace of mind. Harry knew all of his wife's reservations, of course, and he didn't blame her for having them. He'd left, that was a choice he made. At the time, he'd done what he thought was best for his family, but he knew now that he only put more distance between himself and his kids, his wife, and he'd regret every minute they spent apart for a long time.

"I love you, H," Y/n said, cupping his cheek in her hand. It was scratchy under her palm, as Harry had taken to being more lax about shaving during lockdown. "I—We would not be...here if I didn't want this, all of this, with you. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded, eyes closing for just a moment. Harry knew he would've been spending his days in a guest bedroom if Y/n wanted that from him. But they worked past their issues, were still working on them, in some ways.

"I know," he promised. "It just hits me sometimes how lucky I am to have you. Not just as a wife and mother, but you, Y/n. I can't—I couldn't handle a single moment without you."

Looking away, Y/n fanned her face, blushing furiously at the tears that welled in her eyes. "You know I get emotional at the drop of a hat, you ass."

Harry merely smiled, letting the somber moment pass. Taking her hands in his, he led her out of the bathroom. "Doesn't make what I said any less true."

Rolling her eyes, Y/n said, "Whatever. Let's go back to talking about how you played mermaids for two whole hours with Simone and Collette."

"I still don't really get it," Harry said, pulling back the fluffy comforter of their bed back. "The girls changed the color of their tails every two minutes. And why does a mermaid need to control fire? Talking to animals I get, but what good is fire underwater?"

Harry looked genuinely perplexed, but Y/n could only laugh. Her husband indulged in almost every one of his daughters' whims, and games where he had to pretend to be a mythical creature was no different. She wouldn't be surprised if packages filled with mermaid paraphernalia arrived in the mail within the next few days so that everyone could really get into character.

She didn't think it often, but right then, Y/n wondered what people would make of the Harry Styles pondering the continuity of his daughters' favorite pool game.

*.*

Natalia

Harry: At the grocery store. Need anything?

Y/n: Your dick, please.

Harry: So...is that in the same aisle as the condoms or...?

Y/n: Don't be mean. I need you.

Harry: That's why I'm going to the store, baby. You asked me to pick up snacks for you this morning for your cravings.

Y/n: I changed my mind. The kids are napping and/or playing in their rooms and/or watching tv.

Y/n: Come fuck me.

Y/n: Please???

Harry: As soon as I get home I'm all yours, baby. I promise.

Y/n sent an image

Y/n: You're really saying no?

Harry: Mama...

Harry: That's from the pregnancy shoot we did.

Y/n: Ass. I'm putting my clothes back on.

Harry: Don't you dare.

Harry: You really want me to abandon the cart? I was just grabbing the pizza bagels you liked.

Y/n is typing...

Y/n: Get the pizza bagels. THEN come home and fuck me.

Harry: Got it. Get ready for me, Mama.

Y/n: !!!

#young dad! harry #young mom! reader #harry styles #young parent!harry styles #young dadrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 11 months

Note

Hi hun, would you be in the mood to write something about dadrry dealing with his kids terrible twos pls

The Terrible Two’s.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - something about lhh being a dad does something to me i simply cannot describe so enjoy my loves…!

word count - 1.4k

in which, travelling with your husband around europe hasn’t been the most smooth sailing, especially when your daughters currently experiencing her terrible twos.

Faith Anne Styles.

After dating your boyfriend Harry for just over a year, you fell pregnant at the lovely age of nineteen and now both of you are at the age of twenty one and had a beautiful baby girl.

The perfect mix of both of you.

But life wasn’t all that swell.

As you stand backstage at the One Direction concert in Oslo, Denmark ,the pulsating excitement of the crowd seeping through the walls from the support act McBusted.

You watched as your boyfriend, the charismatic Harry Styles, attempts to navigate the treacherous waters of your two-year-old daughter Faith's terrible twos.

It seems that tonight, the tantrum monster has reared its head, threatening to disrupt the carefully choreographed chaos of the concert.

Great timing there, Faith Baby.

You glance around and notice Niall, Louis, and Liam, all observing the situation with wide eyes and amused expressions.

Harry, ever the doting father, crouches down to Faith's level, his brows furrowing in concern.

"Hey, baby love," Harry cooed gently, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of the chaos. "What's got you feeling so gloom and doom, eh?"

Faith's tiny face contorts, her little fists clenched tightly as she lets out a shrill cry. The sound reverberates through the backstage area, drawing amused glances from the rest of the band.

Louis, unable to resist a cheeky remark, leans over to Liam and whispers, "I think little Faith here is giving Harry a taste of his own teenage rebellion. Karma's a funny thing, innit?"

You never knew Harry in his pre teen years, however from the stories that you had been told by his family and fellow bandmates, he was a bit of a cheeky chappy.

And you couldn’t help but think that Faith, at just two years old, had developed some of his cheeky persona.

Before going down for naps, she would negotiate about how she wasn’t tired and then proceed to jump out of her crib, running through the house the same way that Harry would.

If you ever went to the shops or the park, then you would often catch her talking to random strangers as she held onto your hand or sat in her stroller, waving at them and being the kind girl she is and due to her father most likely doing the exact same thing.

You knew your two year old shouldn’t be interacting with strangers but she was just simply too adorable.

Liam chuckles and nods in agreement, but their attention is quickly pulled back to the unfolding drama.

Harry tries a different approach, his voice filled with patience and understanding. "Faith, darling, let's try to use our words, yeah? What's making you so upset?"

But Faith's wails persist, growing louder and more intense with each passing moment. She falls to the floor, kicking and flailing her arms, her cries echoing through the backstage area.

You watched as Harry ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, you could see slight stress lines appearing on his forehead.

He took it exceptionally hard when Faith would be upset, no parent liked to see their child sad but Harry absolutely hated it. He would always sit with her until she felt up for talking and although she was only a two year old and could hardly form a coherent sentence he would nod his head and listen to every word she said.

Faith idolised him.

Niall chuckles, watching the spectacle unfold. "Well, she's certainly giving us a show, isn't she? The drama of the terrible twos."

Tell you about it.

Harry shoots Niall a slight glare, finding absolutely nothing about the situation taking place funny in the slightest,before refocusing his attention on Faith.

He kneels down beside her, speaking softly amidst the cacophony. “Hey, my love, I know it's frustrating. Let's take some deep breaths together, okay? In and out."

But Faith's tantrum continues to escalate. She starts throwing toys and objects around, her frustration seemingly endless. The backstage area is filled with the commotion, drawing curious glances from the crew members and dancers nearby.

One thing you hated was gaining unnecessary attention.

Louis leans closer to Liam, a mixture of amusement and awe on his face. "I never thought I'd say this, but Faith might just give us a run for our money in the energy department."

Liam chuckles, nodding in agreement. "That she does. But Harry's got this. He's a patient one, that lad."

Harry tries different tactics, attempting to distract Faith with a toy or a silly face. But her cries persist, and the tantrum shows no signs of abating.

The band members exchange glances, a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and mild concern. This is uncharted territory for them, witnessing Harry deal with the full force of a toddler tantrum.

Harry's voice remains calm, though a hint of exhaustion seeps in. "Faith, sweetheart, I understand you're upset. Can you tell daddy what's wrong?"

But Faith's words are muffled amidst the tears and screams, her frustration rendering her temporarily speechless.

She continues to lash out, her tiny body wracked with sobs.

You step closer, offering your support. "Harry, maybe it's best if we take a break. Find a quiet spot for her to calm down."

Harry nods, his eyes filled with determination. "You're right, love. Let's find a quiet room where she can settle."

Together, a crew member leads you as well as Harry and Faith away from the backstage chaos, seeking Together, you lead Harry and Faith away from the backstage chaos, seeking refuge in a nearby dressing room.

The familiar scent of hairspray and the faint echoes of music provide a contrast to the storm of emotions still raging within Faith.

Gently closing the door behind you, you find a comfortable corner where Harry can sit with Faith in his arms. The room is dimly lit, allowing a sense of tranquillity to settle in.

Harry cradles Faith, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Shh, my love. We're here in our little haven. Take your time, sweetheart. We'll wait until you're ready to talk."

And if it was up to both you and Harry, you would both wait an eternity.

Faith's cries gradually subside into sniffles, her breath hitching as she tries to regain control, gripping a strand of her fathers long curls whilst the other grips onto the hem of his shirt.

Harry's soothing presence provides an anchor in the midst of her emotional tempest.

You sit beside them, offering a comforting smile. "It's okay, Faith. Mommy and Daddy are here for you. We love you, no matter what."

Faith looks up at you, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the soft light. Her eyes search yours, seeking solace and understanding. You gently stroke her hair, allowing the silence to envelop the room, giving Faith the space she needs to collect herself.

Minutes pass, and the tension begins to dissipate. Faith's breathing steadies, her tiny frame relaxing against Harry's chest.

The storm of her tantrum has run its course, leaving behind a weary calm.

Harry speaks softly, his voice a comforting lullaby. "Sometimes, my love, we get overwhelmed. It's okay to feel angry or frustrated. But remember, we're always here to help you through it."

Faith nuzzles closer to Harry, finding comfort in his words. She wraps her tiny arms around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace.

The best father daughter duo.

The door creaks open, and Niall peeks inside, his eyes filled with concern. "Is everything alright?"

You nod, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yes, No, Faith just needed some quiet time. She's calming down now."

There was no doubt that Niall was Faith’s favourite uncle when it came to the four boys.

Niall steps into the room, his face softening as he gazes at the scene before him. "You're doing a great job, you guys. Parenting isn't easy, especially in the midst of all this craziness."

Harry smiles, gratitude and weariness mingling in his eyes. "Thanks, Niall. It's a learning process for all of us. But moments like these remind us why it's all worth it."

The sound of music drifts through the door, a reminder of the support act performing still in full swing. The energy of the crowd and the rhythm of the songs pulse through the walls, but in this small sanctuary, you find a moment of calm amidst the storm.

As Faith's breathing evens out and her grip on Harry loosens, you lean in and plant a tender kiss on her forehead. "We love you, Faith. And we're here for you, always."

Always and forever.

For eternity.

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 3 months

Text

Katsuki Bakugou x Popular/MeanGirl!reader - oneshot about Katsuki loving his ruthless girlfriend!

Ok, the title is a little misleading, you're not that mean! you just do unto others what they do to you...and Katsuki loves it. As always, please let me know if you want more, and if you have any ideas for the future <3 calling this a songfic, because it's hugely based on Don't Touch! by Lil Mariko

warnings: lots of cursing, mentions of castration, and one chaotic good(?) reader

______________________________________________________________

When you first arrived at UA, a late entry as you lived in the Americas prior, everyone loved you, and surprisingly that included Bakugou. Of course, it took him a long time to warm up all the way, but you started dating after a few months of getting to know each other. What could he say? You were pretty, smart, patient with him, and best of all, you didn't take crap. He learned that the first week of your arrival, when his attempt to bully you fell short. You actually took a liking to him, so he was spared most of the passive aggressive fate he saw you give some others. You were just nice to people who were nice to you, ergo most considered you sweet as candy while some considered you a total bitch.

You were hot and you knew it, and believe it or not it caused a lot of people to spread rumors about you. He'll never forget the first time he saw you in action, it was as satisfying as it was attractive. While walking to lunch, a pair of 2nd years were standing to the side whispering and pointing to you. one of them yelled out, "slut," while the other laughed. You, being the bad bitch that you are, turned around, smiled pleasantly, and put on your best innocent demeanor. "aw, I'm really sorry for getting your dick hard, maybe next time try and keep your eyes a little higher, yeah?" It. Was. Magnificent. The two were flabbergasted to say the least, and Katsuki himself was glad to finally see someone who didn't act like a saint all the time.

Long story short, you were his other half, and he had gotten used to your mocking, sarcastic way of handling assholes...until the day of the Sports Festival. You and Katsuki were were perusing the food stands, you dragging him around from place to place, him trailing behind like the grump he was. One stand actually caught his eye, a sign claiming to have the spiciest sauce in the city to compliment their renowned Takoyaki. You were standing with him, looking around while holding his hand, when out of the corner of your eye you saw someone point towards you. You didn't turn your head, not wanting them to know you noticed, but kept an ear out to see what they were saying.

"yeah, he's the one I was telling you about."

"that guy? No way he's with a girl like her."

"I know, right? He has to be keeping her with him, probably scaring her into staying."

Oh hell no. You weren't going to let this slide, it was one thing to talk about you, but a whole other thing to talk about your relationship. You whipped around, yanking a very confused Katsuki with you. Katsuki had heard the two talking, but was far too enamored with the spicy sauce to actually listen. "Hey," You yelled, using a voice Katsuki hadn't heard out of you before as you raised the hand holding Katsuki's into the air for all to see. "See this?! This means he loves me, so next time you go and make assumptions, why don't you keep your damn mouth shut?!" You step closer to the pair of stunned teens, wearing a look that could kill. Your voice was low and menacing now, making sure they understood every syllable. "Next time I hear you talk shit about my boyfriend, I'll take the Louis Vuitton's He bought me, hunt you down, and castrate you."

The two whimpered, stuttering out a response but unable to finish before running off with their tails between their legs. You watched them dash, one hand on your hip and the other in Katsuki's, before turning to him with that same bubbly smile you always had. "Alright, let's go get ice cream, I'm still hungry!" He had this unreadable expression on his face, and when you tried to pull him to the ice cream he stood stock still. "...What...?" You were fearing the worst.

Were you too much for him? Did he realize he wanted someone nicer, like Ururaka or Momo? This time, he did dragging of his own, yanking you in the opposite direction. He pulled you along without another word, looking left to right, before stopping next to an empty vending stand. "Katsuki, what are you doing," You asked, he was worrying you.

He looked around again, making sure no one was watching, before yanking into the stand with him.

He never answered you with words, but the way he made out with you for the remainder of the Festival break kind of spoke for him. Right then, when you were threatening those extras, was the moment he realized he loved you. Actually, no. He already knew he loved you, despite the fact he never said it (yet). Right then was the moment he knew he'd marry you. You wouldn't know that story from his perspective until he told it at your wedding.

______________________________________________________________

hope you enjoyed, I had this story on my mind all last night and was just itching to write it! let me know if you want more of this!

#bakugou katsuki #fanfic #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou #new to this #new to tumblr #mha

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hekateinhell · 5 months

Text

I love the absolute drama with which Armand and Lestat describe falling for Louis de Pointe du Lac — it was something they experienced in such a similar way!

"I felt fatally in love with Louis" ~ Lestat, TVL

"I fell in love with him hopelessly" ~ Armand, TVA

As if they both knew right then and there that that sad, wet man was going to have them in a chokehold for the rest of their immortal existence.

#i love a good linguistic parallel 🤧#vc #the vampire chronicles #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand #lestat/louis #armand/louis #quotes

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paleprincessturtle · 6 months

Note

Hey sweetie 🥰 would you also write smut ?

Thanks for the request! But in all honesty, this is the first time ever I attempted to write smut. Hopefully, it turned out to be good... Here goes!

Note: I have a few more requests but life has been so hectic, so please bear with me. I'll try to finish it ASAP. But if you wanna keep 'em coming, please do. Thanks!

Cold Tiles

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Female Character (she/her)

She connected her phone to the speaker and turned on some music. She untied her robe, and she let it fall off of her body as she walked toward the shower. She opened the glass door of the shower entrance and walked in. The water hit her bare body, and she groaned at the warmth of it. She grabbed some soap and slowly rubbed it on her body with a loofah. She rinsed herself off and began washing her hair with shampoo and then conditioner. Someone knocked on the glass door, and she jumped.

She quickly spun around, her eyes wide. But she soon relaxed when she realized it was only her husband. Harvey had a towel wrapped around his waist, and he dropped it, and underneath, he was very much naked. She bit her lips after seeing what had actually awakened. "May I join you? Or should I use the guest bathroom?" She quickly nodded, earning a smirk from Harvey. He opened the shower door, walked in, and stood behind her. "How was your day?" she whispered, rinsing the last trail of the conditioner out of her hair. "Stressful as always. You know, Louis pissed his pants, Jessica accidentally burned her office, Donna misplaced a meeting, and Mike turned himself in," Harvey said nonchalantly as she laughed. "But it's better now that I'm here with you," he now whispered. He always had a way with words, and Harvey Specter knew he just had to use that prowess. It was one of the reasons she fell for him.

"Oh yeah?" she asked while turning around, and the warm water hit her back. "How much better?" she whispered as she looked up into his brown eyes. She bit her lip and placed a hand on his chest. "A lot better," he said, his voice throaty. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his hard member against her stomach. She stood on her toes and kissed him on the lips. He responded quickly and fought for dominance. "Baby, if we don't stop, I'm not going to be able to control myself," he mumbled against her lips. Her knees felt like jelly as he kissed down her neck. "Don't stop," she mumbled breathlessly. She moaned as his hands caressed her behind. "I love you so much, but please, fuck me," she said, almost begging. "I love you too, but I'm not going to fuck you," he said as he looked deep into her eyes. "I'm going to make love to you over and over and over and over again."

She was ready to come just by the throatiness of his voice and the sweet yet rough ways he said it. She closed her eyes and moaned. Oh my God, she thought. Harvey smirked at the effects he still had on her, even after all these years. Harvey quickly turned off the shower and turned back to her. "I'm going to make the whole building know my name." "Do it," she said, daringly. One thing you must know about Harvey Specter is that you shouldn't even dare him. His eyes narrowed as he wasted no time in pulling her close to him. She smashed her lips against him when he grabbed her behind to pick her up. He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pushed her back against the cold tile wall of the shower. She shivered but giggled not long after. She kissed him hungrily, and he kissed her back with even more intensity.

He detached his mouth from hers and pinned her arms above her head. Her legs tightened around his waist, and he pressed his dick against her entrance. She almost screamed out when Harvey captured her breast in his mouth. The cold sensation from the shower and his warm mouth were everything. He flicked his tongue and bit down slowly. She moaned at the all-but-new feeling. Her pussy tingled as he continued the attack on her breast. He moved on to another one and gave it the same attention. He removed his mouth from her breast and looked at her with lust clouding his eyes. He reached down toward his dick and placed it against her entrance. He lingered there. This fucker is teasing, she thought. "Don't tease m.." she said, stopping herself from saying anything further as he entered her roughly. She cried out in pleasure as he began thrusting. Her nails raked up and down his back, most likely leaving marks.

"Fuck," she bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed. "What was that about teasing?" he grunted out as he continued thrusting into her. "Shut up," she moaned. She grabbed his head and kissed him passionately. His mouth captured her moans, while her mouth captured his grunts.

His hands gripped her waist, making him slam into her even harder. Roughly. I bit his lip and pulled it. "You're so fucking hot." Her eyes fluttered close as the knot in her stomach began to tighten. "I'm going to cum, Harvey," she panted as Harvey slammed into her harder. "Come for me, love," he whispered as his thrusts became sloppy. She moaned out his name as she tightly squeezed her eyes shut. "Eyes open," Harvey commanded. She forced her eyes open as you looked deep into his eyes. "Harvey!" she cried out as a huge amount of pleasure ran through her body. He tightened his hold around her, holding her as she came. She collapsed against his chest. Her legs shook around him as she rode through her orgasm. Harvey stiffened not long after, his head buried in the crook of her neck. His thrust became even sloppier, and he slammed into her two more times, and he moaned in pleasure.

"I love you so fucking much, you gorgeous wife of mine," he whispered in her ear as he breathed heavily. He kissed her neck and held me against him. He slowly pulled out of her, and she groaned, feeling definitely sore. She laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes in peace. "Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly. "I'm just sore, and no, you were great," I told him, looking into his eyes. He nodded with a smile, and I pecked his lips.

Harvey unwrapped her legs from around his waist and slowly placed her feet on the cold tile floor. Her legs wobbled, and she held onto his arms. She tried to take a step but whimpered at the soreness at the meeting of her thighs. She closed her eyes, and her nails dug into Harvey's arm. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Let me run you a bath," Harvey offered as he picked her up, bridal style. She snuggled into his chest, enjoying the warmth his body radiated. She opened her eyes as he sat me down on the edge of the tub. Harvey turned on the water. "Harvey," I whispered, and he looked at me. "You don't have to apologize; being sore after amazing sex is totally normal." She told him as she caressed his face. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I know, I just don't like seeing you in pain, especially if I'm the one causing you pain. Besides I said, I'll make love to you." Harvey looked at her apologetically.

"I love you, so damn much."

"I love you even more than damn much."

She smiled at his answer. He kissed her on the lips and placed her in the tub. He sat behind her with his arms wrapped around her. She leaned into him and closed her eyes. Harvey attacked her face with light kisses, and she giggled. "Beautiful," he murmured.

MASTERLIST

#harvey specter #harvey specter fan fiction #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter imagines #suits harvey specter #suits tv

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happilysmythe · 7 days

Text

❥ 𝙥 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 4.2k

warning: explicit content

"she wet in the shower" — gunna

A/N: this was an anonymous request for trent smut w/ a college student. so of course, i had to add some angst—makes it more fun. not to mention how much i love him, so who am i to deny it?! hope you enjoy! :)

- - -

“Do you think you’ll be able to come out soon?”

Trent’s hopeful tone of voice rang through the phone as you held it up to your ear, sitting comfortably in the quiet bedroom of your apartment. A pang of guilt washed over you. You already knew the answer, and it wasn’t the one he was looking for.

He and you first met when you were a freshman in college. He was a sophomore. You started dating quickly after. Now, you were a senior and he was playing in the NHL halfway across the country. But you lived in Wisconsin, so it wasn’t often that you got to see each other. It was difficult for him to visit during the team’s breaks, especially when the rest of his family was based in St. Louis. And you, on the other hand, were far too busy with work and school to make the extensive trips out.

“I don’t think so,” you finally sighed, pulling your knees into your chest. “I’ve been so busy, and I just—fuck, I miss you, but I can’t. And I’m so tight on money right now.”

“I’ll pay for it,” he pushed.

“Trent, I can’t,” you frowned, resting your chin on your knee. “Believe me—if I could, I’d already be there by now. It’s just…too much.”

A beat of silence followed, and you could practically picture the dejected look on his face. You knew he was still there—the soft noise of his breathing that came through the receiver told you so—but he waited to speak. He was running through any possible solutions in his head, yet not a single one was worthy of voicing.

“I want to see you,” he finally spoke. “I’m sick of only talking to you through the goddamned phone. It feels like this isn’t even real anymore.”

“Not real?” you asked, lips parted in shock. “Trent, what part of this isn’t real?”

“I—I don’t know. Look, I,” he breathed, “it’s just hard to watch all of the guys have their girlfriends here while mine is eleven hundred miles away and has barely even met any of them, alright?”

“Oh,” you spoke quietly, nodding your head as you took in his words. “So that’s it, huh? That’s the problem, isn’t it?” You fell back against your headboard, “You finally admit it, then. It’s because I’m not like them.”

“I never—”

“Oh, save it, Trent!” you shouted. “We knew this was what it would be like when the time came and we agreed to stay together. We agreed to make it work. Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed to even be able to visit and see you when I do?”

You swallowed thickly, “I have juggled so many things in the past year and all I wanted was a little bit of sympathy from you. Christ’s sake, Trent, I know it sucks. I know, okay? But I am trying so goddamn hard to find the time to just talk to you like this right now!”

“That’s my whole point,” he retorted firmly, his voice irritated. “It’s like I never see you anymore. And when I come back, I have to decide between seeing you or my family, and you always make me choose them. So it’s pretty fucking frustrating to see everyone else have their girlfriends or their wives there when you barely get to talk to yours,” he took a breath. “This barely feels like anything anymore.”

“What, so you’re just going to act like I’ve never done anything for you? Like I haven’t been working day in and day out to make as much time for you as I can? I did everything for you when you still went to school here and this is the thanks I get?” you firmly stood your ground. “Yes, Trent, I know I’m not there. I know that. And god, I miss you more than anything—”

“Then come.”

“Jesus Christ, Trent, I can’t!”

You shook your head and sat up on your bed once more. You could only be thankful that you lived alone in your off-campus apartment, with all the back and forth you were having. “You can’t come here, and I can’t go there. That was the understanding when we agreed to make things work,” you lectured. “And trust me, it hurts me too. Fuck, it hurts to see people I don’t even know with their boyfriends. So don’t act like you’re the only one who’s hurting from this.”

“If this is making it work, then I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Trent—”

“I’m just,” he shook his head, “god, I’m tired of this.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the fear of what he’d say next slowly beginning to tear at your heartstrings. Although you hadn’t seen much of each other in recent years, Trent meant the world to you. He’d done just about everything in his power to keep you happy before he moved. And even after, he tried to see you as much as he could; as much as time would allow.

So the thought of what he might’ve been getting at made you sick to your stomach.

“You cannot put this on me,” you told him through the phone, fingers tightly gripped around the metal as if dropping it would make you lose him for good. “You have no. Right,” you swallowed, nostrils flared and teeth gritted. “It’s so fucking unfair.”

“You know what’s unfair?” His question lingered in the air, and you kept your mouth shut. It wasn’t something that you were meant to answer. So you waited.

“Being forgotten.”

And that was your final straw.

“Fuck you,” you sobbed, a tear cascading down your cheek. “If this whole long-distance thing wasn’t enough for you, then you should’ve just broken it off before.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one that left you, Trent.”

Your phone was face down on the bed almost instantly after you hung up. Any emotions you were desperately trying to suppress came to the surface, bringing you to tears as you buried your face into your knees. It all finally came to a head, and you couldn’t bear the outcome. Heavy sobs left your lips, pried relentlessly from your throat as guilt ripped through you. Your body refused to let up for even a second; not until every last drop of emotion was ripped from you.

And finally, once it was, you lay restless in your bed until morning, mind unable to escape the intruding idea of never seeing him again.

Hours turned into days, days into weeks of not hearing from him. Since that night, you began to work yourself harder, picking up hours to fill up the time you’d be alone. You couldn’t let yourself think about it, or else you’d break.

It had been almost a month since. You heard a knock on your door as you were headed for the bathroom, about to shower after another long shift. You were prepared for it to be another one of your friends. They’d been showing up at your door for days, trying to break you out of your funk, which only irritated you further. You sighed and tightened your robe, then walked to the door and swiftly opened it.

“For the last time, I’m fine—”

It wasn’t your friends.

Surprise laced your expression. Trent was standing on the other side of the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets. His body was tense as he stood silently.

“Trent,” you finally whispered.

He stepped closer, eyes boring into yours when your head tilted back to look at him. His lips parted to speak, but you gave him no such chance when you threw your arms around him. Any emotions that you’d suppressed immediately surfaced, tears streaming down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest.

“Shh,” he cooed, hands rubbing gently up and down your back.

His hand came up to your cheek when you pulled back, using his thumb to gently wipe it dry. The warmth of his touch radiated through the skin and you felt a sense of familiarity, of comfort being in his hold again.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried softly, your arms tightening around his midsection.

“God, no, don’t,” he hesitated, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “please, don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”

He frowned, “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have acted like such a baby.”

“But I just got angry. I didn’t even consider how you’d—”

“Hey,” he sternly interrupted, pulling your body into his. “This was on me. I knew how busy you’d be when we decided to stay together. I was upset that I couldn’t see you and I blamed you for that,” he breathed. “You didn’t deserve that. Not after everything you’ve done to make this work. I didn’t do my part.”

Another tear fell from your eye, burning the skin in its path. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel like this wasn’t real anymore,” you frowned.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…dumb.”

“And I blamed you for leaving when you had no choice.”

He sighed deeply, urging your head to his chest. “It’s only a month left until you’re out, right?” he asked and you nodded, confirming his inquiry. “Okay. So we only have to tough out one more month of this…And then it’s over.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” you finally spoke, leaning into him. “I am, too.”

You finally leaned up to kiss him and he quickly reciprocated, pulling your chest flush against his. His head craned to the side, deepening the kiss and turning it into something more than just making up lost time. You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. He hummed against your lips, fingers gripping the underside of your thighs to support your weight.

“I was about to,” you muttered between kisses, “shower.”

“Explains the robe.”

He began walking forward, carrying you down the hallway as you remained perched on his waist. The soft material of the robe slid off of your thighs, exposing them to the cool air and allowing you to feel his bare palms around them. The ring that sat on his right index finger dug into the soft skin as he reached the door to your bathroom.

“Got room for one more?” he teased as he lowered you to your feet.

“Maybe,” you giggled in response, hands resting atop his shoulders. “Who’s asking?”

His fingers toyed with the belt on your robe, slowly beginning to loosen it around your waist. He lowered his head, forehead nearly touching yours, and softened his voice, “Someone who hasn’t been alone with his girlfriend in a long time.”

“Hm,” you considered, fingers dancing along the back of his neck, “I think something can be arranged, then.”

The robe’s soft fabric fell open as he let go and brought his hands to his shirt, removing it in one go. With that, you slipped the rest off and stepped into the shower, then quickly turned on the water as he rid himself of the rest of his clothing. As you waited, you shampooed your hair, thoroughly rinsing it out and basking in the warmth of the water over you.

It wasn’t long before the curtain opened and in stepped Trent, who had discarded all but his silver chain, including the ring he wore just moments before.

“God, have you gotten bigger?” you asked, hands traveling up his arms. “Or has it been that long?”

“Maybe you’ve just gotten smaller.”

You rolled your eyes promptly, chuckling softly before leaning up to kiss him again, allowing the hot water to cascade slowly down your back. You flipped your bodies around and his hair grew darker as it slowly dampened, curls dissipating as they flattened atop his head. You were quick to run your hands along his upper body, palms grazing the skin of his chest down to his stomach. Your touch earned a groan of approval from his lips as you and your body swiftly moved down.

Down to your knees, even, right in front of him.

A few soft, teasing kisses were pressed to his tip before you drew his cock into your warm mouth. A large hand snaked into your hair, roughly gripping the wet strands as he turned just slightly, back now facing the wall. The hot water coated his body, allowing your lips to glide smoothly along his length, teeth lightly grazing the skin.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he drawled, hand setting your pace as the steam from the water rose up around you.

Slowly, he began to pump his hips, tip hitting the back of your throat with each gentle thrust. His head drew back, pressing against the cool, wet tile as he sucked air through his teeth. Your nose nearly came into contact with his pubic bone as you took as much of him as your mouth would allow. But as much as he would’ve wanted to, he refrained from forcing you down.

Instead, he relished in the feeling of your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock again for the first time in months.

Deep breaths left his mouth in the form of groans, his lips parted and face contorting with pleasure. Soon his head was off the wall again as he looked down, driven wild by the sight before him—his girlfriend on her knees in front of him, looking back up at him through tattered lashes, sporting stains of mascara that ran down her cheeks.

It was nearly enough to send him over, and you felt him growing more tense. The grip on your hair tightened as he sped up your pace just slightly, a choked moan escaping your lips and humming against his skin. His free hand darted out and pressed firmly against the fogged glass door, aiding him in maintaining any sort of composure he could conjure up.

Just as he was about to warn you of how close he was, you slid him out of your mouth. When your eyes flitted up, they were met with his disapproving glance, chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply.

“Why did you stop?”

“To irritate you,” you scrunched your nose. “But mostly to tease you.”

Light kisses were intricately pressed to his tip, the action just perfectly denying him enough sensation to fulfill his needs. But enough to make him ache with want, with need; the need of release. Of breaking the taut line holding him together. He was on the brink, and you knew it, but you were denying him.

How cruel.

Maybe it was a form of payback for the argument he started a few weeks before. For making you think you were broken up for all that time. Something like that, he convinced himself. All he knew was that you had every intention of making him wait, and he had no choice but to accept it.

“Mm,” you hummed, the fingers of one hand curling around his length and the others around his thigh as your lips trailed the same torturous kisses down to the base and back up. His hand brushed through the dripping wet strands of dark ginger hair atop his head, feet planted deeply into the floor below him.

Unfortunately for you, he wasn’t the only one who craved his release. And fortunately for him, you were finally willing to give him the satisfaction.

So you drew just the head back into your warm mouth, tongue swirling around the swollen area tactfully. Soft lips glided along his skin as you slid them further down on him, and the line finally snapped like a twig. The aftermath flooded your senses, his taste gathering on your tongue as the sound of his groans filled your ears.

And his traces went smoothly down your throat with a prompt swallow.

“Fuck,” he finally managed, eyes following you as you rose to your feet.

“That,” you started, licking the remainder from the corner of your mouth, “was for that phone call.”

“Yeah?” he asked, a smirk settling in on his face.

“Mhm,” was your sharp-tongued response, bringing a grin to his lips. You reached for the conditioner, “And you deserved it.”

He nodded as you squeezed a bit into your hand, afterward lathering it in your hair. He brought his hands up to your head and tilted it back, using his fingers to rinse out the cream gently.

“Maybe I did,” Trent hoisted you up, an involuntary gasp falling from your lips.

“—But now it’s my turn.”

Your back pressed against the cool tile as he turned your bodies to the side, water now hitting him at an angle as he pinned you up. You breathed out sharply from the force at which you hit the wall, lips parting as your gaze fell on his grin-inhabited face.

The heat formed beads of sweat on both you and Trent’s foreheads, mixing with the hot water as it continued to fall behind his body. He leaned up and connected his lips with yours, a hand running through your equally wet strands before sliding down your tense figure. The other locked fingers with your own and roughly pressed the back of your hand against the tile above your head, drawing a needy moan from your throat.

Your free hand slid up his front and came into contact with the cold, wet metal of his chain. God, you loved it. And he knew it, which was why he never took it off at moments like this; whether it was the tag tapping against your cheek as he thrust into you or it pressing into your skin as your back arched against him, or even just the sight of it poking out from under his shirts, it set you ablaze, similar to many other things about him. Like his hair. Or his hands.

Or the head of his cock as it dragged along your soaked folds, teasing you until you begged for more.

Which, oddly enough, was exactly what was happening to you then.

“Trent—fuck,” the words weakly fell, “please.”

His lips were at your neck, working the soft, damp skin just as you did to his body just minutes before, only now the added pressure of him at your entrance came into play.

“What is it, hm?” he mumbled, trailing down to your collarbones and back up.

“Need to feel you,” you breathed heavily, “now.”

Lips stretched into a grin against your skin just before he pushed himself into you, allowing you to sink down onto him properly. Your hands quickly lifted and tenaciously gripped his shoulders for stability. His head lifted from your neck and fell back, mouth open as he exhaled deeply from the pressure of you enveloping him. He was hardening at an unfaltering rate from the sensation, and his mind was running a mile a minute.

Because no effort he made to relieve himself when he was alone could ever replace the feeling of your inner walls constricting around him.

And fuck, did he miss that feeling.

Finally, your boyfriend was buried inside you again. Finally, he was stretching you out again, occupying every last inch of space that your body would allow. The feeling was all too familiar, but that was what you loved most; how perfectly he fit you, and how it was still able to make you see stars, regardless of how many times you’d felt it before.

His hips instantly moved in a controlled rhythm, leaving no time to exchange pleasantries. Hard thrusts drove your vulnerable body up the wall, large hands now having moved to your hips, fingers pressing firmly into the wet skin.

He wasn’t going to waste any time taking things slower, softer as he normally would. Oh, no—there was no time for that. He needed you oh, so desperately at that moment—to take you. Hard. Fast. That’s what months of deprivation did to a guy like him; a guy who hadn’t felt the touch of his girlfriend in so long that it hurt.

Luckily for him, he wasn’t the only one starving with want.

So the payoff was all the sweeter for the both of you as each torturous thrust forced the tip of his strained, desperate cock to brush just against the right spot within you. Various expletives filled the fogged air of the bathroom, sounding in the form of your weakened voice. Nail-shaped craters formed on the skin of his back while he roughly pistoned his hips forward and back, relentlessly pushing your back against the slick wall behind you.

“So glad you live alone and not on that fucking school ground,” he mumbled, pressing kisses to your exposed shoulder.

Usually, he was more gentle with you, and you’d grown accustomed to that. You liked it that way. But you couldn’t deny how much you loved, in contradiction, the times he decided that gentle wasn’t enough. That it simply wouldn’t do. When all he could think of was the burning desire to pin you to the wall and fuck you dumb with pleasure because he was so damn starved from not seeing you as often as he should. Because he knew better than anyone else that you could take it.

You’d no doubt have prints on your back from the incessant pressure of him pressing you against the tile behind you, and you briefly considered the thought. It left your mind quicker than it came, however, because it wouldn’t be the only thing left behind on your body from the exchange that night.

They’d pair nicely with the marks that extended from your neck to your collarbones.

“Close, Trent,” you muttered, head falling forward and resting atop his shoulder. “I’m…fuck, I’m close.”

A phrase that had become so familiar to him, so routine, as if it were some sort of perverted Bible verse you’d been trained to memorize. One that he’d never get sick of hearing because he knew that every time he was the reason for it.

Of course, you didn’t have to say it, because he already knew you were there. And if you weren’t, someone ought to have explained to him why you felt so tight, all of a sudden.

“Come on, baby,” the words rolled off his tongue languidly, “let go.”

So you did, clenching around him and crying out with a weakness that laced your voice. White hot pleasure surged through your body as he fucked you through it, his thick cock continuing to provide you more pleasure with each calculated thrust than any store-bought substitute could manage. Calloused fingers grasped urgently at the swell of your hips, the hold on you firm enough to keep you stable as you shattered around him for what felt like the first time in years.

Not a moment was wasted before ropes of hot liquid emptied into your stomach, thoroughly coating your waiting, sensitive inner walls. A satisfied groan exited his lips, the sound low in your ear, and you were sure it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard. A hand traveled up to his wet locks, pushing his head forward and allowing your mouth to envelope his in a deep kiss as his hips slowly, carefully came to a stop.

His tongue explored your mouth as if it had never been in its vicinity before, head tilting to give himself easier access. Meanwhile, he pulled out and began to lower you down, the muscles in his arms straining as they held you up for support. Your feet were once again planted on the wet, slippery floor of the shower as your spent body remained still between his large frame and the tiled wall behind you.

He pulled away and stepped back, sliding his hands off you as he turned the knob behind him to increase the water’s temperature. Then, he moved in the stream’s direction, arms reaching outward and pulling you toward him. Your back quickly came into contact with his firm chest, metal pressing against the now patterned skin as his hands placed themselves atop your slick skin.

A pair of soft lips peppered gentle kisses from your neck down to your shoulder, fingers rising to brush your hair away. The scalding hot water hit his back and extended to your exposed shoulder blades, effectively relaxing the tense muscles of your worked bodies. After all, it had been quite the bit of time since either of you had been in such a position.

“I love you,” he murmured, lips brushing against the skin of your ear as his hands ran down along your arms beside you.

Your head fell back against his chest, “I love you, too.”

He leaned down to press another kiss to your lips, arms wrapping around your waist and his hands finding purchase on your stomach, allowing him to inch your body closer to his. Both his and your eyes then fell shut as you settled into him.

It was all so…intimate; intimate in large contrast to the last time you spoke to him before he showed up at your door looking for forgiveness. And of course, he received it, because the whole disagreement was fueled by the sole fact that he simply missed the woman he loved.

The same woman who stood in his embrace as they fell into a comfortable silence, minds focused only on the sound of the water and the steam slowly rising around them.

#trent frederic #trent frederic fic #trent frederic imagine #trent frederic smut #trent frederic x reader #boston bruins imagine #boston bruins #hockey fic #hockey #fanfic #t. frederic

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blouisparadise · 2 months

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of March. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Bloodsucker | Not Rated | 1,738 words

Harry and Louis’ passionate night takes a violent turn.

2) Hell Is A Teenage Boy | Explicit | 1,970 words

In the quiet suburbs of Roswell, the Tomlinson family has new neighbors: Harry and Alice Styles, a lovely and happy couple. Where Louis, a hopeless rebel fell for the man in the suit. Of course, he can't forget his pretty model wife holding his arm. Simple details.

3) Sweet But Psycho Only For You | Mature | 2,728 words

Finding your forever person is something that many dream to do. For some it takes longer than others and the trials it takes to get to that person can be overwhelming. For Harry it was simple. He didn’t have to relive a Shakespearean play or over exaggerated drama to find his love. He met his person at a corner store at 3am yelling at a clerk over cereal and instantly fell in love. It was all so simple. They dated, fought, fucked, moved in together. Oh, so simple. Until it wasn’t.

4) Blue Yarn | Explicit | 2,875 words

Louis was on his hands and knees on their bed, in nothing but the blue jumper Harry had knitted him, arching his back beautifully, fucking himself on… And Harry had to take one step closer before he realized that, outside of Louis’ bum, the end of his thickest knitting needle was poking out. Holy fucking shit. Louis was fucking himself on Harry's knitting needle.

5) To Make a Home Where There Is None | Mature | 3,907 words

Harry shows up and doesn't want to leave. Louis doesn't mind too much.

6) Your Hand In My Hand, So Still And Discreet | Explicit | 4,513 words

“It was about how cold he was under me. How still. It was knowing that even if he had died, even if he was already dead, he would still be mine.” Louis thought he knew each one of his boyfriend’s stories, secrets, and kinks. Turns out Harry was keeping a crucial one hidden away.

7) Haze On The Horizon | Explicit | 6,397 words

“— Louis?” He couldn’t speak. He should hang up. He should’ve never called. His breaths were building into a staccato. “…baby? Are you doing alright? Talk to me, please.” Harry sounded so concerned, and it was quickly weakening his defences. No. No, he wouldn’t. No- “Omega,” Harry called, voice low and just shy of his alpha voice, even through the phone, and Louis just… Louis broke. “I miss you! I-” he cried out, an agonising crack in his voice, a loud sob being ripped from him. “— I need you!” Louis sniffled harshly, slumping, before admitting, quieter, “I need you.” Louis finds himself unexpectedly going into soft heat. Which would’ve been fine, except he is hundreds of miles away from his alpha, Harry, and he needs him. They make it work.

8) Pour Some Sugar (Wax) On Me | Explicit | 11,213 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

“Okay, so I just need you to hug your legs to your chest for me, and we can get started.” Swallowing past the lump that has lodged in his throat, Louis reaches down and grabs his shins, hugging his legs up to his chest, effectively putting his bare asshole, taint, and balls on display.

9) The Room Thief | Not Rated | 12,321 words

Louis: Can I come over? Need your help. Niall: Did someone die? I don’t need to help you bury a body do I? Wait, did you behead one of your alpha flatmates? I hope it was the one that smells like cherries. That is such a weird scent for an alpha. It’s disturbing. And I can’t even smell it. Louis: I’ve just been kicked out. Can I crash on your couch? Niall: Zayn’s in class. I’m here so get over here NOW. Louis: Thanks mate. Gonna pack a few things and will head over. Be there in about a half hour.

10) I Dig Your Cinema | Explicit | 12,930 words

It wasn’t that Louis didn’t want to see Harry’s latest film; it was a tragically pathetic fact that Louis had watched every single show and film, every interview, every red carpet that Harry had done since his ex-boyfriend had decided to leave Uni in the second year and pursue an acting career. It's just that he wanted to watch it on his own, in his flat, with a soft blanket, beer, ice cream, and a large box of tissues.

11) I'll Look After You | Mature | 15,471 words

I mean, when Harry inherited his late uncle's hybrid, he didn't necessarily expect this... Where Louis is a nice hybrid cat who's never lived with anyone but an old man, and who discovers the freedom of living with Harry...

12) I Don’t Want You | Mature | 35,941 words

Louis never wanted to be an omega. He didn’t want to end up like his mother- a submissive omega that married his father in an arranged marriage, and is now living her life as a baby making machine, and a trophy wife who can never voice her opinion- Louis was never the quiet type, he always said exactly what he thought. But life has a funny way of fucking him over and Louis finds himself forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only Harry styles.

13) Hiding Green Smiles | Explicit | 45,227 words

Louis’ heart is racing in his chest. The idea of temporary bonding—letting Harry bite down right on that spot without it being a real bond—makes his mouth go dry. He didn’t even know something like this existed! His mind fills with all the possibilities and questions. What’s it going to feel like? How will it affect his orgasms? How will it affect Harry’s knot? What parts of a bond does it simulate? When Louis goes with Liam to a hidden sex shop, he discovers a new sex toy, the BiteMat, and he can't believe his luck. He loves being bitten, has a biting kink, even, and now he can be bitten over his bonding spot without the fear of anything permanent. He hastily buys it to try with Harry, his friend and roommate, and his regular heat/rut partner for the last eighteen months. They've been friends-with-benefits outside heat or rut for eight months now, and Louis' been desperately in love with Harry for at least five of those months.

14) A Match Into Water | Not Rated | 68,756 words

“So, who’s the guy?” Louis startled at the question, immediately locking his phone and dropping it onto the beanbag cushion below him. This was a topic he desperately wanted to avoid with his friends, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. That didn’t mean he would try to avoid it though. “What guy?” He rushed out, looking at Liza with a dumbfounded expression, trying his best to avoid Niall and Jeremy clearly sharing a knowing look. “You’ve been on your phone nonstop, you’re never on your phone while working. Not to mention, you’re smiling at your phone like a nutter,” Niall pipes up, grinning at him facetiously.

15) I Would Rather Go Blind | Mature | 79,150 words

"What are you doing here, Harry?" Louis asked with confidence, his gaze briefly flickering to Harry's plump lips, a momentary hint of desire flickering in his eyes. "I…" Harry's voice caught in his throat as Louis' gaze travelled downward, coming to rest on his chest. Without hesitation, Louis raised his hands from the desk, bringing them to Harry's chest, helping him button the one he had missed. When he attempted to pull away, Harry's hand shot out and gripped at his wrist. "You're shaking," Louis observed, his eyes shifting to their joined hands before returning to meet Harry's gaze, unwavering. "It's…" Harry cleared his throat. "It's you. You make me… I don't know what is happening to me." "What do you feel?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's… warm," he began, shyly bringing Louis' hand against the centre of his chest over his shirt. "Here." His hand slid down to his stomach, their eyes locked in a powerful gaze. "And here." They remained silent for a moment, both captivated by the intensity of their connection. "Every time you're near me."

16) As Sweet As You Are | Mature | 87,394 words

Note: This fic was deleted and has now been reuploaded.

"Do you not have something more expensive?" The alpha gives him a weird look, resting his hands on the table. "Definitely not something the cost of that shade of blue that are your eyes," he responds effortlessly. "Why is a male omega on his own out in the middle of the woods at this time of night?" Harry speaks, staring intensely at the prince, smirk lingering on his face. "Your kind is rather rare. You should be more careful. There are a lot of rogue alphas around that won't blink until they've knotted and bred you up." The blue eyed omega swallows, shuffling in his seat awkwardly and looking anywhere but the alpha before him. "I ran away from home," Louis admits, occupying himself by taking a sip of the lager instead of thinking about the fact that the alpha hasn't yet taken his eyes off him. "My parents want me to marry someone I do not want to marry, so I ran."

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #blp #blp fic recs

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youaresimplylovely · 1 month

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“Fast and Fabulous: A Driven Love”

---- A love story between a Formula 1 Driver and a Supermodel

Chapter 1 (Next Chapter) Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Pairing: Carlos Sainz!Formula 1 Driver x Famous Supermodel!Reader

Words: 562 words

Warnings: First time writing so if there are any errors, feel free to say so!! :>> nevertheless no warnings on this first chapter

Somehow proofread :')

Summary: Getting to know the Dela Cruz family

Lights flickered across the room, and a young man's voice was heard across the room. A loud groan escaped his voice. Sighing softly, the man approached the light switch, turning it off. "I thought Dad was supposed to fix this," he mumbled, going to another room with better lighting. He grabbed the scattered papers on the kitchen counter, fixing the order of the documents. He sat on the dining table chairs with the papers in his hand.

"Ahem." he cleared his throat, sighing but not too loud. He stared at the first page of the papers in his hand as he started reading. “Y/N Claire Rose Althea Sophia Amélie Genevieve Katherine Dela Cruz.” He smiled softly. "Not including her mother's last name." He snickered, scratching his back with his hand. He continues reading the paper in his hand. "Where were we? Ah yes, Y/N Claire Rose Althea Sophia Amélie Genevieve Katherine Dela Cruz.” He reiterated the woman's name. "Such a long dang name." He rolled his eyes, baffled that the woman's name was long.

"Y/N is a famous supermodel, considered one of the most beautiful women. She is part American, part French, part Spanish, and part Filipino." The young man ran his hands through his hair, scrunching his nose. "Who knew that combining Asian genes with American and European ones would make 'the most beautiful woman.'" He gestured with air quotes and sarcasm in his tone. "The woman came from the renowned 'Dela Cruz' family. A prominent family, the father being Jean Louis Dela Cruz, A man who is half American and half French; you could say he's part Spanish, too. Hence, the last name 'Dela Cruz.'"

The young man pouted, thinking how a half-American and half-French man could have his last name be 'Dela Cruz' on Earth. He shakes his head, shaking the thought off as he continues reading. "The man married a famous beauty queen from the Philippines, Maria Lucia Garcia, a woman who is half Filipino and half Spanish." The young man groaned, scrunching his whole face now. He thought to himself, how can this family be so confusing. "Esto no puede ser real (This can not be real)," he muttered in his weird but manageable Spanish accent.

"The two fell in love and had 5 beautiful children. The first child was Mark Cedric Dela Cruz, the second was James Diego Dela Cruz, Daniel Ezekiel Dela Cruz, and the fourth was Y/N Claire Rose Althea Sophia Amélie Genevieve Katherine Dela Cruz." He groans, rolling his eyes and causing him to laugh. "The woman's name is so long 'cause she's the only girl and definitely a daddy's girl." He chuckles, sighing as he lays back against the chair. “And the last child, Paolo Gabriel Dela Cruz a.k.a ‘Pao’.”

Before the young man could continue, footsteps approaching the kitchen were heard. A woman snickered, sitting next to the young man. She gave him a weird look, scrunching her face. “¿Qué diablos estás haciendo pao? (What the hell are you doing, Pao?)" you laughed, nudging his shoulder as you sat beside him. Your beautiful Spanish accent causes your brother to smile softly. "Um, excuse me, Y/N. This is a school project; I had to do a family background." Pao rolled his eyes at you, giving you a playful, disgusted look. "I didn't know college students' homework was like that nowadays." You giggled.

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 au #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #supermodel reader #f1 fanfic

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cellythefloshie · 7 months

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;; meant for loving Dedicating this one to @hockeyboysimagines

Summary: Desperate to relax on the final long weekend before he has to return to St Louis, Vince and his best friend, Miles head out to the cabin for the weekend. Waiting in their tranquility, is Miles' baby sister, Samantha who keeps Vince on the verge of chaos as he has desperations of her own: to love her virginity before she goes off to university. Kinks & TW: male pov, original character, age-gap (5 years), situation ship, brother's best friend, virginity trope, teasing/banter, breast play (mild), missionary, protected sex, (i probably missed something here so please be sure to yell at me if I did) ABOUT THE OC: Face Claim: Sydney Sweeny Name: Samantha aka “Sam” aka “Sammy” aka "Princess". Is the little sister of Vince's friend Miles. Sam is 18 and is set to go off to college come fall while Vince is set to report to training camp. Word Count: 14k+

Listen to their playlist while you read.

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl @mp0625 @misunderstoodwerewolf @callsign-denmark @puckmaidens @xciciix @cixrosie

There were two things people knew Vince Dunn for and they were hockey and his love to party in the off-season. What they didn’t know, however, was that Vince loved to escape the chaos. He always had, ever since he was a kid, growing up back in Lindsay. There was a certain peace in it all. From the way the tall, green coniferous trees towered high into the gray and stormy skies, to the way the rain hit the windshield with its soft hollow drum, it all drew him away from the city. The cabin was one of his favorite places to escape before the hockey season, especially with the right company.

Vince could have invited anyone to go with him, a teammate or the girl he was casually fucking ‌and they would have come. But he only invited one person, his best friend, Miles. The pair had grown up playing hockey together - sharing toothless grins back when you gifted them to the tooth fairy instead of going to the dentist and hoping they could splint it back into place. And while their careers had taken them down separate paths, they had always made the summer theirs. Together, at the cabin their families used to vacation at when they were kids, Vince knew he could relax and rejuvenate - and maybe pick up a hot chick at the beach - before the season began.

But there would be no trips to the beach today. Not with how the rain was pouring down, leaving the cold wet rubber of his tires to slide over the winding Canadian highways that would narrow into roads of gravel and dirt. The slippery conditions left Vince gripping his steering wheel tight, but he wasn’t tense. He welcomed the calm that came with the rain, even if it wasn’t too kind to the car.

He could always buy another one.

The drive to the cabin was long, and he spent the entire time in silence. Vince listened to the rain as it fell, growing harder, then softer and harder again. Only for it to be drowned out by the rocks as his tire kicked them up and left them to scrape the paint on his car as he rolled to a stop in the driveway. The windshield wipers made their awful screech against the wet glass as he undid his seatbelt and leaned across his center console to look at the car parked beside him. The water against the glass distorted its body, but he could tell it was some kind of sedan in a color he didn’t like. And he knew it didn’t belong to Miles. He didn’t know whose it was, but he was going to find out real quick.

Reaching into the backseat, he fisted the handles of his duffle bag. He lifted it with ease - he only packed enough for the weekend - and lifted it up over his head to keep his hair from the rain. But it didn’t stop the icy rain from soaking into his t-shirt and sending chills down the length of his spine. It left him dancing through the front door with zero consideration for knocking. This was like a second home to him. He didn’t need anyone’s permission, and he was curious.

Miles didn’t mention that anyone else was coming when they had made the plans. And the last time Vince checked, Miles wasn’t seeing anyone.

Tossing his duffel bag on the floor, he looked over the living room. No sign of life.

“Mom?” He called out, knowing he wouldn’t hear his own mother calling back to him. Miles’ mother had been just as much a mother to him as his own, so it all slipped off his tongue with ease.

“Dad?” He called out again as he kicked off one wet sneaker and then the other - still nothing.

There was nothing in the kitchen either, as he walked on through. Vince even opened the fridge. Nothing. Whoever was there didn’t plan to stay long.

His every footstep was quiet as he moved through the main floor and up to the spiral staircase that led up to the second story. There, he looked up and down the hall and didn’t notice a thing out of place. That was until he took a single step down and his bright eyes caught the familiar glint of the tarnished metal door handle in the sunlight. Peering up over the top step, he noticed every single door on the second floor was open, except for one.

Samantha’s door.

Little Sammy Fraser. Though she probably wasn’t so little anymore. He hadn’t seen her since St. Louis drafted him, and that was five years in the past now. She had been only thirteen then. And through Miles, she was the baby sister Vince had never wanted but would torment all the same. And after so long, it was due time he caused a little trouble again.

Vince’s lips pulled back in a too-perfect troublemaker’s grin as he cracked his knuckles and took the quick steps onto the second-floor landing. It only took a single stride from the top of the stairs to reach for her door, his large hand gripping the cold handle and pushing it open without a single thought in his brain about why he shouldn’t. And then he saw the very reason he should have knocked.

Samantha sat on the bed, once propped up against the pillows, she sat completely upright now. Her expression, mortified. Vince had caught her in nothing but a tight pair of denim shorts and a bright pink lace bra. The color alone would have been enough to make him stare. Her heavy cleavage - that he didn’t quite remember her having before - was the fixation of his stare. Even as she tried to cover herself with her arms, Vince’s gaze didn’t break. That was until he realized she wasn’t alone in the room.

Beside the bed, half dressed though, Vince was sure that wasn’t always the case, was some lanky teenager. The guy couldn’t have been older than nineteen, his hair a mess, and his shirt lost somewhere in the room. It only took a second for Vince to conclude what was happening there, especially when he watched the panic on the kid’s face melt into relief when he realized that they had not been interrupted by her parents or Miles.

“Who’s this?” the young man, if Vince would even call him that, questioned as he looked up from where he fastened his belt around his middle.

It was a valid question. Vince wasn’t her brother, and he sure as hell wasn’t her parents catching them alone in her room. If it had been, the kid would have been as good as dead. Though, with Vince, he still might be.

“I could be asking you the same thing, dipshit,” Vince shouted back as he stepped into the room with no hesitation or regard for the fact that Samantha still sat nearly petrified on her bed. He didn’t dare look at her, not wanting to remind himself just what state of undress she was in. That was until he heard her broken words pierce the air. It drew his gaze up to her as he stepped towards the bed and fisted the young man’s t-shirt in his hand. Then, he threw it at him.

“Vince don’t-” Samantha had said.

Vince was quick to answer. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

But his firm words felt soft against his tongue. It felt swollen in his mouth at the sight of her sitting there on the bed, her blonde hair a mess that framed her features and hung over her bare shoulders. Vince held his breath, his eyes burning in their socket as he desperately fought to keep his eyes fixated on her face. On how her wide eyes were glassy with the threat of crying, and how her full bottom lips seemed to quiver. But he was but a man. A man with eyes that could clearly see all that tempted him.

Samantha knelt on the bed, her shirt still lost. She was still bare from the waist up, except for the bright pink bra that he could only see glimpses of from behind her arms as she crossed them over her chest. It was her attempt at modesty, but it only emphasized her already eye-catching cleavage. The mere weight of her breast alone left the fabric looking flimsy as Vince’s bright eyes flickered over each swell.

Vince had to choke out his next words. “Put a goddamn shirt on.”

In the time that Vince was staring, Sam’s guest had pulled on his shirt, but he had yet to make any attempt to leave. Vince’s skin went hot, his jaw going slack as his head leaned back on his shoulders. His shoulder rose and fell in a heavy sigh, and then as Sam groaned out his name in protest, Vince lurched at him. His hand fisted around the guy's shirt collar, his knuckles white as he tugged on the fabric and‌ pulled the lanky trespasser towards the bedroom door.

Leaving Sam and her harsh words behind him, Vince moved back down the path he had come. Down the winding staircase, and through the kitchen before he came to the front door. The young man stumbled behind him. He tripped on the stairs and then his own feet, but Vince didn’t slow down. Vince would have dragged him all the way to the front door if he had to, and he only stopped when he came to the door. It was a brief pause, just long enough time to step into his sneakers before his free hand reached for the door handle and he stepped outside.

The rain filled the gravel driveway with murky puddles that soaked into white socks as Vince shoved the uninvited guest out towards his car. He hadn’t given him the time to put on his own shoes, and for a moment Vince considered making him leave without shoes. It would have been a cruel thing, but only a small punishment for trying and failing to get into Samantha’s pants. But then, he would have to make up an explanation for the random, too-small pair of shoes to Miles. And he wasn’t going to rat on Sam. The embarrassment of him catching her would be punishment enough for her.

Reaching back inside, Vince hooked his fingers around the shoes and tossed them out the door and into the driveway. It was a shame really, he had good taste, but it was satisfying all the same as he shouted, “If I see you around her again, I’ll kick your ass, kid.”

He scrambled for his shoes, but the rain had already soaked through his socks, and for a moment Vince met his eyes. They stood in the rain. Vince’s confident stare met the teenager’s terrified as they were both soaked by the downpour and then the man ran. He took off through a puddle with complete disregard for how wet he became and moved straight for the sedan, which Vince only saw now was some kind of Subaru. As he expected, the kid took off down the driveway like some kind of idiot and disappeared down the road before Samantha could reach the doorway behind him.

“What the fuck? Vince!” was how she greeted him.

Turning in place, Vince smiled, even if he knew he shouldn’t have. If she hadn’t been upset already, his smile was sure to do it as Vince turned in place to face her.

Sam stood in the doorway, fully dressed now, which brought on a sigh of relief - even as she stepped out into the rain with him and placed both hands on his chest. She shoved him firmly, her soft features twisted into a scowl as the cold rain hit her. But she didn’t seem to care. She stood there, away from the cover of the awning, and let the rain soak her. Her straight blond hair began to kink and curl as it dampened, and her white linen blouse became damn near see-through as the rain sent it to cling to her curves.

Again, Vince struggled not to stare.

“I’m doing you a favour.”

“A favour? You just stranded me here!”

One of her arms reached out wide, gesturing to the now empty spot in the driveway, but Vince’s eyes fixated between her lips and her collarbone and glanced so subtly down to her breasts.

“He was your ride, huh?”

“Ah yeah!” Her attitude only left him grinning further, and any guilt he might have gotten hearing he had gotten her stranded at the cabin with him and Miles for the weekend was gone.

Vince took a step forward, his body nearly colliding with hers as he towered over her. He looked down, smirking as his dark, wet curls hung down into his eyes. “I’m your ride now.”

He watched as her hardened expression wavered. Sam was trying too hard to be tough. It was almost laughable. “You can’t just walk in here and-”

“And what?” He interjected, challenging Sam. It sent her face flushed with colour, but the rosiness of her cheeks paled with his next words. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your brother that found you.”

“Fuck,” her bright blue eyes shot open wide, “he’s on his way?”

“Should be here soon,” Vince spoke, his words kept their cockiness as one hand reached up to push back his wet curls, “he would have kicked that guy's ass, and you know it, Sammy.”

She could only nod as they stood there, so wet that the rain no longer phased them. Sam was stubborn and always had been. She was not ready to concede to him. And Vince? He liked to stir up trouble, even with his best friend’s sister.

“What were you thinking coming here with a guy like that?”

“Guy like that?” Sam scoffed in return, offended.

The pout that took her features brought Vince to laughter. She couldn’t be serious, right? It was clear just by the car he drove and the shoes he wore, what kind of guy he was. Someone who was superficial, materialistic even, and put the thrill of his ride before the safety of his passenger. Vince didn’t like it, and Sam, well, she didn’t like what Vince was implying. That was clear in how her arms came up to cross over her chest. He knew it was something she did to show him just how unimpressed she was with him, but all Vince could focus on was her breasts. He could see them through her shirt. From the bright pink lace to each swell and the cleavage in between.

“Believe me, I know the type,” Vince told her, his voice firm as he looked down at her.

Her cheeks had flushed a brilliant shade of pink as embarrassment consumed her, and silence hung between them. Vince didn’t need her to say it to know that he was right, and she didn’t want to tell him. His smile only grew as they stood there, getting drenched by the rain.

“That’s why you had him drive you all the way out here, didn’t you?” Vince had a bit of a laugh in his words. “So the guy could get in your pants without your parents getting in the way. I’d say I’m sorry, princess, but as I said, I did you a favour. The guy couldn’t find the clit if you drew him a map.”

Those should have been the words that ended the conversation. That brought Samantha to the silence of her shame and embarrassment and left Vince with a cocky smile as he took his stride towards the front door. Towards dryness and warmth.

But Samantha was quick to stop him in his tracks with a soft scoff. “As if you could do any better.”

It’s a weak, unexpected jab that left Vince laughing in the door frame. “Damn right, I could.”

Vince would never admit it, not to Sam and not to anyone, but he had taken more women to bed than he would ever want his mother to find out about. He couldn’t define what a serious relationship was because any attempt at a relationship he had didn’t last more than a series of late-night fucks. But that left him well-practiced and confident in his abilities in the bedroom.

He had no doubt in his mind that he could leave Samantha satisfied, but the thought alone should have been enough to leave him choking. He had never thought about her like that before - well, before now.

There would be no ridding his mind of the vision of her back in her bed with her body so freely accessible to his gaze. And now, as they took in the rain so completely soaked that her clothes clung to every curve of her body.

It should have left him feeling dirty. Samantha was Miles’ baby sister. His best friend’s baby sister. But she wanted so desperately to be fucked. Vince could hear it in her strained words as she challenged him, and in her stare as she held his, her wide blue eyes glassy and hopeless. She was practically asking her to fuck him with so few words, and he was so close to caving.

Vince cussed under his breath as he reached out to her, a single hand finding her back and pressing against it firmly. “Get in the house,” he told her and let the gentle guidance of his touch usher her back inside the cabin and out of the rain.

Together they stood in the narrow entryway, so close he could feel her warmth cut through the cold air as he reached into his back pocket for his phone. While he dialled, he held her gaze, silently telling her that their conversation wasn’t over. Then he brought his phone up to his ear, and her face fell. “Hey buddy, I just arrived. How far out are you?”

He was talking to her brother.

Sam inched closer to him, her expression soft as she tried to make out what her brother was saying, but Vince only let her hear what he wanted her to hear.

“You haven’t left yet?” His brow raised up as he looked at Samantha, her panic only growing as he spoke. “Nah, it’s all good. You’ll never guess who’s here…”

Vince has to look away as he trails off. It’s the only way to keep himself from smiling. His eyes fixated on the window, watching as the raindrops fell over the cold glass as he answered, “Yeah, your sister.”

The mere mention of her left Sam lurching for his arm. Both of her hands found one of his forearms, clutching to him with her desperation and drawing his gaze from the rain and back to her face. She didn’t have to say a single word. Her eyes did all the pleading for her. Still wide, still glassy, but begging. Begging him not to tell Miles what he had caught her doing up in her room. And he wouldn’t, Vince liked the leverage.

“One of her friends dropped her off,” he paused, listening to Miles as he listed off some of her friends' names as if it mattered who left her there, “yeah, that’s the one. She’ll keep me out of trouble until you get here.”

Or they would get into some trouble of their own. That fate still was yet to be determined.

His thumb stroked over the screen of his phone, ending the call and sending it to darkness before he placed it face down on a nearby console table. Vince thought the simple action would get him off the hook, that Sam would back off and let her guard down, relieved that he didn’t let her little secret slip, but she remained, her hands on his forearm as they stood in the entryway.

“He’s going to be a few hours,” Vince told her.

And her brow raised up with her sweet and simple, “So?”

“So,” he hesitated for a moment, his tongue dragging over his lower lip. His body rocked with a careful sigh, unsure if he should entertain the dangerous temptations in his mind, but he did it anyway. “So, you want to lose your virginity as desperately as I think you do?”

Her hands fell from him, her jaw slacked, “I’m not-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Vince interrupted her firmly, his cold eyes hardening, “Couldn’t get it done on prom night, so you sneak out here the summer before college just to get it out of the way? I got that little fantasy, right?”

Samantha’s face faded free of any expression, shock consuming her. And Vince can only smile. Fuck, he loved being right.

But Sam didn’t answer him, so he pressured her further. “So you don’t go in all prudish and innocent?”

“Vince,” she spoke his name so slowly, so meekly, it gave him goosebumps.

“Did you even bring condoms?”

She paled.

And he laughed.

Of course, she hadn’t come prepared.

With a careful tug, Vince was out of her grasp and moving towards his bag that he had discarded on the floor. He had only packed enough for the long weekend, but what he searched for, he kept buried at the bottom. It was half empty, crushed by the weight of his belongings, a box of condoms. Vince always carried some with him, let it be in his car, in his bag or in his pocket. He was always prepared. Unlike Sam, who watched him from her place in the entryway as she chewed at her bottom lip.

At the sight of them, her eyes lit up like he had some sort of prize in his hands. Any worry she had seemed to fade with her offering, a thank you on the tip of her tongue as she reached out for the box, only for Vince to tug it just out of her reach with a smile of his own.

“I’ll give them to you, on one condition,” he told her, only for her brow to raise in a silent question. He answered, “I’m the one who fucks you this weekend. Not that idiot kid, not some lifeguard, me.”

Vince didn’t know what to expect when he had made the proposition, but he hadn’t been expecting for her to take a step towards him, a cocky little smile on her own lips. He was struggling to accept that she may not be the timid teenager he remembered. Samantha was very much all grown up now, and she knew exactly what he wanted from her now.

“And what makes you think I’d want it to be you?” Sam’s question was slow as her large blue eyes looked up at him through thick lashes.

And Vince laughed.

It was a low rumbling as he smirked and cocked his head to the side slowly. “You wanted it to be him?” His arm raised lazily, gesturing to the door that he had forced her little friend through.

They both fell into silence, their smiles small and their stares unbroken until she backed off and moved for the spiral staircase to begin her ascent.

“I’ll take that as a no?” His words are a question, not a statement that had her freezing halfway up the staircase to look back at him as he remained in the entryway.

Her smile remained small, a cocky troublemaker’s grin that told Vince that he just might have gotten himself in over his head with her and her words only confirmed that for him. “It’s an; I’m thinking about it.”

It rained all day, and into the night, trapping Vince inside the cabin, awaiting an answer to the proposition that hung too heavily in the air. The longer he had to wait, the more conflicted he felt - the more stupid he felt. He should have never put Sam in this position. He should have never, so bluntly, asked to fuck her. Yet, she was considering it. Considering him. She was interested, maybe only a little or greatly, and it was a weight that hung over him as he lounged in the living room and waited for the rain to pass. For an answer. For Miles to arrive.

Miles arrived before the rain could stop, and before he could receive an answer from Sam. She had remained up in her room, hidden away until her brother arrived. Vince almost wished she had stayed there. Seeing her in her little shorts that were made more for sleeping than covering anything up and her sweatshirt left him near choking on the fact that their window to do anything had closed.

Vince wasn’t all that mad about that fact. It would save him the headache of having to deal with the consequences later. But that didn’t mean the idea of it all didn’t linger. Samantha’s exposed body was all he could think about when she was in the room, even if she had covered herself up. The worst part was what she did with the knowledge of him wanting to fuck her. When she could have told her brother about the pass he had made on her, she withheld it from him. Much like Vince, it gave her leverage.

If he told Miles about the guy he had caught her with, she would tell him that Vince was all too willing to take on the responsibility of taking her virginity himself. So they both remained tight-lipped and casual, but Sam teased him.

Every playful glance she gave him, every moment her hands had been so casually placed on him, stewed in the back of his mind and his needs were desperately close to boiling over. The thoughts left him tossing and turning in bed at night. The rain was gone, and the hollow sound of the drops hitting the window couldn’t drive each forbidden thought from him. They couldn’t drown away the thought of what it might feel like to touch the smooth skin of her waist, or what she might sound like when he made her cum. They were thoughts that ran rampant, leaving his body shimmering with sweat and his cock raging so hard it ached.

Vince needed a distraction, and he found it out on the back porch where the silver moonlight glistened off the lake water in the distance and the cold autumn air that threatened the last few days of summer left him shivering. Any other night, he would have retreated inside, but he needed the chill. It raised goosebumps over the flesh of his arms and his chest as he stood, leaning against the porch railing, in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. And while it was cold and uncomfortable, it calmed him.

The crest of the water against the shore freed his mind, and the ache slowly faded. It all lulled Vince into thinking that he just might get to go back up to his room. That he might just be able to get some sleep.

That was until he heard the open and shut of the flimsy screen door behind him. A heavy sigh shook his shoulders, and for a moment he thought he might just see his breath in the air as he let it go. Then he let himself look back, hoping to find Miles, but the sight of Samantha was what greeted him. He almost cursed and knew he should have gone back inside at that moment and left her alone. But his eyes fixated on the hem of her oversized sweater and how it crept up the skin of her thigh with each stride. It left him convinced she was wearing nothing else and forced him to look back out over the lawn and down to the lake water that he suddenly felt like he was drowning in.

“Sneaking out?” Vince asked, his brow raised up even though he wasn’t looking up at Sam for her to see it.

“I just wanted to get some air,” Sam answered him simply, and while he didn’t look at her as she spoke, he felt her warmth as she leaned up against the railing beside him, “can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, me either,” Vince sighed and reached a hand up to knot in his curls.

“Got a lot on your mind?” Her sweet question left a smile on Vince’s lips.

She didn’t even know the half of it, and he knew better than to indulge her. It would only get them both into trouble.

“Something like that,” Vince sighed, his head turning to give her a quick glance.

He regretted it in an instant. Samantha was petite, standing there at his side. He towered over her by seven inches still - maybe more. And while her hooded sweatshirt consumed much of her, there was no stopping his eyes from dragging down the angles of her legs and back up again The simple movement of resting her chin on her arms raised the sweater up inches on her body, the hem resting on the curve of her ass and confirmed that she was wearing nothing else but a pretty pair of panties.

Vince cleared his throat.

“You really should put some clothes on if you’re going to be prancing around here.”

“Prancing?” Sam asked him, her words sweet as she cocked her head to the side. She seemed so innocent, so naïve, but she knew exactly what she was doing.

Toying with Vince.

Tempting him.

“I’ve seen that little hop in your step since our little conversation earlier-”

“Oh, have you?” Sam cut in, “Maybe I’ve always had that little hop in my step. You’ve just never cared enough to notice.”

“Of course, I care,” Vince’s eyes rolled as he stepped in closer to her, sighing under the feeling of her warmth as he was so close to touching her body as he had wanted to all night, “that’s why I never let myself notice.”

“So what changed?” Sam asked him slowly, leaning in and looking up.

She looked so pretty there in the moonlight. The pale silver light illuminated all of her features, and for a moment Vince found himself distracted, staring. Samantha’s skin had been kissed by summer, giving her this warmth that Vince wanted to lean into. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, so bright beneath stray blond locks that the breeze tossed into her face. And her lips, so pink, pouted and kissable, he was one mere temptation away from taking her face in both hands and drawing her in for a self-indulgent kiss that would answer so many of the questions that plagued her.

But his silence didn’t lure her in. It left her fumbling with the sleeves of her sweater as she sought any semblance of clarification. “I mean, I know why you wouldn’t have before, but I’m still my brother’s baby sister…”

That would never change.

Samantha would always be Miles’ baby sister. 5 years younger than both of them. The kid they were stuck babysitting for years - but she wasn’t a kid anymore. And he couldn’t offer her a more complicated answer, even though he wished he could. This wasn’t some love story of a lifetime in the making. This wasn’t some kind of connection he had felt for years, just waiting for the right moment to act on it.

No, this was primal. Selfish.

When Vince had found her in her bedroom, so vulnerable and leaving so little to the imagination, she showed him almost all of what she could offer him. That enough was enough to catch his attention, to plant that nagging thought of wanting to take her to bed. Then he learned she was still untouched. A virgin. And it only made her more desirable.

All he could think about was her tits, and now her ass as it peeked out from what little coverage her cotton panties and her sweatshirt concealed from him. It leaves his mouth dry, his tongue licking over his lips to moisten them.

Then, he doesn’t answer his question and instead asks one of his own.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Samantha narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re dodging my question.”

He nodded. She wasn’t wrong. But his mind was clouded, focused on her body, not her words, and he didn’t think he could string together an answer she deserved, never mind an answer she would want to hear.

“I respect your brother, but-”

“But?” Sam interjected, and she inched so close to him he had to shut his eyes to keep himself from temptation.

A low groan vibrated through him, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, knowing all too well he might regret what he was about to say. “Your first time should be something special.”

Her scoff was just short of a laugh and left Dunn’s stomach heavy. He was right. He regretted saying that.

“Your ego is, wow-” He could hear the smile in her voice as he let his eyes open to take in the darkness. Vince watched her as she stepped away from him and the railing and spun around as if her laughter was sweet music. When her feet stilled, Samantha leaned up against the screen door. It was then she spoke again, a smile in her words, “What makes you so special, Vince?”

“I know what I’m doing-”

She barely let him answer before she laughed again. Mocking him.

“Do you? On whose word, your own?”

Vince’s jaw set as he turned to face her fully, his eyes dragging over her features that were alight with amusement. She was playing a little game with him, and he was letting her.

“You want testimonials?”

“I don’t need to hear shit from the bunnies you fuck.”

There was a bit of harshness in her words, and Vince couldn’t tell if it was judgment or jealousy because she wasn’t wrong. Vince couldn’t even count the women he fucked since being drafted in 2015. Hell, even before that, he had developed a reputation for sleeping around. From the OHL to the AHL and the 3 seasons in the NHL that included a Stanley Cup Win - Vince had many options when it came to which women he took to bed. He had one in every city he played in and knew that the moment he sent that all too typical “you up?” text, they would be catching a cab to his hotel room. Because he was just that good in bed.

“Sounds like you’re jealous.” His words were a baseless accusation, but they challenged her in a way that left her confidence wavering for a moment before she found her words again.

“Jealous? No,” she hummed, her chin tilted up so she could meet his eyes. Samantha didn’t shy away from him, and Vince both loved and hated that. Part of him wanted her to be meek, to both accept the imminent collapse that would be her in his bed or go to the opposite extreme and reject him so harshly that he never contemplated the thought of being between her thighs again. Yet, she continued to toy with him just as he toyed with her.

“But I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. You’re hot, don’t get me wrong. But you’re also filthy rich. An athlete. I’d fake it too if that meant I might get a piece of that life. Fuck, some might just do it for the bragging right alone,” there was a humour in her voice, one that dropped into a low hum as her lips curled with her next words, “but I’d bet you couldn’t find the clit if I drew you a map.”

It was Vince who laughed as he took his lazy strides away from the porch railing. Bare feet stepped over wet wood, the chill coursing up the length of his now heated body. He felt on the verge of sweating as he came to stand toe to toe with Samantha, towering over her and trapping her with her back against the door. As if he could risk getting any closer to her, he took in a steady inhale as he braced himself against the screen door, giving her nowhere to run.

He stared down at her, and her up at him as they stood in silence. The only sound around them was the water of the lake in the distance crashing against the rocks on the shore and the trickle of water down the eavestrough as the remnants of the rain slowly faded into the night. Then, so faintly, yet so loudly in his ears, he heard Samantha take a quivering breath.

He was so close to her, and her to him, that he could feel the night’s chill on her body, and he was sure that she could feel every breath he took on her cheeks as he stared down at her.

“Let me warm you up a bit?”

Full pink lips parted to speak, but she found no words. His mere proximity had rendered her to silence, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Samantha could only nod as she looked up at him, her hands fisting the too-long sleeves of her sweatshirt.

If he had wanted to be cruel, he would have pulled back and went up to bed. To leave her standing there until she realized just how close he was to kissing her, to touching her. He would have loved to tease her, leaving her craving his kiss on her lips when she was just a breath away from having it. But not even Vince could deny himself of just a simple pleasure when he had gone through the entirety of his day at the cabin thinking about it.

Vince leaned in nice and slow, almost waiting for Samantha to speak a single word. To tell him to stop before he could even taste her, but that moment never came. Instead, he watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in a subtle breath as she welcomed the caution of his kiss. Her lips were smooth against his own, so soft and plush that Vince’s hand which had lain flat against the door gripped into a fist. Samantha returned his kiss, easing his cautions, and what little restraint he had was quickly dwindling.

His tongue ventured out through parted lips, coaxing her lips into parting and giving himself a taste of her. Vince’s tongue stroked against her own, and he heard the softest of moans as she let it slip into his mouth. She tasted sweet, like strawberries, and was only beginning to ease the hunger that consumed him.

It was a hunger that had him throwing all caution away now that he had gotten a taste of her. His body pressed firm into her while one hand remained up above her against the door. His other hand explored. It found the curve of her waist, craving so desperately to travel upwards to grope at her breast, but Vince’s touch travelled down. Down along the curve of her waist and over the swell of her lip before stroking over the skin of her exposed thigh and settling between her legs.

Samantha quivered as her breath hitched. Vince’s fingers had stroked over the thin cotton of her panties and dipped down just low enough to rest just over her clit. Then his hand stilled, and his kiss halted. Vince just stood there, his fingers a ghost of his touch over her clit without giving her the satisfaction of pressing into it.

Vince just wanted her to know that he knew exactly where it was.

Drawing back slowly, Vince smirked down at Samantha, who looked to be on the verge of collapsing if it wasn’t for the support of the screen door against her back.

“You should go back up to bed before we do something stupid,” Vince tells her slowly, and she still can only nod.

She took a moment to find her composure there against the door before she fixed her sweater and pushed off of it. She didn’t have to go far, taking only a mere step before she turned around and pulled it open to let herself inside. But he wasn’t following her, and it left her lingering in the doorway as she spoke. “You’re not coming?”

“I’m going to need a minute,” Vince admitted, stepping back to lean against the porch. The moonlight caught him just right and cast the shadow of his own erection against his thigh. He didn’t hide it. He wanted her to look. To see the effect she had on him, and what he can offer her in return.

And she noticed. It was clear in how red her cheeks became, and how quick she was to look away when he caught her admiring the outline of his cock. Samantha’s hair fell down into her face in a golden curtain that hid her bashful smile as she retreated through the door with nothing more than a simple, “goodnight”.

It shut hollowly behind her, leaving Vince to stand on his own. He welcomed the breeze, and he welcomed the quiet, but calm did not come as easily. Vince has to fight off every corrupt thought, the feeling of her skin that lingered on his fingertips and the taste of her on his tongue. The mere essence of her remained with him even after the night’s cold shocked Vince back into a calm, and as he returned inside. Samantha was a lingering thought as he moved through the main level, up the spiral staircase, and when he stopped just outside her door.

His eyes dragged up and down the door frame, fixating on the tarnished handle as he stepped a little closer, his hand outstretched, only for it to ball into a fist before he could take it in his hold. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. And he sighed as he took a step back and retreated into his room for a restless night of sleep.

Come morning, Vince did what he should have done since he caught Samantha in her room. He kept his distance. After a restless night, he woke up with the sun. It was barely cresting over the horizon when he had pulled on his sneakers and went for a run through the familiar trails that wound through the trees that surrounded the cabin. When he returned, Sam and Miles were both making breakfast. And while his stomach growled with hunger, he made his excuses and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower. It was only when the kitchen was clear; that he stood at the counter and ate breakfast alone. Strawberries, eggs, and toast. The strawberries were all that remained on his plate when he was done, knowing he could not last a day where the taste of them lingered on his tongue.

Then Vince spent his day away from the cabin, out on the water. Unlike the day before when the rain left it feeling more like autumn than the last long weekend of summer, the sun was out in full force before noon. He enjoyed every moment of its warm embrace as he whipped around the lake on the back of a jet ski.

Out on the lake, it was just him and Miles. The perfect distraction from the temptations that waited for him back at the cabin. But it didn’t keep his mind from wandering, wondering. When the warmth of the sun met the chill of the water and didn’t shock him, Vince thought about Samantha. About what happened the night before, and what she might be doing. He hadn’t seen her since he had given her the cold shoulder at breakfast, but it didn’t stop him from hoping that she was staying out of trouble.

Vince got his answer when he pulled up at the dock behind Miles just after noon. Samantha was down by the edge of the water, her body glistening with water as she climbed out from a swim. Even from a distance, he could see how it glimmered like glitter as it travelled down her curves as she made no effort to dry off. She had pulled her hair up in a claw lip, giving him a better view of her body than she had unintentionally given him the day before. And her blue and white gingham bikini was too tiny, leaving very little to the imagination. She might as well have been standing in front of him naked.

Vince had to bite his tongue as he threw his life jacket down on the dock. He wanted to desperately to tell her to go inside, to put some clothes on, but he couldn’t give any suggestion that his view of her had changed. Vince needed to be unbothered, even if the mere sight of her made his skin crawl in the best of ways. Especially as Miles led the way back up to the cabin.

With his eyes fixated on the ground, Vince followed Miles’ path with no guidance beyond watching his ankles. It was the only way he could keep himself from staring at Samantha as they walked up the dock - but the moment Miles called out to his sister, Vince’s eyes strayed from his hollow steps on the dock and found their way back to Samantha.

She had settled back in a lounge chair at the edge of the water, her petite body sprawled out in a way that almost looked staged. Like she was waiting for someone to take her picture. Sam wanted him to look at her. And in her hands, she held a book. Not that Vince cared to notice it as his eyes dragged up the length of her legs. It was her brother who made him aware of it in the cradle of her hold.

“Good book?” Miles’ words were simple as he approached his sister, Vince following in his shadow.

“Very. I’m almost done,” Samantha held up her book with one hand, and let the other fall on her sunglasses to push them back up into her hair, “just started today.”

“You’ve been out there that long?” Miles asked, and Vince almost groaned. He just wanted to get back in the house, but he wasn’t about to push past Miles to do it.

It would beg too many questions if he didn’t loiter. If he didn’t wait for the two siblings to finish whatever mundane conversation they were having.

“Yeah,” her answer was slow as she looked past her book, and to her brother and for a moment Vince was sure her eyes flickered to him. Just to make sure he was looking. And he was. So shamefully, he was.

“Did you put on sunscreen?” Miles' question left both Vince and Samantha groaning, and he could only hope that Miles didn’t notice.

“Of course,” Sam sat up, almost offended by the accusation, and her breast seemed to bounce at the motion. Testing the flimsy hold of her bikini and catching the stare of his eyes as they settled.

“Recently?”

“You sound just like mom,” Sam tossed back at Miles and set her book down on the chair beside her and she reached for her sunscreen.

It was the end of her conversation with her brother, sending him up the path back up to the house. And Vince moved after him, but Samantha wasn’t done with him yet.

“Vince, hey,” she called out to him, stilling his steps and drawing his gaze back to her as she sat in her chair, “can you help me get my back?”

Sam wore a devilish smile on her lips as she held out the sunscreen to him, wiggling it silently as if her body alone wasn’t enough to entice him.

“Sammy,” Vince sighed, his jaw slack as his eyes rolled.

She shouldn’t be asking him to do these things, but she knew that.

And he should have said no and gone back up to the house with Miles, but he couldn’t. She knew that too.

“Please,” she pouted her bottom lip out at him, and it had him backtracking.

The smile Sam gave him was one of triumph as he took the sunscreen from her hand and sat down on the chair next to her. He kept his eyes fixated on the bottle and the lotion as he squeezed it out into the palm of his hand. It was all he could do to keep himself from staring, but he regretted it the moment he looked up.

While he had been distracting himself, Samantha had reached back with both hands and unknotted the back of her strapless bikini. Vince had looked up just in time to watch as the wet bathing suit fell away and he panicked.

With one hand full of sunscreen, he dropped the bottle that he held in the other and reached out to her. It was a reflex that fried his every thought process. One moment, he was telling himself he needed to stop the fabric from falling away from her body. He needed to stop Samantha from exposing her breasts. And the next, he froze, mere inches from her body at the realization that if he stopped that fabric from falling, he would have a hand full of her breast.

His hand flexed as he flinched back, his eyes narrowing as the fabric fell, but her arms came up to cradle her breast in her hold. He wanted to curse at her, to shout for being so reckless, but he didn’t want to draw in any unnecessary attention.

Vince could only sigh.

“Jesus, Sammy. What are you doing?”

Her smile was unwavering as she sat there facing him so confidently with her smile. Not even the risk of her own breast spilling over the hold of her arms had her shying away from him as she innocently answered, “What? I don’t want to get tan lines!”

And he almost believed her. Almost.

If it weren’t for the testing twinkle in her eyes, he would have thought it was an innocent thing. But paired with her little smirk, Vince knew she was teasing him.

He watched as she turned in place so that her back was to him. A heavy breath caught in his chest when he thought she might have to reach a hand up to hold her hair away from her back before his eyes flicked up to the clip that held her hair in place. The clip alone helped put him a little at ease, even if his body was rigid as he reached out to spread the lotion over the flesh of her back. His hand moved in gentle strokes as his eyes looked up at the cabin to ensure her brother had gone inside before he let his eyes return to her.

Before he could see it, Vince could feel Sam’s reaction to his touch. She was melting beneath his fingers, her shoulders falling forward and her head lulling back on her shoulders. Vince watched as the tension of her muscles disappeared and he smirked as she leaned back into the caress of his hands.

“I think you’re just making up excuses for me to touch you,” his words were a low growl as he leaned in to mutter them in her ear. There was a long moment of silence that fell between them, and he waited for her to deny it, but she didn’t. “You like how my hands feel on your body?”

His words hit her in a breath, and she refused to answer him with words. But her body was all he needed to know about the effect he was having on her. He noticed how her toes flex in anticipation, and how her hips angled her pelvis down. Vince couldn’t see what exactly Sam had angled herself into, but he was sure she was one touch away from grinding against the lounge chair.

“My offer still stands,” Vince told her as his hands settled on the curve of her waist and gripped her flesh carefully. It’s a touch that leaves her glancing over her shoulder at him, her face-framing strands falling into her eyes as she bites at her lower lip.

There was no more wonder. No more contemplation. She wanted him and Vince could only wish that he could take her right then and there, but it was too risky. Too stupid.

“Tonight?” she offered in a quiet yelp as Vince guided her hips in a careful roll that sent her cunt grinding against the lounge chair.

“No, we can’t do it here, not with your brother around,” Vince sighed, leaning forward to place a careful, reassuring kiss on her shoulder, “I have an idea, but you’re going to have to follow my lead. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “okay.”

With her answer, Vince left her there, out on the lawn in the embrace of the sun, and didn’t see her again until dinner.

The three of them sat around the small dining table, the sound of forks scraping against glassware filling the silence between mouthfuls and casual conversation. It was with them, all together, that Vince could put his attempt of a plan into motion.

“Hey, man,” Vince nodded to Miles across the table casually, “can I take your truck into town in the morning? Early. I just want to grab a few things, and I don’t think my car will handle the back roads.”

His eyes glanced over at Sam as he spoke. This is it, princess, he thought as she watched her straighten up in her seat, her fingers toying with the drawstring on her sweatshirt hood.

“Yeah, go for it,” was the answer Vince expected, and the one that Miles gave to him.

“Thanks man, I-”

“Vince,” Sam cut in, and Vince had to try not to smile. “Do you mind if I tag along? I, ah, I need a few things.” The way she emphasized the word, things didn’t leave room for Vince or Miles to question it.

All Vince needed to do was accept, and he did it with a look of annoyance to hide the satisfaction that had him melting back into his seat. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just be up on time or I’m leaving without you-”

On the cold morning, the truck’s windows were fogged, and the cab left chilled even as the motor ran. Vince’s stiff, tired fingers toyed with the dials of the air conditioning that was left on. He was quick to turn it off, replacing the cool air with a gust of warmth that left him leaning back in the driver’s seat. Beside him, resting on the bench seat, was a pile of heavy blankets and on top of them was the box of condoms. He couldn’t hide the crooked smile that consumed him at the sight of the tattered cardboard as his head leaned back against the headrest. He had waited all weekend to get to use them. His original intention was to pick up some random, desperate woman from the beach, but his plans quickly changed because of Samantha. And while it left a heavy feeling in his gut, his cock was already half-hard just waiting for her.

Watching through a patch in the window that he had wiped clear of the fog with his fist, Vince waited. For how long, he didn’t really know, but it was long enough that doubt crept in. His hot breath mixed with the cold air, and would fog up the window once and then again as he watched the front door. There was no sign of life. No light. No movement. No Samantha.

Eyes dropped to the bright, blue-green glow of the digital clock. It was still early. Earlier than he told her, but even he got nervous when the stakes were high. The minutes ticked by and Vince began making excuses as to why he didn’t make it into town after all for when Samantha didn’t join him - but then the front door opened and a wave of relief hit him.

Samantha left the house as if her brother didn’t know that the two of them had plans to run into town. Her every moment was slow, deliberate and careful, and she had the hood of her zip-up sweatshirt pulled up over her head as if she needed to conceal who she was. It left Vince chuckling as she climbed into the seat next to him, her blonde hair framing her face and the bright blue of her eyes as she looked at him.

“What?” she asked him slowly, a weakness in her voice that sounded more like insecurity than sleepiness.

“It’s nothing,” Vince assured her slowly, his hand reaching up to throw the truck into reverse before Sam could put her seatbelt on, “you’re just a dork. Sneaking out like that. Your brother knows we’re going out.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, her hands reaching up to push her hood back, “right.”

Together, they sat in the truck cab in silence as they drove down the road. The fog beaded into drops of moisture, streaking down the windows as the heat cleared it away. On the horizon the sun was only just rising, flooding the dark skies with the many shades of sunrise. It was a beautiful sight, even with heavy tired eyes, even if they wouldn’t be able to see it for long as he turned down a back road that was smothered by the overgrowth of towering trees.

Thin branches reached out over the narrow road, their baring branches hitting and scratching at the truck as it passed. The tires kicked up the dirt, and even while he slowed, it left a dust cloud in their wake. It wasn’t an unfamiliar road. Miles’ dad had taken them all fishing when they were kids, just beyond the dead end. Where the road met thick brush, and beyond it the water. But the paths once taken had long since grown over, and there were no other vehicles parked along the edge of the road. There would be no one to interrupt them for now, but Vince knew they would have to be vigilant.

“Alright, get in the back,” Vince broke the silence, his hand reaching out for the pile of blankets.

He tucked them under his arm, and in his hand, he carried the box of condoms in his firm grip as he slid out of the driver’s seat and rounded back to climb into the truck bed. The truck bed was cold and it wouldn’t be the most comfortable of things for her, but Vince was going to do his best. Tossing the condoms down, he unfolded one blanket and laid it out, then another. The third he would use to keep them warm.

Samantha stood at the end of the bed, watching him with curious eyes before letting herself climb up into the bed with him. He watched her as she crawled up the length of it. Her black leggings hugged her body with each movement, right down to her chunky white sneakers on her feet. She looked like she was going for a run more than she looked to be going to a dick appointment. But she was comfortable as she sat down at his side - a little nervous, but comfortable all the same and it left Vince smiling.

“Come ‘here,” he coaxed her as he reached across the little space between them for her hand.

He held it carefully in his hold, giving it a careful tug to draw her in close, only to drop it when she was near enough to place his hands on her hips. His hold on her was gentle, his thumbs stroking over the swell of her hipbone as he guided her down to straddle his hips. Vince could feel her warmth on every side of him, bleeding through the thick fabric of his black hooded sweatshirt and his grey sweatpants as they warmed between her thighs. With her there, he took a moment to admire her, his bright eyes flickering over her softened features. She was doing a good job of hiding her nerves, but he could still see it there in her eyes, as she couldn’t quite meet his own.

When he spoke, his hand moving up and down over her thighs in a soft stroke as he did so, he only made it worse. “Alright, Sammy, tell me what I’m working with.”

Her gaze shifted from where they seemed to stare at his lips to the trees beyond as she chewed at her bottom lip, “I, um.”

She was hesitating. Unsure of what exactly he was asking, or too nervous to tell him the dirty little details he didn’t know, he encouraged her all the same. “How far have you gone before?”

Sam blushed, her eyes coming to find his face again, and only for a moment did he meet his eyes. “Over the clothes.”

“And what do you do when you’re by yourself?”

“Vince!” His name was soft on her tongue, her eyes wide as her mouth full agape. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that.

“Hey,” he met her, his own voice dropping to her softness as he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, “You don’t have to worry with me, okay? I’m not here to judge you,” she relaxed into his touch, a heavy sigh rocking her body, “and if I’m going to fuck you, Princess, I want to know what you like and what you’re going to be able to handle-”

Her insecurity broke, her lips spaying into a confident smile as she leaned in to challenge him. “I can handle anything you give me.”

There she was. The Samantha that was so eager to toy with him.

“Humour me then?” His head cocked as his hand left her cheek and traced the outline of her curves. It ghosted over the swell of her breasts, and his hand hesitated there for a moment. Vince craved to grope a handful, but his touch travelled over her waist and settled on her hips once more. He gripped them tight and guided them into their first gentle roll over his cock.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut at the friction. Her lips parted in a silent gasp before she could bite down on her lower lip.

“How often?” Vince asked.

“Often,” was her simple, feeble response.

A smile grew over Vince’s lips as she crumbled for him. He sat up from where he leaned against the back window of the truck and leaned in. She had found her rhythm, her lips rolling over his slowly, but not enough to tease him. She, much like him, was too eager to wait. Vince’s eyes shut as he fought off a groan of his own, his face finding the warmth of her neck just below her ear. It was there he kissed her, his hot breath warming her skin as he muttered, “Fingers or toys?”

“Fingers.”

His lips dragged over the smooth angle of her jaw in a slow kiss before he spoke again, “Clit or-”

“Vince-”

He kissed down her neck, his teeth grazing over her flesh as he tried to coax an answer from her. “Sam.”

She hesitated, and it had Vince leaning back to look up at her. No answer. No sex.

Pouting in his lap, Sam let out an embarrassed huff. “You know the answer.”

“How many fingers?”

Her face was bright red, her skin so hot that Vince forgot that he had been cold. And while she hesitated, she answered him, “Two.”

Vince’s hands left her hips and took hold of one of hers. He drew it up so she could see it in front of her. There, his palm met hers and they compared how much bigger his hands and fingers were to hers. He let her stare, her eyes wide as her tongue stroked over her bottom lip. He knew exactly what she was thinking about at that moment without her needing to say a word. Vince had planted the very thought of wondering what his fingers would feel like as they plunged into her core. And he felt her shudder.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, “but you have to promise me that if it becomes too much, or it hurts, you tell me to stop. Got that?”

Samantha nodded slowly, her teeth biting her lip before she let it fall with her words. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” he praised her, and she shuddered again.

She liked praise. And he noted it.

“So,” she hummed slowly, “where do we start?” Vince could only hush her as his hand reached up to stroke through her thick blond hair. His fingers toyed with her soft strands as he pushed them away from her face before they came to rest at the nape of her neck. With that hold, he guided her in and met her lips in a kiss.

There was no caution between them. No hesitation as their lips fell into that same hunger that they had fought back on the porch during the night he had let his desire to fuck her swelter cloud every bit of her better judgement. Her tongue was in his mouth, her hands were in her hair. Tangled in each tendril as he held her head in his hands. Thumbs coaxed her carefully, guiding her mouth open further. The kiss became sloppy, saliva-coated chins and teeth clashed in the desperation of it all. And then his hands dropped.

Samantha had maintained the careful roll of her hips over his raging cock, so she didn’t need his help there. Now, he got to explore.

There was no stopping how his smile splayed over his lips as his hands found the swells of her breast and brushed over them in a feather-light touch. Vince had wanted to indulge himself in them from the very moment he had spotted her there in her bed, and now he was finally going to get the chance. A single hand found the zipper of her sweatshirt, and he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger before dragging it down. It took all of his willpower not to break the kiss and not to look down to see what she wore beneath her sweater. His hands got to do all the exploring as he pushed the sweater open, but not off of her. And he let out his first audible groan when he felt what was beneath.

Samantha wore nothing but what felt like a lacey bralette beneath her sweater as the delicate fabric that dropped off to her smooth flesh greeted Vince’s fingertips. His hands moved blindly, stoking over soft skin and fingers hooked on the flimsy fabric that concealed her breasts and pulled it down. There was no holding back now, not as he could feel the heavy weight of them spill over the excuse of a hold that was the bralette. He needed to see them.

Strong arms embraced Sam around her middle, coiling around her as Vince broke the kiss in a desperate gasp. So selfishly, he housed her up to sit just a little high on her hips so that the very swells of her cleavage were in his sight. His lips came together in a satisfied hum, his hands gripping at the bralette in both hands to fully rid her chest of it before taking a breast in each hand. Large hands kneaded at her flesh, groaning when Samantha’s breasts seemed to overflow from his hold.

They weren’t better than he had imagined. So full, so soft, and so tempting to his mouth as Vince leaned in to place sloppy open-mouthed kisses over the swells of her breasts. Then his lips travelled down, his tongue lapping over a single pert nipple before he was taking it fully in his mouth.

He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of his mouth, or the stroke of his tongue that coaxed it out of her, but with his mouth consuming her breast, Samantha’s lips parted in a soft sweet gasp. It had Vince smiling against her flesh. But what he liked more was how her hands stoked up the back of his neck and found his curls. He could feel the gentle scratch of her manicured nails over his scalp as her fingers knitted and tugged carefully at his locks. It sent a hum of pleasure buzzing through him, one that had his hands drop to her hips to get a good grip on her. And then he flipped her, her breast falling from his mouth as her back hit the truck bed, and quaking with the impact.

A heavy breath left him as his eyes fixated on her breast again, watching them bouse as they settled and a groan ripped up the back of his throat. Selfishly, he wanted to fuck them. To press them together with his hands and thrust his cock between them until he came. And he would unload all over them and watch it drip down over each swell.

The thought alone made his cock throb.

But that’s not why they were there - and he was done holding back.

“You’ve got such a great body,” he complimented her in a rush of words that sounded more like one as his hands traced the curve of her waist and settled at the top of her tight black leggings.

He gripped the fabric in his fists and tugged them down the length of her legs, only to hit her sneakers. Two kicks of her feet and they were gone, leaving her in her panties and her unzipped sweatshirt beneath him. Then, he reached up, pulling off his own sweatshirt, baring his chest to her, and shivering in the breeze. Vince’s mouth opened to apologize for the cold, but his words were unspoken as Samantha leaned forward, her lips kissing over the toned muscles of his abdomen.

And he just smiled.

That was the beauty of sex. It didn’t need to be learned or taught. It was all instinct. Once he had gotten her caught up in the moment, in the rush of the feeling, Samantha knew exactly what to do. Biting his lip, Vince’s head lulled back. He relished in the feeling of her sweet pink lips against his skin, and every breath that washed over him. But there was a risk in taking his take with her. At any moment, another truck could roll up, and he intended to get back to the house long before Miles woke up.

Reaching out with one hand, he took hold of the third and final blanket while the other stroked back Samantha’s hair from her face. “Lay back, Princess.”

She didn’t hesitate, and Vince positioned himself fully between her thighs. His hands made quick work of the blanket, draping it over his back and leaning in close so that it fell over them both to give them some semblance of warmth. Then his hands were on her body once more. He stroked down over her thighs before dipping down into the heat between them. The skin of Samantha’s inner thigh was so delicately soft that Vince was almost worried that the hardworking callouses on his palms might hurt her. But any thought of worry was gone the moment a single finger stroked over the damp fabric at the crotch of her panties.

“You’re so nice and wet for me,” his words were a growl as his fingers settled on her clit. This time, he didn’t just tease her with the very knowing of where it was. Vince pressed into the sensitive nerves, stroking her slowly and coaxing her into a heavy breath and the careful buck of her hips.

“Would you like me to take these pretty little panties off?”

Nothing more than Samantha’s desperate nods met his question, and Vince didn’t make her wait. The careful rise of her hips helped him as his finger hooked along the thin fabric and dragged it down. She was already such a mess for him, and he’d barely touched her. Vince could see it in how her face softened for him and felt it against his fingers as he slipped her panties from her ankles and took them in his fist. He gripped them tight for a moment before he shoved them into the pocket of his sweatpants.

As to not to lose them - or maybe to keep them as a souvenir.

He smiled at the thought of getting to keep them. Of getting to bring them back to St Louis and keeping them in his own drawer. And it had fully consumed him as he leaned in close and let his hand settle between her legs again. Bare for him, he could feel everything. From her clit to the slickness of her core, he stroked her with a single finger. Gathering that sweet arousal around his index finger before he eased it into the tightness of her cunt.

His thrust was slow, careful as he eased into her inch by inch until he was knuckle deep.

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged her in a hit whisper that washed over her face as she let out a silent moan, “doing so good for me, you want another?”

He met her eyes that seemed to flutter with every careful pump of his fingers, earning a sweet, “Yes, yes, Vince, please,” from her lips.

“Ready?” he asked her, his words as slow and agonizing as his last thrust with his single finger. And before she could answer, his middle finger had joined in on the plunge, stealing her words and sending a moan into the air.

Birds in the trees above flew in a flock from the treetops, startled by the noise. “Easy there, Princess, it might not just be me and you out here,” Vince cautions her, his eyes meeting hers and he feels her core flex around his fingers. “Oh?” his head cocked. “You like that? The idea of being caught? That someone could walk out of the trees or drive in from the main road and catch us here. My fingers knuckle deep in your pretty little pussy.”

Each word coaxed out a heavy breath, and her walls squeezed around his fingers in a warm embrace that left Vince salivating. He was so close to making her come already. And it was a good thing too. The tension between them over the last two days had left him on edge. Once he had her, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he would like to with her.

“You ready for my cock, princess?”

Samantha let out a weak hum and reached out her hands to tug at his sweatpants that already hung low on his hips. The tips of her fingers grazed over his flesh, tracing over the angles of his toned body as she brought them down just enough that his cock sprang free. Vince had half hoped to see a shocked expression take her features, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think his cock wasn’t the first she’d seen. He had been one or more unsolicited dick-pic away from that honor, but he was going to be the first of what really mattered.

Vince reached out for the almost forgotten box of condoms, crushing the already battered cardboard in his hold as he fished for the foil package with two fingers. Securing it, he tossed the box aside again, spilling the contents in the truck bed, before ripping open the package and working the thin latex onto his cock. Choking back a groan at the stroke of his own hand, Vince asked, “You watch porn?”

She didn’t shy away from answering him now that her mind was dizzy with lust. “Yeah,”

“Forget everything you’ve ever watched for a second, and just enjoy the moment, the feeling.”

Vince had pressed the top of his cock to the narrow entrance of her core before he could finish speaking. The very pressure of the tip punctuated his words as it eased his way into the embrace of her walls. She was warm, warmer even as Vince leaned in to press his body flush against hers. All the morning cold seemed to disappear around him, the warmth of her body all so consuming as she entwined herself with his by body and limb. He could feel all of her, from how her feet dragged down the length of his lengths before hooking behind his knees to how one hand knitted in the curls of his hair while the other scratched and gripped at his back. But her hold on him, and the slow, steady and deep thrusts, were not enough to keep them anchored in place in the back of her brother’s truck.

Reaching his hand out, Vince pressed it firmly against the cold glass window. The temperate sent a shock right through him. It was such an intense contrast to her warmth, to the pulse of her core around his cock with every one of his thrusts. He fucked her good and slow, kissing her slowly just to feel her sweet moans against his own lips as if he could taste them. And then her climax hit her, so hard he could feel every wave as it consumed her. Vince could feel her legs weaken and tremble, and her grasp on him only grew tighter, as she didn’t quite know yet how to handle the intensity of the pleasure he had brought her.

The pulling on his hair, the coaxing of her core and the squeeze of her legs around his tights brought his own soft groans as he fell into the chase of his own high. His every movement that followed was primal. The sound that left his lips uncontrollable as his thrusts hastened, and his cock twitched against her core’s insistent grasp. Pleasure strangled his final moan as his hips crashed into hers and Vince kept himself buried deep inside her cunt as he unloaded. It left him panting, sweating, groaning, relieved as he had finally gotten what he had been craving the entire long weekend.

Yet, he felt a sense of disappointment. He wished he could have been able to take his time with her. To really enjoy her and teach her a few things outside of being a pretty little pillow princess.

“Fuck, I could have so much fun with you,” Vince told her in a low muttering that he was sure would become lost in the wind. And it was the truth. She had the perfect body, and Sam was still so impressionable in the bedroom. Vince wanted to be the one who walked her through all of it. To be the one who ruined every single other man for her. But she would be off to university in a few days, and he had to report to training camp. Even if he wanted her, there would be too great a distance between to satiate and desire that took him.

Drawing out of her, Vince eased the condom from his cock and pulled his sweatpants up quickly. Fingers knotted up the end, and with little regret, he tossed it into the grass beside the road before he hunted down his clothes. The two of them moved around the truck bed, gathering their things and shrugging into their clothes in silence. That fact left worry hanging heavily in Vince’s stomach. By now, women would have complimented him on anything, everything, desperate to get inside his head after a hookup. But Sam had barely met his eyes as he stared at her breasts one last time before Sam zipped up her sweater.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, coming to stand in front of him, but she didn’t offer another word to him. Instead, she leaned in and pressed up onto her toes to place a simple kiss on his cheek, “but you might have to help me down.”

“I can do that,” Vince grinned and made that his priority.

He jumped down from the truck bed and reached his arms out to her. Hands settled on the curve of her waist and lifted her down with ease. But he didn’t stop there. Vince wrapped one arm around her and watched her with soft eyes and an amused smile as she walked to the passenger side on weak legs. Her strides had been slow and careful, and he had been the one who did that to her.

“Get in. I’ll take care of the rest.” Vince helped her into the passenger’s seat before closing the door firmly behind her.

Then, he made quick work of the mess they made in the truck bed. Vince folded the blankets in on one another, hiding the stray condom that had fallen out of the box, and any traces of sex they may have left behind. They ended up in more a ball than nicely folded, and he tossed into the backseat before Vince found his seat and started up the engine just as another truck pulled into the end of the road.

The driver, an old man, his face thick with wrinkles and his smile friendly, so Vince rolled down the window and offered a friendly wave.

“Any luck out there this morning?”

His mind was cloudy, stuck in a bit of a daze of his own, and left confused by the stranger’s question before he watched him reach into the back of his truck for an old fishing rod.

“No, nothing for us, though we weren’t out long,” Vince upheld the friendly conversation as he reached his arm up to stretch over the back of the seat of the truck. He patted the soft leather of the bench seat, coaxing Samantha over to lean into his side casually. His hand stroked over her arm as he spoke to the man, the conversation falling on the nice weather the day was supposed to have for fishing, but it wasn’t long before he was wishing the man luck and Vince was putting the car in reverse.

With Sam pulled close to his side, he drove into town on the back roads in silence. Not that they really needed anything from the store, but Vince knew if they didn’t return with anything, Miles would get suspicious.

When they arrived, Vince left Samantha in the truck and went into the store alone. He grabbed odds and ends of things. Items that he could have easily forgotten to pack for the weekend, and he even bought Samantha a box of tampons just to cover all the bases before he returned to the truck. She had turned the music on and eased back into her place by his side on the bench seat, but they continued to ride in silence.

Vince could hear her every tired breath and the music that was just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to make out the lyrics. And when she rested her head on his shoulder, he almost groaned. The silence was getting to him, his own curiosities now eating away at him. Vince wanted to know what she was thinking, what she felt. But he was only a quick glance in the mirror from seeing that her eyes were softly closing, sleep threatening to take her as they travelled down the final stretch of road before they were back of the cabin.

He let her flirt with the idea of sleep, but the moment he pulled into the driveway his touch had found her face. He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head just enough to look up at him. Her eyes fluttered, and her smile pulled at her lips as just how close they were. And he smiled too as he whispered, “You still upset with me for scaring away your little friend?”

Her head shook slowly as she tried to look away to hide the smile that played on her lips, but his hold on her kept her in place. Days ago, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had screamed at him for what he did. Shouted, hell, he wouldn’t have put it past her if Sam had told him she hated him for what he did, but it was all very different now.

She had no frustration in her eyes. No anger.

“And how do you feel right now?”

Glancing back at him, Samantha could only shrug as her cheeks were the faintest shade of pink. There was a dreamy look on her face, one that Vince had seen so many times before. One of peace, one of calm and adoration.

Lust.

Longing.

Love.

“That’s the endorphins.” His words were soft, a long hum as his hands cupped her face in his hands. “You see, this is the shit they don’t teach you about sex in school. When I fucked you, made you feel so good, it fucked with your brain chemistry. Releases Oxytocin or some shit during orgasm.” His thumb trailed down her cheek oh so slowly, drawing her into a heavy breath that left her bottom lip quivering. Vince stroked it slowly. “Fucking dangerous thing it is. It’s why every time a man touches you from here on out, and he doesn’t get you there, you’re going to think of me. When you touch yourself, you’re going to think of me. And when you do, fucking call because I want to see the mess I’ve fucking turned you into.”

Samantha’s features softened, her eyes wide and her mouth agape in awe at his words. There was nothing she could say to change the effect he would have on her for the rest of her days. A little piece of her would always belong to him. It went beyond the physicality of it all, and Vince fucking loved that.

His thumb stroked over his lower lip one last time, knowing that just touching like that in the driveway was too great a risk, but he wanted more. Vince leaned in and kissed her hard. He wanted to taste her tongue later in the day when he wanted to fuck her, but could only reminisce about the feeling. His fingers nearly knotted in her hair. So close to drawing her in and fucking her in the truck cab, but the possibility of being caught by Miles there left an uncomfortable knot in his gut. Yet, he didn’t pull back until he knew her lips would swell from the kiss. But it might have been too late.

The front door was the first thing he looked at when Vince pulled back from Samantha, his hands still cradling her face. And his body flooded with panic when he saw the door wide open, and Miles making his way out the door, his eyes fixated on the gravel beneath his feet. The truck cab filled with a series of rushed curses as they rushed to put as much distance between themselves as possible. Samantha went as far as to press her back against the passenger side door. There the both of them stayed, panting, watching as her brother looked up towards the truck and he smiled.

Miles hadn’t seen a thing.

#vince dunn #vince dunn fanfic #vince dunn x original character #hockey rpf #hockey imagines #hockey romance #hockey smut #nhl fanfic #nhl rpf #nhl fanfiction #;; { i've been working on this for weeks it feels like }#;; { it may not be edited as well as some of the other fics }#;; { but it's long and i really wanted to get it out today }

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