#you can tell which of these summaries i had written before and also when i started running out of steam but i did want to share my ocs

[holybibly]

𝔗𝔬𝔬 𝔣𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔩 | Wooyoung x reader

Pairing: Step Brother's Best Friend Wooyoung x Reader Summary: When the summer heat hits the city, all you want to do is lie around uder the air conditioning and do nothing. But your step-brother's best friend is showing you a whole new way to beat the hell out of the heat. Too hot to cuddle, but great to fuck. Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, f2l, fragment of life Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 5.2k Warnings: dom!Wooyoung, sub!reader, pussy drunk, face riding, unprotected sex, pet names, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, squirting and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet

A|N: Something that was supposed to be a normal unholy hour, but turned into a real little masterpiece. Written as part of the @cultofdionysusnet summer24 event. My hint: "too hot to cuddle" But, this is also a gift for you, my beautiful bunnies. There are officially more than 3k of you. I hope you all can take the heat, bunnies, for no summer swelter can compare to the hotness of Wooyoung.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @oddracha

A stifling heat wave has been terrorising your city for weeks now. The heavy, white-hot air was burning on skin and settling into lungs, making it hard to breathe normally. Life in the whole city practically stopped, as everyone preferred to stay in the coolness of their own homes and don't go outside unless you have to. Unfortunately, the air conditioner in your apartment broke down just before the heat wave hit the city, leaving you to face the scorching summer heat all alone. If it hadn't been for San, who had kindly offered to let you stay at his and Wooyoung's apartment until the air conditioner was fixed, it's hard to imagine how you would have survived. 

Their place just was amazing—big and bright, with a huge kitchen and a studio lounge, which was where you were now, curled up on the couch with a cold drink in one hand and your phone in the other. But most importantly, there was a big, powerful fan pointing at you and blowing cold air onto your heated, wet skin. 

The boys weren't home; San was probably at the gym with Yeosang and maybe Hongjoong, although you weren't sure if they could get the grumpy blue-haired boy to come with them, especially in the middle of the noon heat. And Wooyoung, well, you didn't really think much of him, but he definitely wasn't home. You could tell by the absence of his loud voice, ringing through the paper-thin walls. 

And maybe it was for the best, because you had found yourself staring at him too much lately, especially when the heat had forced him to wear tight black tank tops more often, revealing more of his smooth, caramel-golden skin covered in a light, shiny layer of sweat to everyone around him. It was hard for you to admit it, but perhaps, just perhaps, you had the strong desire to lick her like candy, even though you had doubts that Woo would be sweet on your tongue. 

You were sure the heat was to blame, because you just couldn't fall in love with your step brother's best friend, even though he was so damn tempting and had that subtle but noticeable vibe of hard dominance that you were so attracted to in guys. Everything about him screamed, Daddy. And if you were asked what you thought of him, you'd even say "Daddiest." Damn it, it was all those hormones of yours that were playing up because of the long absence of sex and the heat, and maybe because of Wooyoung's all too seductive, darker fox eyes. But it certainly wasn't love, or at least that is what you wanted to believe.

You stretched out your naked legs and scrolled absent-mindedly through your news feed, completely oblivious to the fact that Woo was standing in the doorway. A soft sigh escaped from his plump lips, slightly swollen from his compulsive habit of constantly biting them, and you finally pulled yourself away from your phone and looked up at him as you smiled softly. 

When he didn't say anything to you, you tilted your head to the side in confusion, because of which the strap of your tiny top slipped off your shoulder, exposing your breasts slightly as you noticed how focused and dark his gaze was. Sometimes you couldn't make out the expressions on his sculpted face, wondering if Wooyoung was angry, horny, or focused, which made it hard for you to communicate with him. But no matter what kind of emotions Wooyoung was feeling at any given moment, it was always a pretty intense one. 

Under the weight of his gaze, you fidgeted a little in your seat and belatedly adjusted the strap that had fallen off of your shoulder. In all honesty, you were pretty scantily clad, especially in view of the fact that you were sharing a flat with two hot and sexually active guys. 

And you probably should have dressed a little more decently, but the weather was really hot as hell, and you couldn't even think of wearing anything else but a tiny silk top and the same silk shorts that looked more like elongated panties and barely covered your plump, soft buttocks. You didn't think much of it, considering the boys themselves rarely wore anything but baggy pyjama pants or basketball shorts when they stayed at home, flaunting their tight, sculpted torsos and seductive muscles. 

At the moment, however, Wooyoung was having a real interior crisis about how seductive your thighs looked and how your tiny shorts tightened around your plump booty, leaving half of your buttocks completely exposed. Your top barely covered your heavy, juicy tits and showed off more of them than he could ever have imagined. Even from his seat, he could clearly see how swollen your candy pink nipples were under the thin silky fabric. Wooyoung silently turned on his heels and went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water, as if that would help him clear his mind of how thick and soft your thighs looked and how the thin strip of fabric between your legs was the only thing covering your small, plump pussy.

It was no secret that he found you attractive; even more of that, Wooyoung had found you sexy, so fucking fuckable, and he'd gotten that feeling a long time ago. Woo had never seen you before, until he and San had moved to Seoul after graduation. He only knew you nominally, because San just couldn't keep his mouth shut about his little stepsister's attractiveness. Fuck it, his buddy was drooling over you even more than he was, and once you were once a family, however briefly. But now that it was all in the past, there was nothing to connect you except decency, which was running out. He wasn't blind; Woo saw the way San looked at you because he looked at you the same way.

He'd wanted you from the second you stepped over the threshold of the flat he shared with San, and that desire grew even stronger with each passing day. Especially when you fuelled his fantasies by strutting around the house in your tiny pyjamas that barely covered your ass and perfectly contoured your cunt when you bent too low or squatted. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your breasts jiggled, barely contained by the skimpy top, as you cleaned the flat. Or the way your hard, swollen nipples showed through the thin, almost transparent fabric. Now, after a couple of weeks had passed, he could definitely tell that your nipples were a soft, deep pink colour, and your pussycat was always perfectly smooth and plump. 

But tonight... it was on a whole other level. The heat level in the city was at a hellish peak, and so was the level of sexual tension between the two of you, and considering that he hadn't had sex in a couple of weeks because of the damn heat, all of his senses were on edge. And while San was distracted from you by spending his days at the gym and running off to Seonghwa's apartment, Wooyoung had no choice but to face his temptation. 

He looked over his shoulder to find you still in the same position you had been a few minutes earlier, sprawled out on their soft grey sofa in your impossibly slutty pyjamas. His eyes slid down your body, taking in every detail—the way your shorts clung to your buttocks, the way the sweat dripped down into the hollow between your breasts, and the way you licked your lips, leaving them glistening and wet with saliva. Fuck, his cock twitched as the image of you running those very same lips over his cock, licking it like it was candy, flashed before his mind's eye. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He's in big trouble. Woo could feel his cock getting harder by the second, and there was no way he was going to make it back to his bedroom without you noticing the big bulge in his grey sweatpants. His eyes narrowed as you shifted slightly in your seat and spread your legs a little further apart so that he could now clearly see the fabric of your shorts digging in between your labia. The image of your juicy, thick thighs arranged on either side of his head as you lower your pussy to his face and rub your moist, soft folds against his tongue instantly appeared before his eyes.

"Fuck..." Wooyoung moaned loudly, and you turned all your attention to him immediately. With your mouth slightly agape in confusion and your eyes wide and shining, you were so adorable. Damn it, girl, you were just begging him to ruin you. 

"Wooyoung, are you okay?" The slightly confused, innocent tone of your voice made his cock twitch. It was already damned hard, the heavy, thick length throbbing with desire to feel the warm tightness of your cunt or the slippery wetness of your pretty mouth. 

The thought of you drooling on his cock made more pre-cum leak from his slit, coating the swollen, reddened head with a transparent glaze. Fuck, he'd give anything right now, just to see you licking up all the liquid with your naughty little tongue and looking up at him with your eyes wide open and glistening. He had to take a deep breath to keep himself from pouncing on you at that very moment. 

God knows he tried; he honestly tried to take his eyes off of your crotch and to push all those lewd and dirty thoughts of you away from him, but it was stronger than he was. There you were, right in front of him, all sweet and seductive, in those fucking pyjamas, spreading your legs for him. How the hell could he resist the urge to fuck you senseless when you were provoking him, even if not on purpose? Wooyoung was just being a man. Sue him for that. 

"It's okay, baby. It's just the heat." Yes, it was all because of the heat of your little cunt that was hidden by your silk shorts. He could almost see the little wet spot of your mucus on the thin material. God, he needs help. Where the hell's San? 

"Come sit with me; it's cooler here." You said with a flutter of your fluffy eyelashes and a slight puff of your chubby cheeks, a habit he knew you'd had since you were a child and one that drove San crazy, and it seemed he wasn't the only one. But that didn't surprise Woo at all. He and San had the same taste in everything from soju to pussy. "Please." You stroked over the spot next to you with your hand and continued to look at him with those bambi eyes of yours. 

How could he refuse you? It had all happened so quickly that Wooyoung hadn't even noticed how he had ended up on the couch next to you, with your legs touching his thigh. He spread his legs slightly to hide the bulge of his cock, but it didn't help; he was hard as a rock, his cock pressed tightly against his stomach, the reddened, swollen head almost peeking out from under his grey sweatpants. 

Your legs shifted a little, causing your shorts to rise even higher, and Woo let out a soft moan. Your eyes slid down the length of his body until they stopped at his crotch, causing you to catch your breath. You quickly put two and two together and finally realised what the situation was, and you couldn't say that it didn't turn you on. You swallowed hard and lifted your eyes back up to his face, only to find yourself immediately trapped by his dark, intense gaze. Wooyoung was literally devouring you with his eyes as the tip of his tongue was poking out of the corner of his plump lips.

"Wooyoung...you...I..." You started to stutter, particularly when you felt his hot palm come down on your thigh. His skin was slightly rough, and his touch was possessive and heavy, but it only turned you on more. "I-I...do you need help with that?" You immediately wanted to cover your mouth with your hand as soon as those words left your mouth. 

What the hell are you even thinking? Lack of sex because of the heat shouldn't be a reason to fuck your stepbrother's best friend. And maybe you wouldn't mind San fucking you too, but that's a whole other story. Right now, your brain was feverishly searching for options for escape, but the way Wooyoung's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh made you focus all your attention on the awfully sexy guy right in front of you. His tongue came completely out of his mouth, only to run it slowly across his sensual lips. He was doing it on purpose; you were sure of it because this vixen knew exactly your weakness for his lips. 

There was something special about boys with full lips; you know what they say: They eat pussy like champions, and maybe you wouldn't mind trying it out with Wooyoung.

"Mmm, how can I refuse when you offer so kindly, baby?" Wooyoung begins, squeezing your thigh harder as he moves closer to you. Your breathing becomes heavy as the thick, rich scent of his perfume infiltrates all your senses. His handsome face is now so close to you that you can clearly see the small mole on his lower lip. Oh shit, that was not good. "You have no idea how much I want to feel that mouth around my cock." The tone of his voice is husky and sultry, sending shivers of excitement through your body, or is it because Wooyoung wraps his hand around your cheek and runs his thumb over your lips? You don't even know what to say back, too lost in the feeling of his touch on you. The feeling of his hot breath on your parted lips makes your brain soft and fuzzy. God, if he kisses you, you're going to melt faster than ice and you won't be able to blame the hellishly high heat index any more. "But for now..." You whimpered softly into his mouth as his tongue slid over your lips. "I want you to sit on my face, princess, and ride on my tongue until you cum in my mouth." Your whole body felt as if it had been immersed in boiling water, the scorching heat of excitement coursing through your veins as he said this, and your hand gripped the back of Wooyoung's head, preventing him from pulling away from you.

"Please..." You whispered against his lips. Your breathing was heavy and damp, as if you had a fever, and you could feel the sweat beginning to run down your neck to the hollow between your breasts. But now you couldn't blame it on the abnormal summer heat; it was all Wooyoung's fault. He was the one who made you burn. And be that as it may, it was too hot outside for a cuddle, but it was perfect for a fuck. 

"Damn, baby, come here." Wooyoung pushed himself off of you, and you followed him, throwing your legs over him so that you were now sitting on top of him. You arch your back and press yourself harder against him, the head of his cock sticking out from under the waistband of his sweatpants and touching your clothed pussy, making you moan. "You're very sensitive, aren't you?" Woo grins, all sly and devious. There's a devilish sparkle in his dark, foxy eyes, and his lips slowly curve into a wicked grin. He lifts his hips harder, pressing the head of his cock against your cunt, greedily swallowing your needy moans as your hips jerk at the slightest bit of stimulation he gives you. Wooyoung can't wait for his tongue to plunge into your wet pussy. 

"Wooyoung..." You whine, sliding your hands down his chest and gathering the thin fabric of his sleeveless top in your fists. His skin is damp and glistening with sweat, so hot and as if lava rather than blood flows beneath it; his sugary brown nipples have hardened, and you have the urge to press your mouth to them and run your tongue around the silver metal of his piercings. Hell, how could you resist when the boy was hotter than hell?

"So needy, baby." Woo wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you up to his face to lick your open mouth. "Don't worry, Peach, I'll give you everything and more. I'll eat you until you pass out." Wooyoung says it like a promise. A statement made with all the arrogance and selfishness of a man who knows he can do it. "Let's get this off you, baby." His fingers cling to the waistband of your silk shorts, the veins on his forearms swelling seductively from tension, and the sight of them makes your mouth water. 

Hot, so damn hot, you can't resist him. Foxy eyes sparkle as he pulls the shorts off your hips, moaning deeply when he sees that you're wearing nothing under those tiny shorts. You lift yourself up slightly to make things easier for him, your hands resting on his tense shoulders, the collar of his top wide enough to expose his sharp collarbones, and you can't help but press your mouth against them, licking greedily at his brackish skin. Wooyoung tastes like summer itself: sea breezes, the bittersweetness of a piña colada, passionate beach sex under a golden sunset. You moan into his skin, clinging to his shoulders, your fingers gliding lightly over damp skin, leaving red streaks.

 "Shit..." Wooyoung throws his head back as you begin to suck, leaving a scarlet red mark on his skin. He tugs impatiently at your shorts until he pulls them completely off you and tosses them aside. His hands are immediately on your buttocks, squeezing the soft, plump flesh and pulling them wide apart. 

The cool air from the fan kisses your heated centre, and you arch up into Wooyoung's arms, finally pulling away from his collarbone only to let your tongue run down the length of his thick, tense neck. The bulging veins pulsate beneath your tongue as you lick his neck and leave sloppy kisses with your open mouth on it. 

"Mmm, I love what you do, baby, but I can't stand it any longer." He removes one hand from your arse, and instead of this tangling his fingers in your hair, he clutches the strands in his fist as he pulls your head away from his neck. You looked so fucked up already, with those swollen lips, that flushed, wet skin, and that unfocused look in your eyes. Fuck, you'd be the death of him. "So fucking beautiful." Wooyoung pulls you close to him for a kiss, followed by a hard slap on your bottom. 

"Ah...Woo..." You scream at the force of his slap and feel the tender skin on your bottom begin to burn and tingle.

"Rise." Wooyoung commands you, and you obey. As soon as you give him enough room for movement, he slides to the floor and settles between your thighs. His head rests comfortably on the soft seat of the couch, nestled between your juicy thighs, and Wooyoung practically gasps to see your wet little cunt so close to his face. His cock throbs painfully, and Woo runs his hand through his grey sweatpants, squeezing it in his palm to ease the tension. "Enjoy the ride, peach." He says as he wraps his hands around your hips, kneading the flesh and finally pulling your labia apart so that your cunt is fully exposed to his hungry gaze. 

He moans softly as he admires your beautiful pussy, so wet and swollen. It is so sticky and pink, like a ripe fruit—so sweet and delicious. Wooyoung's mouth fills with saliva, and he snarls through his teeth as he sees the thick, viscous drop of your slime dripping out of your pretty little hole. Fuck, he wants to see it all stretched out and gaping, quality fucked on his tongue, on his fingers, on his cock. He wants to fuck you stupid until you're a crying, drooling mess. 

"That's it, baby, sit down." Wooyoung gasps, squeezes your thighs until they're bruised, and pulls you down onto his waiting tongue. 

"Oh my God, Wooyoung!" You let out a loud moan and threw your head back as his tongue began to caress your pussy. His movements are skilled and expert, as he runs his long, hot tongue from your swollen clit to your hole, gathering up all the mucus that is leaking out of you and drinking it down as if it were water, and he was dying of thirst. 

Your voluptuous thighs clenched around his head, your fingers tangling in his long, silky hair, tugging lightly on the strands as you rocked against his tongue and pressed your pussy even harder against his handsome face. 

Wooyoung purred in endorsement, sending vibrations through your sensitive, heated centre, and you threw your head back, rolling your eyes in pleasure as you let out those beautiful little sobs. A beads of sweat rolled down your back as you rubbed your cunt against Wooyoung's tongue, and you could feel how your skin was tingling with the hot, lustful heat of it. The summer heat was scorching the city and causing people to avoid all touches, but right now all you wanted to do was burn up in Wooyoung's arms. 

His grip on your thighs is almost painful, and every now and then Wooyoung slaps your bottom hard, making you stifle half-sobbing and making more sticky, sweet fluid leak from your hole onto his tongue. 

"Feeling so good...shit, Wooyoung!" 

"That's it, Peach; keep moaning for me." Woo growls, pushing his nose against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders at the new stimulation, and you louder scream Wooyoung's name as you pull harder on his long, silky hair. 

He moans at this, burying his face even deeper between your thighs, his nose completely buried in your pretty cunt, the lack of oxygen mixed with the taste of you on his tongue making him dizzy, his cock twitching with excitement and leaking copiously with pre-ejaculate, leaving a wet stain on the front of his sweatpants. Your hips swayed in time to his tongue as you rubbed your wet pussy against his eager mouth, muffling his moans and growls. The thought crossed his mind: If he died now, suffocated by your sweet cunt, he would die happy. 

"Please, Woo, I want your tongue. Please, I'm so empty. Fill me up with it, Daddy. Let me feel it inside of me; I need it so much." You moan, and Wooyoung, who is more than happy to oblige you, immediately pushes his tongue into your needy hole. The wet, warm sensation makes you both moan loudly. The tight walls of your slutty cunt contract around Wooyoung's tongue, trying to hold the long, slippery appendage inside as he penetrates deeper, pushing into the silky walls, causing you to release even more mucus, which now flows freely into his mouth. 

"You're my baby girl. All this pretty cunt just for Daddy." Wooyoung moans as he kisses your pink pussy, catching his breath slightly. He feels like he's in heaven—you smell so paradisiacally, and you taste, hell, the best pussy he's ever tasted, and maybe Woo is already addicted to you. It's hard for him to let you go now that he's been in touch with the divine. 

He takes a deep breath, intoxicated by your sweet, slutty cunt, clutches your sensitive clit as he envelops it with his plump lips, starts sucking hard on it, then soothes it with lazy tongue strokes. 

"Ooooh... That, Lord..." You let out a loud and shameless moan, pulling Wooyoung by the hair and shivering with the whole of your body. You feel like you're on fire; all your senses are on edge; a sticky, tingling heat is kissing your skin. Every movement of Woo's skilful tongue as it slides between your folds is sending you deeper and deeper into a haze of pleasure. 

You're so lost that you keep riding Wooyoung's face even when he moves away to catch his breath. You arch your back, throw your head back, and spin your slutty hips relentlessly in small circles. You rub your juicy cunt against Woo's stunningly beautiful, chiselled face, smearing your slime all over his cheeks and chin. 

"I want...I want to cum. I want to be the best girl for you and squirt all over you...make me Daddy, make me cum. Please, I want it so bad." Your voice is cracked and hoarse; you're so close to orgasm. God, the hot sensation of a scalding knot of pleasure is getting tighter and tighter inside of you. Your hips begin to tremble. You lose your rhythm and let Wooyoung's strong hands guide your every move. 

"How can I refuse you, Princess, when you ask so politely? Come on, baby, let's make you squirt." Wooyoung growls before he plunges his tongue as deep as he can into your pussy, moving it around in finely honed motions as he writes his name on the walls of your tiny, stretched-out cunt. He removes one of his hands from your thigh, only to slip it between your legs and pinch your swollen, trembling clit. 

You squeal as you unconsciously bring your legs together and bury Wooyoung's face in your pussy. His fingers slide down your slit and gather up the slime before he begins to rub your clit with them in an aggressive manner as he continues to fuck you mercilessly with his tongue. 

"Yes! Yes, oh my God. Wooyoung, I'm close, I'm close. I'm going to..." Your pussy pulsates around his tongue, the tender walls clenching together, almost preventing his movement. Your vision becomes blurred, your breathing heavy and hoarse as you feel the first waves of orgasm rolling over you at an unstoppable pace. A skilful pair of tongue movements and a sudden, painful squeeze of your clit between Wooyoung's fingers is all it takes to send you over the edge. You let out a loud squeal as your orgasm completely overwhelms you. 

A stream of warm liquid fills Wooyoung's mouth and, despite his best efforts to drink it down, runs down his face and down his neck. Your delicate body shudders over him, your eyes rolling as the pleasure rips through your exhausted body. Your orgasm is so intense and overwhelming that you lose touch with reality for a few minutes as Wooyoung continues to prolong your orgasm, twisting his tongue inside you. 

Exhausted, you lean back against the back of the couch and press your forehead, drenched in sweat, against the cool leather of the upholstery. Woo is licking his lips greedily, trying not to miss out on a single drop of your sweet juices. Ignoring his throbbing cock for this moment, he slowly climbs out from under you to help you. You sink onto the couch with your bare bottom, completely exhausted, and lean back against the soft upholstery as you tiredly cover your eyes, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

Your eyes only open when you feel Wooyoung's strong hands spread your thighs again so he can have a look at your beautifully gaping cunt, still oozing with a mixture of his saliva and your sweet mucus. Woo leans over to you, only to press his tongue against your pussy once more and lick a long strip of it from your hole all the way to your flushed clit. You moan and push his shoulder, trying to get him to move away from your all-too-sensitive centre.

"Please... I can't take it anymore." You whine, and Wooyoung just grins at you. He crawls up the length of your body and wraps his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. 

"You're so sweet, baby, I think I'm addicted. What are you going to do about it?" He whispers against your lips, and maybe if you were in a different situation you'd give his words more meaning, but instead you run your fingers through his sweaty hair and pull him to kiss you. You moan loudly, tasting yourself as his tongue enters your mouth, and you let Wooyoung lick your mouth on the inside completely. 

When the kiss ends, you both take a moment to catch your breath. You lazily run your hands over his shoulders and back, feeling the fabric of his shirt clinging to his sweaty, heated skin. You probably don't look much better, just as sweaty and sticky as Wooyoung. 

"Woo," you say, and he lifts his head to look at you with heavy, half-closed bedroom eyes. 

"Mmm, what is that, Peach?" He starts to plant light kisses on your jaw, his lips still sticky with your cum.

"We need a shower; we're fucking disgusting." Your fingers run lazily through his hair as Wooyoung continues to kiss you.

"Fucked up, baby. We're fucking fucked." He corrects you. "But you're right, Peach, we need a shower." He gives you one last peck on the lips and gets up. "And maybe..." His voice trailed off, and you turned your head to the side in confusion, peering out from behind the back of the couch. 

Your step brother is leaning against the doorjamb, looking at the two of you with his beautiful cat eyes. His lips curve into a smile, revealing the deep dimples in his cheeks. San looks absolutely stunning, a perfect five-course meal; he's clearly just finished his workout, judging by the way his damp t-shirt clings to his perfectly sculpted body. Oh shit...

"Um, welcome back, Sannie..." You say awkwardly, already berating yourself for the stupid thing you just said. You cross your legs, trying to cover yourself, but it only draws his attention to your condition.

"I see Woo has taken good care of you in my absence; haven't you, Peach?" He asks, slowly walking over to you and Wooyoung as he pulls his sweaty t-shirt off over his head and exposing his perfect abs. 

Oh shit. 

Wooyoung laughs, takes your hand, and lifts you up, pulling you towards her, giving San a perfect view of your bare bum. You cringe, not knowing how to react in this situation, until you feel San's hot body pressing against your back, his broad palms resting on your waist. 

"Mind if I join you in the shower, princess? I don't think you look fucked enough, baby. We need to fix that right now, don't we, baby?

[heartshapedmisery]

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

The sudden realization that you had just fucked your tennis coach began to seep into your brain as you felt the warmth of his skin on yours, goosebumps running down your spine at the thought.

Fuck, this was going to make for an interesting practice tomorrow. . .

[gojotojis]

When the Party’s Over pt.3

Part 1 Part 2

summary: you and sukuna are now dating, only you’re keeping it a secret but secrets eventually come out.

pairing: college! sukuna x college! fem reader

content MDNI: slight angst ?, bestfriends brother, frenemies, secret romance, soft sukuna, squirting,oral (m receiving) , unprotected sex, vaginal sex, riding, cum eating, fingering, fluff, aftercare, dacryphillia, oral choking, praise kink, overstimulation

This ended up being so fluffy, pls don’t beat me up. Soft sukuna just has me in a chokehold! Also this is my favorite smut I’ve written thus far!

Choso insisted on you coming over for a John Wick marathon, of course Yuki was there, which you didn’t mind. Yuki’s actually really nice to you and her music taste is so similar to yours, you’re constantly making eachother playlists and sending eachother songs you think the other would like. You’ve never had a girl friend so it’s nice.

You sit on the couch next to Yuji whose eyes widen everytime John fires his gun, while Choso and Yuki sit cuddled up on the other side of the sofa.

You have to admit, Johns incredibly sexy. You’d happily sit through four movies soley about him but your eyes keep drifting towards the stairs.

All you want to do is crawl into Sukunas bed and sleep but you can’t. You’re scared for Choso to find out, scared that it’ll ruin your friendship. Sukuna doesn’t care, he doubts Choso will give a shit and maybe he’s right but you’re not ready.

You and Sukuna have only been dating for three months now and you love being in your own little bubble with him. You also love the thrill you get from sneaking around, the way he sneaks you into his house after hours just so you can fall asleep on him.

You’re not sure the separation anxiety you feel is healthy, he’s the only thing on your mind, the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about when you go to sleep. He’s your first boyfriend, your first everything and you hope he’s your last.

It feels so good to be utterly obsessed with someone and them to reciprocate it. It’s also a rush knowing your boyfriend hates everyone but you, that he’s mean in public but when he’s alone with you, he’s on his knees telling you how much he loves you.

You feel like you’re going insane, you need to feel his skin against yours. You’re never not clinging to him like a monkey, making him carry you everywhere. You’re just so obsessed with him, it makes you want to rip your hair out, definitely not healthy but you don’t give a shit.

You anxiously start eating the popcorn Yujis holding, fighting the urge to run up stairs and tackle Sukuna. This is different, so different, whatever you felt for Choso doesn’t come even a fraction close to how you feel about Sukuna.

“I’m so tired,” you fake yawn, stretching your arms up and Yuji scoffs.

“It’s only been an hour,” he says and you yawn again for emphasis.

“I had such a long day, I’m sorry guys,” you say innocently and Choso shakes his head. “Just go to sleep in one of the guest rooms, I can take you home in the morning,” he says and you nod standing up.

Yuji looks at you suspiciously but all you do is offer an apologetic smile before you’re climbing up the stairs. Your fingers wrap the handle to Sukunas door and open it. He’s sitting at his desk, engrossed in a game of call of duty while he curses out someone on his headset.

You lock the door and peel your clothes off till you’re naked. You pull your hair from its ponytail and let it fall to your hips before you walk toward him. He looks to you and then back to the screen before looking at you again with wide eyes and you giggle.

“I gotta go,” he says over the headset.

“We’re about to fucking win!” you hear someone yell at him as you turn the chair to face you. You climb onto his lap and reach for his hand as his teammates scream at him through the headset.

He watches you take his hand and press his fingers against your pussy, covering them in your arousal before you lift them to your mouth and lick them. He throws his head back and closes his eyes.

“I really gotta fucking go,” he says before closing the game, and the shouting stops. He quickly removes his headset and sets downs his controller.

“Hi,” you smile innocently.

“Hi baby,” he breathes before his lips find yours. Your lips brush and tongues lap against eachother. His hands slide over the curve of your waists and up to your tits. His large hands splay across them and he squeezes them hard.

“Does my good girl need some attention?” He asks, his tongue licking the sides of your breasts and you nod.

“How bad?” He asks, rolling a nipple between his fingers as you grind down against his bulge.

“Really bad,” you say creating a bouncing rhythm. He can feel the wet patch you’re making on his crotch. Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt and he lifts his arms up, letting you take it off.

You’ll never get tired of his body, the ridges, the muscles and the defined v at his hips. Your nails graze his abs before they start tracing over the tattoos on his arms. His body is hot to the touch, and he shivers under your cold fingers.

“You gonna ride me?” He asks. You’re a pillow princess, you love just laying down and taking it while he does most of the work but you’ve never done that before, yet it sounds dirty and you like it.

“Yes,” you say confidently. You’ve only ever done missionary, he knows it’s your favorite, it’s just so intimate, being able to see his expressions and watch where your bodies connect as he fucks into you.

He knows he’s gonna be helping you by the end of this but he pats your ass and you sit up, letting him slide his pants off and his cock springs free. Your mouth waters at the sight and you slide down to your knees.

Your hand wraps around it and he hisses. You watch the way his abs contract when you spit repeatedly on it till it’s nice and sloppy, just how he likes it. You press several kisses to the tip letting precum smear against you lips, teasing him before you lick up the sides.

He groans as you feel the veins against your tongue. He stands up so he can get a better look at you when he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth widens as you breathe through your nose like he taught you, tears gather in your eyes, looking up at him until his dick is pressed against the back of your throat.

“Gonna fuck the shit out of this mouth,” he groans and your pussy throbs. His fingers thread through your hair and slowly pulls out of your mouth before plunging back in. His dick is so fucking warm in your mouth, he groans when you lick the underside. He starts thrusting into your mouth, not breaking eye contact as he watches you cry and it turns him on so fucking bad watching the tears flow down your cheeks.

You’re gagging on his dick, your hands gripping his thighs praying nobody can hear you choking.

“So good for me baby,” he grunts, forcing more down your throat and your eyes widen but you try to relax. He’s buried in your throat, your nose touching his pelvis. He thrusts in out, beating the back of your throat, saliva smearing all over your face and dripping onto your chest.

Your fingers find your pussy and you force your middle and index finger inside of you, desperate for a release as you bounce on your fingers. Your mouth cries against his cock, and it’s enough that he’s pulling out. He watches you fingering yourself and loses it, cum hits your face in thick ropes and then your chest, you fingers leave your cunt and you swipe the cum off your lips, sucking them off before you stand up and push Sukuna back down into the chair.

He watches you glide your fingers over your nipples, scooping up cum before you swallow it. You’re a fucking freak, not even close to what he dreamed of, but better.

You straddle him as he leans back, letting you take control. You grip his cock and line it up at your sopping hole. Your eyes close as you slowly sink down onto it, the stretch one of your favorite parts.

Little tremors hit you as your pussy swallows him until your ass is flush against his thighs. He’s so fucking deep, you think you might cum if you move. His full attention is on you, hands gripping the arms of the chair.

You pull up, feeling his cock slowly leave you before you bounce back down. You moan as quietly as you can as you bounce up and down his cock. This feels so good but it’s so much work, work you’re not use to and you look at him with those big doe eyes. He was waiting for this.

“Help me,” you whisper and his hands slide to your ass, lifting you up and slamming you down on him, hard.

Your teeth sink into his shoulder as he slams you up and down his cock over and over, sweat starts to coat your body and your tits bounce with each thrust. You hear gunshots downstairs from the tv, praying they don’t hear Sukuna drilling into you.

“The sweetest fucking pussy,” he grunts as you grind against him, you feel your stomach knot and your pussy clamps as he batters your cervix. You start to shake against him and liquid gushes from your cunt but he doesn’t stop, he never does.

He fucks into you like he wants to touch the tip of your skull, your head lulls to the side, tongue sticking out as you gasp for air feeling your boyfriend demolish your cunt until you’re squirting again and dripping down his thighs.

“Too much ngghh, too much Kuna,” you cry when his thumb rubs at your clit and your eyes roll back. His mouth finds yours and he swallows your screams as you cum together, feeling him flood you with his seed.

You slump against him as he carries you to his bathroom. He turns the shower on and steps inside with you still wrapped around him. You whine when he lifts you off of him and sets you on your feet, your knees are wobbly as he reaches for your pink loofah and lathers his body wash onto it.

He begins scrubbing your body while you turn your face so the water hits it, washing away his cum. You reach for your face wash you left and start massaging it into your face as he gets on his knees.

You shiver as he gently washes your sore and abused pussy. He press’s kisses against your belly as you grab his rag and pour body wash on it. He stands up and you start scrubbing him, at least the places you can reach till he has to take over.

Once you’re done and he’s dressed you in his clothes, you climb on top of him in bed, resting your head on his chest.

“My little spider monkey,” he calls you, the way you cling to him. You look up and smile before kissing his jaw as he scrolls through Netflix.

You all but squeal at the smell of fried food, the flickering multicolored lights and the sound of screaming. You fucking love the fair.

Sukuna fucking hates it, he hates the screaming and the guaranteed vomiting. He still hasn’t forgiven you for throwing up on him in the Gravitron once the ride ended when you were twelve and him fourteen.

In your defense you housed about six funnel cakes, a super size coke slushee and eight fried Oreos that day before you got on the ride. You learned your lesson that day.

Even though he hates it, it’s the smile on your face that makes it worth it as you lace your fingers together and walk around.

You immediately guide him toward the flying swings, the tendant scans your wristbands and you take the seat infront of Sukuna as more people get on.

Sukuna waits for what he knows is coming, he listens to you burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. You laugh manically when you ride rollercoasters and etc, people look at you like you’re deranged while you laugh like the Joker.

It’s fucking hilarious as you look back at him. He can’t help but laugh at the way his girlfriend sounds like a fucking maniac. Even when the rides over you’re clutching your sides laughing. It’s the adrenaline no doubt.

You spend the night riding almost every ride, nearly breaking your neck on the bumper cars when some kid drove straight into you until you were slammed into the wall. Sukuna threatened to kick his “little ass” out the car and he broke down crying which ended in you both banned from the bumper cars.

“He was a pussy,” Sukuna huffs as you lick at your Icecream cone.

“Baby, he couldn’t have been older than eight,” you say and he shrugs leaning down to lick your Icecream. He watches you take a bite with your front teeth and stops walking.

“Only psychos eat Icecream like that,” he says making you laugh.

“Congrats, you’re dating a psycho,” you say taking another bite until your eyes land on something.

Sukuna clutches his ears as you threaten to burst his eardrum with your screaming.

“Fuck!” He says loudly with his finger in his ear. You ignore it as you finish your icecream and tug him toward the booth full of Sanrio plushies. “I want them all,” you say to the worker and she hands you a basketball.

You look down at it with a frown as she points to the hoops behind her. Sukuna hands her money as you toss the ball, watching it bounce off the rim.

You have two more shots and she hands you a ball, you throw it and miss. Sukuna can tell you’re getting frustrated with the way your hands form into fists.

He walks who behind you as you take the last basketball. He presses his hand flat against your stomach and the other one stretches out behind your hand that holds the basketball.

He pulls your joined hands back and lifts you up with one hand so you can throw it and it makes it through the hoop.

“I did it! I did it!” You jump up and down, technically you both did but he doesn’t care to correct you.

“That’s cheating,” the worker says arms crossed.

“Give her the fucking toy,” Sukuna says making the girl get up and walk to the wall of plushies.

“Which one baby?” He asks and you point to a giant My Melody one dressed up as a watermelon, she hands it to you. The things nearly the size of you as you hug it, you beam up at him as he holds your hand.

He brings your joined hands up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand as you walk around. There’s two rides you haven’t gone on yet, the Ferris wheel and the Gravitron.

Sukuna absolutely refuses when you walk him toward the Gravitron. You actually feel bad that you gave him childhood trauma because he plants his feet to the ground and doesn’t budge no matter how hard you pull.

“Please Kuna, we can stand on opposite ends of the ride. I promise I won’t throw up on you,” you beg but he doesn’t budge. You sigh and look down at the ground, like a kicked and dejected puppy.

“You’re fucking annoying” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple and grabbing your hand. You smile, leaving your plushie with the machine operator as you both step inside. You giggle as he leans against the wall two mats over.

Everyone gets in and the ride starts, you feel the pressure of the zero gravity at work as your body’s stuck against the wall. The machine ride spins, Sukunas watching you and the expression your face makes. You’re not laughing, not even close.

You feel sick, absolutely sick and dizzy. Your eyes squeeze shut until the ride ends and you’re running out. You lean over the railing, prepared to vomit as you take several deep breaths. Sukuna rubs your back and holds your hair but luckily nothing comes up.

“You’re never going on that ride again,” he says and you nod, you can’t help but laugh once the queasiness leaves you. “You should’ve seen your face, you thought I was going to throw up on you,” you say, pretending to puke on him and he glares, carrying your plushie.

“You’d be walking home if you did,” he says and you roll your eyes knowing damn well he would never let that happen.

You stop him and stand on your tippie toes, pulling him down for a kiss. You smile against his lips, you’ll never get tired of this.

You rest against his chest as you both stare at the tv.

“So he calls her baby girl and she calls him chocolate thunder but they’re strictly platonic?” He asks and you nod laughing as you watch criminal minds.

“You’re into some freaky shit,” he says making you sit up so you’re straddling him. You push your ass against his dick and smile.

“Very,” you say before you lift your shirt up, revealing your bare chests. He sits up and starts kissing you, oblivious to the feet running up the stairs until his doors being slammed open. You scream and climb off of him, clutching your chest.

Your face reddens, the urge to cover it but your hands are hiding your tits. He moves to block your body and hands you back his shirt. Yuji and Choso’s faces are burned into your brain as you slip the shirt on. You don’t lean over Sukuna, terrified.

“What the fuck!” You hear Choso say and you slightly peak over Sukunas shoulder.

Choso storms out of the room and you jump out of the bed.

“Choso wait!” You say as he jogs down the stairs and out the front door.

You walk back to the room to see Yuji sitting next to Sukuna giving him a fist bump.

“No way you bagged y/n, She’s pretty bad,” Yuji says and you slap the back of both their heads.

You sigh pushing your food around. It’s been a week and Choso doesn’t answer your texts, he doesn’t sit with you at lunch and he switched seats in the classes you share so now you’re forced to sit next to Mahito who you hate.

“Has he said anything to you?” You ask Sukuna as he steals one of your fries.

“Nah, he’s been staying over at Yuki’s. Who cares anyways” he says eating another fry until you’re pushing your tray towards him.

“I do and you should too, he’s your brother,” you say and he sighs.

“So what do you want me to do, I can beat him until he talks to you,” he offers genuinely, you try not to laugh at his violent and insane behavior.

“No, but I told you this would happen,” you say and he shrugs, holding a fry up to your lips until you eat it.

“Good girl,” he says as Yuki sits infront if you making you sit up. You’re prepared for her to yell at you but she doesn’t.

“I know Choso’s being stubborn, he told me everything. It’s really not his business on what you two do with eachother which I expressed so now he’s not talking to me,” she says taking a fry.

“He’s being a fucking diva,” Sukuna says making you laugh at him using such a word. “Break up with him and see how fast he comes running,” Sukuna concludes. The idea sounds absurd but Yuki’s pulling her phone out and tapping away at the screen.

“Oh you guys are cruel,” you say and she hits send.

“So what exactly is this?” She asks, pointing between you two.

“We’re dating, three months now,” you smile, being able to say it so openly feels nice.

“Oh that’s pathetic,” Sukuna says as Choso enters the cafeteria and walks towards your table. He holds his phone up at Yuki.

“Are you serious?”.

“What use is a boyfriend that won’t speak to you?” She asks and you take notes. She’s so nonchalant about it, serves him right.

“Fine, you want to talk let’s talk,” Choso says taking the seat between you and Yuki.

“You’re fucking a guy that told you the only jobs you’d get were either on a pole or your back and you’re fucking a girl that prayed to God for three weeks that you would catch Syphilis,” he says, Yuki covers her mouth to conceal a laugh.

“Well, she only does one of those jobs and I’m syphilis free,” Sukuna says and you pinch his ass through the opening in his chair making him squirm.

“He fucking hates you and you just…spread your legs for him?” Choso asks making your breathing hitch.

“Shut the fuck up, and choose your nexts word wisely,” Sukuna warns.

“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t get it, you’ve been lying and fucking my brother. It’s weird, and what’s suppose to happen when it’s over?” He asks.

“Nothing, because it never will be,” Sukuna answers, seemingly bored of this conversation.

“Choso, you’re my bestfriend and you always will be but what I do and who I do it with is my choice. I’m not sorry that it’s Sukuna or that I love him. But I am sorry that you feel the need to be mean and avoid me. When you got with Yuki, I accepted it. It’s caused us to make adjustments to our friendship that I’ve happily complied with, there’s no reason you can’t do the same,” you say with a level head and he nods.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he sighs and you smile.

“I promise you, your brother takes good care of me,” you assure.

“In every aspect,” Sukuna adds making Choso cringe and Yuki laugh.

“This conversations boring me, come home and stop being a bitch” Sukuna says.

“Fine but no more sex jokes, and please lock your fucking door” Choso says.

“Fine, now beat it. I need a word with my girlfriend “ Sukuna says making Yuki and Choso dip. He pulls your chair toward him and leans in till your forehead is pressed against his.

“You love me?” He asks and you nod.

“I love you more than I ever hated you, so much fucking more,”.

I know some of you wanted Choso’s reaction, I rewrote it so many times but I honestly don’t think he cares that much. He has no romantic feelings for her. But I do think the idea of her and his brother who is an absolute ass would seem quite disturbing.

Also she’s not pregnant! Thank y’all for the endless support on this. Gojo Tinder piece coming up next!

@whosmarjj @getoxmahito @xra1 @swoozleee @lillycore

@carefree-flowerchild

[teapartyprincess4two]

Carnal Desires- M. Sturniolo

pairing: girlfriend!reader x boyfriend!Matt

classification: smut

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, slight cursing, oral sex, established relationship, short, no use of y/n

inspiration: request, I put a big spin on this request lolol bc I’ve written car sex before and felt like we needed something different

summary: You join Matt and his family on a vacation, and get lost together while on a hike. Instead of freaking out, you two take advantage of the sudden alone time.

—

This vacation was supposed to be fun for you, full of laughter and adventures as you and Matt’s family explored the island and all it had to offer. You were looking forward to spending alone time with Matt in between the week’s packed schedule, maybe sneak in a session or two, but instead you were forced to share a room with Nick.

You love Nick and you wouldn’t mind sharing a room with him under any other circumstances, but all you wanted was quality time with your boyfriend. Mary Lou made the room arrangements, and although she knows you and Matt were having sex regularly, it wasn’t going to happen under her watch. So, instead of enjoying your time in paradise with your boyfriend, you’re being tortured and touch-starved.

Matt feels the same way every time he sees you wearing a bikini at the pool, a pair of shorts that hug you just right, or even when you’re eating and he watches your lips wrap around a fork. All he wants to do is drag you away and fuck you in the nearest secluded area, but he had to remind himself to keep his interactions with you family friendly.

This was going to be such a long trip to say the least.

—

“Watch your step, baby,” Matt instructs, pointing towards the rocks that litter the path ahead. You hated hiking, especially in the hot island sun, but the tour guide promised a waterfall at the end that you just couldn’t pass up. You offer Matt a kind smile, holding onto him for support as you trudge further and further up the mountain. His arm stiffens as he supports your weight, helping you push yourself up a large rock.

His eyes trail up your legs, the shorts you’re wearing riding up slightly and exposing your asscheek. All week he’s struggled to keep his hands off of you, especially with his family so close all the time. But they’re pretty far up the hiking trail, he wonders if he’ll have enough time to push you up against the rock, pull down your shorts, and finally fuck you.

He debates it for a while, chewing the inside of his lip to distract himself from the growing sensation in his pants, but he’s broken from his thoughts by your voice, “Matt c‘mon we’re gonna get lost out here!” You’re crouched at the edge of the rock, stretching an arm out for him which causes your top to fall forward just enough to expose the bikini you’re wearing underneath.

All he wants to do is rip it off and watch your tits bounce as you ride him. “I’m coming,” he grunts, taking a hold of your hand and using the other to push himself up. He’s sweaty and sunburnt, slowly becoming tired of this dumb hike. You can tell he’s becoming overwhelmed and annoyed, so you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Don’t be so grumpy,” you tease with a downturned smile, pecking his lips playfully. His jaw is clenched, trying to stretch his neck far enough for you to miss his mouth. Your lips fall on his jaw, feathering a few kisses down his neck teasingly. “C’mon baby, just a little smile,” you continue to tease, your breath tickling the skin of his neck.

A small chuckle finally escapes his mouth, his tough guy demeanor crumbling and being replaced with a playful expression. “Why are you so grumpy?” your tone is still cheery because, despite also being tired, you’re trying to remain positive.

“Because we’re lost,” he replies blankly, allowing his arms to snake around your waist until his arms rest comfortable on your ass. He squeezes your ass, massaging the skin shortly after. You see the opportunity for a corny remark and take it, “I’m not lost if I’m with you.”

This causes him to burst out in laughter, finally giving in and returning the kiss, “you’re so fucking corny.” You smile into the kiss, you knew exactly what to do to make him feel better.

“I can make you feel better,” you reply between kisses, allowing your lips to travel further down his jawline and neck. He hums in response, the suggestion immediately sending blood rushing to his dick. You take this as an invitation to go through with your actions, slowly kneeling in front of Matt until you’re facing his crotch.

He watches in shock and excitement as you wiggle into the ground and begin unbuckling his shorts. Were you really going to suck his dick in the middle of the dense jungle? What if someone else came through the hiking path? Or worse, what if his family emerged from the dense flora and caught you with his dick in your mouth? As frightening as the idea was, it was also exciting, and Matt never the type to turn down a blowjob.

He watches in awe as you pull his shorts down, palming his dick through the fabric of his boxers. You kiss his penis through the cloth, waiting for a reaction from Matt. “Don’t tease,” he groans, causing you to finally slowly pull his boxers down.

Once it’s free, Matt’s hard dick slaps against his stomach, precum already forming at the red, swollen tip. You take a firm grip of him, slowly pumping and placing a sloppy kiss on his tip. He tastes salty, his precum mixing with the sweat from having hiked for hours.

His jaw is slack and his eyes are scrunched as you finally wrap your mouth around his tip. You’d usually take your time and tease Matt until he was begging for you to do something, but you’re so hungry for him that you can’t help but deep throat him instantly. Matt’s tip hits the back of your throat, causing him to instinctively buck his hips into your mouth.

Strong hands take a hold of your hair, creating a make-shift ponytail to provide him with the leverage necessary to fuck your face. You’re gagging around his cock, his hips snapping into your face and his hands pushing your head back and forth. Tears brim at your eyes with each thrust, your hands holding onto Matt’s thighs both for support and in an attempt to slow his movements.

He’s unrelenting, though, forgetting entirely about your need for oxygen. You moan around him, cheeks hollowing tight enough to help push Matt past his breaking point. His eyes are training on you, watching in awe as bubbles of saliva drip down your chin.

“So. Fucking. Sexy,” he grunts with each thrust, pulling out completely with a loud pop. Matt pumps his cock from above your face, giving you enough time to catch your breath before you’re opening your mouth again for him. He groans at your willingness to please, placing his fat, heavy cock on your flat tongue.

You scoot closer to him eagerly, waiting for him to paint your tongue with his cum. “So beautiful and eager,” he murmurs, stroking his cock one last time before unloading his cum in your mouth. Some of it shoots out far enough to land on your face, engraving an image in Matt’s head that he’s sure to use later.

One of your fingers scoops up the stray cum that frosted tour face, popping the remnants in your mouth as you stare intently at Matt. You want him to remember this for the remainder of this trip, to think about you on your knees with his cum on your face. You want him to remember how well you took his cock and for images of you to flood his mind at night, forcing him to find you and fuck you in another secluded, undisclosed location.

Without another word, you kiss his tip and spring up from the floor. “I think they went this way,” you say, pointing in a random direction, but if you were being honest you lost track of the group long before you dropped to your knees. Matt watches you in confusion, how were you able to recover so easily while he still stood there with his cock out? He’s barely coming down from his high, but he pulls his pants up and follows you anyway.

Matt’s skeptical, not entirely trusting your sense of direction. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look like anyone’s gone that way… ever,” he replies, taking in his surroundings. You wave him off, pushing through highly forested terrain as you attempt to find the group again.

“I’m sure. We’ll be fine,” you dismiss, leading the way deeper into the jungle. Hopefully Matt remained in a good mood for the rest of the hike, if not you’d be forced to work your magic again.

—

At this point you don’t know which way is left and which is right, you’re just walking for the sake of moving. There are no trails in sight, but there are rocks at every twist and turn, and the sun is beginning to set. “I think we’re lost,” you finally admit, stopping abruptly in your tracks and doing a full 360 in an attempt to relocate yourself.

“You think?” Matt replies in a sarcastic tone, running an exasperated hand through his hair. You ignore his tone, chalking it up to the hike having worn him out. He was easily irritable, but you knew of a few ways to fix that.

“Well I hear water this way. That could be the waterfall?” you say, throwing a thumb behind you to signal that that’s where you hear the water coming from. Matt’s equally as lost as you are, but since you were the one leading the way it was easy to place the blame on you. “It could be, but what if it isn’t?” he retorts, raising his voice slightly.

“We’re already lost, Matt. What does it matter if it isn’t the waterfall?” you reply, mocking his voice slightly as you send him an annoyed look. You decide to just ignore him and begin walking towards the water instead of arguing in the middle of a deserted island, surrounded by dense vegetation and predators that were sure to wake when the sun set.

Matt throws his hands up in the air out of frustration as he follows behind you. If you were Chris or Nick he probably would’ve lashed out at you already, but he bites his tongue because he realizes that there’s no point in arguing. The only reason he’s responding so harshly is because he’s letting the situation and his pent up sexual frustration get the best of him.

The water gets louder the further you walk and the air becomes cooler. Finally, after pushing past vines and leaves, you see the roaring stream of water. Foam forms at the edge of the cliff where the water meets the ground, creating a large pool deep enough to swim in. It was such a beautiful sight, you couldn’t help but immediately throw your backpack to the ground and kick your shoes off.

“Told you it was the waterfall,” you say in excitement, suddenly feeling energetic again. You make swift work of your shirt, removing it before unbuckling your shorts. Matt’s equally as excited, tugging his shorts off as he watches you shimmy out of yours.

Your ass jiggles each time you pull at your shorts, finally revealing the bikini you wore underneath. Matt’s in his boxers, the fabric loose around his thighs but becoming tight around his crotch. He’s no longer frustrated with you, all he can think about is fucking you in the water, the water splashing each time he bucks into you.

His carnal, animalistic desires overrun his mind as images of you on the jungle floor with his cock balls deep in your mouth replay in his head. Matt joins you in the cool water, ready to have another adventure with you.

—

The sun has set and the moon has now replaced its position in the sky, shining down on you both while you effortlessly wade through the water. The pool is deep enough to reach your shoulders, but it reaches Matt’s lower chest. The loud, relentless waterfall makes it hard to hear Matt when he speaks so you’re forced to press your face against his to hear him.

“You look so sexy, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his face so close to yours that you can feel his stubble graze your cheek with each word. Matt’s hands pull you close to him from under the water, allowing your legs to wrap around his torso as he supports your weight. Your ass settles just above his crotch, inches away from his throbbing penis.

You hum in response, pulling your face away slightly to capture his lips in a kiss. Nature managed to provide you with the perfect ambiance, perfectly secluded from all civilization for the first time this week. “I missed you all week,” you whispered into the kiss, giving Matt the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He’s immediately moaning into the kiss, his tongue lapping in your sweet juices. He places two strong hands on your ass, pushing you down on his growing erection, eliciting a strained whimper from you. “Feel that?” he grunts, forehead flush with yours as he presses his crotch so hard on yours you can feel everything. His eyes are locked on yours, searching for a reaction.

Your core clenches instinctively at his words, you wish you could feel him. It seems like the waterfall becomes louder the more worked up you become, both of you blissfully unaware of the world around you. The stars are twinkling from above and the moon is shining directly on the pool of water you swim in, serving as a spotlight for the show you and Matt were about to put on.

His mouth is back on you, hungrily trailing kisses down the wet skin of your neck. He stops right above your collar bone, sucking and biting the skin until it’s purple. You’re gripping his hair and grinding down onto him, allowing the water to help you move effortlessly. All you want is to feel him closer after an entire week apart.

“Matt, just fuck me already,” you moan, becoming desperate for his touch. Usually he’d tease you and tell you to be patient, but even he was desperate for relief. He pulls you into another kiss, swiftly tugging his cock out of his boxers in the process. You try adjusting yourself over Matt, his fingers expertly moving your bikini to the side, causing you to squirm slightly as the fabric presses against your sensitive clit.

“Stay still,” he grumbles, aligning his cock with your entrance. You immediately do as you you’re told, eager to please and even more eager to feel him inside you. Without a second thought, his left hand is pushing you down on him and the right is keeping his cock in place. An immediate sigh of relief leaves Matt’s mouth once he bottoms out inside of you, adjusting himself so he’s able to support you from under your thighs. The sensation is euphoric, causing Matt’s knees to tremble as he tries to ground himself on the rocky floor beneath him.

Your legs are wrapped around Matt’s waist, using the position as leverage to begin bouncing up and down on his dick slowly. The momentum of your movements causes the water to push and pull around you, slapping against your chest with each thrust. “I missed this,” he moans, eyes squeezed tight as he tries to compose himself. The feeling is so pent up that he’s sure to bust in seconds, so he focuses on lasting long so he can make you feel good.

“I missed this too, baby. So much,” you reply, hanging on by Matt’s shoulders as you throw your head back in pleasure. You’re clenching around him, your pussy sucking him in deeper. Loud moans are coming from both of you, the waterfall swallowing them and washing them away.

Matt watches as your boobs bounce violently, threatening to spill out of your tight bikini top. It’s like they’re teasing him, willing him to pull the bikini off and toss it deep into the jungle. He yanks it down before he can stop himself, freeing your tits and immediately groaning at the sight.

You look so sexy on top of him, taking him like a champ and giving him a show while doing it. His hips rut into you quickly, balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Your tits press against his chest, sensitive nipples grazing against his skin.

He’s fucking you so hard and fast at this point that his dick slips out of you, slapping against your clit in the process. The sensation causes your legs to shake and your core to clench once again. “Fuck,” he whimpers at the loss of contact, taking a hold of his cock and rubbing it against your pussy.

Matt manages to slip back into your folds aggressively, pounding into you at the same relentless pace from before. This was the sloppiest sex you’d ever had with Matt, but after a week completely deprived of him you’d gladly welcome it.

You’re both soaked, somehow managing to float under the waterfall. The pressurized water rains down on you, the stream coming down on you so hard it unties your bikini causing it to float downstream. “Matt! My top,” you gasp, reaching for your bikini and pushing your boobs together in the process.

Matt groans at the sight, your pillowy breasts bouncing as he fucks you like it’s the first and last time. Your spongy walls push against his penis, causing a sensation that sends him past his breaking point.

“We’ll get it later,” he responds between grunts, snapping his hips into you one last time before unloading his cum inside you. Just because he’s no longer moving doesn’t mean you aren’t still bouncing on his dick, causing it to twitch from the sensitivity.

“Babe,” he chuckles, his body instinctively attempting to pull away as the overstimulation becomes too much. You ignore him, chasing your climax with each jump. All he can do is hold onto you firmly and use all his strength to prevent his knees from buckling.

Finally, you’re convulsing around his cock and moaning loudly as your orgasm washes over your body. The sight is beautiful, your wet hair stuck to your skin, and your eyes rolling so far to the back of your head that all Matt sees is white.

He feels a sense of pride in making you feel this good, he’s never seen you react this animated during sex before. The combination of the location, the stimulation from the water, and the pent up sexual frustration being enough to intensify your orgasm.

Matt pulls you off of him slowly, gently placing you back down on the rocky floor. He gives you a goofy, fucked out smile as he glances down at your bare chest. Your bikini top is floating down stream quickly, threatening to get lost in the wilderness with each passing second. Your arms are quick to wrap around your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like you weren’t just having the loudest sex ever.

“I’ll get it,” he chuckles, adjusting his boxers and swimming downstream effortlessly towards your top. You thank God for sending you such an observant and kind boyfriend, one who was willing to make you feel good and then take care of you afterwards.

Once he reaches it, he throws the bikini your way, causing water to splash in your face. Even though he was just balls deep in you, you find yourself turning your back to him while you put the bikini back on. He’s too busy swimming against the stream to notice though, the realization of how lost you truly were finally settling in.

For now, though, the two of you were content with a night under the stars away from prying eyes.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

🤰🏻

Me after writing this

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[hannieehaee]

OUTTA MY MIND (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 924 (teaser); 7.7k (full fic)

release date: may 31st

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: ive had this in the drafts for a while but kept forgetting to finish it lol anyways i hope u guys enjoy it once it comes out<3 (also not 100% proofread oops..)

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

....

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[sinofwriting]

Under His Wing - Jenson Button

Words: 1,177 Summary: Oscar had thought when Mark had taken his sister under his wing that it was a great idea. Turns out it was the worst idea in the world as he stares at a picture of Jenson and his sister kissing. Note(s): Reader is Oscar’s sister. Large age gap between her and Jenson. No part two will be written.

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

Oscar had four sisters. All younger than him and all equally as annoying and he didn’t have a favorite. It would be unfair really. But if he was to have a favorite sister? It would be Y/N.

They were nearly twins, just ten months apart, but you’d never think so with the way she always tagged along with him everywhere.

When he moved to the UK for his racing career, six months later she joined him. When he moved out of boarding school and into a flat, she joined him. She joined him at races, at pr and press events, she always joined him. And thankfully when Mark became his manager in 2020 he recognized how important she was to him, really how important his family was to him, and as soon as she got her degree she was working with Mark.

Oscar had been beyond grateful, because she loved f1 just as much as he did, she just didn’t have an interest in driving. She did want a career in it and Mark had given her that opportunity without Oscar having to beg whatever team he was a part of to give her a chance or make her an employee of his, which would have not worked for either of them.

He’s beyond grateful for the chance that Mark gave her, for what Mark has done for him, for his career, for taking them both under his wing, but now as he stares at the photo on his phone, he wishes that he never let Mark Webber met his sister.

—

“Jenson.” She giggles as he presses kisses to her neck. He grins at the sound, nipping at the thin skin and reveling in her gasp. “Yes, sweetheart?” Her temple presses briefly against his as she gently shakes her head. “I want a kiss.” He can hear the pout on her lips, the wide-eyed look she has on her face, as she tries to get what she wants. Not, he thinks, that she really has to try and convince him to give her anything.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He murmurs, turning her so she’s facing him and sure enough, she’s pouting up at him, her bottom lip sticking out beautifully. “You want a kiss?” She nods. Leaning down, he kisses her, taking that bottom lip of hers in between his own. “Is that better?” “Much.” She sighs, making him kiss her again.

Releasing her, he watches as she goes over to her bag and pulls out of her phone. A joke is on the tip of his tongue about kids and their phones these days, but his dominant hand is pulling his own phone out of his pants pocket, wanting to check his messages before seeing if he can convince her to join him in the shower, a light sweat clinging to him from their hike.

His eyebrows furrow at the sheer amount of missed calls and texts he has and he quickly answers the next call.

“Mark, Is everything alright?” “Jenson.” “What’s going on?” He asks, shooting a concerned glance at Y/N, whose looking at her phone, confused. “Are you in California right now?” “Yes.” “Are you with anyone?” His eyebrow raises, “no. Why?” “So, Y/N Piastri, Oscar’s sister and my assistant isn’t with you.” Jenson freezes. “How did you?” The older cuts him off. “You two were spotted on a hike, kissing.” “Fuck.” He drags a hand over his face while the one holding his phone, pulls the device away from him ear and mouth a bit. “Sweetheart, we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“Does the problem have anything to do with why Oscar has nonstop been calling and texting me?” She asks, moving back over to him and he winces as she watches her let another call from Oscar just ring through. “We got spotted on our hike.” He tells her, as he puts his phone on speaker. “Mark called as well.” He doesn’t mention any of the other names he also saw littering his phone screen, that could wait until after. “How bad is it?” “PR wise?” Jenson’s nose wrinkles, face twisting in disgust at how that’s the first thing Mark says, considers, even though it’s his job in some sort. “Not too bad. There’s a lot of shock, questions. It’s more Oscar I’m worried about.” “He’s not happy.” “Happy?” Mark laughs. “He apparently went ballistic seeing the photos. Lily called me, she was with him when he saw. Last update I had from her, he was trying to get Max to give him his private jet so he could come to California to kill Jenson. Since y’know he found out through twitter that his little sister is doing something with a guy twice her age.” “You introduced us.” Jenson protests. “Yeah, because I thought you’d be good friends. Not,” he pauses unsure of what to call it. “Dating?” She fills in for him. “Yeah, dating.” He sighs. “Did anyone know before this?” “No.” They both answer at the same time. Mark sighs again. “Alright, well it’s time to start talking. You need to call your own manager Jenson, Y/N call Oscar, we can handle our side of the PR after Jenson gets his figured out.” “Got it. Sorry, Mark.” “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

Before Jenson can say anything the call is ended and he’s staring at his phone, bemused. “I think he likes you more than me.” She laughs. “Well, do you blame him?” He quickly shakes his head. “No. Be stupid to not like you.” He dips his head down, wanting a kiss, but she steps away, shaking her head. “No, not happening. You can get a kiss after you talk to your manager and I talk Oscar out of killing you.” Jenson winces, that was not going to be a fun conversation. “I’m alright with a bit of light maiming.” “Jenson.” “Sweetheart,” he chuckles at the serious look on her face. “He’s going to want to kill and hurt me. I’m sure your mum and dad are the same way. I’m sure next time I see Mark I’m going to get a nice elbow to the ribs. It’s just what’s going to happen. I made my piece with that after our fifth date.” She pouts and he can’t help but pull her into a hug. “I don’t want you to get hurt and I don’t want anyone fighting about this.” “I know.” He kisses the top of her head. “And we can hope that it doesn’t happen, that it goes more smoothly than how it feels currently, but we both knew that us being together would rock the boat.” “I think we need a bigger boat.” He snorts. “Maybe. Now let's make our calls, get them done and over with yeah?” “Yeah.” She sighs, pulling away from him before smiling and then she’s pouting up at him again, just like earlier. “Kiss?” He shakes his head, but brushes their lips together for just half a second. “There ya go, sweetheart. Little something to tide you over.”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @gothgirlez @namgification @KimmiB13 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou300morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @tallrock35 @casperlikej

[hauntedrain]

For Years! | Max Verstappen x Reader |

Social media AU Summary: Max and reader get criticism over the status of their relationship.

✮▹ A/N: So sorry for not posting for so long. Life has been BUSY. but hopefully i can post more and write more! Love you guys <3

✰▹Warnings/Notices: Not edited. nothing really. reader mentioned to write music

Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, & 3,345,678 others

@Y/N: Lovely time lately.

view all 19,234 comments

user1: LMFAO MAX.

user2: Y/N you'll always been iconic

user3: sometimes I forget Max Verstappen is dating THE Y/N L/N.

↪ user4: SO TRUE. It completely passes my mind that they've been together before he even got to F1.

↪ user5: THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 9 YEARS?

↪ user6: YEA ITS WILD.

↪ user7: wait but they haven't gotten married or anything?

↪ user8: Yea no. They also avoid the questions around it. Kind of weird to me.

↪ user9: But hasn't Y/N written songs about marriage and getting married? Why haven't they?

↪ user10: Maybe they just don't want to. Or max doesn't.

MaxVerstappen: Why did you choose that photo of me.

↪ Y/N: You want me to post the photo from yesterday?

↪ MaxVerstappen: NO.

↪ user11: LMFAO. PARENTS.

Liked by Y/N, Redbull, & 2,345,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: Great race and great win! Getting ready for next week. And thank you to @Y/N for making me but those glasses, best purchase.

View all 14,567 comments

Y/N: I told you they were a good investment

↪ MaxVerstappen: I don't know if you would call it an investment.

↪ Y/N: I'll post that picture.

↪MaxVerstappen: It was a great investment! better than a house!

↪ user12: better than a ring?

↪ user13: STOP. but no fr, wheres the ring Max?

user14: Okay nice win but when yall getting married?

user15: everyone needs to mind their business, maybe they're just not ready to get married and that okay.

↪ user16: But its been 9 YEARS. NINE YEARS. Its a red flag.

liked by 18,234 others

@F1GOSSIP: Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N have been criticized over the status of their relationship. The couple has been together for over 9 years however many fans have realized that there's been no movement in the relationship, family and marriage vise. Thought?

view all 5,567 comments

user17: I mean its their life but 9 years?

user18: Idk guys don't hate me but sometimes max doesn't seem interested in Y/N. Like all of the Monaco GP? seem happy around her.

↪ user19: Bro look at the pictures in the post. Does he seem unhappy in them? No he seems very happy.

↪ user20: Okay but lets be honest. Both only seem that happy in front of a camera.

User21: I mean for some of their relationship they were fairly young. Maybe they just wanna enjoy it little by little.

↪ user22: I think in 9 years you can enjoy a lot.

user23: I wouldn't marry her either. Max knows what's best which is why he hasn't done it.

Y/N has posted to their story!

liked by 6,678,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: happy 3 year anniversary @Y/N. love you much and cant wait for years to come. Also, people said I hated her? How could I?

view all 35,567,878 comments

Y/N: Guys my husband is kinda cool.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Kinda?

↪ Y/N: yea cuz im cooler than you.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Okay love.

user24: WTF 3 YEARS?

user25: max said hold my 3x WDC titles while I make everyone shut up about my relationship.

↪ Y/N: He just wins everything doesn't he?

↪ CharlesLeclerc: Yea its kinda annoying. you should distract him Y/N

↪ MaxVerstappen: Dont tell my wife to distract me, I'll lose.

↪ CharlesLeclerc: thats the point.

↪ LandoNorris: I just wanna win.

↪ user26: LMFAO WHAT IS HAPPENING

↪ Y/N: Im collecting them all

User27: And people said max didnt wanna marry her.

user28: Bro just keeps winning doesnt he. Y/N GIVE ME A CHANCE.

user29: if you look closely you can see me getting run over by an F1 car.

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys like it! I need to post more but ive gotten so busy and haven't had the time. But I'll try to post more often. Love you guys! hope you enjoyed.

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part five)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: the wait is over. yay! This isn’t how I expected this part to end but I let my mind take charge…plans change. I hope the end is okay, i’ve never written anything like that before so i’m a little nervy for y’alls reactions lol. let me know what you guys think! Enjoy <3

part five: new york changes you

The whole ‘friends for now’ deal you set with Hugh has been an enthralling experience so far. A month has passed since that night in your living room, a month of struggling to resist the charisma of Hugh Jackman. Right now, your two lives couldn’t be more different: your album had dropped three weeks ago, one week after the deal was made. It has been an absolute success with four of your songs sitting in the top ten since the drop. You were doing interview after interview and rehearsals for your tour started up this past week. Meanwhile, Hugh was living the simple life. He has been done with his Deadpool and Wolverine promo for some time now and he’s been enjoying his free time. That was something you didn’t have much of as of recent- free time. You were trying to balance the few moments of freedom between all of the people you cared for, which mostly consisted of Ashley and Hugh. It’s gotten to a point where you were inviting your friends to the tour rehearsals just to be able to see them. When the idea first popped up, you had been afraid that they would be too distracting but the outcome was the opposite. Having a mini audience that weren’t part of the tour team, allowed everyone to make changes to things with the input of outside opinions. Ashley and a small group of your other friends were rehearsal regulars now.

You’d been seeing Hugh more privately, both of you agreeing to stay out of the public eye for a little bit while the dating rumors died down. Ashley had been a little too enthusiastic about your decision to be Hugh’s friend and nothing more. You loved reminding her that it was hopefully a temporary situation while we decided if being together exclusively was the right choice for both of us. She liked to ignore that part. Her despisement towards Hugh has been a mystery to you. She was always a little protective over you, as any normal friend would be, but it had never been to this extent. 

“Ash, do you wanna come to rehearsal tomorrow. We’re finally putting the choreography on the actual stage. I think you’ll like it. It’s gonna be fun.” You ask. The two of you were currently at Target shopping for her new apartment. “Uhhh of course. I need to catch up on all of the songs I missed. Then maybe you’ll consider putting me up on stage.” The last sentence comes out more singsongy than usual as she tries to convince you. She has brought up being on stage so often, you were beginning to feel bad, but she was a shit dancer. You didn’t have the heart to tell her. “Cool. I have to be there at seven, but I was thinking you guys could show up at noon. That’s when we’re scheduled to move over to the stage.” Her eyes light up. “Ooo. Who else is coming? Please tell me you invited Taylor again, she’s fun.” She rambles on as she pushes the cart through the lamp aisle. “Oh. I didn’t invite the girls again. It’s uh…it’s just gonna be you and Hugh.” She puts the lamp she’s been observing back onto the shelf. “Actually, I just remembered I have plans tomorrow.” She states flatley and starts to push the cart again. You follow her, waiting until you enter an aisle that was free of people before confronting her. “Ashley, don't be like that.” You whine. “I’m not being like anything y/n. I just forgot I had plans.” She shrugs as she busies herself by looking at the bathroom decor on the shelves. “What do you have against him?” You blurt out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Cut the shit Ash. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I can’t even mention his name without you trying to change the subject. I can’t even talk to my best friend about the guy I like because of this weird fucking grudge you have against him.” She stares at you, giving you a few slow blinks before speaking again. “Fine. I’ll be there but I can’t promise I'll be civil.” 

You didn’t push her any further, her answer was good enough for now. Target wasn’t the right place to fight with her about this and it probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. As much as you loved Ashley, she had a tendency to do and say wherever she pleased but when it came back to her, she played victim. It was becoming harder to deal with now that you weren’t children anymore. Later that night, while on facetime with Hugh, you decided to warn him about the shitshow which he was bound to end up in tomorrow.

“I’m not really sure what her deal is honestly. She won’t tell me why she doesn’t like you.” You pout. “It’s okay baby, not everyone is going to like me. I can handle it.” 

The endearments had been something that Hugh didn’t drop after the ‘just friends’ talk. You thought about talking to him about it but the words sounded too good rolling off of his tongue. You argued that it wasn’t any different than your other friends calling you ‘babe’- it wasn’t the same at all but you didn’t care. You knew it meant more to both of you. 

“I know, but it would be really nice if you two could be friends, ya know? She just gets too overprotective I guess…” You tell him, not really believing your own words. “You don’t have to come tomorrow if you don’t want to. We can pick another day for you to come if you feel like it’ll be too awkward.” “Tomorrow is fine y/n. Everything will be okay. Don’t think about it too much, I’m sure I can charm her a little bit, get her on my side.” He assures you.

Ashley was on her worst behavior and it was pissing you off. It felt like you had covered Hugh in blood and thrown him to the sharks- when you think about it, he probably would have had a better shot at fighting off the sharks. The entire day so far had been full of eye rolls and snarky comments. When you had a moment alone with Hugh, all you could do was apologize for her behavior and he swore it was fine, it wasn't your fault. Ashley was acting weird towards you the entire morning. When you offered her to get up and learn some choreo, she brushed you off saying that she still needed to wake up. You glanced over at Hugh and Ashley every few minutes as they talked. It looked civil. The music was too loud to hear what the conversation was about and it was making you nervous. Hugh kept his eyes mostly on you as he spoke but Ashley’s were set on Hugh, never looking your way. You tried your best to ignore it, focusing on doing your job.

 For one of the songs, you would be giving one of the dancers named Ethan a lap dance. He had become a good friend over the past year you had known him and he made the whole grinding on him thing a lot less awkward than you thought it would be. “Are you and eye candy over there still playing friends?” Ethan asks as he gestures towards where Hugh and Ashley sat. “Yes..but it’s more lenient. Kinda like dating but nothing exclusive.” You explain, eyes on Hugh. He’s looking back at you and you’re sure he can tell that you’re talking about him. “You should do the dance for him, since he’s a special guest today and all.” He offers, smirk present on his face. “You don’t think that would be too mean? I want him to want me but I don’t wanna ruin the man. At least not yet anyways.” A similar smirk to Ethan’s was rising to your lips at the thought of Hugh being flustered over you. “I think you should do it.” You think about it for a moment and shame yourself for how quickly you made your decision. “You’re a bad influence.” You tell Ethan. Hugh’s eyes are still on you and you point your finger at him and wiggle it, motioning him to come here. 

“I’m gonna go sit down, have fun.” Ethan says and goes down the stairs to the stage as Hugh walks up them. “What’s up sweetheart?” He asks. “Ethan isn’t feeling well right now, would you mind standing in for him? You don’t have to do anything, just sit in that chair.” You point to the metal fold up chair that sits in the center of the catwalk. “Yea I can do that.” His smile is authentic, happy to help. “Thank you baby.” You say and you reach up to leave a quick kiss on his cheek. You pick up the mic that you sat on the stage floor earlier and turn it on. “We’re ready to go for the next one.” You announce through it so the sound crew could hear you. They announce ‘places’ and Hugh sits down in the chair. You walk over to the marker on the floor that indicates your starting position for this song. It’s about five feet behind Hugh’s chair, leaving him clueless on what’s happening. 

The song starts and you strut to the beat until you reach the chair. Your hands are on either side of Hugh’s chest and you move your hands around the same way that you had practiced many times before. His chest was hard and you could feel the muscles of his pecs. You slide your hands up to his shoulders and walk slowly around the chair until you're right in front of Hugh. The song slows at this point, giving the perfect moment for you to slowly drop yourself into his lap, arms around his neck. There’s three quick beats and you bounce up and down. Hugh’s eyes are wide in surprise. He’s a lot taller than Ethan and his thighs hold more muscle. It took a moment to get used to as the routine went on. The entire dance was pretty stereotypical: a lot of grinding, ass popping, and touching. You spent a good majority of the song whispering the words quietly to Hugh. He kept his hands to himself, not wanting to interrupt whatever move you had to do next. When the song ends, you’re out of Hugh’s lap and standing a foot in front of him for your ending pose. The crew gives you the okay to move and you turn back to Hugh, mischief present in your face. “Thank you Hugh!” You squeal, giving him a quick hug once he stands up. “Yea. yea…You’re such a tease.” He says the second part low enough so only you hear. As he walks back to his seat, you could have sworn you saw him trying to discreetly reposition whatever was happening in his pants. 

During your lunch break, Ashley’s strange act continued as she made up some excuse for her to leave- you could tell she was lying. Hugh and yourself ended up ordering subs from some local deli and ate in your dressing room. “So what do you think about everything so far?” You ask, referring to the choreo you’d been learning for the past three hours. “It’s…fun.” You huff at that. “You’re so terrible at describing things Hugh. Oh my god.” You complain. “I’m sorry…It's good.” You give him a blank stare, not satisfied with his answers. “Okay okay, don’t give me that look. You’re phenomenal…watching you dance and feeling you dance on me is making it really hard to just be your friend.” He shrugs, taking another bite of his sandwich. His answer makes you blush, familiar butterflies fly around your tummy. “Oh.” It’s all you could say. “You don’t have to accept my invites if it’s too hard on you.” “Hm. That’s not it, babe. I definitely want to be here. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that little stunt you pulled earlier.” He winks as he refers to the lapdance. 

Comments like that had been frequent throughout the past month. Hugh Jackman was a natural flirt. That was a fact you had the pleasure of learning from personal experience and the displeasure of learning from the internet. You had seen countless videos of him being a flirty slut- as a married man. It worried you and had been something you’d been thinking about nonstop since the discovery. Him flirting with you was one thing, but you didn’t like the idea of him flirting with others when he was ‘yours’. You’d also seen videos of him mentioning multiple times that he liked older women, which had become another concern that ate at your brain. Last week, Hugh had come over for a movie night and you planned on casually mentioning the apprehension you had around the issue. 

“Sooo, I heard you liked older women?” 

Casual had never been your thing. 

“Uh..yea. It’s a preference of mine.” You could tell that the question made him uncomfortable. The tiny little toxic part of your heart was happy about that. You let out a short hum. “What was that for?”

 “What was what for?” 

 “Your little ‘hm.’.” You shrug as you speak your next words. “It’s just interesting.” 

 “What’s interesting.”  “You having a preference for older women.”  

“How is that any different from you liking older men?” He asks genuinely and you could honestly smack him right now for not seeing the issue and you would if he wasn’t across the couch. “Hm. I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m currently interested in an older man and you’re straying quite far from your preferences Mr.Jackman.” He lets out a deep belly laugh. “Why are you laughing at me?” You cross your arms, a small pout sits on your lips. “You're jealous.” He smirks. “I’m not jealous. I’m skeptical.”  “There's no reason to be.” His eyes are gentle.  “If you say so.” You didn’t want to damper the mood but your mind was filled with ‘what ifs’ and you needed reassurance.

 “Hey. Come here sweet girl.” He motions for you to sit closer to him. You crawl over and his arm drapes over your shoulder. Your head rests on his chest and his cheek is resting on the crown of your hair. “I promise you have nothing to worry about. I like you and only you.” “Pinky promise?” You look up at him, holding out your pinky. He lets out a chuckle and links his pinky with your own. “Pinky promise.” He was looking down at you. You were staring in his eyes, watching the reflection from the flame of the pumpkin pie scented candle that sat on the coffee table flicker. He slowly leaned down, allowing his lips to softly touch yours. It was a lazy kiss, lips moving every few seconds. You could feel every part of Hugh’s lip slide against yours. The slowness of it all was arousing- the heat from his body wasn’t helping. The upward stretch of your neck became sore after a few minutes,  giving you the perfect excuse to climb into his lap. The makeout session lasted about thirty minutes, never speeding up, both of you enjoying the intimacy of the demure, slow kisses. You ground your hips into his in an undemanding manor, not wanting to rush the moment, just needing to feel him against you. A few whispered moans were thrown about, a few neck kisses here and there. The rules were beyond broken that night. You liked to imagine what would have happened if there wasn’t a knock on the door from the food you ordered earlier. 

Your cheeks heat up at the memory as you pick an onion off of your sandwich. Hugh was right, you were a tease. That night, he had initiated the kiss but you turned it into so much more. You could've stopped it, blaming it on the pain in your neck, but you wanted more. With Hugh, you always wanted more. It was your stupid idea to be his friend first and it was torturing you. “What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Hugh asks, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Nothing...These onions are too strong.” You flick the onion you picked off onto the paper that was once wrapped around your sub. “You sure that’s it? You can talk to me babe.” He’s sincere. He’s always so patient and caring towards you. It makes your heart swell. “I was thinking about our movie night.” You admit. “Anything in particular from that night?” He asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about, the wide smirk on his stupid perfect face makes that obvious. “I wasn’t thinking about that, you perv. I was thinking about how I forgot to tell you that I’m going to New York next week.” He didn’t need to know that you were for sure thinking about every detail of his dick that you could remember and you really did forget to tell him that, so you weren’t technically lying. “Hm. I wonder what made you forget?” Smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.” And you did ignore it, immediately talking about your upcoming trip. “It's kinda gonna be my first time there. I performed a show there but I was gone the next day. I have an entire four days to explore this time. Well except for when I work but whatever.” You shrug at the end, voice filled with excitement ready to see the city in its full glory. “What do you have scheduled when you’re out there?” 

“I have a photoshoot, meetings, then the Tonight Show.” 

“First time on Fallon?” you laugh. “First time on any big talk show, I'm so fucking nervous.” 

“Don’t be. Jimmy’s a great guy and you’re good at talking. It’s easy to pay attention to you.” 

“Do you pay attention to me because I'm a good talker or do you pay attention to me because you think I'm pretty.” You were completely fishing for a compliment and you carried no shame for it. “Both.” 

Hugh had become a really good friend and not just because the two of you shared an occasional kiss. He was there for you when you had no one else. The next day, Ashley came over and you tried to ask her why she lied about needing to leave rehearsal early. She either gave a vague answer for each question or completely dodged it. You never asked Hugh about what they talked about, wanting the answer from your best friend, but it was looking like you would have to turn to him to get closer to the truth. You invited her to New York the second you found out you were going. Trying to get her out of her funky mood, you brought it up, asking if she was excited that it was coming up so soon. She quickly agreed to the excitement but each word came out flat and uninterested. About an hour after she left your house, you got a text. 

bestie boo: hey. i’m actually not gonna be able to make it to new york. sorry, ttyl. 

The text caught you off guard but it wasn’t a total surprise due to Ashley’s behavior while she was at your house. That didn’t mean it hurt any less though. The consistent dodginess from her made your throat tighten up. Your first instinct was to text Hugh, so that’s what you did.

You: hey, are you busy rn? 

Hugh <3: Hi baby. No, I'm not busy. What’s up?

You: can you come over? :(

Hugh <3: On my way! 

When you opened the door for him, worry was written on his face. “What’s wrong?” He takes off his shoes, the same way he has the past few times he’s come over. “I feel like you’re always asking me that.” You slump over slightly. “I gotta make sure my girl is okay.” All of the sadness you had over Ashley almost vanished entirely. “I’m your girl?” You ask looking up at him. “Of course you’re my girl y/n. Just waiting for the day you wanna label it.” He smiles down at you and offers his hand. “Now c’mon, tell me what’s got you all blue.” You grab his hand and he follows the familiar route to your living room couch. He sits down and pulls you down towards him. You’re sitting next to him, your side against his. He pulls your legs up so they lay across his lap and he rubs slow circles into your thigh.

 “What’s got that pretty face of yours frowning?” He pinches your thigh lightly as he asks the question. “It’s Ashley, she’s being really weird Hugh. She always tells me things and now she’s just…not.” He has his own frown now. “I’m sorry baby….Is this about me again?” 

“Kinda but not totally. I just wanted to know why she doesn’t like you. You’ve become so important to me and I plan on having you around for a while. She’s been my best friend since we were kids, I want her to like you and be able to be around you.” You put your hands over your eyes, your palms applying  pressure on them to prevent the tears from falling. All the pent up frustration was starting to reach its limit. “Hey, look at me.” He grabs your chin, a gesture he’s done more times than you can count. “Don’t let me come in between your friendships.” You sigh. “It’s not your fault Hugh.” 

“I…I think it might be my fault a little bit.” He admits with a guilty expression, making your heart sting. “What do you mean?” 

“She uh… Ashley might have flirted with me yesterday. I shut it down but…” He sighs nervously. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how to tell you to be honest..” The room around you both felt stuffie and too small. The tears that were held back by the palms of your hands just a few minutes ago, spill out. You were feeling too many emotions: hurt, anger, betrayal. 

This wasn’t the first time Ashley had done something like this. She’d done it with Pedro when the two of you were already together. The only difference is that she felt so guilty that she confessed. This time, Ashley was too much of a coward to tell you what she had done to your face. You didn’t want to lose your best friend but you couldn’t keep her around when all she seemed to do was hurt you. Hugh holds you as you cry, not saying a word. He leaves little kisses on your head and tells you that ‘it’s okay’ over and over. He let you cry without knowing what it was you were crying about. You felt so stupid to have let this slip past you. It had been almost the exact same situation before. Ashley acted weird towards Pedro, she starts being vague, and then you find out what she did. Déjà fucking vu. You couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s funny sweetheart?” Your mind had been racing so fast, you almost forgot that Hugh’s was still here holding you. He had gone still, the only reminder of his presence was the weight of his arms around you. “I just can’t believe she did it again without me noticing. I feel dumb.” His body jerks in surprise. “Again?” 

—

It was Saint Patrick's day and you were at Ashley’s place getting ready for a party. It was a weird holiday to throw a party for but people used any excuse to get drunk. Leading up to this day, Ashley has been yapping non stop about going to her first celebrity party but tonight, she couldn’t have been more quiet. You excused her behavior for nerves, not questioning it more. Her demeanor has been different for a few days. Ashley wasn’t one to open up quickly or talk about her problems. You only pried as much as you could before being shut out and right now you had been completely blocked off. You tried your best to ignore it, trying to focus on the night ahead of you. 

Billie is who had invited you to the party as the two of you grew close. Being the same age, doing the same job, and experiencing the same things made it impossible for the two of you not to be friends. The party was going to be filled with people you’d never met before, so you asked her if you could bring a person or two- Ashley and Pedro. It was when you told Ashley that Pedro would also be coming, that her prior eagerness for the party dissipated. 

Just as you sat down to start your makeup, Ashley finally spoke. “Y/n…I think I’m gonna skip out on the party tonight.” You lift your head to look at her through the mirror.“What, why? We’ve been talking about this for weeks.” 

 “I just don’t feel like going anymore.” She’s scrolling through her phone. “You’re such a shitty liar, Ash. What’s up? Why don’t you wanna go anymore?” You turn the spinny chair your in to face her. She put her phone down and the look on her face was one you wouldn’t ever forget. It was a look full of guilt, shame. You were trying to comfort your best friend while she was about to tell you the most heat shattering words. “I don’t think it’s smart to be around Pedro.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “Why not. I thought you guys were good now, that you liked him?” She’s fidgeting with her hands. “Y/n we kissed.” 

“Who kissed?” You ask, hoping you were misinterpreting what she was saying. “Me and Pedro.” You hadn’t misunderstood her words. 

Your heart shattered. Pedro has only been your boyfriend for a little over a month but it still hurts. You were still in the honeymoon phase, where everything felt like love even though it was just over infatuation with the new relationship. Without thinking about it, you started collecting your things to leave, gathering the makeup you just placed onto the table back into its bag. “What are you doing?” Ashley asks nervously. “I’m leaving.” She didn’t try to stop you. 

When you got home, you felt numb. There was a strong ache in your chest where your heart sits but there wasn’t an ounce of emotions flowing through you. The betrayal of the person you trusted most in this life was worse than any other pain you could think of. You spend hours laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, when a knock finally pulls you out of whatever trance you were in. “Hey baby. Ashley texted me saying I should come check on you.” He steps into the house and follows you down the entry hall. “Oh I didn’t know you guys were on texting terms now…” You trail off for a second, not leaving Pedro enough time to say anything before you speak again. “Huh…You know, I guess it would make sense, seeing as you guys are apparently on kissing terms.” You stop and stare at him, looking dead in his eyes. He winces. “She told you about that.” The statement pisses you off. “What the fuck do you mean ‘she told you about that.’? Were you planning on keeping it a secret?” Your voice gradually rises alongside the anger in your body. “No, but I-” 

“but fucking what Pedro? You kiss my best fucking friend and then hide it from me??” Your finger hurts from the pressure of pointing it into his chest. “I didn’t kiss her.” You ignore him. “When did it happen?” “Baby, listen to me. I didn’t kiss Ashley.” He ignores you. “WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?” You scream at him, all of the emotions spilling over. You sink down to the floor, abandoning your prior standing position, and you cry. 

“I didn’t kiss her babygirl. I would never hurt you like that.” He sits down next to you, his back against the wall. You don’t speak. “It was last Tuesday, when she came over to talk to me like you asked her to. She said it was because you wanted her to like me, for us to be friends. She started acting differently and before I knew it she was kissing me. That’s all that happened baby.” He explains as he runs his fingers along the baby hairs on your forehead. “You didn’t kiss her?” You look into his big brown puppy eyes, searching for the truth. “I didn’t kiss her.” He affirms. “I promise, babygirl.” 

“Pinky promise?” He interlocks his pinky with yours. 

You didn’t speak to Ashley for two weeks after that incident. You wanted so badly to know why she did it, but in the end you didn’t think it mattered, each outcome still ended with her being a selfish person- a bad friend. You didn’t really talk things out either but you decided to forgive her. The friendship was too important to you at the time to give up but you wouldn’t let her be anywhere near Pedro again. The idea of them being friends was out the window. 

—

 “What a bitch.” His thick accent shining through extra hard with his own anger.- it makes you laugh. “I don’t even know what to do at this point. I don’t think I can trust her anymore.” he nods in agreement. “I know sweetheart but I'm here for you, no matter what you decide to do. Okay?” it's your turn to nod. “Okay. Thank you Hugh, really. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You look up at him, giving him a small smile and a quick kiss on his side. “You know what sucks more than possibly losing my best friend for good?” You ask, humor shines in your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Losing my New York tour guide.” He laughs. “You’re laughing now, but it’s serious. She created these crazy itineraries for us to be the most obnoxious tourist. Now I have to rely on my own planning skills, which aren’t great.” Hugh goes quiet for a moment. You search his face for his thoughts and he seems unsure of what he’s about to say. 

“I could..uh. I could go to New York with you. I kinda need to go anyways, been meaning to go.” He says and when you don’t speak right away, he panics. “You don’t have to say yes. I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I understand if you want some time for yourself..” You giggle at his overthinking. “Hugh, I would love for you to come to New York with me.” He lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. “Okay good. That’s great! I needed to go back a few weeks ago actually so this works out for the both of us.” 

“Why didn’t you go back when you needed to?” His cheeks go red. “Oh my god! You totally stayed because of me didn’t you?”

 “Maybe..” He admits. “I was scheduled to fly back to New York before your album party, but then you texted me. I couldn’t pass that up.” 

“You keep acting like this and you’re gonna make me fall in love with you Hugh Jackman.” A smug smile falls onto his lips. “You better.” 

The few days leading up to you leaving for New York were short. Hugh left for the city the next day, promising he would see you the moment you landed, sealing the promise with a quick kiss. You busied yourself with tour rehearsals and interview prep. It had been a lonely few days. Hugh was gone and you weren’t talking to Ashley, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You and Hugh texted daily but it wasn’t the same as being in his presence, a presence you had come to enjoy having around. You were close to saying ‘fuck it’ and be fully committed to him but a part of you was still hesitant. Too much has happened recently, it feels like you can’t think straight half the time. Your last relationship was only a few months ago, your best friend was trying to steal every man you liked, and you’re at the peak of your career. You needed a mental breather. 

LAX airport was cold and stuffy. People were walking casually towards their destination with a few runners here and there. While you loved traveling, airports made you feel uneasy. There were so many people going to the most random places on the most random days and random times. It was uncomfortable to think about. You sat there in silence, too afraid to wear headphones. You liked to know what was happening around you at all times, a freak peeve. When it was finally time to board the plane, you were already exhausted from it all. Almost seven hours later, you landed at JFK airport in New York City. Once you turn off airplane mode on your phone, you see a few texts from Hugh. He insisted that he could pick you up from the airport and take you to your hotel. Your ‘personal chauffeur” he jokingly called himself. You texted Hugh back as people hurriedly grabbed their belongings and scurried down the thin aisles. 

You: just landed! see you soon hot stuff ;)

He told you beforehand that he made arrangements to pick you up in a private area, away from prying eyes. You weren’t nearly famous enough to know what that means, so you simply followed the instructions he gave you. It was a little confusing at first, having only been in the busy airport once before. With some help from workers, Hugh was finally in your view. He had a big smile on his face with his arms open wide for you. You walked with a little pep in your step, suitcase rolling behind you. When you got close enough, you let the handle go and ran the rest of the short distance to Hughs arms. His embrace was warm and welcoming, a familiar place. 

“Missed you sweet girl.” He mumbles into your hair. You pull back slightly, arms still holding him. “Missed you too.” Your voice is shy, almost forgetting how it felt to have his attention on you. You had missed him, more than you thought you would. Hearing his voice again made life feel real again after the past mundane days you’ve endured. The walk to his car was intimate- his arm sat atop your shoulders as you walked side by side. He insisted on rolling your luggage for you and wouldn’t take no for an answer when you protested. A true gentleman. He opened the passenger door for you, making sure you were in before putting your suitcase in the trunk and hopping into the driver's side. He looked a lot more presentable than you did. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt that hugged his biceps in a way that almost made you drool. It was simple but he looked delicious. Your sweats and hoodie couldn’t compare. His beard had finally grown in, no longer the prickly stubble that rested there a month ago. It was full and you hoped he would let it grow to that length that made him look even more expensive. 

“The option to stay at my place is still on the table if you want it babe.” He says, resting his hand on your thigh as he begins to pull out of the hidden parking lot. There was something so attractive about a man driving. Hugh’s side profile was godly and him driving really did something to your brain. “That wouldn’t be very friendly of us Hugh.” You rest your hand on top of his. “I think that’s the friendliest thing I could possibly do. Offer you a place to stay while in town instead of staying in a dingy hotel.” He eggs on trying to convince you. He first pitched the idea the night he offered to come to New York with you. You immediately declined, not wanting to invade his space. You wouldn’t know how to handle it, it made things too real. He had been over to your house countless times, but you had never been to his. You thought it best to keep it that way. You weren’t sure you could control yourself around him when you were surrounded by all things him. “Nothing is ever friendly between us Hugh.” He squeezes your thigh. “I have to argue with you there baby. In my humble opinion, we are too friendly.” He glances over to you and gives you a wink. He hasn’t been afraid of letting his intentions known. To let you know that he wants you, not as a friend. You’ve seen just how bad he craved you and it was tempting. He knew he had a dangerous effect on you, one that you worked really hard to control. 

“You’re always so horny.” You mumble. “It’s hard not to be when I have a gorgeous girl like you around all the time.” God he was so good with his words. His voice and his way of speaking. It was no mystery as to why he had people swooning for him left and right- you included. “Whatever.” You open your phone to text Stacy, letting her know you landed and in good hands. It was weird flying solo. You got so accustomed to flying along Ashley or Stacy. You weren’t particularly mad at the change if it meant you got to see Hugh’s face light up just at seeing you again. “Will you at least come over once?” He asks, hopeful. “I’ve seen your house, I’d really like you to see mine. It’s where I live most of the time. It would mean a lot.” The squeeze on your thigh lingers, his grip lasting longer than the previous one. You didn’t know how to explain that you really didn’t want to do that- be in his house. You didn’t think he would understand what you mean when you say ‘it’s too much’. The desperation in his voice, the yearning he felt to have you in his home. You couldn’t say no. “Yea I can do that.” The small smile that rested on his lips grew, his face lighting up. It made your stomach twist up in knots. 

The hotel that Stacy booked for you was grand. The elegance and class in the places you’ve stayed at while traveling has never failed to amaze you. Growing up, your family didn’t have a lot of money. When you went on family trips, the cheapest hotel, usually a motel 6, was your usual nightly accommodations. The places you stayed in now would have little you screaming and running around. The whole ‘entering fame’ process had been a huge culture shock that you were still learning to navigate appropriately. 

“Hm. Not too shabby, my house is better though.” Hugh says as he sits your luggage to the side. He had put a hat and sunglasses on, trying to make it less obvious that it was him- trying to hide that it was him who was with you. The hat, sunglasses, and beard combo was doing a number on your body. It took a lot of strength to keep yourself from dragging him to the bed and riding him until you were satisfied. Though, you’re not sure that you could ever be fully satisfied with Hugh. Not because you were scared he wouldn’t be good in bed but because you knew once he had you, you would need him again and again until you physically couldn’t handle him anymore. You  felt him that one night on the couch, movie night, you knew that man was packing and that it wouldn’t take much for him to bruise your cervix.

 “Hugh, please.” You warn him. He puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry…Just don’t forget that it’s an option.” “I don’t think you’d let me forget..” You let out a breathy laugh after. Hugh sits down at a small table and watches you as you walk around, exploring the room. You unpack a few things to make it easier on yourself later. “Are you up for exploring today?” He asks as he walks into the bathroom, where you’re placing your toiletries along the vanity counter. “Oo! I’d love to explore. I have one weird request though.” You're still facing the mirror when Hugh comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, sitting a little higher due to his height. “What’s that baby?” He’s watching you through the mirror, as you organize your skin care. “I wanna go to Trinity Church to see Hamilton's grave.” You say nonchalantly. Hugh laughs and questions you. “I need to sing the ‘he’s buried in Trinity Church near you’ line from Hamilton.” Hugh continues laughing. “What!?” He barely gets the words out. It somewhat offends you.  “I thought you’d understand, being a theater nerd and all but I guess not.” You cross your arms and try to break through his hold to walk away. “Mhm. I’m sorry, come back. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. You’re just full of surprises.” You relax in his hold. 

“Does that mean you’ll take me?” You look at his eyes through the mirror. “Yea i’ll take you.” He smiles. You look at Hugh in the mirror, observing how the two of you look together. He looks really good holding you and not to toot your own horn, but Hugh and yourself made an attractive couple. He looked good on your arm and you looked good on his. “You're so pretty, baby.” He whispers. “Every time I look at you, I’m blown away that you’re hanging around with me.” His arms tighten around you. “Hmm. I think we look good together, don’t you?” You reach your neck up to look at him as best as you can given the angle. He studies your two bodies in the mirror before agreeing. “Yea we do.”

Walking around with Hugh felt freeing. You’ve been trying so hard to keep things private lately that every time you weren’t in the secure confines of your house with him, you felt panicked. It was something that crossed your mind before the two of you left the hotel but he assured you that it wasn’t very likely that someone would notice both of you. You were a little doubtful in his words, opting to dress in a way that protected you from the early fall breeze and from making it too obvious of who you were. Hugh had been right though, you both were able to walk around pretty freely, undisturbed. He brought you to trinity church first and reluctantly filmed a video of you dramatically singing the line from Hamilton. To you it was peak comedy and Hugh was being a big hater. He took you to a few of his favorite places, hidden gems. It was perfect. You wanted to hold his hand, bodies brushing against each other as you walked, but you couldn’t. The night ended by Hugh taking you to get traditional New York pizza. He ordered a large pepperoni and you both walked back to the hotel. The moment your room door was opened, you were pulling your heeled boots off. The walking destroyed your feet but you’d gone beyond your daily step goals- a win is a win. Sitting at the table with Hugh, you both grabbed a slice of pizza. He waited for you to take a bite first, looking for your reaction. When you took a bite, you let out a moan- you weren’t sure if it was because it tasted that good or because of how hungry you were. “That good?” Hugh asks in amusement. “Yes, I was starving.” He chuckles and takes his own big bite. The two of you down the entire pizza at an embarrassingly fast rate. “Did you have fun today?” He asks you. “Yea, I really did. Thank you Hugh.” 

When Hugh left, you scrolled through all of the pictures and videos you had taken today. You snuck a couple of Hugh and you might have stared at them a little too long. You watched the Trinity Church video so you could post it on TikTok. As you uploaded it into the app and were giving it one last watch before hitting post, a sound caught your attention. You grabbed your headphones and connected them to get a better listen. As you were singing, you could hear Hugh quietly laughing in the background. The sound brought a smile to your face, replaying it over and over just to hear it again. You hit the ‘post’ and called it a night. 

The next morning was an early one. You had to be at the photo shoot at five am to get ready, meaning you were out the door at four. Stacy met you down in the lobby and led you to the car she had waiting for you. “How was your first day in New York? You and Ashley have fun?” She asks as she buckles her seatbelt. “Oh, Ashley didn’t come, we aren’t friends anymore. My first day was good though, really fun.” You smile at the memories of the day prior, ignoring the small pain from hearing Ashley’s name. Stacy gives you a questioning look. You sigh before explaining, “She was being weird and it turns out she was flirting with Hugh the other day when they came to rehearsals. She didn’t even have the decency not to do it in the exact same room.” Her expression turns to an understanding one. “Well, good riddance. I knew after the first time that the girl was nothing but trouble. Good for you babe.” She types on her phone for a moment before turning her attention back to you- your staring out the window, taking in the somewhat empty streets that were full of people the night before.

“So, what did you do yesterday that was so fun?” You don’t look at her when you respond. “Hugh took me exploring, showed me the city.” She snorts. “Hugh, huh?” You look at her sheepishly. “Yea. He felt bad that I didn’t have someone to go with me so he offered.” You shrug. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “I told you.” 

“Told me what?” 

“That you wouldn’t be able to stay away from that man.” She shakes her head. You sometimes forgot just how well Stacy knows you after years of her by your side. The car comes to a stop outside of a short building, shorter than the other ones around it anyway. You sat in hair and makeup for a while, talking to the artists as they worked. You always liked making conversation with the people that helped you, it was always interesting hearing everyone's stories. The photo shoot wasn’t anything crazy. It was a well known photographer that had worked with major stars, her most recent model being Zendaya. It was a huge compliment that she wanted to work with you. It wasn’t like other shoots you had done before, this had been way more artsy and free. You were so used to doing things for brands or for your own music, where everything needed to be a certain way. It was nice to work on projects where you didn’t have to think but just be you. 

When the shoot was over, you sat in a small lobby with Stacy as you waited for the car to come pick you up. You opened tiktok to see what people were saying in the comments of your latest post. Most of them were freaking out over the laugh in the background, over analyzing it to find out who it was. There were a few comments that speculated that it might be Hugh and it made you laugh, shocked by the crazy detective skills your fans had. You kept scrolling when you saw a comment that caught your attention.

‘Y/N GET YOUR MAN UNDER CONTROL SDJFJSDF’ 

You clicked on the ‘view replies’ tab under it trying to figure out what they were talking about. Thankfully, other people were just as confused as you were with multiple ‘context?’ comments under it. 

‘look at hughs recent instagram post 😭’

In curiosity, you closed Tiktok and opened instagram. You went to the search bar, clicking on his username from your recent searched section. You click on the most recent picture making it enlarge and you let out an audible gasp. “Are you okay?” Stacy asks. You almost forgot where you were for a second. “Yea i’m fine…funny tiktok comment.” You tried to play it off, hoping she’d buy the excuse. It seems to work as she gives a small nod, looking back down to her phone. You look back down at your own device, in complete and utter shock. You knew he was built, seeing other pictures he had posted and endless edits of his greasy hawaiian rolls from Deadpool and Wolverine. 

This however seemed so much slutier. He was in, what you assumed was his home bathroom, taking shirtless pictures of himself. You could tell it had been recent because his beard and hair were the same length that it’s been for the past week. You felt frozen, not knowing what to do. He looked absolutely scrumptious. Pulling out your airpods from your purse, you put them on to listen to the attached audio. You had no fucking clue how you were supposed to look him in the eyes the next time you saw him. His voice was something special. It had the ability to make your knees weak at the sound. This was no different. It felt like he was teasing you subtly. You quickly screenshot the picture and swipe out of instagram, opening your message app. 

You: I leave you alone for less than 24 hours and you’re over here posting thirst traps for the internet… 

Hugh <3: I just wanted to thank my team. As the caption said…I am grateful. 

You: hmm you say it’s being grateful, I say it’s being a SLUT!! 

You: you look really fucking good though…

Hugh<3: 😂😂😂

Hugh<3: Thank you baby. Do I get to see you today or are you still busy? 

You: I have meetings the rest of the day :( 

Hugh<3: It’s okay sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow? 

You: I have fallon tmrw night but i’ll be free at 8pm if you wanna meet up then? 

Hugh<3: That works for me. Text me when you’re done for the day, okay? Talk to you later baby

The car finally stops signaling that you were at the first meeting of the day. There were endless introductions, hand shaking, and smiling. It was a lot more tiring than it sounded. Stacy was doing most of the work, covering major details for whatever was being discussed- again you mainly sat and listened. There were a few times when you really had to pay attention as key points were being made but nothing would be final until your team and lawyer looked over whatever deals were being discussed. There was a short two hour break of freedom that Stacy and yourself used to grab some food. Then it was right back to work. You were somewhat grateful for Stacy scheduling all of the heavy work stuff on one day because it meant you didn’t have to do this again on the remaining days of your trip. Stacy liked to set it up that way, giving you more time to be free from work, you loved her for it. The two of you had dinner together and went your separate ways after. You got back to your hotel at ten and to say you were worn out was an understatement. Your head was hurting from all the talking and bright fluorescent lights of each office you sat in today. 

You: I’m finally freeeee!! 

After hitting send, you hopped in the shower. The best thing about staying in an expensive hotel was how great the water pressure was. The hot water felt like heaven against your sticky skin, the thick body glitter from the photoshoot finally slipping away. You let your mind wander back to the picture that had been in your mind all day. Running your hands down your body, teasing yourself while imagining that it was Hugh’s wide hands instead. You let your hands disappear in the place that ached the most, working as your mind played the fantasies that ate away at you. You could almost feel Hugh’s mouth whispering against your ear as the feeling of ecstasy washes over your body, the running water muffling the sounds of your pleasure. 

Hugh still hadn’t texted you back when you had gotten out of the shower. It was unusual for him to take so long to respond but given the time- and his age- he was probably asleep. The downside to dating older men was their need to be in bed so early. You giggled to yourself thinking about the thought of Hugh being knocked the fuck out in bed after yawning since the clock hit 7pm. Laying in bed, you whipped out your phone opening twitter. You tweeted a quick post, reminding your fans to watch Jimmy Fallon tomorrow night. You scrolled lazily for a while, feeling the sleep take over you but when you saw one post in particular, you felt wide awake. 

‘Hugh Jackman and ex-wife seen walking around New York together a year after separation.’ 

You had no right to feel the jealousy and anger that sat tight in your chest. His ex-wife was something you were completely aware of but it was a subject neither Hugh or yourself had talked about. You understood that she would always be around, after being married to her longer than you’d even been alive. You laugh in disbelief. It sounded so stupid when you put it like that. The age gap never bothered you until you put it in perspective. You couldn’t help who you liked though. The overthinking hit faster than you could stop it. You wondered why he didn’t tell you that he was seeing her today. His smile in the picture was a little too wide, he looked too happy. He wasn’t even yours to claim, yet you wanted her to know that he had you now, that he wanted you. The vile thoughts that danced around your head were making your temper rise. You set some alarms and tried to get some sleep. Most of the night was tossing and turning, thinking about Hugh’s ex-wife. 

Hugh<3: Good morning sweet girl. I’m sorry for not getting back to you last night. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to text me lol 

It was what you saw first when your alarm went off. It was sent a few hours ago since you gave yourself some time to sleep in, given the trouble you had getting to sleep last night. You ultimately decided that you wouldn’t be mad at him for it, you didn’t have a reason to be. If the two of you were official, things would be different, but you weren’t. You were going to try your best to swallow the jealousy and let it be. 

You: good morning baby! I figured that’s what happened lol

Hugh<3: Are you excited for Fallon tonight? 😄

You: yea…only a tinsy bit nervous 

Hugh<3: You’re gonna crush it babe, I know it. I still get to see you after yea? Miss you

You: I miss you too :(

You: do you wanna meet at the hotel after or…?

Hugh<3: I can pick you up and we can go to my place? 

You stared at the message contemplating it. Hugh’s house was already a fear of yours but his house at night seemed a lot more intimate. You felt the need to be that intimate with him though- it was fueled by the pictures from last night, you knew it was. If that hadn't happened, you’d be saying no, making up excuses not to. You needed the validation too much to think straight. 

You: yea we can do that :)

Once you get to the Tonight Show studio, you barely have time to put your things down before you're being guided around. Thankfully, you warmed up your voice before leaving your hotel room just in case you didn’t have time to do it here. The crew had you and your dancers do a quick run through of the song to make sure everything was working before you were sent to your dressing room to get ready. Kat, your stylist, and Amari, your makeup and hair artist, were already in the room ready to get to work. You took the time to catch up with both of them, the three of you falling into a familiar routine. Your nerves started to build up as it got closer to the filming time. About twenty minutes before you were called to stage, Jimmy came back to introduce himself. He was a really sweet guy, super bubbly and humble. It eased your mind a little bit but they shot right back up when your name was called. “Y/n L/n everybody!”. The studio audience erupted in cheers as you walked to Jimmy’s desk. “Welcome to the show, how are you doing tonight?” He asks. “I’m doing amazing, thank you so much for having me.” The cheers finally slow down. “So, I got told that this is your first late night show interview, is that right?” 

“Yes, it is!” 

“I’m honored to be the first.” 

“I’m glad it’s you who popped my late night talk show cherry, Jimmy.” You joke, using your song's title as a pun, which he does his famous laugh at. The interview was going really well, most of the questions being ones you’ve answered countless times before.

“There have been a few rumors going around after a tiktok you posted the other day and I have to ask.” You nod ready for whatever question he’s about to ask. “Is the laugh behind the camera Mr. Hugh Jackman?” Your smile falters for a second before you put it right back on. This was something you weren’t prepared for at all. You let out a laugh. “The fans can keep speculating. A girl never kisses and tells.” It probably wasn’t the best answer- you know it wasn’t the best answer- but it’s all you could come up with in that moment. You just hoped no one noticed the split second your calm facade slipped, that it felt longer than it had actually lasted. 

Hugh was already there when you were free to leave, having texted him in the spare moment you had while getting changed into your performance outfit. Once you were in the car, he didn’t hesitate to ask how it went. “It was good. He uh…he asked about you.” You don’t why you were concerned about how he would respond, but you were. “About me?” He glances at you quickly before focusing on the road again. “Uhh..yeah. I posted the Hamilton video on tiktok and you can hear you laughing in it. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal but people started to guess it was you. I’m sorry.” You slump down into the seat, waiting for his anger to come but it never does. “Don’t apologize baby. I want people to know I’m with you.” He never fails at knowing what to say, his words always flow out of his mouth effortlessly. “I kinda redirected the question though, not really giving a solid answer. I don’t know, it really threw me off.” He nods. “They like to do that, be sneaky.” 

It took a little longer than expected to get to his place, New York traffic moving at a snail's pace. When you do finally arrive, he’s pulling into an underground parking garage that sits under a skyscraper that you can’t see the top of. The elevator ride up was easily the longest one you’d ever been on, his penthouse being on the 56th floor. He opens the door and turns on the light switch that is conveniently placed in the entrance. “Welcome to my home. Mi casa es su casa.” He jokes and you let out a short snort at the stupid joke. “Would you like the official Hugh Jackman house tour?” Excitement was radiating off of him and you thought it was cute that he was this worked up about you being here, in his space. “I’d love one.” He offers his hand and you take it. Your once icy hand being warmed up instantly from his large, warm one. 

As he dragged you to the living room, you started to feel that uneasiness again, like you shouldn’t be here. It kept nagging at you in the back of your head but you refused to pick at it. This was making Hugh happy, you weren’t going to ruin that because of whatever issues you were hiding. After showing you the living room, he pulls you into a large kitchen. A vase full of bright pink flowers, balloons, and a cookie cake that reads ‘congrats’ sits on the counter. You let go of his hand and walk over to the island while he stays put. You run your fingertips over the soft petals of the flowers, peonies- your favorite. “Do you like them? I uh..wasn’t sure what your flower preference was, so I chose peonies because of your song.” 

The gesture makes you emotional. You’d never had a man go out of his way for you like this. He hadn’t known what flowers you liked but he remembered your song title to fill in the blank. A song where you had one line that says: ‘you got me roses when you know I like peonies’. A song from your debut album. “I love them. I love this.” You gesture to the display. You walk back over to where he stands and reach up to grab his face, bringing it down to give him a quick peck on his lips. “This means a lot to me, thank you Hugh.” The previous perturbation vanishing from your head, that cherished easiness you felt with Hugh slips back in. You were meant to be here. 

“Shall we finish the tour?” You ask, spirits high. “Of course my lady, right this way.” He leads you room to room, giving you a mini explanation for each one. It was an average home, well average for a millionaire. It was obvious that a single, older man lived here but not in a bad way, there just wasn’t a woman's touch on the place. “This is bathroom number two, the one I use most frequently.” Something about the room seemed familiar as you looked around. There were a few art pieces on the marbled wall, a large mirror across from them. You were looking at the suspiciously large mirror when it clicked. 

“OH MY GOD!! This is the thirst trap bathroom! I can’t believe I have the pleasure of being in such a sacred place.” You move around the space in a theatrical way, pretending you were in a place of true importance. 

“Oh god…shut up.” He groans in embarrassment. “Could you reenact the moment? It would really help me get the full feel of the room.” You’re still teasing him but that question came back to slap you right across the face. You see a smirk on Hugh's face and he’s reaching his hands down and starts lifting his shirt off- but not in the practical way but in the super sexy crossed arms way. “WAIT! I was just kidding.” You practically scream at him, not mentally prepared to see Hugh shirtless in person. He stops and shrugs, turning around to leave the room. Before you can stop yourself, the horny part of your brain is speaking. “Wait no, keep going.” He slowly turns around with that stupid sexy smile of his and the raised eyebrow thing he does. The atmosphere of the small room changed instantly. He’s pulling at his shirt again, painfully slow in your opinion. As he inches it up, you analyze each slither of skin that’s freed. There is a patch of hair below his belly button leading down into his pants. A strong v-line and a thick vein practically popping out of his skin, begging to be traced with your tongue. The shirt goes higher and higher, revealing more of his chest. Each ab pops out and it’s like a gift from God right in front of your eyes. He pulls the shirt over his head, biceps flexing slightly, and drops the shirt onto the floor. You're frozen in place, not believing that this is real. 

You never have been one to believe in karma but you must have been a saint in your past life to deserve this. You see his mouth move but don’t hear a word he says. All you see is the hairy chest you’d been thirsting over, moving closer until it’s right in front of you. He grabs your cheeks between one hand and faces your eyes up towards his own. “Are you okay y/n?” He has a worry behind his eyes. 

“You’re like really hot. It’s actually frustrating how hot you are.” His grip on your face loosens as you speak. “You asked to see, I was only fulfilling your wishes.” You felt dizzy. He hadn’t even touched you and the way your whole face sits in his one hand and the way his abs are begging to be licked, had you flustered. You were drunk on Hugh. “You're wandering again…maybe I should put my shirt back on.” He goes to reach for it but you reach out, lightly grabbing his arm to stop him. “Not yet.” It’s mumbled and quiet, aimed more towards yourself than it was to him. 

Hugh stands back up, his height towering over you. You couldn’t decide if he had always been so tall. Towering over you in a way that made your heart beat faster. Your mind was battling itself: the arousal wanting nothing more than for Hugh to do whatever he wanted with you while the more reasonable side knew that there were too many things that needed to be talked about before crossing this line. The line had been crossed many times before with the kisses, touches, hand holding- the night on the couch… Sex was different. You weren’t fond of casual sex, it was too intimate an act to categorize as such. Whatever was happening between Hugh and yourself was far from casual though and you trusted him not to hurt you.

“You’re kinda scaring me here, pretty girl. Are you okay?” You couldn’t tell him that seeing his chest had sent you into a horny dazed confusion. You looked up at him, into his worried eyes. He was always so concerned about your well being and he cared so much about everything going on in your life. God, you prayed that this wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

“Kiss me please.” Your voice is shaky, unstable. “Are you sure baby?” His hands rest on your shoulders, eyes searching yours for any doubt. 

“Please Hugh. I need you to kiss me.” His once troubled eyes turned dark as he bent down, kissing you like he never had before. The kiss was messy, full of hunger. His hands trailed down your sides until they cupped under the base of your ass. He effortlessly picks you up to sit you on the bathroom counter, lips never breaking contact. You could feel his tongue prodding at the entrance of your mouth as it asked for permission to enter. Granting access, your lips open, a throaty moan draws out as you feel his tongue swipe against yours. He pulls back for a moment. “Can I take this off? Is that okay?” He asks, referring to your shirt. His usual thick australian accent was soft in his breathy voice. You nod shyly and he doesn’t hesitate to reach down. You put your arms up to aid him as he gently pulls the shirt up and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck baby…so fucking pretty.” His hands cup your bra covered breast, thumbs softly trailing over your stiff nipples causing you to drop your head back with a moan of pleasure. “We never finished the tour, sweet girl.” His hands are still fondling you and you lift your head back up to look at him. “What?” 

“There’s one more room I didn't get to show you.” His hands finally drop from your chest and he’s grabbing your hand, leading you towards whatever room it was that you hadn’t seen. He opens the door and the air surrounding you smells like Hugh. It was almost enough to make you pass out, head already light and fuzzy. 

You don’t have time to look around, Hugh immediately turning you to face him, attacking your mouth once again. His hands are reaching for the button of your jeans, pulling them down slowly once he’s got them open. Hugh’s lips escape yours and trail down your neck, your chest, the sides and your body, and finally your stomach as he slowly lowers himself to sit on his knees. He lifted each of your feet, helping you out of each pant leg. At each lift of your leg, he also pulls each sock off, kissing your calves as he does so. You're left in nothing but a black bra and thong. “Mhm. Can I touch you baby?” He asks looking up at you. You nod, the position he was in, all too arousing. He practically growls at your answer and starts leaving messy kisses on your thighs, his hands gripping the back of them. His lips trail up higher, ghosting over where you needed him the most. You could feel his breath through the thin cotton of your panties. Your own breath hitches as he licks a long teasing path between your two folds, the cotton dipping into them from the weight of his tongue. He looks up at you through his lashes, asking for permission. You mouth a small ‘please’ the only word that seems to be in your vocabulary at the moment. 

His thick fingers slip between the fabric and the skin on your hip on either side of your body, pulling the soaked thong down your legs. Before he continues, he’s standing up and guiding you to the bed. “Get up there and spread that pretty pussy for me baby. Wanna see it.” You waste no time doing what he asks, climbing up the unusually tall bed and laying on your back. You don’t open your legs right away, shyness creeping in. You were almost fully exposed to Hugh, the only thing still covered being your boobs, while he was almost fully covered, only his shirt being off. “Don’t go all shy on me now baby.” He says, guiding your legs open, pussy on full display. “Fuck..look at you sweet girl, all wet for me.” His thumbs pull back each fold, exposing the pink that was partially hidden. He leans town and licks from your entrance to your clit. “Mhmm fuck.” You moan out at the feeling. His tongue felt hot against your warm center, beard tickling your skin as he moved. The sound encourages him to continue. He dives down again, tongue lapping around your needy clit. The constant pressure causes your body to jerk voluntarily. Hugh brings both of his hands to hold you down at your legs, tongue still abusing the small bud. Loud moans escape your mouth as his tongue trails down to your entrance sliding in. “Oh fuck me.” You moan out. “Your pussy taste so fucking good.” He mutters against your skin. His right hand moves from its position on your hip, his middle finger sliding down to your opening. He slowly slides it in, the small stretch feels too good. He starts moving it, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves over and over again. “Fuck baby, i’m gonna cum.” You warn him. His head dips back down, tongue returning to your clit and one suck is all it takes for you to come around his finger. You let out a string of moans and curses, Hugh never letting up until your climax is over. He does one more lap around your pussy with his tongue, cleaning everything up before moving up the bed next to you. 

“Been wanting to do that forever baby. Knew you’d have a perfect little pussy.” His words make you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. Even with your own orgasm washing the need out of your body, you were still turned on. The sight of your slick in Hugh’s beard and the very noticeable tent in Hugh’s jeans made it worse. You sit up and go to move. “Where are you going?” Hugh asks, sitting up on his forearms to look at you. You don't respond, instead you reach for the button of his jeans. “You don’t have to do that baby.” He assures you. “I want to.” It was the first coherent sentence you’ve been able to muster and it makes Hugh fall back into the bed. You pull his jeans and boxers off in one go, too impatient to wait. His cock springs free, red and angry. It was long, thin, and veiny- exactly as you imagined it being. It made your mouth water. He had a thick patch of pubic hair and it turned you on even more, you were such a whore for hairy men. 

You sat yourself between each of his thighs, running your hands up and down them. He’s watching you as you take your right hand, wrapping it around the base of him. He sucks in a breath. You're looking him in the eyes as you lean your head down, letting your tongue swirl in slow circles around his tip. “Fuck…” You take the tip slowly into your mouth, sucking on it while your tongue still circles. Your left hand replaces the right on his dick, right hand moving down to cup his balls. “Shit..” He hisses out. “Haven’t done this in a while baby, not gonna last long at all.” He confesses but men coming fast had always been something that excited you, so you got to work. Your head dipped lower, taking more of him in your mouth while hollowing your cheeks, creating a dangerous suction on him. Your pace was steady as he moaned. “Yea baby, just like that…mmm fuck.” He was a talker and you loved it. You took him out of your mouth, moving down to his balls instead. You sucked on them as your hands worked his shaft. He was breathing rapidly. “I’m gonna cum baby….ohh fuck baby don’t stop.” You immediately moved your mouth back to his tip, sucking every drop of cum from him, not letting any go to waste. You can feel his thighs clenching next to yours. When you're confident that he was done spewing, you swallow it down happily and smile up at him. 

“You’re a dream, you know that? So fucking perfect for me.” He sighs in content as you crawl up to lay on his chest. “You really believe that?” You ask. “I really believe it, y/n. Haven’t felt this way in a long time..” You didn’t want to ask him what that meant, he would tell you eventually. “You wanna stay here tonight?” You look around, seeing the time on the digital alarm clock he had on a bedside table. It read 11:30pm. “Yea, if that’s okay.” You didn’t want to inconvenience him, even if he’s the one who asked. “More than okay sweet girl.” 

The two of you took a quick shower together, the main goal was to get clean so you could hit the hay. Hugh strayed from that a little bit at the sight of your boobs, which he hadn’t seen fully during the fun you had earlier. He gave them small kisses, worshiping them as you washed your hair. He gave you a shirt to sleep in and you opted to go commando, not wanting to put your dirty underwear back on- Hugh didn’t complain about this. His own pajamas being his boxers and nothing else. The two of you laid in Hugh’s bed, you cuddled on his side running your fingers through the hair on his chest. A silence fell over the room, sleep creeping its way in.

thank you for reading!

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[pucksandpower]

It Started With an Appendix

Carlos Sainz x nurse!Reader

Summary: in which an inflamed appendix turns out to be the ultimate matchmaker

Warnings: medical ethics are basically thrown out the window

“Y/N, the patient in room 312 is awake,” a voice calls from the hall outside the nurses’ station.

You make your way down the bright, sterile corridor toward the private room, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Taking a breath, you rap your knuckles lightly on the door before entering.

Carlos Sainz Jr. is propped up in the hospital bed, blinking slowly as the anesthesia wears off. His tousled hair and grogginess make him look adorably vulnerable.

“Hola, señorita,” he slurs with a lopsided grin as you approach. “Are you an angel? You must have fallen from heaven.”

You can’t help but giggle at his cheesy line, shaking your head in amusement. “No, Mr. Sainz, I’m your nurse. You just had your appendix removed.”

“Call me Carlos,” he insists, his Spanish accent thick and velvety. “And you’re definitely an angel to me.”

Suppressing another laugh, you check his vitals and make a note on his chart. “How are you feeling, Carlos? Any pain or nausea?”

“I feel ... floaty,” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he looks you up and down. “But you’re making me feel much better already.”

You bite your lip to contain your smile. This man is incorrigible, even fresh out of surgery. “That’s the pain medication talking, I’m afraid.”

“No, no ...” Carlos protests weakly. “You’re just ... muy bonita. So beautiful.”

His boldness makes warmth bloom in your cheeks. You clear your throat. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? The anesthesia can make people loopy for a while.”

“Don’t go,” he pouts, trying and failing to grab your hand from the bed. “Stay and keep me company, hermosa.”

You gently lay his hand back at his side. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything, okay?”

Carlos levels you with a look that could melt glaciers. “At least tell me your name, ángel?”

Holding his smoldering gaze, you reply softly, “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoes, savoring each syllable. “What a beautiful name. Maybe I’ll dream of you, Y/N ...”

With a flustered smile, you turn and exit the room, his flirtatious words still ringing in your ears. This man is going to be the death of you.

Over the next few hours, you check on Carlos periodically, each time greeted by a fresh cheesy line or thinly-veiled compliment. He’s relentless, but also strangely endearing in his drug-addled state.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at each one, but can’t deny the little thrill it sends through you. Despite his grogginess, Carlos’ charisma still shines through effortlessly.

By the time your shift ends, you’re almost disappointed you won’t get to hear any more of his terrible pickup lines. You linger a moment in his doorway after bringing him his evening dose of medication.

“Feeling any better?” You ask kindly.

Carlos gives you a crooked smile. “I feel a lot better when you’re around, querida.”

You shake your head in playful exasperation. “Get some rest. I’m off for the night.”

His expression turns almost ... wistful? “Will I see you again?”

Something warm blooms in your chest at his hopeful tone. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assure him. “Same time.”

The bright grin that stretches across his face is worth a million cheesy lines. “Buenas noches, mi ángel.”

You don’t bother holding back your smile this time. “Good night, Carlos.”

As you make your way home, his handsome face and melted chocolate voice keep popping into your mind unbidden.

You try to push thoughts of Carlos from your mind as you cook yourself dinner and get ready for bed. He’s just a patient — a ridiculously charming one, yes, but a patient all the same.

Still, as you drift off to sleep, his teasing grin and warm brown eyes seem seared into the back of your mind ...

The next morning, you arrive at the hospital with a new spring in your step. You can’t help but look forward to seeing Carlos again, newly appendix-less or no.

When you enter his room with his breakfast tray, the sleepy Spaniard perks up instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Buenos dias, hermosa!”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Good morning, Carlos. How are you feeling today?”

“Much better now that mi ángel has arrived,” he declares boldly.

As you check his vitals, he continues to bat those ridiculously long eyelashes at you. “You must be a hell of a thief, because you stole my heart from across the hospital room.”

You snort at the line, rolling your eyes in amusement. “You do realize those cheesy pick-up lines aren’t going to work on me, right?”

“Not cheesy ... poetic,” Carlos argues with an impish grin. “Poetry for a woman of your beauty.”

You raise an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” he nods matter-of-factly. “Here, let me demonstrate ...”

Carlos clears his throat dramatically. “Your eyes shame the brilliance of the desert sun, while your lips put roses to shame with their beauty. A sculptor could study your face for a lifetime and never capture its perfection in marble.”

Despite yourself, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks at his earnest compliments. “I ... you can’t just-”

But he’s not done. “While bandits would slay and sack entire cities for even a glimpse of your splendor. Why, the gods themselves weep at being outdone by such a radiant vision of loveliness!”

By now, your face is burning scarlet as he gazes up at you, eyes sparkling impishly. “Th-that’s enough, Carlos,” you manage, turning away and busying yourself straightening his blankets to hide your flustered expression.

You can hear the grin in his voice. “Too much for you, hermosa? I haven’t even gotten to the part about your luscious ti-”

“Carlos!” You squeak, spinning back around with wide eyes.

His mischievous laughter fills the room, head thrown back in pure delight at your scandalized reaction. The melodic sound is utterly infectious — soon you find yourself giggling helplessly along despite your embarrassment.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You admonish once you’ve caught your breath, trying and failing to look stern.

He winks unapologetically. “I’m just being honest, ángel.”

You shake your head in feigned exasperation, trying to ignore the little thrill his flirtations still send through you. “I should get going before you corrupt me further.”

As you turn to leave, Carlos calls after you. “Until later, mi amor! Don’t forget my poetry books for next time!”

His infectious laughter follows you into the hallway, that bright sound certain to play on a loop in your mind all day ...

Over the next few days, Carlos’ recovery progresses smoothly — maybe a little too smoothly, you think with a private smirk. His cheesy compliments and relentless flirting show no signs of letting up, much to your mingled embarrassment and secret delight.

“For you, hermosa, I would wrestle bulls and paint sunsets!”

“Mother Nature herself must be jealous of your radiant beauty.”

“Careful, or you’ll put the Arabian sun to shame with your smile!”

You somehow manage to roll your eyes and blush simultaneously each time he unleashes a new line. Part of you wishes he would just give it a rest already. But an even bigger part never wants this game you two have going to end.

On your third day caring for Carlos post-op, you arrive to find a small bouquet of red roses sitting on his bedside table. “These are for you, querida!” He announces happily when you enter.

You blink in surprise, taking in the brilliant flowers. “Carlos, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did,” he cuts you off dismissively. “An ángel as dazzling as you deserves all the flowers in the world.”

A pleased smile tugs at your lips despite yourself as you inhale their sweet fragrance. “They’re lovely, Carlos ... thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor,” he grins impishly. “Though it pains me to give a rose to one who outshines it so effortlessly.”

You shake your head, fighting a blush yet again. “Are you always this much of a shameless flirt?”

His eyes dance with impish delight. “Only to beautiful nurses who make my heart race faster than any lap around the fastest street circuit on the calendar.” Carlos pauses, expression turning serious. “Truthfully Y/N ... I know I’m a patient, but I feel a connection with you. Something deeper than just pretty words.”

You regard him carefully, caught off guard by his sudden earnestness. Part of you wants to laugh it off, dismiss his words like all the cheesy lines before. But something in his warm and open gaze gives you pause.

“I ... feel it too,” you admit quietly after a moment. “I don’t know why, it’s just ... a spark. Like we’ve known each other for years.”

Carlos’s face breaks into a brilliant smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Exactly, ángel! A connection of the soul — that is what it feels like to me.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, eyes soft yet intense. “Come over here? Let me get a closer look at mi amor’s beautiful face.”

You move toward the bed instinctively, taking his hand as he guides you to sit at the edge. His touch sends little electric tingles coursing through you that raise goosebumps along your arms. Even when you’re seated, Carlos has to look up slightly from where he’s reclining on a pile of pillows to meet your eyes, his thumb caressing your knuckles tenderly.

“So lovely,” he murmurs huskily, eyes tracing your features reverently. “A woman more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. And just as captivating ...”

Slowly, carefully, he lifts your joined hands to brush his lips along your knuckles in a feather-light kiss. The simple, intimate gesture steals the breath from your lungs.

“Carlos ...” you start breathlessly, hardly daring to move lest you break the hypnotic spell between you two.

He gives you that crooked, heart-melting grin. “Let me take you to dinner when I’m out of here, mi ángel? So I can woo you properly like you deserve.”

Despite the warm tingles his attention still sends through you, you nibble your lip uncertainly. “I ... I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re my patient-”

“Just dinner,” he interjects smoothly. “As a thank you for taking such wonderful care of me. I insist on repaying you somehow.”

You search his face, wanting so badly to throw caution to the wind and say yes. He could charm the feathers off a bird, this man.

“Just dinner,” he reiterates in a low, sincere tone. “And if nothing else ... maybe we both make a new friend, yes?”

A slow smile spreads across your face, anticipation blooming in your chest. “Alright then. Just dinner.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your breath catch. “Excellent! I’ll wine and dine you like a true gentleman, you’ll see.”

You roll your eyes, even as a giggle escapes you. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Carlos lifts it once more to brush his lips across your knuckles, holding your gaze intently.

“I cannot wait, mi amor.”

***

The luxurious restaurant that Carlos chose for your dinner date is dimly lit by ornate lanterns and alive with the sounds of traditional music. You can’t help but let your eyes linger on him as you’re shown to your private table tucked away in a secluded corner.

Even in a simple shirt and slacks, Carlos looks effortlessly dashing. His warm eyes crinkle at the corners when he catches you staring, rewarding you with that heart-melting smile.

“See something you like, querida?” He teases once you’re seated across from him.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at being so brazenly caught out. Recovering quickly, you arch an eyebrow cooly. “You just look different out of that hospital gown, that’s all.”

Carlos throws back his head with a rich laugh. “Ah, so you prefer me in my natural state then? Bueno, no complaints here!”

You shake your head in amusement, trying not to smile too widely. “Is that ego really as big as they say?”

“What ego?” He asks innocently, shrugging broad shoulders. “This is merely healthy self-confidence, mi ángel.”

The banter comes so effortlessly between you two, like going back-and-forth with an old friend rather than a man you just met days ago. Carlos reaches across the table to take your hand, calloused fingers stroking your knuckles gently.

“Truthfully? I’m just thrilled you agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” he admits in a low tone. “I wasn’t sure if all my flirting was too much.”

You chuckle softly, gazing at him through the glow of the lantern between you. “It was definitely ... persistent. But also strangely charming, if I’m being honest.”

A pleased grin stretches across Carlos’ face, lighting up his handsome features. His thumb caresses your knuckles tenderly as he holds your eyes.

“I meant what I said, Y/N ... I felt an unexplainable connection with you from the moment I woke up in that hospital bed.” His expression turns almost wondering. “Despite my joking and terrible pick-up lines, there was something deeper drawing me to you. Like my soul recognized yours, si?”

You nod slowly, inexplicably understanding exactly what he means. That spark, that feeling of having known him for years — it’s indescribable and yet so real at the same time.

“I felt it too,” you murmur. “A pull, like I was meant to meet you.” You give a soft, self-conscious laugh. “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

But Carlos shakes his head adamantly. “Not silly at all, cariño. Spiritual, cosmic, whatever you want to call it — I felt it too, and I don’t question these things anymore.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Do you know what the nomadic Bedouin peoples of Arabia call that? Finding your namiah.”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters at the unfamiliar word and the enchanted look on his face. “What does it mean?” You breathe.

“It translates roughly to your twin soul,’" Carlos explains in a hushed tone. “Two souls destined to connect in this life. Bound together across lifetimes, finally reunited.”

He gives your hand a meaningful squeeze, utterly transfixed. “The Bedouins believe when you encounter your namiah, it’s sacred — a reunion that must be honored and embraced, regardless of what life may throw your way. Because you’ve been given a second chance with your twin soul.”

His words seem to reverberate somewhere deep within you, ringing with an ancient truth you can’t fully grasp but feel with your entire being. Impulsively, you lift Carlos’s hand to your cheek, holding it there as you bathe in his wonder-filled gaze.

For a long, charged moment, the whole world narrows to just the two of you sharing this cosmic revelation. Then the spell breaks as you let out a breathless laugh, eyes shining with amazed delight.

“You believe in destined soulmates? I never would have guessed,” you tease gently.

He chuckles warmly in return, leaning back but keeping your hand pressed tenderly against his cheek. “The universe works in mysterious ways, querida. I’ve learned not to question things my heart recognizes as true.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken understanding and newfound intimacy. He grazes his thumb along your cheekbone reverently.

“That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with you, you know,” Carlos muses in that rumbly tone. “You captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew I had to at least try winning your heart, mi ángel.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation, fighting a smile. “Carlos Sainz, actually a hopeless romantic? Who would have thought ...”

His playful grin is back in full force. “Only for you, hermosa.” Then his eyes take on a hint of hesitant hopefulness. “Speaking of ... there’s actually another reason I wanted to take you to dinner.”

You regard him curiously as the waiter arrives to fill your glasses with water. “Oh? Do tell.”

Carlos takes a fortifying sip before fixing you with those warm, earnest eyes again. “I would be honored if you came to Australia with me in a few weeks. As my guest for the race in Melbourne.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, mouth falling open slightly. “The ... the Grand Prix? In Australia?”

He nods eagerly. “It’s at the end of the month. I will arrange for your travel, put you up in the plushest hotel, everything. My treat.”

Carlos leans in closer, an impish gleam dancing in his eyes. “It would give me the perfect chance to keep wooing you properly, mi amor.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, barely able to wrap your mind around the unexpected invitation. “Carlos, I ... I can’t just fly across the world like that! I have work, responsibilities-”

“Ah, but you’d only need to take a week or so off,” he counters smoothly. “I’ll handle all the details. You just need to relax and be my honored guest for the weekend.”

He gives you that smoldering look that makes your heart skip a beat. “Let me spoil you, mi ángel. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

Part of you is tempted — so, so tempted by the enthralling prospect. A luxurious vacation with this enchanting man who is already well on his way to sweeping you off your feet? It sounds utterly magical.

But the practical part of you holds you back, brow furrowing with uncertainty. “I don’t know ... even taking time off for a trip like that would be difficult.”

Carlos regards you intently for a moment, reading your hesitation. Then he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, voice turning softer yet insistent.

“Y/N, when was the last time you took a real vacation? Away from the hospital, away from responsibility for a little while ... to just breathe and enjoy life?”

You open your mouth automatically, then pause. Truthfully, you can’t even remember. Life has become an endless cycle of work and sleep with little room for anything else.

“Exactly,” Carlos nods knowingly at your silence. “Everyone needs to get away sometimes, querida. To recharge their soul before the daily grind drains them completely. Even an ángel like you.”

He fixes you with those molten brown eyes again. “Let me give that to you, mi amor. A week to relax, to be spoiled and carefree in one of the most beautiful corners of your world.” One side of his mouth quirks up teasingly. “And with a ruggedly handsome Formula 1 driver to keep you company, of course ...”

You chuckle in spite of yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. He has a point — when was the last time you allowed yourself to have fun and truly unwind? You certainly can’t remember. And if there’s anyone who seems like the ideal travel companion ...

Carlos notices your resolve softening and presses his advantage. “I promise you, it will be an experience you’ll never forget. Put yourself in my hands for just one week — let me take care of everything so you don’t have to lift a finger. What do you say, hermosa?”

His gaze is so open and full of restrained yearning that your breath hitches. You search those bewitching eyes for one more long moment, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of a decision.

Then, with a breathless laugh, you give in to impulse.

“Okay! You win. I’m yours for a week in Australia. Show me what you have in store.”

The smile that slowly spreads across his face is brighter and more radiant than the high desert sun. Carlos lifts your hand to his lips to brush a lingering kiss across your knuckles, sending delicious sparks dancing along your skin.

“Your wish is my command, mi ángel,” he murmurs fervently against your fingers, holding your breathless gaze. “I’ll make sure it’s a trip you’ll never forget.”

***

The bright Australian sun feels glorious on your skin as you relax on the private rooftop terrace of Ferrari’s plush motorhome. Leaning back on the cushioned lounger, you close your eyes and inhale the first deep breath you’ve taken in ... well, you can’t remember how long.

For just this fleeting moment, all the stresses of everyday life as a hardworking nurse seem to melt away into the balmy afternoon air. You’re worlds away from the frenetic hospital routine, from the bright fluorescent lights and permeating smell of antiseptic. Here, surrounded by towering palms swaying lazily in the breeze, you can almost imagine you’re at a lavish resort rather than the Albert Park paddock.

Almost.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as the roar of engines echoes across the circuit. That unmistakable sound is your reminder of just how enchantingly surreal this entire experience has been.

When Carlos first invited you to be his guest at the race, you expected some form of VIP experience to watch the Formula 1 action up close. But you never could have imagined the level of extravagance and pampering he had planned.

From the moment you landed, you’ve been put up at a five-star hotel in the lap of luxury — a stunning penthouse suite, complete with a butler at your beck and call plus a private concierge team to arrange anything you may need. Not that you’ve had time to need anything, with Carlos’s personal assistant, Elena, catering to your every whim.

You had tried to object at first, insisting this level of opulence wasn’t necessary. But Carlos merely placed a finger over your lips with a mischievous grin.

“Ah ah ah, mi ángel — you agreed to let me spoil you for a week, remember?” He chided playfully. “No objections!”

Before you could protest further, he pulled you into his arms, warm and solid and smelling faintly of bergamot. “Just relax and enjoy la buena vida for once. That’s my only condition.”

Looking into those warm brown eyes, you found yourself getting deliciously lost as his breath fanned across your lips. What choice did you have but to nod breathlessly and let yourself be whisked away into his lavish wonderland?

And it has been nothing short of wondrous so far. After being settled into your palatial suite with its giant marble bathroom and wall-to-wall windows, Elena escorted you into the exclusive world of Formula 1.

The Grand Prix itself is certainly glamorous — the electric atmosphere, roar of the cars driving at breath-taking speeds, and prestigious crowds dripping in finery and jewels. But it’s the behind-the-scenes action in the paddock that truly left you dazzled.

Elena led you through a dizzying labyrinth of state-of-the-art motorhomes and garage bays with cutting-edge equipment full of personnel bustling about in a flurry of coordinated movements. She introduced you to a mind-boggling array of mechanics, aerodynamicists, race strategists, hospitality workers, and more.

The entire operation felt like the world’s most organized theatrical production playing out before your very eyes. And at the center of it all? A beacon in red drawing all eyes to where he’s leaning against a metal wall towards the side of the garage? None other than Carlos himself.

Seeing him in this element, commanding the hushed and reverent attention of dozens of crew members with an intense yet unhurried confidence ... there was something almost unbearably sexy about it. His typical warmth and charm were overshadowed by a blazing intensity and poise more potent than any poem he could compose under the haze of painkillers.

Between briefings and warm ups, you managed to steal a few stolen moments with Carlos. Whether brushing a clandestine kiss to the back of your hand or pulling you aside for a heated embrace out of view, he always reaffirmed this sublime fantasy was for you … and you alone.

“Having fun so far, mi ángel?” He would murmur, lips brushing your ear as his hands skimmed teasingly down your sides.

You shivered at the gravelly timbre of his voice, rendered speechless by the fire flickering in his eyes. How could anyone put the depths of your experience into words?

So you simply answered by pulling him into a searing kiss, fingers tangling in those sinfully tousled locks. By the time you parted, Carlos’ pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling heavily against yours.

“Save some of that fire for after the race, cariño,” he’d say thickly with a wolfish grin. “You may just be the greatest distraction I’ve ever had to overcome.”

With one last smoldering look, he rejoined his crew, leaving you flustered yet utterly euphoric. Yes, Carlos Sainz had managed to spirit you away into an all-encompassing dream — one you never wanted to wake up from.

The sound of a nearby door opening brings you back to the present with a contented sigh. You let your eyes drift open again, blinking against the brilliant sunlight as a familiar figure emerges onto the terrace.

“There’s my hermosa,” Carlos greets you warmly, slipping off his cap to run a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair. The simple gesture makes your breath catch as always.

You feel a smile stretch across your face as he approaches. “Hi there, stranger. Taking a break?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles, dropping into the lounger beside you with a groan. “Just a quick respite from the crowd.”

Carlos turns toward you with poorly concealed mischief dancing in his eyes. “Though ... I may have also needed an excuse to see this beautiful sight again.”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated exasperation to hide your giddiness at his flattery. He’s been adorably smooth this entire trip. “Save your lines, Casanova. You already got me here, remember?”

“Ah, but a man can never compliment his lady enough,” Carlos objects smoothly, grasping your hand in his calloused one to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Starting with how radiant you look basking in the Australian sun, mi ángel. A lesser man would get jealous.”

You shake your head, even as tingles race across your skin from his gesture. “Is flattery how you butter up any pretty girl who catches your eye?”

“Just the especially gorgeous ones,” he winks unapologetically. “But there’s only one who’s made me want to be a hopeless romantic.”

With dizzying ease, he leverages himself across the narrow space between you, caging you in on all sides with his toned arms. Your breath catches at his sudden proximity, pulse quickening from the heated look in his eyes.

“Perhaps I should stop with pretty words ...” Carlos rumbles in that velvety accent, closing the remaining distance until you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “And use actions instead.”

His mouth captures yours in a slow, smoldering kiss that has you melting bonelessly against the plush cushions. Large hands splay across the dip of your waist, firm yet intoxicatingly gentle. You melt into the unhurried caress of his lips, addicted to the way he sets your entire body deliciously alight.

When you finally part, you’re flushed and breathless, gazing up dazedly at his twinkling eyes. “You’re ... terribly persuasive, Mr. Sainz,” you manage.

He rewards you with a wolfish grin and another toe-curling kiss. “Only for you, mi amor,” he growls against your lips, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. “Only for you ...”

A tiny gasp of surprise parts your lips as Carlos suddenly freezes, mouth going taut. You tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops his darkened eyes down toward his palm sheepishly. It’s then you notice the tiny trickle of red seeping from a paper cut across his skin.

“Oh no, it seems our ... passion got a bit too rough,” Carlos grins cheekily. “Gave myself a battle wound.”

Rolling your eyes, you gingerly take his hand to inspect the miniscule wound. Just a thin cut that was reopened, likely from reviewing telemetry packets between briefings.

“It’s nothing serious,” you chide. “Though I suppose I could play nurse for you one more time.”

He gives you a devilish look from under his inky lashes. “Please do, mi ángel. I’ll need your ... very special care.”

You level an unimpressed glare at him, slipping off the lounger toward the rooftop bathroom to grab the first aid kit inside. By the time you return, Carlos has the audacity to be sitting patiently with his lightly bleeding palm extended in offering. Like a king awaiting tribute from his loyal subjects.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you scoff, cracking open the kit and perching on the edge of his lounger. With the utmost care and tenderness, you gently apply antibacterial ointment and wrap the cut with an oversized adhesive bandage.

“There, all better, your Highness,” you announce with a solemn nod.

But rather than releasing your hand, Carlos envelops it fully in both of his. His warm eyes search yours impishly.

“Actually, hermosa ... there is one last thing that could help it heal even faster.”

You quirk a skeptical brow at him, already thoroughly endeared by whatever outrageous thing is about to come out of his mouth. “Oh? And what’s that?”

The corner of his lips twitches up in that rakish half-smirk you adore. “A magical, healing ... kiss.”

Of course. Of bloody course.

“You can’t be serious,” you laugh, trying in vain to tug your hand back. Carlos simply holds it fast, fervently earnest despite the devilish twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“Completely serious, mi amor! The power of a beautiful woman’s kiss has incredible healing properties.” He pulls your hand close. “Especially from an ángel like you ...”

Warmth blooms across your cheeks at his antics, head shaking in amusement. Even after weeks of witnessing Carlos’ particular brand of cheeky charisma up close, he can still catch you off-guard and leave you deliciously flustered.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” The reprimand lacks any bite as you can’t help but grin back at him, captivated as always.

His answering look is all playful innocence — one you know better than to trust for a single second. “Does that mean you won’t bless me with your magic?”

Brown eyes beg at you over your trapped knuckles, full lower lip jutting out in a pout far too enticing to resist. With a shaky laugh, you finally acquiesce and bend forward to press a slow, petal-soft kiss over the bandage.

A grin stretches across Carlos’ face once you pull back. “My hero!” He exclaims, catching your hand in both of his to nuzzle the inside of your wrist adoringly. “See, querida? Already I can feel the enchanted restorative properties working wonders.”

“You’re utterly shameless!” You let out another breathless laugh.

“Only because you make me crazy, mi ángel,” Carlos retorts with an exaggerated groan, tugging you closer until you half-cover his toned body.

You go easily, resting comfortably against the solid wall of his chest. Strong arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place as Carlos pillows his cheek atop your head with a contented sigh.

“You render me nonsensical and utterly bewitched. I’m powerless against your effortless magic.”

The words rumble through you in that low timbre you’ve become addicted to, spreading warmth from the crown of your head to the very tips of your toes. With a quiet hum of contentment, you tuck yourself tighter into his side and watch the swaying of the palms framed against the brilliant blue sky.

In this moment, the entire world seems to shrink away into insignificance — nothing but you and Carlos tangled in this serene haven apart from all space and time. Nothing but the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, the cocooning circle of arms that sets you ablaze and soothes you in equal measure.

Just as you feel yourself being lulled into a state of blissful relaxation, Carlos presses a lingering kiss to your hair. His chest vibrates with quiet yet fervent words.

“Thank you, amor ... for giving me a chance to make you mine.”

Pure affection blooms golden in your chest at the reverent sincerity of his tone. You tilt your head up to find his warm brown eyes already trained on you. Filled with adoration yet still flickering with that insuppressible spark of mischief and zest you adore so much.

With an impulsive hand curling around the nape of his neck, you pull his mouth down toward yours. As you part, twin smiles linger on your swollen lips.

“And thank you,” you smile wryly. “For having an appendix that decided to take matters into its own hands so we could meet.”

[s0urw00lf]

Love is in the air

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: you unknowingly give Dean another reason to fall deeper in love with you

Warning: complete and utter fluff and sam is a girls girl.

A/N: idk if anyone has done something like this, but I really loved it and I think it’s my favorite fic I’ve written yet. Also this isn’t proofread so if you see any mistakes please let me know. I wrote this at 5 am so I probably won’t notice any mistakes. Anywho hope you enjoy!!!

Today’s hunt had been a bust after you and Dean were tasked by Sam to be the cliche “couple in love” so that the envious love witch would target you instead of some other innocent couple.

So now you and Dean were in the impala driving back to the motel that happened to be about a fourth five minute drive away from the restaurant she was targeting.

The night was silent aside from the quiet music Dean had playing in the background and the light tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel. Dean looked incredibly good in his suit and tie, a look you wish he’d worn more often.

To Dean you looked better than any angel that could grace his presence, when you exited the bathroom with your off the shoulder black form fitting dress and high heels that made your legs look like heaven, his knees almost buckled and he would’ve hadn’t it been for Sam who was there to catch him before he could.

“Hey dean?” You asked softly, drawing his attention from the empty road to you, replying with a ‘hmm’. His green eyes were extra bright in the darkness and made you want to melt in your seat.

“Can I roll down the window?” You asked, it was an odd request on your part, because you usually don’t like the pressure the harsh wind puts on your head. Dean eyebrows rose in surprise before answering “f’course sweetheart, sure it’s not gonna make your head hurt?” he asked sincerely

You shook your head “no it won’t be for long I just… want to try something” you said, pausing in thought you hoped that the feeling would push away the sadness you felt. He nodded glancing back at the road, “okay then go for it” he said with a smile.

You clicked the button to roll down the window and felt immediately relaxed. You put your arm out of the window, closing your eyes and let the wind blow on your face and whistle past your ears.

Dean watched with love in his eyes at how relaxed you looked, he could tell that the your failure to obtain the witches attention had bothered you but decided against saying anything, but as soon as the wind hit your face its like all that sadness slipped away with the wind.

You sat like that for a minute or so before deciding that was enough, you opened your eyes looking for the button again before an idea struck you. You paused in thought ‘would that be too cliche’ you asked yourself, but ultimately you told yourself ‘who cares, do it’ so you did.

You surprised Dean when you stuck your torso out of the window, he immediately grabbed on to your thigh in case you accidentally slipped. You raised your arms as the wind that was way stronger whipped past you, the air was sticky which you’d guessed was from the rain that had fell a few hours prior but you could care less.

For the first time in a life time you felt completely and utterly free, from the worried of the things that lurk in the dark, from death, and disappointment. But the feel of dean hand on your thigh mixed with the wind whipping past you and through your hair made you want to cry of happiness.

Dean watched you from inside of the car, how beautiful you looked, in that moment he was convinced you were sent right from heaven into his arms just so he could live this moment. He saw all of your worries slip away as a carefree smile graces your face. The light from the streetlight lit you up like a pop star on stage and he was your audience.

You caught him even more by surprise when you let out a loud and cheery “woooo” and it seemed like time had slowed. If both of his hands weren’t occupied he would’ve taken a picture, but he couldn’t and he would have to rely on his memory to recall this moment for the rest of his life. He wasn’t even sure how he hadn’t crashed the car.

Your heart thumped loudly at the adrenaline that rushed through your veins and that’s when you decided to get back in the car. You seated yourself back on the seat and rolled up the window before letting out the most cheerful laugh Dean had ever heard from you and just the sound itself had his heart souring. “Holy. I see why they do that in movies” you said, looking at him with the most genuine smile he’d ever seen.

Dean couldn’t help the smile that took over his features at the happiness gleaming from your face. You were glowing and it was the most precious moment of his life. “You are gorgeous sweetheart” he said, he couldn’t help that it slipped past his lips, but the look on your face showed it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You rolled your eyes, still smiling “whatever, eyes on the road Winchester, I don’t want to be roadkill because you’re too distracted” you joked. Dean huffed out a laugh in response.

For the rest of the ride the two of you basked in the happiness that replaced the previous gloom. And when you arrived at the motel, Dean was the first one out the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you. “Such a gentleman, if I’d known you’d be this sweet I would’ve let you take me on a date sooner” you joked, but Dean didn’t take it as one. “Then let me” he said genuinely.

Your smile faltered, ‘is he messing with me?’ You thought “what” you said, it was the only thing you could get out. “Let me take you on a date. A real date not one where we have to look over our shoulders the whole time. Let me take out on a date to drink champagne and eat all those fancy meals that don’t even fill you up” Dean said almost sounding as if he was begging.

Dean grabbed your hands “y/n if you let me I will go the whole nine yards. Flowers, a gift, rent a fancy car and order valet whatever you-“ you cut dean off with a kiss to which he immediately returned. The kiss was soft and sweet, you could feel his eyelashes slightly brush against your cheek, and the way he relaxed into the kiss made you swoon.

His hands dropped yours and he placed his on your hips and you bought yours around his neck pulling him deeper into it. You only pulled away because your lungs had began to burn from the lack of oxygen. Deans eyes remained closed for a little longer, reveling in the feel of your lips against his and your body pressing against him. “Woman you drive me insane” he muttered before opening his eyes.

He was graced with the sight of you smiling up at him with your arms still around his neck. “You can take me on a date dean Winchester, but it doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could go to a diner in baby and I’d be just as happy” you said softly, your nose brushing his.

It wasn’t often Dean was rendered speechless, but in that moment he was sure you were made for him and only him. “O-okay” he stuttered. You giggled in amusement “have I rendered you speechless?” You teased, and deans cheeks reddened. “Maybe this will knock some words back into your head” you said before pressing your lips against his for the second time, only this time you didn’t give him enough time to recuperate.

“Hey I wasn’t done” he said, and you laughed loudly. Pulling away from him you closed the door to baby and began to drag him back to your shared motel room with Sam who you were sure was watching you wondering why it was taking so long for you to enter the room.

“C’mon Winchester we can talk out the details later” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs that led to your room.

Added bonus:

Sam had seen the blush in deans cheeks and he pure happiness in the both of your eyes. Dean quickly excused himself to the bathroom and Sam looked at you with raised brows. He’d helped you pick out that dress, telling you “Dean won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you”. You have him the biggest smile trying to contain your excitement “it worked” you whisper yelled. A huge smile broke out on Sam’s face “I told you it would” he said.

He had been the biggest supporter of you and his brother’s possible relationship. “He asked me out Sammy” you whispered so Dean wouldn’t hear. You threw yourself on the bed like a teenager from one of those romance sitcoms you claimed to not like, but before Sam could ask for more details the bathroom door opened revealing a slightly less blushing Dean.

He eyes you two skeptically “what are you two whispering about” he asked. “Just how we’ll get the witch now” you quickly lied. If Dean suspected you were lying he didn’t show, because he immediately turned his back to you and Sam trying to get his tie off. You sent Sam a quick and subtle wink that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’ and he nodded trying to hide his smile

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You've been crushing on Eddie since you joined Hellfire Club. Too bad he's crushing on Chrissy Cunningham...right?

Warnings: angst to fluff, idiots in love, super cheesy but it's Valentine's Day so idc WC: 1.6k A/N: My entry for @corroded-hellfire's This is Music! event!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie’s looking at her again.

You can’t blame him; he’d be crazy not to stare at Chrissy Cunningham, clad in her tiny cheerleading uniform with a bouncy blonde ponytail and sugar-sweet giggle. If you just ignore him, act like he isn’t imagining sweeping her off of her feet–

“Do you think I should send her one of those candy gram things?”

Almost instinctively, Dustin’s eyes flicker to you, but he turns back to Eddie before anyone can notice. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he stammers, scrambling for an excuse. “She and Jason, like, just broke up.” 

This information doesn’t deter Eddie in the slightest. “Exactly. She’s probably heartbroken from getting dumped right before Valentine’s Day. I could be her…Freak in Shining Armor.” He grins at his spin on the unwanted nickname, pausing for a half-second before turning to you and asking, “You’re a girl. What do you think?”

The question is almost laughable. What do you think? You think he should stop pining over Chrissy and start seeing you in that same light.

With a painful swallow, you force a strained smile. “If you like her, you should go for it.”

That’s all of the motivation Eddie needs. He slams his palm on the table and proudly declares, “All right, I’m doin’ it.”

Tears bite at your lash line as he strides across the cafeteria over to where the student council has set up the candy gram booth. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you glance over to see Dustin offering you a sympathetic look.

“He’s an idiot,” he says, low enough so that his words are inaudible to other Hellfire members. “He’ll figure it out one day, but you shouldn’t sit around waiting for it to happen.”

Logic tells you that he’s right, but moving on is easier said than done. Especially when he’s one of your closest friends.

Determined to avoid any inquiring from the other guys, you do your best to assimilate into their conversation about beating this week’s campaign.

Chrissy received Eddie’s candy gram on Valentine’s Day. To his dismay, she also got one from Jason Carver. 

“Of course she went back to him,” Eddie mutters, tossing his tin lunch box on the cafeteria table with a harsh clang. He heaves a sigh and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you with his big, beautiful eyes. “Am I gonna be alone forever?”

“Probably.” You muster a tense laugh and brush a tendril of his hair off of your cheek. “Maybe you can try sending out a message in a bottle and see if anyone bites.”

He harrumphs and slumps over, burying his face in his palms. “She told me she ‘appreciates my friendship.’” He shakes his head. “Fucking humiliating.”

The irony of his statement is too much to bear, and you slip away from the table with a half-hearted excuse about needing to study for the history test you have next period. 

The walk to the library feels like it takes decades, silent tears falling as soon as you find an empty table among the stacks of books. 

Chrissy wanted Jason the way Eddie wanted Chrissy, which was the same way you wanted Eddie. 

And no one wanted you. 

A few minutes pass before Jeff slides into the seat next to you. “We’re in the same history class. Figured it would make your lie more believable if I had to study, too.” He shrugs. “Plus, I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t believe you, you know he doesn’t. Embarrassment is written all over your face, both at your abrupt exit from the cafeteria and your pathetic crush on Eddie. 

Jeff takes a deep breath. “Look, Eddie doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Seems pretty obvious to me that he wants Chrissy,” you say wryly, twirling a pen between your fingers. 

“No…I mean, yeah. But that’s because she’s, like, safe.”

You scoff. “Asking out the Queen of Hawkins High is safe?” 

“Sounds ridiculous, I know, but hear me out.” Jeff leans in a bit closer so he can whisper to you. “She’s not part of our group, so he doesn’t have to worry about constantly hanging out with her. Plus, she’s nice enough to not publicly destroy his ego. I’m sure she didn’t tell Jason about the candy gram, or else he would’ve announced it to the whole school by now.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. 

“And speaking of that jackass,” Jeff continues, “how many times have they broken up and gotten back together?” 

“Too many to count.” Their relationship is like one of the novelas you watch when you’re stuck at home with a fever. 

“Exactly.” Jeff exhales. “Chrissy paid a little bit of attention to Eddie because she wanted some weed for a party, and now he’s head over heels for her. Because he can be. Because her rejection stings a little, but it’s nothing compared to how being rejected by you would feel.”

Wiping at your tear-dampened cheeks, you shake your head. “I don’t think he cares about being rejected by me.”

He mumbles something under his breath but doesn’t say another word until the bell rings, and the two of you walk to class together. 

Thank God you don’t actually have a test today; you wouldn’t be able to focus long enough to answer a single question. All you think about is what Jeff had implied: that Eddie does like you but is afraid to ruin your friendship.

You brush off the idea as ridiculous. Why would Eddie choose you over the gorgeous head cheerleader?

Uneasiness builds within you until it’s impossible to ignore, and you scrawl a note in the back of your composition notebook before you can fully think it through.

Eddie–

I’m sorry that Chrissy turned you down. Trust me when I say that I know what it’s like to feel unwanted by the person you want the most. It sucks, but you’ll move on and realize that she was the one who missed out, not you.

You sign your name and add a P.S. Fuck Valentine’s Day for good measure, folding the paper in fourths and slipping it into his locker between class periods. Not quite a confession, but it’ll do.

Eddie’s waiting by your locker after the last bell rings, scraping a front tooth against his bottom lip and fiddling with something. As you get closer, you realize that something is your note.

“Who is he?” Eddie demands to know, sighing impatiently when you raise your brows in confusion. “This mystery guy who doesn’t want you. Who is he?”

“No one. It’s fine,” you say quickly, refusing to make eye contact with him as you twist open the lock. “It was just to let you know that you’re not alone in this, okay?”

He shakes his head and chuckles tersely. “Nah, not okay. I’ve gotta kick his ass.” He shuffles from foot to foot, already anticipating a fight.

“Well, you can’t.”

“And why not?” Eddie scoffs. “I know I’m scrawny, but I’m pretty damn scr–”

“Because you’d be kicking your own ass!” The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your blood runs cold and your pulse thuds in your ears when you realize what you’ve said. “I’m sorry. That was too much, especially with what happened with Chrissy today.”

You start to leave, but you’re tugged back in place by his gentle grasp on your wrist. “Follow me,” he murmurs. He makes a beeline for the Hellfire room with you right on his heels. As soon as you walk in, he closes the door. “Repeat that? Because I don’t think I heard you right.”

“You’re the guy who doesn’t want me,” you manage through the lump in your throat, “and it’s okay, because we can’t help who we like and who we don’t. I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything like that.” 

You’re rambling, and you tuck your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from talking yourself in circles.

Silence seeps into the room, the only noise is the hum from the fluorescent lights overhead. Finally, Eddie speaks again. “Do you know why I asked you to join Hellfire?”

You swivel your head back and forth in a definite no.

“Yeah, I tried to keep it that way,” he says with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “So, um, I kinda had a massive crush on you. And I figured that we’d get to know each other here and then I’d ask you out or whatever, but I kept chickening out. So…there ya have it.” He shifts his hands as if to say ta-da.

“And now you like Chrissy.” Out with the old, in with the new.

Eddie takes a small step closer, one ring-clad hand taking yours. “Not the way I like you,” he breathes, his other thumb tracing a faint line over your jaw. “Not even close.”

You close the gap between you, tilting your head so your lips meet his. The fear that he’ll hesitate or turn his head altogether disappears as soon as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. His hand tucks behind your ear, and he leaves it there until you both have to break away for air.

The two of you wear matching smiles, shy but relieved. Eddie leans in to kiss you once again, only to be interrupted by the rest of the club’s musings.

“Took them long enough.”

“Seriously, I thought we were just gonna have to watch them pine over each other forever.”

“Crap, do you think they can hear us?”  

“Yeah, shit-heads, we can hear you,” Eddie calls out with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before turning back to you.

“Now, where were we?”

--

[ariestrxsh]

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, teasing, sneaking around, humiliation (but not in a sexy way, more of a general embarrassment), mentions of masturbation, thigh riding, threesome, blowjob, light hairpulling, unprotected sex, edging, multiple orgasms, softdom!matt, needy!chris

📝 author's note: 📝 sorry i made you guys wait so long for this one 💖 this is my favorite series i've written so far, playground love. here you can access parts one, two, three, and four. 💖 enjoy (p.s. i think this is the final part, don't know how to add on to the storyline tbh)

✍️ Summary: ✍️ After Chris sneaks around with you alone behind Matt's back against Matt's wishes, you end up coming clean about it. Matt isn't upset with you, but Chris knew better, and now Matt's gonna make sure his brother knows you belong to him.

playground love part five 💖

The next morning, you woke up a little later than normal, but you desperately needed your beauty rest after the Sturniolo boys had their way with you again.

You also felt a little guilty about the night before. It was the first time you'd had sex with Chris without Matt being there. It's not like you and Matt had necessarily outright said your relationship was monogamous, but the two of you had talked about having babies together, which was much more serious.

But then again, Chris had already fucked you with Matt there, so should you have felt guilty or should you not have? Either way, you knew you had to tell Matt, but it felt shitty to do over text, so you were going to wait to do it face-to-face on Monday.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I miss you," a text came in from Matt. You replied shortly after, trying to push away your shame, "I miss you, too. Good morning."

You walked downstairs, and the scent of maple sausage and pancakes wafted through the air. You loved Sundays. Both your parents typically had the day off, and you'd wake up to breakfast in the morning, and you would usually have a family lake day or go to the movie theater.

Today was a little different, because your dad was still out of town even though he was usually at home, drinking his coffee and reading the news on his phone, complaining about whatever politician and whatever proposition there was to complain about now. It felt strange without him there.

"Hey, honey. You doing alright?" Your mom asked you sympathetically. "Yeah, why?" You shot her a confused look. "I thought I heard you having a nightmare last night. I almost came in and checked on you, but then you quieted down," she told you, scrambling the eggs she was about to throw on the griddle.

Your eyes widened, picking up on what noises she was referring to. "Oh, yeah, I actually didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night. Just tossing and turning. Nightmares, right?" You shrugged, trying to will away your embarrassment.

"And I don't like when you come into my room without knocking," you blurted out, almost immediately regretting the way it came out. Your mom stopped what she doing, looked up at you, and you could tell she was about to start getting defensive, but instead her face softened. "Okay, that's fair," she said after thinking about her response for a few seconds.

"Thank you. I love you. I didn't mean to bark at you," you told her, realizing your anger was coming from your embarrassment, thinking about what would have happened if she'd walked in on you last night.

"It's okay, I understand. You're an adult. A young woman. You deserve your privacy," your mom assured you, smirking and going back to cooking.

"I wasn't masturbating!" You blurted out, worried that she was alluding to that. "I didn't even know you knew what that was," your mom looked up at you in shock. "I don't!" You yelled, stomped up the stairs, and hid in your room.

Perhaps it was less embarrassing for your mom to think you were masturbating rather than having your back blown out by your kind of boyfriend's brother, but utterly morifying either way.

A few minutes later, your mom came up and gently knocked on your door. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, honey. We don't have to talk about it. Just come downstairs and enjoy your breakfast. I know how much you love pancake Sundays," she said through the barrier.

You knew it'd be hard to get past your humiliation, but it was worth it to enjoy breakfast with your mom and catch up on all the crazy things she'd seen in the ER that week.

"Do you wanna come run some errands with me?" Your mom asked after you'd finished your meal. "Sure," you told her. After cleaning up the kitchen together, the two of you got into the car, and you checked your texts again.

"Chris and I both miss your sweet pussy so much. We can't wait to make you cum again," an incoming text from Matt read. "OMG I'm in the car with my mom!!" You responded back. "Good. That makes it even more fun," his next message read. Your eyes widened when you read it, and you immediately started grinning and blushing.

"Who are you talking to, honey? Is it a boy?" Your mom asked, looking over at you with a surprised look on her face. "Why-why would it be a boy?" You stammered defensively. "I've just never seen you smile like that," your mom said.

"Don't worry about it, mom," you told her, rolling your eyes. "You can tell me anything, honey," your mom replied, but you were certain you couldn't tell her about this.

The rest of the time you were running errands, Matt was sending you dirty, filthy texts that you kept having to hide your reaction to. You were so grateful in this moment to be a girl because at least no one could tell by looking at you that you were soaking wet.

After getting a good night's sleep and going through all your classes on Monday, you walked into your favorite class of the day.

When you entered the room, Matt was already turned around in his chair, taking in how beautiful you looked. You blushed when you saw him. You liked having it be a little secret between the two of you that you were sleeping together. You liked that no one else in the class had any idea. It kind of felt like you two were sneaking around, which made it really hot.

But of course, you'd also snuck around with Chris behind Matt's back, and that didn't feel so good, and the guilt hit you all over again when you went to take you seat behind him. He watched your smile fade, and he immediately reached out and stroked your cheek. "What's the matter, baby? You look sad," he whispered, giving you a concerned look.

"Matt, I have to tell you something. Please don't be mad at me," you said, your lip beginning to quiver and tears forming in your eyes. "I could never be upset with you, angel," he consoled you, wiping away your tears before they had a chance to fall.

"Chris came over on Saturday night," you told him. "What?" He narrowed his eyes. "He climbed my tree, and I let him into my house, and we did some things," you whispered, avoiding eye contact with him.

"What things?" He asked, and you could hear the hurt in his voice. "You know.. the stuff we all do together, except we did it alone," you admitted, finally looking him in the eyes.

"He didn't cum in you, did he?" Matt inquired. You shook your head no. "Thank god. It was only okay the first time, because of that Plan B. I don't want him getting you pregnant. Only I can do that," Matt said. There was a bit of possessiveness in his voice. You innocently nodded at him, still crying.

"Hey, I'm not mad, sweetheart. Not at you. I didn't directly tell you I didn't want you doing anything with my brother when I'm not there," he say in a soft voice, still caressing your cheek. "But I'm telling you now. You're mine, princess. I don't want anybody to fuck you when I'm not there," he gave you a serious look. You nodded.

"Chris, on the other hand, already knew better when he snuck into your room. He knows how I feel about you. So, I am pissed at him," Matt's sad expression melded into one of anger as he clenched his jaw.

"I didn't mean to cause issues between you guys," you mumbled quietly, trying to keep your conversation as quiet as possible. "I know, baby. You didn't do anything wrong. I know how good he makes you feel. How were you supposed to say no?" He cooed, squeezing your hand.

"He does make me feel good. But when you and I have sex, it's different. It feels like love," you whispered to him. Matt's expression shifted again into one of pure joy, and he looked at you in silence for a few seconds, just taking in how incredible it was that he found someone like you. He couldn't let you get away.

"Do you wanna be my girlfriend?" He asked, grinning at you. "More than anything," you nodded, and your sad tears turned into happy ones. "Good. You're all mine," he gently kissed the back of your hand.

"Are you and Chris still coming over today?" You wondered, concerned about how this had affected the dynamic. "Yes. We're both still gonna make you feel amazing. But I'm gonna have to teach my brother a lesson for sneaking around with my girl behind my back," Matt gave you a malicious smile.

You didn't know what that meant, but you were a little worried for Chris. Matt was a really sweet man, but you could tell he could be diabolical when he wanted to be.

When last period ended, and the two of you were walking to Matt's car, he leaned over and said to you, "Don't tell Chris that I know." You nodded at Matt.

You were utterly shocked when Chris met you guys at Matt's car, and Matt acted like everything was completely normal. You were almost unnerved by it. "How was your weekend, pretty girl?" Chris asked you, biting his lip and smiling at you as he recalled the special time you'd had together Saturday night. "It was good," you responded, keeping your answer short and vague.

"Your braids are so pretty," Chris said in almost a whimper as he gently fiddled with the blue ribbon tying off your braid. You'd never admit it to Matt, but you wore your hair in braided pigtails on purpose, because you knew how much Chris liked them, and you loved the way he looked at you when he pulled on them.

It wasn't until the three of you were sitting next to each other on your bed, both boys completely naked while you were just in panties and a bra that Matt finally addressed the incident. "So, Chris. Since you like to fuck my girlfriend when I'm not around, you don't get to cum today," Matt turned to his brother and gave him a malicious grin.

"Fuck," Chris sighed loudly, running his hands through his hair in an agitated manner. "And if you cum without permission, then I'll never let you fuck my girlfriend ever again," Matt said through clenched teeth. Chris smugly rolled his eyes.

"So what did you do to her, hmm?" Matt inquired, raising his eyebrows. Chris chuckled. "She rode my thigh, came all over it, and then I fucked her doggy style until she was creaming all over my cock. Made her cum three more times. She loved it," Chris whispered, looking Matt in his eyes and asserting dominance.

"Then, that's what we're going to do in front of you. Only you can't participate, and if I see you even thinking about rubbing one out, you won't get to participate at all today," Matt threatened him.

A slew of mixed emotions flooded your system. The way Matt was acting so possessive over you was so hot, but you hoped Chris could hold out, because you definitely wanted to fuck him again. "Fuck. Fine," Chris sighed.

"Come here, pretty girl," Matt whispered, taking off your bra, your panties, and pulling you onto his leg. He cupped your face with both of his gorgeous hands and looked you in the eyes. "That's it, princess. You're doing so good," he praised you as you started to roll your hips onto him.

There was something so intimate and hot about the way you and Matt lost yourselves in each other's stare while you rode his thigh. His hands gradually moved to your ass, firmly grabbing it and emphasizing your movements.

You whimpered while you pathetically grinded up against Matt. You were so wet, you slipped around on his leg with ease, creating an incredible sensation against your swollen clit. "Please make a mess all over my thigh, angel," Matt whined.

His beautiful blue eyes pierced through you, making you insanely weak. The way Matt looked and sounded made it seem like he was getting off on you getting off, and it brought you closer to the edge to know how much he was enjoying your pleasure.

"Matt, I'm gonna cum," you whimpered, your grinding becoming sloppy and rhythmless while you started to shake. You held onto Matt to steady yourself while he whispered, "Good girl. Make a mess for me." All your muscles tightened and you trembled your whole way through your orgasm.

You'd almost forgotten Chris was there, but his rock hard cock was pretty hard to ignore once Matt bent you over on your bed, and it was standing straight up just a few feet in front of your face. This was just as torturous for you as it was for him. You wanted to have it in your mouth so badly.

Matt lined himself up with your hole and slipped it in, sliding in easily, immediately filling you. Your eyes rolled back as he started to pump in and out of you. Although it wasn't the most intimate position, and you couldn't see Matt's face, you secretly loved how it felt, and at least you got to see Chris' face as he watched in awe, keeping both of his hands at his sides. You glanced down at Chris' swollen, mushroom tip, drooling with precum and twitching at the sight of you getting relentlessly drilled by Matt.

Matt's cock filled you expertly while he talked you through your next orgasm. "That's it, girl. Cum for me, princess. I know you want to. Be a good girl and finish on my cock."

Chris watched intently as Matt drew an orgasm out of you. You convulsed and yelped as your knees weakened, and your eyes rolled back again as a fucked out smile crept across your lips.

Matt loved the way you felt wrapped around his rod, pulsing against him as you came. "Come on, princess. Give me another one," Matt gruffly stated, keeping his thrusts steady and hitting your sweet spot over and over again. "Oh, fuck," you whined. You shut your eyes and nearly collapsed onto the bed as your next climax was torn from you. "Good girl," Matt praised you in between his own moans.

When you opened your eyes, Chris had the neediest look on his face, watching you cum over and over again. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his eyebrows were furrowed almost as if he were in pain, and blood was rushing to his cheeks. You could tell by his expression how badly he needed to get off.

"Give me one more, baby. Look at Chris while you cum for me," Matt groaned while he continued pounding into you while his brother pathetically watched, wishing it were him taking you from behind.

You felt another knot in your stomach come undone while you looked into Chris' gorgeous blue eyes. You clenched around Matt, uncontrollably shaking and moaning his name while you finished once more.

You were completely spent. Matt loved the way your pussy felt - wet, tight, and all his. It took everything in Matt to pull out and avoid filling you with his babies, and all he could think about as he came into his hand was how pretty your pink pussy would look dripping with his cum. He threw his head back and let out a long, needy groan while his hand pumped away, until he'd completely drained his cock.

"Go get her some water," Matt ordered Chris, wiping off his hand and his dick with his t-shirt. Chris obediently listened, afraid of pissing Matt off even further.

When Chris returned, he had a glass of water in hand, and his cock stood at attention, as hard as you had ever seen it. You were basically drooling as you watched him walk towards you while you dreamt about putting him in your mouth again.

"You think Chris has been a good boy?" Matt asked you. "Mhmm," you bit your lip and nodded as you looked up at Chris and took the water from him. "Think he deserves some love?" Matt cooed. You nodded a little more eagerly this time. "Get back on all fours, princess," Matt ordered you, and you did.

Matt came back around to take you from behind again, and Chris kneeled on the bed in front of you with his cock in your face. "Now, sweetheart. You get to tell Chris when he can cum, okay? But you gotta make him wait for it," Matt encouraged you as he slipped his cock back into you, and you let out a small squeal as he stretched you back out.

You looked up at Chris, and he started prodding your lips with his throbbing member, and you gently slurped up the pearly drops that emitted from his tip from being teased for so long. He immediately let out a primal sound as you enveloped the rest of his head and started stimulating it with your soft tongue.

The way Matt thrusted into you from behind had you taking Chris into your mouth even further with each stroke. Both boys relished in the way you were jostling back and forth between them, and they loved the sweet sound of you gagging on Chris at one end and your pussy squelching around Matt at the other end. All three of you whimpered, and every time you did, your mouth vibrated around the base of Chris' shaft, and it'd bring his closer to the edge every time.

"Can I cum, pretty girl?" Chris needily whispered, looking down at you. You loved watching Chris look so desperate. You needed it just a bit longer. You shook your head from side-to-side while he was still buried in your mouth. Chris immediately pulled his cock out from behind your lips, gasping and rolling his eyes back into his head. "I have to stop for a second. I'm so close. I can't take it," he whined.

You eyed the way his swollen tip continued leaking and the way it twitched in front of you. You felt so powerful controlling Chris' orgasm. When the feeling passed, Chris sunk himself back into your pretty mouth, and he couldn't keep himself from grasping at your pretty braids. He got a firm grip on each one and started driving his cock further into your throat until he was triggering your gag reflex once again.

"Please let daddy cum," Chris breathlessly begged, his pretty blue eyes locked on yours as his facial expression was saturated in pure desire. You shook your head no once more. You loved teasing him. Chris removed himself from your mouth to keep from finishing too soon, and it made a loud pop as he quickly pulled it out. "Fuck, princess. How come you're being so cruel to me?" Chris asked, gently slapping the tip of his cock onto your tongue before plunging it back in.

Matt's thrusts were becoming incredibly fast and powerful and every time he drove his hips forward, it launched you further onto Chris, taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth. You started getting close, and the way you fervently moaned with your lips wrapped around Chris' cock made it near impossible for him to keep from cumming.

"Pretty girl, please. Please let daddy cum. Can't take it anymore. Need to cum in your pretty little mouth," Chris cried out pathetically, holding onto your braids for dear life. The combination of Matt fucking your brains out and Chris tugging on your hair while he fucked your mouth was sending you over the edge, and you wanted Chris to cum at the same time as you, so you graciously nodded, giving him permission to paint your tongue with his heavenly load.

Chris came into your mouth with incredible force, shooting his seed into the back of your throat while he moaned your name over and over. You felt his warm, sticky mess on your tongue while his dick throbbed against your lips, and the way he came for you created a domino effect.

You followed shortly after, your pussy involuntarily spasming around Matt a final time, finishing all over him.

He watched as your cum covered his cock as he delivered a few last thrusts. He pulled out of you with seconds to spare before nutting into his hand and watching the way his cum slowly dripped down his shaft after being released.

The three of you were completely satisfied, breathless, and unable to think or speak for several seconds after. "Now Chris is going to go wait in the car, and I'm gonna have some alone time with my girlfriend," Matt declared. Chris knew how thin of ice he was on, so he quickly started getting dressed and heading downstairs.

"Matt, please. I can't take anymore. I need a break," you told him. "That's not what I meant, sweetie. I meant let's take a shower together. Just the two of us," Matt said, pulling you into his chest and kissing you on the forehead.

Matt ran the water for you, checking the temperature himself before telling you that you could get in. The whole time the two of you stood under the warm stream of water, he was gently kissing your back and massaging body wash into your skin.

"I love you," he whispered in your ear. You turned around, looking into his beautiful blue eyes that told you he meant it, and as he squeezed you a little bit tighter, you said, "I love you, too."

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @slutforsturniolosss @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @miss-delicious @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @matts-myloverboy @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @alexisxena @matthewsturnsgf @willowrites @blahbel668 @mattslolita @2muchofaslvt @wonnieeluvvr @fratboychrisera @envykaulitz @slxtformatt @pip4444chris @aaliyahhasacrush @littlebookworm803 @weirdratperson @watchu-mean-baby-keem @lydi2718 @chratts-left-ball @slxtformatt @sst7niolo @sturniolo-fann @ssturniolooss @karttpet

[sansaorgana]

— SISTER'S CHOICE

BROKEN OATH (AU)

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Princess Elaena Targaryen (OC)

SUMMARY — You manage to escape Oldtown after fifteen years of marriage to Ser Gwayne Hightower in order to join your sister Rhaenyra in the upcoming war. Despite the oath given to Rhaenyra, you struggle to be away from your husband and children. Things complicate when you meet Gwayne in the battlefield.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written from the Reader’s perspective but she is a Targaryen and Rhaenyra's younger sister. I did not describe any of her body or face features except for that she has silver hair, lilac eyes and her name is Elaena. The story is quite long already so I haven't described the beginnings of Reader/Elaena with Gwayne or her childhood – you can find them in the "Broken Oath" fanfic (link above), which is an AU of this one (or this one is an AU of "Broken Oath" 🙈). Canon events are treated very loosely here for the purpose of the plot (Rook's Rest for example).

WARNINGS — Reader/Elaena is responsible for the deaths in the battlefield & if you're Team Black you might be unhappy about the ending (+ I don't like Daemon and it shows, sorry)

WORD COUNT — 9,930 (💀)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SISTER'S CHOICE

It was quite a long trip from Oldtown to Dragonstone but you hadn’t made any stops and now both you and your dragon were exhausted. The sun was slowly rising when you arrived but you had a weird feeling deep in your guts – some sort of anxiety – before seeing your sister after fifteen years. How would you even greet her now? What would you say? That fear alone was stopping you from landing.

Eventually, you spotted a few people looking out for you from the castle. They had to be wondering what were you doing, circling around Dragonstone without clear intentions. After spotting your sister’s long silver hair in the wind, you decided to order Onyx to land on the sandy beach and you waited for someone to come out and greet you.

Sighing, you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. It felt so odd to be out of Oldtown – you hadn’t left it in fifteen years. Not even once. You had grown so used to it that you nearly missed it now. You certainly missed your children. They had to slowly wake up now and you wondered what your husband would tell them about your sudden absence.

Would they understand? Would they grow up to hate you? They were only children, you couldn’t expect them to comprehend the complicated situation of the upcoming war, the delicacy of your family’s relations. And what kind of mother abandoned her children like that? Perhaps it was true what they were saying about The Targaryens – just like dragons they rode, they were difficult to tame. Even an obedient and dutiful Princess like you still had fire and blood running through her veins.

Finally, you spotted your sister and a few of her guards walking towards you. You took off the hood of your cloak and petted nervous Onyx to calm her down. 

“Sister,” Rhaenyra greeted you and you hurried to her side, leaving your dragon behind you. You gave her an anxious smile as your eyes scanned hers carefully.

She had grown older those past fifteen years but you couldn’t help a feeling that she had grown sadder, too. Either way, she was still your sister but also your Queen now.

“You came, Elaena,” Rhaenyra smiled at you nervously.

“My Queen,” you bowed down and the hood of your cloak fell onto your head again. Rhaenyra chuckled at that and approached you to fix it.

“It is green,” she pointed out while caressing the fabric of your cloak when you two were face-to-face now. Then, her fingers moved down to the golden clasp, which was The Hightower emblem.

“Forgive me,” you unclasped the cloak and let it fall down on the sand. “I am here now, by my sister’s side,” you told her.

“Come, we’ll make space for Onyx in the dragonpit,” Rhaenyra smiled at your dragon and tilted her head a little. “She’s as big as Caraxes now, do you know?”

You were surprised. You had no idea that your young and small dragon had grown so big. It was also unexpected that it had happened in Oldtown where Onyx had been alone and you had not been flying on her often either. She had been spoiled with sheep and your affection but that would be it, really. Other than that, she had been pretty bored there.

“I am glad,” you smiled at your sister. You wanted to take her by her arm but something was stopping you – some invisible barrier between you two and it was not because she was The Queen, no. 

She had always been your father’s heir to you anyway. You had gotten used to the fact that Rhaenyra was your superior. The barrier was caused by the fifteen years apart. Despite knowing it was your sister, despite sharing the same blood, the same silver hair, the same lilac eyes – it was a stranger walking down the beach with you.

“Why did you come?” Rhaenyra asked, genuinely. The guards left you behind and watched Onyx fly up again to rest in the dragonpit after the long journey.

“You need dragons and dragonriders in the upcoming war with Aegon,” you answered, a little surprised as if you couldn’t understand why she had even asked that. It was obvious, after all.

“You loved him when he was a babe, did you not?” Rhaenyra smiled gently.

“I love him still, just like I love you – and to you I have sworn my loyalty,” you answered.

“Haven’t you sworn it to your husband, too, on your wedding day?” She kept inquiring and you grew uncomfortable with that. You didn’t want her to mention Gwayne because you were trying your hardest not to think of him.

“Are you suspecting I might be my father-in-law’s spy?” You suddenly turned your head around to look deep into her eyes. “If so, you hurt me deeply.”

“I would never suspect that!” Rhaenyra gasped and held your wrist to squeeze it assuringly. “You have been telling me in your letters that your marriage is a good one, that you love your children dearly. And now you are here, with me,” she pointed out.

“The war is coming,” you only shook your head.

Hadn’t she been expecting you to come and join her? In her letter, you had read that between the lines and now she was shocked to see you? When she had been asking for your loyalty and for remembering your oath… What had she been exactly expecting?

However, you had no opportunity to continue this conversation because you reached the castle and your uncle Daemon was waiting there with a very unpleasant expression on his face.

At first, your heart swelled in your chest at the sight of him. You wanted to run up to him and greet him like back in the old days when you had been a young girl and he would bounce you on his knee. But you froze at the sight of him eyeing you up and down as if you were an intruder.

“What does she want?” He asked Rhaenyra and you swallowed thickly at that tone of his voice.

“She is my sister, Daemon. She came to support me,” Rhaenyra explained.

“And you believe her?” Daemon whispered but you could hear him perfectly well.

“I can hear you, Uncle,” you nodded at him and he shot you a cold glance.

“That is King Consort to you. We don’t trust Hightower cunts here,” he drawled out.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra scolded him and you were standing there, petrified.

You were not used to being treated this way. In Oldtown you were a Lady of the town – every man was bowing his head at you, they were showing you nothing but respect and your own Lord Husband would challenge Daemon this very moment if he had heard or seen the way you were treated.

But your Lord Husband was not here because you had abandoned him to join your sister. Your sister – not Daemon. So, you held your head high and clenched your jaw at him.

“I am Princess Elaena Targaryen,” you introduced yourself to him in case he had somehow forgotten. “Lady Hightower, to you, dear Uncle. Lady of Oldtown,” you added even though the last title was not technically yours yet as long as your father-in-law was alive but you had been ruling the city in his name alongside your husband for fifteen years now and everyone called you that.

Daemon, however, found your titles somehow funny. He chuckled at you.

“Onyx has grown, Daemon,” Rhaenyra informed him. There was a hint of harshness in her voice that made shivers go down your spine. Something deeply disturbing was going on between them and you had a feeling her marriage was not as wonderful as she had been describing it to you in her letters. “She’s as big as Caraxes now,” she added.

“But not as experienced,” Daemon dismissed that and laid his eyes on you again. He squinted them and looked you up and down before speaking to you again eventually. “Well, come in, Elaena. We are not in a position to refuse any dragonriders,” he said and turned around to walk away.

You looked at Rhaenyra, questioningly.

“Forgive him, he is nervous about the war and we have also lost our child recently… Our baby girl was born dead,” she sighed and caressed your arm.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” you whispered and gave her a hug. “Still, that gives him no right to speak to you in such a manner. You are his Queen, but, most importantly, his Lady Wife,” you explained. “Such manners are shocking to me.”

“It makes me glad,” Rhaenyra answered mysteriously and you furrowed your brow, “for it means that you had never experienced such treatment from your husband.”

You were given your own chambers in the part of the castle reserved for the royal family and you knew that it was the highest standard for Dragonstone but you missed your chambers in Oldtown dearly. The comfort was incomparable… The Hightower was cosier and warmer – it was full of wood and colours instead of the cold, grey stone. The Reach was warmer overall and the sound of the waves was soothing there, meanwhile in Dragonstone the stormy weather was keeping you up all night.

Not just the sound of the raging sea but also thoughts of your family. Each evening you were crying yourself to sleep, imagining the bedtime of your children, remembering all the rituals Gwayne was doing before going to sleep and you missed them dearly. You especially missed laying in your bed together and discussing your day – trying to work out some problems around Oldtown or with your children… Sometimes gossipping together. And now, you were squeezing your pillow tight and trying to communicate with your husband telepathically. Yet, you still had no idea what you would tell him if it was possible.

He hadn’t written you any letter and you couldn’t blame him since you left Oldtown without even a note on his desk. Yet, each time there were new letters coming to Dragonstone, you were expecting to see the familiar green envelope and your husband’s handwriting; begging you to come back. Gwayne, however, had his pride and you couldn’t be sad or angry about it now because you had always admired him for it.

Seeing Rhaenyra’s relationship with Daemon was only making you miss Gwayne more. He was a Lord Husband that so many women could only dream of – even The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, apparently.

Daemon was not the only person treating you with a hint of mistrust. Your aunt Princess Rhaenys was by your side but even young Jacaerys was staring at you without a word most of the time even though you had been playing with him and bouncing him on your knee when he had been a babe.

It was not easy to get used to all of this – the coldness and emptiness of your chambers, the treatment of others. From the beloved Lady of Oldtown to a mistrusted Princess, a prodigal sister.

Your loyalty and surname that had been given to you through marriage was being brought up regularly, mostly by Daemon – especially during dinnertime or supper.

“It was not my choice to marry a Hightower and even if it was… I married Gwayne fifteen years ago. No one could have suspected this war…” You rolled your eyes at one more remark by the dinner table.

“Don’t be naive, Elaena!” Daemon snapped. “Everyone has suspected. That was the very reason why Otto Hightower sent you to his son in Oldtown.”

You didn’t answer and you felt the eyes of everyone staring at you and expecting some sort of remark. Daemon smirked at your silence, feeling like the winner.

“I am not used to being yelled at and treated in such a way. And I am certainly not used to dinnertime being a battle between the family members,” you stated calmly.

“Go back to Oldtown then,” Daemon scoffed. “If you find it so insufferable here, then go back to your husband. Do you think he is going to greet you with open arms after such betrayal?” He laughed and shook his head while taking a sip of the wine. “He is going to greet you with his sword instead, Princess,” he mocked your title and you swallowed your food thickly, feeling your stomach turning upside down.

Daemon had only voiced out the anxiety that you had been having for some time now – that Gwayne did not miss you at all. That he did not feel nothing but anger at you and that he would kill you at the very first opportunity. After all, you had hurt his pride and you had stained his honour and these things mattered to him more than anything else – except for your children, of course.

Your marriage had been good but it didn’t change the fact it was an arranged union and not a love match. Sometimes, though… Sometimes, laying in your bed, here, in Dragonstone, tossing and turning, you were quite sure that you had grown to love him, which was quite ironic to have such thoughts now when you had already ruined everything between you two. But you were sure he was not having the same thoughts about you anyway. 

“My sister is more than welcome here,” Rhaenyra gave her husband a scolding look and squeezed your hand. You smiled at her, gratefully.

But the thing with Rhaenyra was that despite being The Queen, no one really seemed to care about it. No one except for you, Rhaenys and Daemon’s daughters. All the men, though, were still doing everything their own way. And Rhaenyra herself could not find any solution to deal with that, which made you wonder if she would really be a good Queen…

Not that you had ever voiced that out for it would be treason. You loved your sister and you were obliged to serve her because of the oath you had sworn. But still, you sometimes couldn’t help feeling that she was not a strong leader. On the other hand, it was not that surprising because she had no real experience in such matters and when things had gotten difficult in King’s Landing, she had fled to Dragonstone instead of staying in The Red Keep and learning how to be a good ruler.

The death of Lucerys had shaken everyone. The very first victim of the conflict being such a young and innocent boy… You were speechless and you had no words of comfort to offer. You were a mother, too, and you just couldn’t imagine what Rhaenyra had to feel.

You locked yourself in your chambers instead and spent your whole day staring at the small portrait you had taken with yourself from Oldtown. It was a portrait in the size of a locket and it was of your own four children – twelve years old Steffon Hightower with silver hair and lilac eyes standing next to his nine years old brother Loras Hightower who was a copy of his father with his auburn hair and blue eyes. The girls were sitting on the carpet – six years old Lysa Hightower with her father’s auburn hair and your lilac eyes and three years old Roslin Hightower with silver hair and blue eyes. You felt the warm tears streaming down your cheeks and all you really wanted was to hold them and make sure they were alright.

Sometimes you regretted your decision to flee from Oldtown. Perhaps you should have been an obedient and loyal wife like your mother had always been teaching you to be. It would save you lots of trouble.

Fifteen years earlier, before your departure to marry Gwayne, Rhaenyra had confessed to you that she had wished to be more like you – less rebellious, less stubborn. Meanwhile, you had always wished to be more like her and now you kind of were but you finally understood the price for it, too.

It was Princess Rhaenys that came to your chambers on that day. She sighed at the sight of you and approached you with a soft smile. She took the small portrait from your hands and took a look at the faces of your children.

“How accurate is it?” She asked.

“Very,” you sniffled your tears back. “I sleep with it under my pillow every night. And by day, I have them close to my heart,” you confessed.

“They’re very beautiful children,” Rhaenys sat next to you on the edge of your bed and handed you the portrait back. “What are they like?”

You knew she was trying to help you. She wanted you to talk about your children and let out all the tears that no one else in the castle would want to see now. Not even Rhaenyra because she was grieving her own loss. Meanwhile, your children were safe and sound in Oldtown but your heart was in grief anyway. You were grateful that your aunt wanted to hear about them because you felt like it was expected from you to not express any feelings towards The Hightowers, Oldtown, your husband or your offspring at all. Each display of affection or a hint of the fact that you were missing them was perceived as an act of treason.

You had sacrificed so much for them but no one seemed to understand the significance of it. No one except for Rhaenys and Rhaenyra but they were only two and against many.

“You would like Steffon the most, I think,” you caressed his little face on your portrait. “A true Targaryen, look at him. And he is so…” you chuckled through the tears. “So brave and bold. He’s going to be a knight like his father and, somehow, I have a feeling he’s going to be a dragonrider, too. I don’t know how but he’s determined enough to claim one,” you assured her. “And then there’s Loras…” Your fingers moved to your second son. “He inherited all the kindness and goodness and gentleness from Gwayne. From me, too, I assume. There is not a mean bone in his body. And my girls…” You moved your hand down and sighed. “That is Lysa, the one with auburn hair. And the little one with silver hair is Roslin. They… They were spending their whole days following me around and clinging to my skirts… I have no idea how they are managing now…” You sobbed and hid your face in your hands.

Rhaenys put her arm around you and pulled you closer as she rubbed your back to soothe you. She leaned in to kiss your temple.

“Their mother is strong and brave. She is righteous,” she whispered. “One day, they will understand it and forgive you. You had this calling in you, the calling to join your sister for you are a Targaryen, you are a dragonrider. We are never only mothers and wives and proper ladies. We are wild creatures, Elaena. Just like our dragons,” she lifted your chin up, forcing you to look into her eyes.

“I thought of taking them with me but… But they’re safer in Oldtown, far away from here. And Gwayne… Well, he would hunt me down and kill me for that, I am sure. He is a devoted father,” you tried to explain yourself but no matter how much you were doing so, you still felt like a terrible mother.

“You were right to leave them with him then,” Rhaenys caressed your arms. “Your husband will protect them and of that you are sure, I can see. They are safe there.”

“When this war ends, when we win…” Your lower lip trembled. “I will be allowed to reunite with my family, right? Rhaenyra will allow me?” You asked, a little unsurely.

“I am rather convinced that after we win this war, you are going to remain the Lady of Oldtown,” Rhaenys nodded and kissed your forehead. “You’re going to raise your children there and watch them grow happily.”

“And… And my Lord Husband?” You sniffled, while Rhaenys tilted her head. “I mean… He has to die, right?”

“I highly doubt Daemon would allow it any other way,” Rhaenys told you.

“Whatever he might be saying, he is not The King,” you reminded her.

“That decision will not be Rhaenyra’s to make. Daemon and Gwayne will most likely meet on the battlefield sooner or later,” your aunt reminded you and fixed your hair delicately. “You must think of your husband as dead from now on if you want to survive this,” she added and stood up to leave your chambers.

You knew that she had meant that with the best intentions but it only made you sob even more. You took another look at the portrait of your children and your heart squeezed in your chest. What was giving you a guarantee that Daemon would not hurt your babies, too? He seemed to be filled with an ugly desire to wipe all Hightowers out from this world.

Weeks had passed and you had grown colder and sharper lately. Daemon was not around any longer for he had left for Harrenhal, which was helpful, but if he was still in Dragonstone, you would surely be ready to confront him each time now. You were confronting everyone else whenever they doubted you and on multiple occasions you had confronted them to defend your sister, too.

You still missed your family but all those lonely nights had made you turn pretty heartless sometimes. All those suppressed feelings and regrets had made you a woman who was holding her head high and who was more and more sure of her skills. You were flying Onyx every day now to strengthen your bond even more and it was giving you lots of confidence.

Despite the fondness you still felt towards your marriage, you knew aunt Rhaenys had been right and the marriage was over now. You also realised how much you had missed out in those past fifteen years. You had been living more like a Hightower than a Targaryen. Your husband was a good and kind man but still – he had been trying to tame the dragon blood inside of you. You had not been riding Onyx enough and your High Valyrian had become rusty. Now you were finding your old self back again and all the pain you were feeling because of missing your children only fueled you to be even colder and sharper towards all of those who were doubting you.

When you entered the hall where the council was gathered, everyone nodded their heads at you and you didn’t even bother to nod back. As the Lady of Oldtown you had been respected but you had always been kind in return, too. In Dragonstone everything seemed to be turned upside down.

But why would Princess Elaena Targaryen bow down to any of these men inside the castle that had belonged to her ancestors for centuries now? It was your home – perhaps not in the same domesticated way as The Hightower but Dragonstone was your blood’s home and you would not bow down to anyone inside of it except for the monarch.

The only person you bowed at was of course Rhaenyra herself – your Queen, your sister. Not a perfect Queen and only slightly better sister but you had sworn to her and you valued honour just like your Lord Husband did.

“The battle is coming,” she explained to you as she pointed at the table with the map of Westeros because you were late to the gathering after flying on Onyx for a little too long this evening. “Tomorrow, the armies will clash around Rook’s Rest,” she added and pointed at the place.

“That is close,” you tilted your head. “But the castle has no significance to us, does it?”

“We have already lost enough and we cannot lose more!” one of the Lords protested. “It’s about our honour, my Princess.”

“I want to send a dragon,” Rhaenyra moved one of the stone dragons on the map to put it alongside the Black Army. “I do not intend to use it in battle. No burning, no crushing. I do not wish to be remembered as the first side of this conflict who used a dragon to kill her enemies because once we use them as weapons, the destruction from both sides will be unstoppable,” she explained and the Lords from her council sighed and rolled their eyes.

Those foolish, non-Targaryen men really wanted Rhaenyra’s dragons to cause slaughter, not understanding the possible consequences.

“The dragon will be there to patrol the battlefield – it will be there just in case the Greens send their own, too. And it will be there to intimidate the enemy. Intimidate only,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“I shall go,” Baela spoke up and everyone laid their eyes on her but you spotted that Rhaenyra was unsure. Baela was like a daughter to her and even if the dragon was not supposed to actually participate in any fighting, it still was a risky business to go.

“I shall go,” you straightened your back and now everyone looked at you. Baela was visibly unhappy with that, too. She wanted to prove herself.

“But…” She started.

“Onyx is bigger than Moondancer,” you told her. “And I am older. This is far too dangerous for you.”

“But…” She sighed again and looked at Rhaenyra in a way that suggested she knew something you had no idea of. “Who is going to tell The Princess?”

“Who is going to tell me what?” You shook your head questioningly as you looked at all the gathered members of the council. The men clasped their hands and looked down or they tried to avoid your gaze in different ways; looking through or behind you, turning their heads away and clearing their throats. “Who is going to tell me what?” You repeated the question, irritated now.

“Elaena,” Rhaenys finally spoke up and you looked at her, “it is your husband who leads The Green army now, so we have been informed. Your father-in-law called for him and Ser Gwayne Hightower came all the way from Oldtown to lead the army of his nephew.”

You blinked a few times at that revelation, still not processing it fully.

“And Cole?” You asked.

“Aegon named him his new Hand,” Rhaenyra informed you. “He was summoned back to King’s Landing.”

“And Otto?” You furrowed your brow.

“Probably on his way back to Oldtown, Gods only know,” Rhaenyra scoffed. “It doesn’t matter now, Elaena. What matters is that your husband leads the enemy’s army.”

Short silence occurred and you knew that everyone was observing your reaction carefully as if they were inspecting you. But those past few weeks you had learnt how to keep a poker face on. Your jaw was clenched as you discretely wiped your sweaty hands in your skirts.

“I shall go,” you nodded, surely.

“Elaena…” Rhaenyra gave you a meaningful look as if she was scolding you. “I do not think this is a good idea.”

“It must be. It is my husband,” you explained.

“Do you think he might stop his army from attacking at the sight of you?” Jacaerys asked you but you spotted a hint of mockery in his voice.

“I do not know. It might motivate him further to attack, it might want him to stop or it might make him indifferent,” you admitted, truthfully. “But it must be me going there,” you insisted, looking deep into your sister’s eyes.

You desperately wanted her to understand that it was important for you to see him again – even if it would be under such circumstances.

Rhaenyra nodded and you cracked a smile although some men were whispering between each other about this decision but you decided to pretend not to hear it.

“You shall leave at dawn,” Rhaenyra told you. “But, Elaena, remember – do not attack, do you hear me? If The Greens bring their own dragon and they use it, only then you are allowed to join the fight,” she pointed her finger at you.

“I understand,” you nodded your head. It was the reason why you wanted to do it – because it meant patrolling and intimidating only, not the real fight.

“Good. I trust you, sister,” Rhaenyra smiled at you.

“Thank you, my Queen.”

In the morning, you didn’t even have breakfast, too nervous for the upcoming battle. You let your maids braid your hair according to the Valyrian customs and you wore an armour that had been made for you recently. It would be the first time you'd actually wear it outside.

The armour was made of black metal with the ornaments made of Valyrian steel. It was light and feminine but it was intimidating, too, and surely worthy of a dragonrider. You insisted on the black colour because of Onyx’s scales.

You hid the small portrait of your children inside your armour and you looked at yourself one more time in the mirror. You couldn’t help but smile although it was difficult to recognise yourself like this.

“I am a dragon,” you whispered to yourself and lifted your chin up. “I am a Targaryen Princess and I am a dragon blood, a dragon rider – a dragon myself,” you repeated, trying to motivate yourself and with a deep breath, you left the chambers as fast as possible to go to the dragonpit.

Onyx was already waiting for you and a brand new saddle had been placed upon her back – it was matching your black armour. She purred at the sight of you and you petted her nose the way she liked it.

“We have a job to do, my girl,” you told her. “We have to scare Gwayne a little,” you chuckled and she huffed in a way that resembled laughter, too.

With a smile, you jumped on her back and you flew out of Dragonstone. Onyx roared when you were up in the sky as if she was saying farewell.

It didn’t take long to get to Rook’s Rest on a dragonback but the closer you were to your destination, the more nervous you were becoming. You saw from a distance the banners of the two armies and you could hear the clinging sounds of their armours in the wind, the battlecries and the cannons.

They were starting the battle already when you arrived and Onyx announced you with a long and loud roar. You straightened yourself and looked down proudly, with a smirk on your face. Everything froze below you for a moment and then a thunderous cheer greeted you amongst the Black Army.

It was a powerful feeling, you had to admit. No experience of yours could match with it – no memory from when you had been The Royal Princess living in King’s Landing, no memory of your recent time now in Dragonstone and not even any memory of yours from Oldtown where you had been the Lady Hightower.

No amount of respect and power that had ever been shown towards you could match to what you were feeling now – you felt pretty invincible, in fact. And you knew it was bold of you and it was only caused by the sudden rush of adrenaline but in that moment you felt like The Queen yourself. Like you could challenge Rhaenyra and Aegon both – after all, you were their sister, too. Your father had been The King and you were a Targaryen. You had been born to rule over those people below you – those small figures that resembled ants in comparison to your Onyx and its fire.

It was scary how easy it was to forget that you were one of those ants, too.

You ignored the cheers of the Black Army and you looked down at The Greens, searching for one person only – obviously. And you spotted him as your heart skipped a beat.

Gwayne was sitting on his horse in his beautiful armour that you had always admired. Even from this great height you could see that he was looking up with fear in his eyes. You smirked and Onyx roared once again, more angrily this time. The Green Army was panicking as the men were shouting at each other and some were trying to hide.

All the time stopped for you for a short while, though. Your eyes were fixed on your Lord Husband only – it had been a few long weeks apart from him. You wondered what was going inside his head at the moment but most likely it was nothing but a paralysing fear. It was a painful death to die in the fire and he had been telling you about it a few times before that it was one of his fears whenever you had teased him about using Onyx against him. Now, it was no longer a banter between a married couple but reality.

You didn’t want to torment him any more. You ordered Onyx to fly away and leave The Greens alone for now as you went back higher in the skies to patrol the battle. Despite giving them a sign that you were not there to kill them, from the corner of your eye, you spotted that some of the cannons of the Green Army were now aimed at you and Onyx.

Gwayne, however, shaking out of his state of fear, ordered them to turn around and aim at the castle and The Blacks instead. You smiled to yourself and kept circling up in the air as Onyx roared.

Despite your strong bond with her, you could feel how uneasy she was, how impatient. It surprised you because Onyx was a young dragon and she had no experience in battle. In fact, you had suspected her to shy away or get scared at the sight the real fight. And now, your girl seemed to be pretty bold and angry as she huffed and puffed, while her muscles tensed.

“Lykirī, Onyx, lykirī,” you ordered as you patted her neck to calm her down but you had to admit that her restlessness was making you feel worried if you were even able to fully control her after all.

She roared and lowered herself. You squinted your eyes to observe the battle but you had to shout Lykirī! all the time at your dragon because she seemed to be more than eager to join the fight. The sight of her and the sounds she was making seemed to work, though. The Greens were terrified and kept looking up all the time to make sure she wouldn’t burn them all any second. Your intimidation plan seemed to be working better than you had expected.

A few times during the battle, you found Gwayne’s eyes somehow and he would look up back at you but then he would ride away on his horse. Each time, your heart clenched inside your chest and Onyx had to feel it because it was when she was growing the most uneasy.

So far, it was the Green Army that had been winning battle after battle but now they seemed to be too distracted by the dragon flying overhead. It was not the fault of your husband’s leadership – your knowledge of warfare was little but you could see even from up there that most of his orders and ideas were good. It was just simply not enough when a huge beast was a constant deathly treat. The morales were simply too low and you could see that some knights even tried to desert the battlefield in a desperate attempt to save themselves from your hypothetical dragonfire. Meanwhile, The Blacks were not as organised but they felt more confident than ever with The Targaryen Princess watching over them.

“Lykirī, Onyx!” You shouted at your dragon when you felt that her neck was tensing as if she was about to let out the fire. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” You hummed to yourself and leaned in to pat her neck and then you froze at the sight below you.

Gwayne was not wearing his helmet anymore and he was no longer in the saddle. You couldn’t spot his horse but he was surrounded by the Black Army knights. He was fighting them bravely but he was alone against four men and it was a hopeless struggle yet he refused to give up and become their prisoner. You looked around and spotted that most of the Green knights that remained in the battlefield were struggling in a similar way to your husband. You knew very well how it would end now. It would be the very first victory of your army and Rook’s Rest would be defended.

But at what price?

You could see Gwayne’s face more clearly now as Onyx lowered herself even further. He was exhausted and bruised, dirty from the mud and blood and his lip was cut. You had to fight an urge inside of you to just run into his arms, to hold him again, to kiss him, to be with him. 

But, so far, it looked like you would never be able to do it since he would lose soon. And you would continue your life with the image of him dying in the battlefield – you would continue your life with regret of leaving him and then doing absolutely nothing to help him in the battlefield.

Onyx groaned loudly and exposed her claws and teeth. You were about to calm her down again and then you noticed something that you had not noticed before – she was not trying to attack the Green Army but… the Black one.

You froze as you realised that her eyes were fixated on the knights carrying your sister’s banners. The fire forming in the depths of her throat was aimed at the men gathered near the castle walls and trying to stop the attack of Gwayne’s army.

Onyx was not loyal to Rhaenyra, after all. Onyx was your dragon and she was loyal to you only. You were her mistress and her rider. She knew you better than anyone else.

Some of the knights of the Black Army cheered at you and your dragon – so confident and sure of themselves that they hadn’t noticed that Onyx’s anger was aimed at them. You squinted your eyes at the black banners of Rhaenyra and then the few of the remaining green ones of Aegon.

Gods damn it, you thought. You loved them both – your sister and your brother. But you also did not really care about any of them being the ruler of Westeros because you were not close with any of them. You had been close to your sister but that was fifteen years ago and now she was like a stranger to you. Aegon had been a baby when you left to Oldtown. Your real family – the man you loved, the father of your children – he was down there, struggling, and surely about to die soon if you wouldn’t do anything to help him.

“Dracarys, Onyx,” you ordered after taking a deep breath in. You watched as if you were outside of your own body how her fire destroyed half of the Black Army in mere seconds. You blinked a few times, still detached physically and mentally from the scene that you were responsible for.

Your dragon seemed to have lots of fun, though. She landed on the ground, crushing a few Black knights on the way. The remaining ones were widening their eyes, too terrified to move or they were trying to run away. Onyx did not need your commands anymore, she just kept on burning them as her waving tail destroyed the castle’s tower, killing dozens of men in the process. You were sitting in the saddle with your back straightened and your chin high, looking over death and destruction with the poker face you had mastered the previous weeks.

You had just become the murderer and the destroyer – the very first person in this war who used her dragon as a weapon. And yet, you felt nothing. Perhaps the regret would come later but all that mattered to you now was that Gwayne was safe again. The remaining Green knights ran up to him and helped him to defeat his enemies and then they stood behind their commander while watching the scene in terror.

When the Black Army was defeated by Onyx nearly single-handedly, you turned her around to face the remaining knights by your husband’s side and Gwayne himself. Onyx roared at them and you could hear that she was happy to see them but they didn’t know her the way you did, therefore they remained terrified. After all, you could have been a maniac who would kill everyone, right?

You were a Targaryen, after all.

You enjoyed their fear for a short while and then you ordered Onyx to lay down and she did so, allowing you to dismount her. Your legs were a bit shaky from all the hours in the saddle and all the emotions but you managed to do it gracefully enough.

You turned around to look into Gwayne’s blue eyes. They were filled with shock and terror but you ignored that completely, finally doing something you had wanted to do for weeks now.

You ran up to him and straight into his arms, nearly knocking him off on the ground as your armours clashed loudly. The knights surrounding him were observing the scene carefully, too scared to react in any way since your Onyx had just given the show of what she was capable of.

Now, however, she looked pretty adorable and innocent as she seemed to take a small nap in the middle of the battlefield full of ashes and blood.

“My Lord,” you cupped your husband’s face and he looked into your eyes with a hint of sadness that you could had expected. However, you were glad that it was sadness instead of anger. “Will you ever forgive me for abandoning you?” You asked, nearly innocently, while biting on your lip as if you weren’t responsible for all this death and destruction below your feet.

Gwayne looked nervously at Onyx napping behind your back and cracked a sad smile at you.

“Do I have a choice, my Lady Wife?” He tried to make a joke as he put his hands on your waist. “If I say no, you will order your dragon to burn me.”

“Onyx would never burn you,” you shook your head with a chuckle as you sniffled your tears back. “That dragon is more difficult to manage than I expected.”

“She is just like you then, my Princess,” Gwayne raised one of his hands to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle like he could not believe that you were really there, standing in front of him.

“She is my dragon, after all. Onyx knows my heart – I could lie to myself but I could never lie to her,” you nodded and then you looked around. “What a mess I have caused.”

“Indeed,” Gwayne only nodded and took his hand away from you.

He turned around and ordered his men to look for the wounded knights and to go for the castle since it was practically left for the taking now. They had to put the new banners on the walls now. You kept standing there and waiting for him to finish so you would be left alone to talk now. When it happened, he looked at you with a sigh and you cracked a smile at his handsome face even though it was bruised and dirty.

“I had to leave. She is my sister, I have sworn to her, she needed me,” you explained.

“I know,” Gwayne nodded. “It broke my heart, Elaena, but I understood. At least some part of me did. I could not understand how you could leave our children like that,” he approached you and you looked away, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“How are they? What have you told them?”

“They are safe,” Gwayne assured you. “They miss you…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have lied to them… Well, not really. I have told them that you went to visit your sister. That it was an urgent family matter and you had no time to say farewell but you would be back… Soon,” Gwayne explained. “They are too young to know about the war so they believed me.”

“I doubt Steffon did. He is ten and two now, of course he knows about the war,” you pointed out and shyly looked up. “I shall go to them, even today. I shall take Onyx and go back to Oldtown to hold my children and…” You stopped when you realised something painful. “Of course, that is, if you allow me,” you fixed yourself.

“You are the Lady of Oldtown, I would never forbid you from the city,” Gwayne shook his head. “And you are their mother, they need you.”

“Yes, but so do you. Especially now,” you explained. “After seeing our children, I shall come back to you. I shall accompany you in each battle from now on. I have started something you have no idea of… Now Rhaenyra will make sure to send her dragons to war, too. Her pain and anger will be great from my betrayal,” you pointed out.

“Why did you betray her?” Gwayne asked, raising his eyebrow. “You have sworn to her, haven’t you? What made you change your mind to support King Aegon instead?”

“Fuck Aegon!” You dismissed him and he widened his eyes. “And fuck Rhaenyra. I don’t care about any of them.”

“You shall not be heard saying such things,” Gwayne chuckled nervously.

“They are my siblings, I can speak whatever of them,” you shrugged your arms. “I am by your side only,” you confessed and you looked away.

You knew it was a bit stupid to confess such things when you were the one who had abandoned him without a word of a warning or any explanation. You should be grateful that he was talking to you instead of cutting your head off – as your Lord Husband he had every right to after your stunt and since you were technically a traitor to both of the sides, no one would even punish him for killing you.

But Gwayne moved even closer to you and grabbed your wrist to squeeze it, which made you look up at him shyly again.

“I love you, Elaena. And please, do forgive me that it took me losing you to finally say it out loud. And if it took you running away to realise the same about me, then I can be only grateful for this experience. You are a dragon, my Princess, and I am sorry for forgetting about that,” he whispered.

You couldn’t believe your ears… He was apologising to you?!

“Do not be too greedy, Lord Husband. Do you really expect me to admit out loud that I love you as if I haven’t just betrayed my own army for you? Is that not enough?” You chuckled and so did he, awkwardly. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and then he caressed it lovingly. You could feel the longing and yearning in those gestures. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed. “I’ve missed us.”

“So have I,” Gwayne kissed your forehead. It was not proper to exchange such affections in public but you were in the middle of the battlefield so you did not bother to care about it. “But it would be my greatest wish for you to stay in Oldtown after coming back there. I do not want you on the battlefield, Elaena.”

“You can’t stop me,” you shrugged your arms and squeezed his wrists lovingly.

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” He tried a different approach as he smirked at you.

“Watch me,” you smirked back and gently kissed him on the lips.

You hurried through the halls of The Hightower while all the maids and servants were staring at you with widened eyes. They certainly had not expected to ever see you again but no one was trying to stop you. You rushed to the nursery room where all your children had been gathered after your arrival. You had changed from your armour into a comfortable dress and had ordered your maids that you wanted to see your sons and daughters.

You finally pushed the doors open and tears of joy streamed down your cheeks at the sight of their faces. Loras, Lysa and Roslin hurried to you with big smiles and hugged you tightly. You crouched down to squeeze them all lovingly.

“Mummy!” Little Roslin seemed to be the happiest and she was practically shaking at the sight of you. Your heart ached for her when you kissed her all over her tiny face.

“We’re so happy to see you again, Mother,” Loras greeted you like a big boy and you cracked a smile at him before kissing his forehead.

“I am so happy to see you again, too, my love. I’ve missed you terribly,” you confessed, looking at Steffon from the corner of your eye. The silver haired boy was keeping his distance from you and staring at you questioningly. “Steffon?” You called for him and he walked up to you reluctantly.

“Mother,” he only said and kissed your cheek before moving away. “Does father know that you’re here?”

“Of course,” you furrowed your brow at him. “I saw him yesterday,” you nodded at him but he didn’t look convinced.

“And how was the time with your sister?” Lysa asked and you kissed her cheeks.

“It was good,” you nodded with a sad smile. “But I regretted that I couldn’t be with you.”

“Will you stay now?” Loras asked and you caressed his head gently.

“I wish I could but I have to join your father,” you explained. “We will be back soon. Together,” you assured him.

“Father left for the war,” Steffon pointed out.

“And I must, too. I am a Targaryen and a dragonrider, my darling,” you tried to explain. “Either way, let’s not dwell on that now. We have a whole day to spend together,” you squeezed the hands of your girls.

You didn’t leave your children even for a second for the whole day and in the evening you allowed them to sleep with you in your chambers that you share with Gwayne. Since he was not in Oldtown, there was a lot of empty space in the bed. Steffon did not join you in the evening, though, and for the whole day he was roaming around but never actively spending his time with you either. It was hurting you deeply but you wanted to give him space and you were aware that he was old enough to realise more than you’d like him to. You could not blame him for being angry.

Watching your sweet babies sleep, you could not drift off to the land of dreams yourself. You had spent the previous night in the arms of your husband after weeks of being apart and it had surely helped you to fall asleep but now you were being haunted by the visions of what had happened in the battlefield and of what Rhaenyra’s reaction had to be after hearing about your betrayal.

You were laying on your back and staring at the ceiling when the doors creaked as they opened and you lifted yourself on your elbows to see the intruder. It was Steffon.

“Mother?” He whispered. “Are you asleep?”

“No, my love. Come in,” you whispered back and carefully left the bed, making sure not to wake up the rest of your children.

You approached your son and put your hands on his shoulders. The night was cold, therefore there was a fire burning in the fireplace. You brought him closer and you both sat on a fluffy carpet there. Steffon avoided your gaze but you could see he was dying to ask you something.

“What is it, my love?” You fixed his silver hair gently.

“I know what the war is about and that you left to see your sister…” He mumbled out quietly. “You chose her. Not us,” he pointed out and dared to look up, his lilac eyes meeting yours.

“No, I chose you. You have no idea what I have done, the choice I have made,” you nodded at him and caressed his cheek with your finger. “I left to see her, she is my sister, my blood. I grew up alongside her, we share the same father and the same mother. But there was a hole in my chest because I missed you and… And I missed your father, too,” you confessed.

“I have never seen him sadder,” Steffon said and your heart clenched inside your chest. “I knew it was not about you visiting your sister. I knew immediately you had abandoned us.”

“I know you are angry at me now and you have every right to be. And I know how much children hate it when they are being told that but one day you shall understand it. Because you are a Targaryen, perhaps the most out of all my children,” you smiled at him.

“Because of my hair and eyes?”

“No, my love. All of my children are as Targaryen as Hightower. But you have the spirit… The fire,” you told him. “I love all my children dearly but you are a dragon,” you nodded.

“Do you have to leave again?” He asked and his lilac eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll be back,” you promised. “But I’m a dragonrider and when the war calls, I am on the go,” you explained. “Your father needs me by his side and King Aegon needs more dragons.”

Steffon sniffed his tears back and he finally moved closer to hug you. You wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

In the evening of the very next day you were already dismounting Onyx in King’s Landing. All that travelling had been exhausting for you and her but it was necessary. You patted her and allowed her to rest in the dragonpit as you were being escorted to The Red Keep by a few guards.

You were wearing your armour again even though it felt a bit wrong to wear the armour that Rhaenyra had requested to be made for you so you could fight the war for her.

Gwayne was waiting for you by the gates to the castle. You smiled widely at the sight of him and you ran up to your husband as he ordered the guards to walk away because he would escort you to The King himself.

“And how was it?” He asked you after kissing the palm of your hand.

“Only Steffon knew, just as I suspected,” you sighed. “But we have explained everything to each other. I believe he has forgiven me or at least he is no longer cross with me,” you nodded. “I miss them again but the pain is less when I know I am with you,” you smiled and Gwayne took you by your arm to lead you to the council meeting.

“You have become quite a controversial figure, my Princess,” he informed you and you chuckled nervously.

“I do wonder why,” you tried to joke.

The doors were opened in front of you and you were announced as Princess Elaena Targaryen, Lady Hightower while everyone was staring at you.

The man sitting right in front of you had to be your brother Aegon because he was taking your father’s seat by the table. You bowed down at him and after a short while of silence, he laughed and clapped his hands.

“Sister!” He greeted you so happily that you were nearly suspecting an ambush. He stood up and rushed to your side to wrap his arms tightly around you. “Sister Elaena! How good it is to see you again! Do you remember me?” He took a step back and looked deep into your eyes, hoping for a positive answer like an excited puppy.

You cracked a smile at him and dared to move your hand up to brush a single silver hair strand behind his ear in a motherly way.

“Of course I do, my King,” you nodded. “You were a small babe then but I remember it fondly,” you assured him and it was no lie. “You loved to sit on my lap by the table and eat all the sweets that I was spoiling you with despite our father’s scolding looks. It was always our secret how many cakes you ate,” you reminded him and Aegon grinned at you.

“This is my sister!” He pointed his finger at you after turning around to face his council. “My sister who has burnt Rhaenyra’s army for me. Her loyalty shall not be questioned,” he announced and walked away to sit on his chair again.

You didn’t want to correct him that you hadn’t burnt anyone for him because it would be a political suicide to do so. You only cracked a smile at your husband. You didn’t expect the greeting to go so smoothly. Aegon seemed to be very desperate for any sort of attention or affection.

“Princess Elaena’s loyalty shall still be proven,” the tall young man without one eye smirked at you. That had to be your brother Aemond, whom you hadn’t met.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at that. Each side had their Daemon, apparently.

“I will be proving my loyalty to The King, brother. I do not owe you anything for we are equals,” you reminded him with a smirk, too.

Suddenly, Queen Alicent stood up and approached you to give you a warm hug. You hugged her back even though you were surprised by that welcome from her.

“We are happy to have you back,” she said and you spotted honesty alongside the sadness in her big, brown eyes. You nodded your head at her.

“My Queen,” you greeted her.

“Queen Dowager,” she fixed you. “Helaena is The Queen now. Do you remember her?”

“Of course,” you smiled at the image of tiny Helaena from your memories. “I would love to see her.”

“After the meeting,” Queen Alicent nodded and pointed at the empty chair for you. Gwayne stood behind you as if he was your sworn guard.

Well, as your Lord Husband, he was.

After the meeting of King Aegon’s council, you went to Queen Helaena’s chambers with Queen Alicent.

“Helaena, you have a guest,” her mother opened the doors gently. “It is your sister, Princess Elaena.”

After that introduction, you walked inside and bowed your head in front of your younger sister. She was standing by the window and turned her head around as her eyes widened at the sight of you.

“An oath-breaker,” she greeted you in a mysterious way that made a chill go down your spine. “You bring death and destruction.”

You had no idea how to answer that and you looked at Alicent, searching for some sort of explanation but she only blushed and looked down, uncomfortably.

“Our Queen often speaks in riddles,” she told you.

“No, your majesty,” you shook your head, “I do know very well what our Queen means.”

MASTERLIST

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With each email written and received, you and Bradley are both aching for more details. While he's thinking about plans for a first date, you get apprehensive, knowing you're going to be devastated when he returns to wherever he calls home after a few days of leave. If the two of you had an opportunity to speak more intimately, there's a chance the details could fall into place.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being hot

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

After much consideration on the matter, you sat down at home that evening with your phone and started to type up a response to Bradley. He wanted to know in an overabundance of detail how you'd feel if he asked to cancel your dinner reservation and chill with takeout instead? You weren't quite sure what he was getting at, and it felt a little bit like he had given you another assignment to work on, but you were planning on being completely transparent with him. 

Once again, the ease with which you and he communicated, even through the written word alone, was something that made you a little dizzy. A little needy. Bradley had better communication skills and paid you more attention than half of the men you'd dated, and he wasn't even in the same time zone as you.

Bradley,

We got the package you sent. My kids went wild over their personalized notes, as per usual. You've reached full celebrity status in my classroom. We'll be working on sending some notes back to you in the next few days, so brace yourself.

Please remember that you asked me for an abundance of detail here... What would I do if you wanted to change plans? Wanted to spend a quiet evening hanging out at your place instead of going out? In an extreme effort to sound as cool as possible right now... just thinking about this is making me feel warm enough that I need to take a lap around my apartment. I guess first of all, I would tell you that as far as takeout is concerned, I love Thai food the most. I'm not very picky though, so even a generic pizza and some beer would more than suffice. 

If you said you were tired from work and still wanted to hang out, I wouldn't be too pressed about the details. I would be perhaps a little giddy that you missed me enough to want me around. I'd offer to pick up dinner on my way. I would let you choose the movie. I wouldn't even be upset if you fell asleep. In fact I'd probably just cover you with a blanket and let you doze. There is perhaps no worse feeling than forcing yourself to go out when you just really don't want to. And right now nothing sounds better to me than watching a movie with you on your couch. But I have to know... if you're 6'1", are you too tall to stretch out there comfortably? Where would I end up? Would we be touching? Please reply with an abundance of detail. 

I know this scenario is purely hypothetical, but it does sound pretty perfect. I'll be thinking about splitting some Thai curry with you on your couch for a long time. Maybe during those couple days of leave when you get back to San Diego, we could meet? I think I would like that, even if you just have one day before you have to get back to your regular routine. And now I need to take another lap around my apartment.

One last thing. The aviator who took my photo on the beach was a woman, but I appreciate your response. I can't guarantee I'll stay off the beach, but I can guarantee that I'll give a guy a chance. Also, what does a girl have to do around here to get a dreamy sunset photo of you? 

Once again, hitting send before I can change my mind.

You took another lap around your apartment, even going so far as to walk around the block before it got too dark outside. Thai food and Bradley Bradshaw and a movie on his couch. There was a loop playing in your mind where he leaned in and kissed you before calling you 'Gorgeous Girl' and reaching for your hand.

"Why are you torturing yourself like this?" you moaned out loud when you walked back inside all flushed with desire. You took a long bath. You made some sleepy time tea. You sat on your couch with your notebook and worked on lesson plans until it was pretty late, but you weren't tired at all.

Frustrated that you were letting this man take over so much of your brain, you went to your bedroom and plugged your phone in for the night. And that's when you heard the familiar ping, alerting you to the fact that you had a new email.

"No way," you gasped when you looked at the screen. You'd just send him a response two hours ago, and Bradley had already written back. You flopped down onto your bed, wrenching your phone back from the charger as you started to read.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Your answer was enlightening, thank you. Relieved to hear you wouldn't pout about missing the dinner reservation. I love Thai food, but I would absolutely insist on grabbing the takeout and having you pick the movie (nothing with scary spiders, please). 

I actually don't really fit on my couch too well at all. If I really stretch out, my feet dangle over the arm, and there wouldn't be much room left for you, too. Would we be touching? God, I hope so. Where would you end up? I'm blushing just thinking about the possibilities. 

You asked for details? Well, I'd ask for permission. If you gave me permission to touch you, we'd be holding hands. If you gave me permission for more than that, then you'd be covering both of us with a blanket, and I'd be holding you a lot closer. I don't think I should provide further details on that right now, actually. Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head.

If you're feeling generous enough to give me a chance, then I'm feeling generous enough to send you a sunset photo. But frankly a girl like you isn't going to have to do much at all to get whatever she wants. Next decent sunset around here is all for you.

Your Truly,

Bradley

Well, you may never sleep again. You read his email twice before pulling up the photo of him in front of his jet, and your mind started to wander as you looked at his face. No, you'd never sleep again.

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

Bradley felt pretty ridiculous. He'd never taken so many photos of himself before in his life. Snapping a few for your class while in his cockpit with all of his gear on was one thing, but trying to get a flattering one of his face with the sun setting in the middle of the ocean was something else entirely. He was alone in a deserted part of the deck, thankful nobody else could see him. 

"Maybe she won't notice if I'm not in it," he muttered as he snapped one of the setting sun. The sky was glowing a deep orange, and the clouds moving in made everything look even dreamier. He started thinking about you and the fact that you said you were going to give him a chance. The details weren't important. He'd work that part out. When he got back to San Diego, he was going to see if you and he were as compatible in person as you were right now. But the remainder of his deployment was the one thing that was preventing that from happening immediately, and you did ask him for a photo of himself. If you really wanted it, he'd make sure you had it.

He had never been so stressed out about his scars in his adult life before right now. The best photo he took of himself was one where they looked a little more prominent. He'd sleep on it tonight and consider if he wanted to send it or a different one. Usually he didn't care at all. He supposed that in person, women would either talk to him or not, depending upon if they were bothered by the way he looked or not. But you weren't with him in person, and the more detailed the photos were, the more likely you were to dwell on his face now. He really wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After grabbing an inspired dinner alone in the mess hall, he thought about eating spicy Thai curry on his couch while you and he argued playfully about which movie to watch. Then he thought about you sitting on his lap and maybe even touching his scars which he hoped you wouldn't be bothered by. Then, as he changed to head to the gym, he imagined all the things he thought about but didn't tell you. Like pulling you onto his lap or stretching out on his couch with you lying mostly on top of him. His hand would find a nice resting spot on your back, or maybe even a little lower. His lips would eventually find yours, and the movie would become a distant memory in his mind.

"Shit." Now he was the one who needed to walk a lap before he could even go to the gym. He was already sweating by the time he got there, making it his continued mission to avoid the married woman while he listened to his playlist. He did a few extra reps, knowing you were on dry land in San Diego and wanting to make sure he looked as good as possible. Maybe he could make up for the close up photo of his face with his body.

Without sleeping on it, Bradley went back to the lounge and logged in. He sent you the best photo of the bunch along with two sentences.

Thinking of you, Gorgeous. Tell me about your week.

But he didn't hear back from you right away, and it wasn't for lack of checking his inbox. He hoped you and your students were working their way through the last batch of notes that he'd mailed. Or maybe you were busy and tired from taking them on a field trip. He was hoping there was a reason other than you not liking his bad selfie that meant he didn't get a response. 

Luckily he got busy over the weekend so he didn't have to think about it as much. Each time he climbed that ladder up to his cockpit and waited patiently for his jet to launch from the carrier deck, he took a few seconds to clear his mind and make sure he was focused on the right thing. He needed to survive this deployment so he could even potentially allow his thoughts to go further with you later.

When he made his way back to the lounge after dinner and a shower on Sunday night, he definitely got more in his inbox than he was hoping for. And not in a good way. There was a new message from you, but it was sitting right beneath a second, newer message. From Vanessa.

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked himself, loud enough that the guy next to him turned and glanced his way. It had been months since they'd spoken. Literally fucking months, and she was emailing him now? "No." Sudden panic started to boil to the surface as he quickly tried to click on it, now terrified about what she could be contacting him in regards to.

Hi,

I'm only writing to you because I have a bit of an issue that I need your help dealing with. I can't find my favorite water bottle anywhere. I think it's in your kitchen cabinet, and I just started at a new gym, so I really need it. Let me know how I can get into your house to retrieve it. And please don't take forever to respond to this like you usually do. Like I said, I really need it.

Vanessa

It was a joke. It must be. Bradley double checked the email address to make sure he wasn't being pranked by Nat or somebody else, but no, it was really from Vanessa. 

"A fucking water bottle?" he muttered. He couldn't even picture what she was talking about. Unless it was that ugly, oversized pink thing she used to carry around with her everywhere? The one with the big handle that he joked could double as a weapon? That thing?

What the fuck. He wrote back to her before he even bothered to open the email from you.

Vanessa, it's a water bottle. And it's already been months. Can't this wait until I'm home?

He hit send, rolled his shoulders and took a few deep breaths. He could archive her message so he didn't have to see it again, and he'd just deal with her bullshit later. He would read what you had to say instead, and hopefully it would cheer him up. But after he stood and stretched for a minute and sat back down, there was already a new response from Vanessa waiting for him.

"What the actual hell?" he grunted. He didn't even know what time it was at home, and he didn't take the few seconds to do the math as he started to read.

No, Bradley. I can't wait. It's a $65 sustainable, dual temperature, leak proof water bottle in a limited edition color. And I would like it back. I tried to find a replacement online, but I do not want a potentially used water bottle. Please advise.

He sat there with his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. He literally could not believe her. Anyone else would just use a different water bottle like a normal person, but he knew she'd be on his ass nonstop about this now. The fact that he was going to have to explain this situation to Nat and beg her to go over there with his spare key was almost laughable. He'd probably owe her two steak dinners if he asked her to deal with his ex girlfriend, because she never could stomach Vanessa. 

He sent Nat a quick email anyway with Vanessa's phone number which he had to look up in his phone, begging her to take care of this for him. It would be worth the price of two dinners at this point. Then he settled back in his seat and tapped on your beautiful name, letting the monitor fill up with your words. When he started reading, he forgot he was supposed to feel nervous at what you sent back in response to the close up selfie.

Bradley,

Wow. I didn't think things could improve after the photo of you with your jet and the video where you're speaking. But I was wrong. So wrong. And I'm not upset about it. You're very handsome. The sunset looks okay, too. Now you're the one messing with my head.

I'm sorry I didn't write back immediately, but you should know that your hot photo has taken up residence in my mind. My week involved three of my students getting sick with the flu as well as a bunch of parent/teacher conferences, and tonight I'm really tired. The idea of snuggling, or more, with you on your couch has been playing on loop. I'm giving you permission to hold my hand if we ever meet in person. You have very nice looking hands. You have a very nice looking everything. Would you mind me asking how old you are?

Right, well, we mailed another box back to you on Friday afternoon. My kids asked me to project a photo of a Super Hornet onto the wall so they could have a drawing contest. I finally caved and let them, and they want you to be the judge. And once again, you'll have eighteen individual letters to read. Nineteen if you include the one I put in the box.

On that note, I'm going to take a bath and snuggle up in bed. And you can't blame a girl for looking at that photo again.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal 

Now this was the kind of thing he wanted in his inbox, not questions about missing water bottles. Bradley hit reply immediately, happy that you hadn't even mentioned his scars. You thought he was handsome in the close up picture? He always figured he was okay enough looking that his height and build made women say he was attractive. But you actually called him handsome. He started typing back to you, already feeling so much better.

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

After resting all weekend, you were definitely feeling better. You loved your students, but sometimes dealing with their parents was more than you bargained for. Adults were often worse than kids when it came to complaining and exercising patience. All of the conferences from last week were a thing of the past now, but you still felt a little bad for taking so long to write back to Bradley. Especially after he sent you that photo.

Maybe you felt like you had to reel it in a little bit. What was the most that was going to happen? He'd agree to meet you during his short leave in San Diego? Maybe you'd go out on a date? It would probably be the best date of your life. It might even turn out to be the best night of your life. And then he'd leave for another station with the Navy, or maybe he'd return back home, leaving you feeling even lonelier than you did before you inadvertently mailed him that first box.

It was a good thing you had your students to take your mind off things on Monday morning. 

"Are we going to talk about aviation now or after lunch?" Violet asked as she unpacked her pencil box.

You took a deep breath and said, "We're actually going to start a unit on Natural History today." Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at you like you'd completely lost your mind. "It'll be great!"

Oliver's hand rocketed into the air. "Does Lieutenant Bradley also know stuff about Natural History? Is that what we're going to write to him about now?"

Great. Your students were just as attached as you were. "Well since our aviation unit is going to be tapering off, we probably won't need to be writing to him as much now."

"What?" gasped Jayden. 

"No way," complained Nia. 

After that, you tried to move along with your lesson plans, but the entire class just sat there quietly, barely engaged with what you were saying. And perhaps part of it was your fault, because you didn't really feel like teaching this after all. By the time lunch and recess arrived, you felt defeated. You sat quietly at your desk in your empty classroom while your kids played outside, and you ate your lunch while you checked your phone. Bradley had written back an hour ago. Even if you wanted to wait until later to read it, you wouldn't have been able to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

That note from you made my day. I can't wait for the new letters from the kids to arrive so I can spend my evenings writing back instead of absolutely living in the gym right now. You want me to judge a drawing contest? Bring it on. I'm so ready.

I'll tell you how old I am. I wasn't expecting to be so nervous about it, though. I'm thirty-six. You definitely look younger than that. I know it's never appropriate to ask a woman how old she is, so maybe you'll offer that number up without me asking? And maybe you'll tell me that I'm still within the age range of men you let email you regularly? Please?

Not gonna lie, taking a hot bath sounds amazing right now. And snuggling up in something bigger than an extra long twin bed would be heavenly. And thinking about you doing either of those things is enough to get me through the week with a smile on my face. Maybe even through the rest of the month. Maybe even to the point where I'm in San Diego. You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?

I'll be waiting for more air mail and another email.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

"Damn it," you groaned, melting back into your desk chair and shoving a cracker into your mouth. Even if meeting him was going to be a one-off, you still wanted to do this. You still wanted to write back to him and flirt and listen to his voice in the video he sent for your class with Marty the mechanic. You wanted to think about him working out on the aircraft carrier. You still wanted him to call you Gorgeous. You'd write back tonight.

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

Bradley was taking another video and some more photos in the shop with Marty for your class when one of the admirals stopped by. He jumped to attention and addressed him. "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, you haven't put in for a phone call. Would you like to?"

Bradley just blinked at him for a few seconds. "I don't really have anyone to call, Sir." But that wasn't completely true. He'd never actually asked you about it, but he wouldn't mind calling your number. Which he didn't even have.

The admiral nodded and said, "Just giving first dibs to my high rankers who haven't made a call home yet. Otherwise you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

As soon as he started to walk away, Bradley found himself following along. "Actually, Sir, I may have changed my mind."

If he was already thinking about Thai food and a picnic on the beach for a first date, he might as well just ask you for your number now. As long as you didn't tell him his age was an issue. As long as you seemed keen on the idea of him calling. So he put his name down on the list, and then he started to sweat. He finished up with Marty, and he headed for the lounge.

When he logged in, he braced himself for another note from Vanessa like he always did now, but the only new item he saw was from you. He decided right then that if the vibes still felt right, he'd ask for permission to call you. And yeah, the vibes were feeling pretty fucking good. 

As soon as he opened the email, the attached photo at the bottom pulled his gaze in like a beacon. You were in bed, mostly under the covers, and the thin straps of some sort of tank top were the only thing preventing him from having a completely unobstructed view of both of your shoulders. Your skin looked impossibly soft, too perfect for him to touch with his rough hands, and your expression was playful and maybe a little nervous. He could see the soft swell of your breasts before the blankets enveloped your body in the most comfortable looking cocoon. He wanted to join you there in the worst way, and keep you warm enough that you wouldn't even need that blanket.

His heart was pounding as he started to read your note.

Bradley,

You know, it's funny you should mention that, because my currently inactive dating app profile says I'm interested in men who are between 30 and 40 years old. So you sound kind of perfect to me. And not that you asked or anything, but I turned 30 earlier this year. I hope that's within the age range of women that you let email you regularly.

I'm writing this from my bed. I have attached a photo. I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm all snuggled in for the night, and of course I'm thinking about you. Whether it's a good idea or not, I find myself frequently thinking about you.

Your favorite pen pal

He scrolled back to the photo and sighed. Oh, he knew it was a good idea. Maybe you just needed a little bit more convincing, but it was definitely a great idea. That first date was looking better and better in his mind. He wished he could give you an estimate on when he'd be home so the two of you could start planning it. Bradley's stomach was growling for dinner as he pried his eyes away from your photo long enough to type out a message.

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

And now, once again, he would wait for you to respond, hoping his luck wasn't about to run out.

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

A phone call! She him your number immediately, Gorgeous! There are some things you need to hear him say in that raspy, sexy voice! Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 You Says.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: After a rough night and some misunderstandings, Spencer needs to do everything he can to make things right with you and get his relationship back on track. The problem is, things aren't so easy for you, and he's willing to do anything you ask, even take care of you when no one else will.

Words: 3,1k.

TW: mentions of crime and trauma (normal warnings in the serie. angst+comfort. the reader gets sick (nothing serious, just a normal cold). a little mention of spencer's past traumas. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Ok, I didn't think of doing a second part before, but reading my own work made me so sad😭 the cat deserves happy parents (we are the cat) but I warn you that I do not believe in magic apologies.

As an interesting side note, both parts of this story are named after children's games. In this case, it's for "Simon Says," which I thought was pretty cool because in this part, Spencer literally does whatever the reader wants.

I also want to thank you for the support you gave to the first part and for the 300 followers💝 I could not say it before but it makes me very happy.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Spencer had been losing his mind since the last time he saw you in person, and it was all his fault. From the moment the door to his apartment closed behind you and the oven beeped, he began to feel the broken pieces of his heart that you had once held together unravel and shatter even more. He hated himself for letting his insecurities get in the way of the one good thing he had managed to have over the past few years, and for pushing you away when you didn't want to. You had been his exception among all the bad things that had happened in his life for as long as he could remember, the only one that didn't seem to want to be temporary and left him when he least expected it. And he himself had forced you out of his life, even when you didn't want to, begging him with tear-filled eyes for a little remorse that he didn't give you.

Just a few hours after the incident, he tried to go to work as if nothing had happened to clean up the mess the leak had made and put the killer in jail. He brought Penelope the promised cookies and your computer for her to examine because it felt right at the time. Part of him needed her to find real proof of your betrayal so he could stop feeling bad about making you cry and saying such ugly things to you.

Then he found out that you were telling the truth and that your computer contained nothing but photos of the two of you, all the articles he had ever written or been mentioned in your searches, and a few writings in which you poured out all your love for him in the cheesiest and most poetic way possible. You loved him, you really did, and there was no evidence to the contrary, because even Garcia could later assure him that the information had come anonymously and had been bought for five hundred dollars. But it was too late, because he had given you a conviction without even knowing it.

That's when he started to fixate on making amends for what he'd done. Every time you left work, bouquets of your favorite flowers with notes asking for forgiveness and wishing you a good night began to appear in your car. He also made a point of stopping by to talk to you and repeat how sorry he was. You knew this would happen when he realized his mistake. You had told him before you left, and that's why you refused to see him. It was good that the security guards at your workplace didn't let him in, even with his FBI credentials. The tricky part was your building because the doorman already knew him and let him in normally thanks to the excuses Spencer made up, even though you said a thousand times that he shouldn't have.

And that was happening again, for the fifth or sixth time in the last few days.

“Please, just let me talk to you and tell you how sorry I am. Listen to me for a moment.” You could hear Reid's voice from the other side of the door.

You didn't say anything. You just sat with your back against the door and one hand on your heart, as if you were trying to hold it. It didn't even cross your mind that he was in the same situation.

“Just a few minutes, please."

Once more, you remained silent.

Silence was the worst answer someone could give. You knew it, and it hurt to have to do it with him. But you had no choice because you knew that by looking into his eyes for just a few seconds, all the bad things would dissipate and maybe you would even forgive him without thinking just because of the love you had for him. You didn't like being this vulnerable and having so many feelings for someone who didn't trust you.

Lately, you've been spending every waking moment wondering what you could have done to make him believe that you were really capable of betraying him in such a cruel and selfish way. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night to try to comfort him every time he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. You drove to his apartment no matter what time it was to make sure he was okay. You lost your breath repeating that he was safe with you. You drank many cups of coffee the next day so you wouldn't fall asleep on the job every time the situation repeated itself. That's why you started sleeping in his apartment, wrapped in his arms because he said it made him happy to wake up and see you. And even with all that, Spencer was able to believe that you didn't love him.

You were running your hands through your hair and sighing, trying to block out all the thoughts running through your head, when you heard his phone ring. You could tell it was important by the way he spoke and changed his tone of voice, so you got up from the floor at the same time he did to put your ear to the door.

“I really have to go now, but could you open up a little bit so I can take a quick look at you?” He asked in a pleading tone after hanging up the call. “Please, I know you can hear me. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.”

You really thought he didn't know you were there, feeling like a fool for listening to every word he said.

“If you want to see me, turn on the TV.” Your voice finally reached Spencer, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. It was the first time you had spoken to him since that night, and even though there was a door between the two of you, you were talking to him.

“It's not enough.”

“And it's not my problem.”

That was more hurtful than your silence.

“I know, it's mine.” He replied after a couple of seconds, trying to process everything. “And I will do everything I can to fix it...I have to go now, but take care of yourself. The nights have been getting colder lately, so wrap up warm.”

You knew it was a bit silly to think of that now, but his attention to detail was impressive. Since you did the evening news, you used to get off work very late, and the change from air conditioning to the city cold was quite a lot. Spencer had cited scientific studies to you many times to make you aware and know what kind of clothing materials to use to avoid a cold. You missed that a lot.

If he had the same attitude as the night of the conflict, it would be easier. You could hate him and stop loving him so strongly.

“I love you, William misses you and so do I.”

You frowned because you didn't know anyone by that name.

“William?”

“Our cat.” He answered simply. “When we talked about how we would name him, you said that a lot of people name their pets after their favorite characters. You love the movie ‘Notting Hill’ and whenever we watch it, you always say you like Hugh Grant's character named William. It also means strong-willed warrior. I just thought you would like it.”

You didn't say anything at the time because you had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep from doing so, but you liked it and you liked it too much. Once again, he focused on the details.

“You can change it if you want because I don't know if he likes it, but what I do know is that he misses you. He lies on your blanket and starts meowing, and he also looks at the door. I certainly think that every time I come home he expects it to be you.” He kept talking as he received no response from you. “It sounds like I'm talking about myself. And it's true because it happens to me the same way.”

When he paused, a tear escaped and fell down your cheek. It wasn't fair for him to say those things now.

“If you want to see him and me not being there, you can send me a message...but I'd really like to be.” He paused again, as if searching for the perfect words.

What did it cost him to have searched for the perfect words the night he distrusted you?

“I must go, I love you.”

The last thing you heard before he left was Spencer's footsteps heading towards the elevator.

Just two weeks later, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Spencer when he said the nights were getting too cold. If you had, now you probably wouldn't be lying on your bed with an unbearable flu and no one there to bring you soup or a cold washcloth for your forehead because your mother was taking too long to get to city.

When you were younger, you thought it was a great idea to get as far away from your hometown as possible. Now, however, you realize that you need a familiar face to take care of you because you can't do it alone all the time.

You felt a sense of relief when you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Mom? I'm really hungry and the soup is all gone.” You spoke in a tired tone as you heard footsteps approaching. But at that moment, you watched as the cat you shared with Reid jumped onto the bed and started purring at you.

You thought you were hallucinating from the fever until you saw Spencer walking into your room with a couple of bags.

“I know you were expecting your mother, but we brought you soup and medicine.” He said, sitting up in bed to look closely at you and put a hand on your forehead. “You're burning up.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his touch.

“Your mother called me because she couldn't find a flight today and was very worried. She asked me to take care of you.”

Of course she did, because she adored him and didn't know that things were bad between you two.

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You barely settled into bed and petted the cat. “Go to work, make sure no one leaks information.”

Oh, that was a low blow for him.

“I asked for a few days off because you have a high fever and someone needs to take care of you.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said, interrupting you and putting a cold cloth on your forehead.

“Just because you're looking out for me doesn't mean I'm going to forget everything and forgive you.” You clarified right away, trying not to lose focus because of the relief you felt thanks to the cold compress.

“I know, and I don't expect you to. Just let me take care of you now, forget you hate me until you get better. I won't take advantage of this, I swear.” He looked at you with a serious gaze, as if he were swearing an oath. “Please.”

God, not puppy dog eyes now.

You used to love it when he looked at you with those sparkling eyes. Now, though, you felt manipulated by it.

“Fine, give me the soup.” You finally agreed, knowing you didn't have much of a choice. “Just a warning, please don't answer any calls near me. I can listen in and use the information to hire a nurse.”

He ignored the comment and didn't bring it up to make you uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, and his eyes searched yours as he spoke.

“Is there anything else besides soup I can bring you? More tissues, or maybe some medicine?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.

You shook your head, still a bit dazed by the situation and your stomach rumbling. You watched as Spencer disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of the stove being turned on. You could only lie back on your bed, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and sat down next to you on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.

“Are you planning to feed me soup?” You asked, with a hint of irony in your voice, as you watched me hold the spoon and watch you.

“If you wish, I'll be happy to.” He replied simply and brought the spoon gently to your mouth.

“I'm not a baby.”

Especially not his baby.

“You hate me, I know. But I really want to take care of you, and I won't leave until at least your mother arrives.” He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath. “If you don't want me around, that's okay, I'll just sit in the corner of the room or in the living room in silence. It hurts, but I'll take whatever you want.”

You remained silent for several seconds, dedicating yourself to stroking the cat to avoid Spencer's gaze.

“I don't hate you.” Was the only thing you could say at the time.

Something inside you was expecting a more exaggerated reaction for letting your guard down a bit, or maybe you were just too feverish. The thing was, he had only given you a small, almost non-existent smile.

“I know.” He finally spoke and gently adjusted the cold compress on your forehead. “And that's why I hate myself.”

At that moment, while you were trying to make sense of how things had changed so much in just a week, he was watching you.

Spencer was waiting for you to explode, to tell him how sorry you were for getting involved with him and his complicated world, that it was all one big mistake that you would regret forever. He was expecting disaster, pain, tears, and a lot of chaos.

But you didn't give him any of that.

Just a sweet nothing.

He could tell at that moment that even though you were in a feverish state and had many reasons to be cruel, you would not be. He realized that you would never yell at him or do anything to hurt him, that the most painful thing you could give him was your silence. And it was then that he confirmed that you loved him the way he thought he did not deserve to be loved: honestly and genuinely.

“Why?” You whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Why are you with me if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you.” He looked you straight in the eye as he spoke, trying to show that he was being completely sincere. “I just don't trust myself.”

You frowned and let out a groan from the discomfort in your forehead. You weren't sure if you were hallucinating because of the cold or if Spencer was really shivering.

“I don't think I'm good enough for you, or deserve you, or that you love me because you want to.” He finally admitted, his voice slightly shaky. He seemed to be in a worse state than you. “It's silly because you've never given me a reason to distrust you.”

“I know you thought I was going to leave. But I didn't want to leave until you asked me to.” You were close to crying, so you pretended to sneeze to hide your watery eyes. You didn't want to show how vulnerable you were. “It was easier to distrust me and blame me like I was just another bad person you catch.”

“Yes, but...” He replied, trying to answer your question.

“Don't talk. It's my turn.”

He nodded after a few seconds, watching you with concern. “Just be careful, you're still sick.”

You already knew how sick you were and how deplorable you probably looked, but you wanted to say it all and stop feeling a lump in your throat.

“You say you trust me, but you really don't, and I've been trying to understand you for almost a year, Spencer. It's been eleven months of trying not to invade your space, avoiding topics that make you tense or your eyes glaze over.” You had to stop to catch your breath and drink some water with his help. “And you think I don't understand you or really know you, but I do. I know how all your dishes are arranged, I know how you like to fold clothes and eat toast, I know that chess reminds you of someone because your eyes get watery every time we see a board, I know about the book signed by Maeve that you hide in your closet and about which you tense up every time I'm near, I know about your nightmares about prison that you don't like to talk about, and about your mother's favorite colors that change every day. I know so much about you, and yet you think I know nothing.”

Once more, there was a long, quiet pause.

“I'm so sorry.” He held your hands as he repeated the same thing, this time with a truly sincere tone. The whole room was still tense as his knees touched the floor, and the apology he gave you seemed like a plea. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't want apologies, you want trust, and I'm going to show you that.”

You didn't say anything as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“I trust you, that's why I always tell you about my cases. And I will tell you about all my past, if you want, because for me you are my present and my future...of course, only if you still want to.”

The eyes of both of you were fixed on the cat you shared, who was purring and lying very comfortably in the middle of the bed. It was nice to know that at least one of the three of you was happy.

“Tell me.”

And just as you asked, he told you everything because he wanted to show you that he trusted you.

This time he really trusted.

[wannabehockeygf]

greedy - quinn hughes

“He said ‘I’m just curious, is this for real or just an act?’

Can’t tell if you love or hate me,

Never met someone like that.”

summary: when you’re a bartender in a popular local club, the captain of the canucks who’s also one of your regulars takes a liking to you

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 9.3k. i’m so sorry.

warnings: 18+ NSFW! fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation.

notes:

- this is soooo different for me! have never written about a hughes brother before even though they’re super popular here.

- missing vancouver hockey. sorry leafs nation.

- also this is probably some of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written!

- not proof read

- the eye colour thing again… sorry if they’re green.

***

Friday nights at The Roxy Cabaret were like trying to squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans after Thanksgiving dinner—uncomfortable, chaotic, and leaving you questioning your life choices. Honestly, it felt like the entire population of Vancouver had made a pact to invade this dingy club all at once. Not that you were complaining, though—well, maybe a little. It wasn’t like you had a choice; the rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Sure, you worked there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hold a deep, burning, soul-crushing hatred for the place, right? Well, okay, maybe "hatred" was a bit strong. You did occasionally wander in on your nights off, blend into the crowd, and pretend you were just another twenty-three-year-old who didn’t have to worry about the bartender recognizing you. Because let’s face it, you needed a break from serving vodka sodas to tipsy twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school glory days.

What really got under your skin, though, was the crowd that showed up when you were on the clock. And by "crowd," you meant the entire Vancouver Canucks roster, who seemed to think The Roxy was their personal post-victory playground. It wasn’t that you disliked hockey—you were indifferent to it, like you were to a distant relative’s Facebook posts. If it was on, fine, you’d watch. But you weren’t exactly lining up to buy season tickets.

Most of the guys were fine—great even. Some of them were downright charming, the kind of guys you wouldn’t mind chatting with when things slowed down. Plus, they tipped like they were trying to make it rain dollar bills in a music video, which you appreciated. But then there was Quinn Hughes.

Oh, Quinn. Captain Smug himself. He had a way of getting under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

"Another round, please, Princess," Quinn drawls, tapping his fingers on the bar like he owns the place.

You grit your teeth, mentally counting to ten as you shake up a cocktail. "Can you get Brock to order it? He isn’t an egotistical asshole."

Quinn just laughs, that infuriating smirk of his widening even though he looks like he could use a nap. "Aw, come on, Princess, don’t be like that. You know you love me."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. Instead, you stick to your customer service script. "That’s not my name," you say, yanking out shot glasses like they owe you money.

"I know," Quinn says, brushing a strand of hair out of his face like he’s in some cheesy romance movie. "But you act like a princess, so it suits you."

Oh great, now your jaw’s tightening. Fabulous. You grab the tequila bottle with a little more force than necessary. "What do you want from me, Quinn?" you ask, trying not to let your annoyance seep too much into your voice.

He leans in closer, his smirk practically reaching his ears. "How about a smile, Princess? Is that too much to ask?"

You force the kind of smile you reserve for customer service nightmares, tight-lipped and entirely devoid of warmth. "Is that good? Can you go now?"

Quinn chuckles, taking the tray of drinks from you like he’s doing you a favor. "Always so feisty. But I like it. Keeps things interesting."

"Fuck off, Quinn," you mutter, wiping down the counter with the enthusiasm of someone scrubbing a crime scene. "I’m not here to entertain your ego."

He leans in even closer—so close you can practically count the flecks of mischief in his eyes. "But you do entertain me. Every time you brush me off, it just makes me want you more."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Just because you’re some big-shot athlete doesn’t mean you can treat women however you want."

Quinn’s gaze slowly trails up from your lips, where it’s been lingering far too long, to meet your eyes. "Ah, come on, you know I always take good care of you."

And damn it, he’s right. Quinn is probably your biggest tipper out of the entire team. And while you like the money, you hate seeing his stupid messy brown hair and annoyingly pretty blue eyes at your bar every time they win.

"Sure you do," you say, swiping someone else’s card through the machine, mentally willing him to disappear into the sea of other customers.

You watch Quinn walk away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he’s parting the Red Sea. It’s infuriating, really, how someone so damn annoying can also be so… well, hot. There, you admitted it. The guy is hot. Like, "should come with a warning label" hot. But that doesn’t mean you’re about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you think that. No way. Not in this lifetime, or the next, or even if you were reincarnated as a particularly enthusiastic poodle.

Quinn Hughes is the human equivalent of a pop-up ad—persistent, unwanted, and impossible to get rid of without a lot of cursing. Every time you brush him off, he just comes back stronger, like he’s powered by your irritation. And maybe that’s what’s so maddening about him. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he enjoys every second of it.

The problem is, you’re starting to wonder if you enjoy it too.

Nope. Not going there. You are not going to be one of those girls who gets all flustered over a guy just because he’s got a good smile and a credit card that could probably buy out half the bar. You’re stronger than that. You’re resilient. You’re… currently mixing a drink with far more focus than necessary because all you can think about is what it would be like to grab him by the collar of that too-tight shirt and kiss that stupid smirk right off his face.

You’re shaking your head at the absurdity of it all as you pour the next round of shots, hands moving on autopilot. It’s bad enough that Quinn Hughes has invaded your workspace like some kind of hockey-playing parasite, but now he’s wormed his way into your thoughts too.

“Get a grip,” you mutter under your breath, lining up the glasses like they’re little soldiers marching to their doom. Because really, that’s what this is—a battle of wills. A tug-of-war where the prize is your sanity, and you’re losing.

A couple of your regulars wave you over, and you force your focus back to them, slapping on that customer service smile that’s become second nature by now. They’re nice guys, the kind who tip decently and don’t try to flirt with you in that obnoxious, entitled way that some customers do. They’re also blissfully ignorant of the 5’10, 180 pound storm cloud currently hovering over your head, which is exactly how you like it.

But just as you’re starting to enjoy a break from the chaos, you catch sight of him again. He’s leaning against the bar a few feet away, talking to Brock, who seems completely unfazed by the fact that Quinn has probably just sent your blood pressure through the roof.

You steal a glance at Quinn, hoping he won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. It’s ridiculous, really. The guy’s just standing there, doing absolutely nothing, and yet he has this stupid effect on you. Like he’s some kind of gravitational force, pulling you in against your will.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the drink in front of you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. But it’s too late. The damage is done. Your brain has already gone down that treacherous path, imagining what it would be like if you gave in just once.

But that’s a dangerous game, and you know it. Because if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Hell, he’ll probably take the whole damn kilometer. And then where would you be?

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight, not ever.

You’re not sure when exactly it started—the whole Quinn Hughes thing, that is. Maybe it was the first time he sauntered up to the bar, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t. Or maybe it was the time he tipped you a hundred bucks just for bringing him a water, like he was trying to buy your affection. Which, spoiler alert, didn’t work. Or so you’ve been telling yourself.

But you can’t deny it any longer: Quinn Hughes is a problem. A major, five-alarm, get-the-fire-extinguisher kind of problem. Because somewhere along the line, your irritation with him has twisted into something… different. Something dangerous. Something that makes you wonder what it would be like to grab him by that annoyingly perfect jawline and just—

“Hey, Princess, you gonna make me another drink or just stand there daydreaming?”

And there it is. That voice, like smooth whiskey poured over gravel, cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Of course it’s him. Because Quinn Hughes has a sixth sense for when you’re starting to get a grip on your sanity, and he’s hell-bent on ruining it.

You set down the bottle of vodka you’ve been holding, turning to face him with what you hope is a look of mild disinterest. “Back so soon? Didn’t think you could tear yourself away from your adoring fans.”

Quinn grins, leaning against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does. After all, what’s a Friday night without irritating the bartender who’s secretly trying to figure out what color your eyes really are because the lighting in here sucks? Not that you’d ever admit to that. “I just couldn’t stay away from you, Princess. You know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Again, not my name.”

He taps his fingers on the bar, a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. “I know. But I like it. It suits you.”

“What, because I won’t roll over and worship the ground you walk on?” you shoot back, crossing your arms. You know you’re playing with fire, but there’s something addictive about sparring with him. Like a game of chicken, except you’re both too stubborn to swerve.

Quinn’s grin widens, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. Damn him. “Exactly. I like a girl with a backbone.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your tongue. Because for some reason, all you can think about is the way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only person in this crowded, chaotic club that matters.

So that’s why you decide to go for it.

“You ever had hate sex, Hughes?”

You can almost see the gears in Quinn’s head grind to a halt at your question. The usual smug smirk falters for a split second, and it’s the most satisfying thing you’ve seen all night. You’ve finally done it—left Quinn Hughes speechless. But the victory is short-lived because, as always, he recovers faster than you can blink.

“Hate sex?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, making you question all of your life choices up to this point. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you suddenly realize you’re standing way too close. “Princess, if that’s your idea of a pick-up line, I’ve got to say, I’m intrigued.”

And there it is, that damn smirk back in full force. He’s trying to throw you off, but you refuse to back down. You’ve already started this ridiculous game, so there’s no turning back now.

“You didn’t answer the question,” you reply, your tone as steady as you can make it. “Ever had hate sex?”

He lets out a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine—not that you’d ever admit it. “I don’t know. Guess we’d have to define ‘hate sex’ first.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But damn it, you’re committed now. “I’m pretty sure it’s when you can’t stand someone, but you still want to rip their clothes off.”

Quinn’s eyes darken just a fraction, and you can feel the tension between you both ratchet up to an unbearable level. It’s like the entire club fades away, leaving just the two of you locked in this absurd, heated standoff.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “You want to rip my clothes off, Princess?”

You clench your jaw, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. This is Quinn Hughes, the guy who drives you up the wall every single time he walks into this bar. There’s no way in hell you’re about to let him get the upper hand.

So, you do the only thing that seems appropriate. You lean in, so close that your lips are almost brushing his ear, and whisper, “Maybe I just want to shut you up for five minutes.”

“You think you could handle it?” His voice is a low rumble now, and there’s something about the way he says it that’s got your stomach doing somersaults. “Because if we’re going there, I don’t do anything halfway.”

Oh, for the love of— You’re pretty sure your face is betraying you right now, showing just how much his words have affected you, but you can’t let him know that.

Quinn is still watching you, eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a challenge there, a dare hanging in the air between you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Too close. Close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead, and those damn blue eyes that seem to see right through your carefully constructed defenses.

For a moment, you consider backing down, playing it off as a joke. But then Quinn would win, and that’s simply not an option. So, you double down, leaning in just a little bit closer, your breath brushing against his skin.

"Handle it? Quinn, I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to." Your voice is steady, but inside, your heart is doing its best impression of a drum solo. This is insane. You’re flirting with Quinn Hughes. Quinn Hughes, the guy who spends his Friday nights at your bar making your life just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. The guy who seems to take an unholy amount of pleasure in riling you up. The guy who—God help you—makes your pulse race every time he so much as glances in your direction.

Quinn’s lips curve into a slow smile, and you can’t help but notice how annoyingly perfect his teeth are. Of course they are. Everything about him is infuriatingly perfect, from his tousled hair to his broad shoulders that you really shouldn’t be noticing right now. "You’ve got a mouth on you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine that you desperately try to suppress.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as you stare into Quinn’s infuriatingly perfect face. Seriously, who gave him the right to look this good, especially when he’s being such a smug asshole? You remind yourself that you don’t like him. You don’t. Except maybe you do, a little bit. Okay, a lot. But that’s beside the point.

Quinn’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off him. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire—one wrong move, and you’re going to get burned. But damn it, you’re not backing down. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he’s just waiting for you to slip up so he can swoop in and… do what, exactly? You’re not even sure anymore. And that’s the most dangerous part.

“Someone’s gotta put you in your place, Hughes,” you manage to say, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. You’re aiming for sassy, but it’s hard to pull off when your heart is practically doing backflips in your chest.

His smile widens, and you want to slap it right off his face, but also—God help you—maybe kiss it off too. “Is that so?” he asks, voice dripping with amusement. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

Oh, he’s good. He’s really good. And damn it, you walked right into his trap, didn’t you? Because now you’ve got to follow through, or else he’s going to lord this over you for the rest of eternity.

But before you can figure out a clever retort, Quinn’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the crowded bar. When he looks back at you, there’s something new in his eyes—something that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “this place is a little too crowded for what I have in mind.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He’s not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting, is he? Because if he is, you’re in way over your head. And yet… there’s a tiny, traitorous part of you that’s intrigued. More than intrigued. You want to know what he has in mind, even though every logical part of your brain is screaming at you to abort mission and run for the hills.

You tilt your head, trying to play it cool even as your heart races. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Hughes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “Somewhere private,” he murmurs, “Where we can… talk.”

“Talk,” you repeat, your tone dripping with skepticism. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He chuckles softly, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Oh, you do. You’ve got a lot of ideas, most of them involving doing things to Quinn Hughes that would definitely not fall under the category of “talking.” But you can’t just give in, can you? That would be too easy, and Quinn would never let you live it down.

But then again… maybe it’s time to stop overthinking things. Maybe it’s time to let go, just this once, and see where this crazy, ridiculous, probably-terrible idea takes you.

“Fine,” you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds. “Let’s go.”

Quinn’s eyes light up with something that looks a lot like victory, but you’re not about to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely, anyway.

“Lead the way, Princess,” he says, his voice a low purr that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

You roll your eyes—because of course you do—but there’s no denying the excitement buzzing just beneath the surface. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into, but one thing’s for sure: it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

With one last glance at the bar, you turn on your heel and start making your way through the crowd, Quinn hot on your heels. You can feel the tension between you both, crackling like static electricity, and it’s taking everything in you not to turn around and grab him by that stupidly perfect jawline right then and there.

You slip through a side door that leads to a narrow hallway, the noise from the bar muffled by the heavy walls. The air is cooler here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that dance along the worn carpet. You can feel Quinn’s presence behind you, close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Where are we going?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach flip.

“Storage closet,” you say, not even sure where the idea came from, but it’s out now, and there’s no taking it back. You know the staff keeps some of the extra supplies in a small room down the hall, and it’s as good a place as any to… well, whatever this is.

Quinn’s chuckle is dark and throaty, sending another shiver down your spine. “Kinky,” he murmurs, but you can hear the approval in his tone.

You reach the door and push it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room lined with shelves full of bottles and boxes. It’s cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, but that’s probably a good thing. The last thing you need is space to think about what you’re doing, because if you stop to think, you might just lose your nerve.

Quinn steps in behind you, closing the door with a soft click. The sound echoes in the quiet space, amplifying the tension that’s been simmering between you both all night.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, staring at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges and barely restrained desire. And then, like a rubber band snapping, the tension breaks.

You’re not even sure who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly you’re pressed up against the shelves, Quinn’s body crowding into yours, his hands bracing on either side of your head as his lips crash onto yours

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s every bit as intense and heated as the tension that’s been simmering between you from the moment you met. His lips crash against yours with a force that sends your head spinning, and for a moment, all you can do is cling to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely.

This is no sweet, romantic moment. This is raw, unfiltered desire, born from all the frustration and irritation that’s been building between you two for so long. It’s everything you never thought you’d want, and yet here you are, giving in to it completely.

Quinn’s hands are on you now, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. And maybe he can’t. Maybe you can’t either. All you know is that this is happening, and there’s no stopping it.

“Damn it, Hughes,” you murmur against his mouth, trying to inject some venom into your words, but it comes out more like a plea. You can feel his smirk, the arrogant bastard. He knows he’s got you, and it only makes you want to kiss him harder.

Or punch him.

Maybe both.

“Problem?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. His lips are slightly swollen, his hair disheveled from your hands, and he looks annoyingly good like this. All messy and untamed, like you’ve undone him somehow, when you know it’s the other way around.

You want to tell him to shut up, to stop looking at you like that, like you’re some puzzle he’s close to solving. But you’re too breathless, too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. So instead, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him back down to you, your lips crashing together again in a bruising kiss.

He groans into your mouth, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers skimming the heated skin of your back. You shiver at the contact, hating how good it feels, hating that he knows it too. You can feel his smugness in every touch, every shift of his body against yours.

And yet, you don’t stop him.

Because you’re just as guilty.

You’ve been wanting this—wanting him—even though you’ve been denying it, pushing it away, convincing yourself that you despise him. But the truth is, that hatred has always been laced with something else. Something darker, more dangerous. Something you’re only now beginning to understand.

It’s infuriating.

It’s intoxicating.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter against his lips, your voice tinged with frustration as you nip at his lower lip. You want to hurt him, just a little, to remind yourself that you’re still in control, that this isn’t just him getting what he wants. But when he groans in response, his hands tightening their grip on your hips, you realize that maybe you’re not as in control as you thought.

“You say that like you don’t love it,” he replies, his voice husky as he trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. Your breath hitches when he finds that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that makes your knees go weak. He’s too good at this. Too good at getting under your skin.

You don’t want to enjoy this. You really don’t. But your body isn’t exactly cooperating, and the traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach isn’t something you can ignore. It’s maddening how much you want this, even as every logical part of your brain screams that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

But logic be damned, because the way Quinn’s lips are moving against your skin is making it very hard to care about consequences.

“You’re such a smug bastard,” you mutter, trying to inject some bite into your words, but they come out breathy, almost like a sigh. Ugh. Could you be any more pathetic?

Quinn chuckles against your neck, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked that about me,” he murmurs, his voice thick. His hands slide up under your shirt, fingers skimming over your ribs, making you gasp. “Or at least, you like it enough to let me do this.”

He’s right, and that just pisses you off even more. You do like it—hate it, love it, whatever it is, you’re feeling it with every nerve in your body. You can feel his smirk against your skin, and it only fuels the fire inside you.

You yank at his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can meet his eyes, which are dark and stormy with desire. “Don’t get cocky, Hughes,” you warn, even though you know it’s a losing battle. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “You keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But we both know you’re full of shit.”

“Full of shit?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to keep your wits about you even as his hands roam over your body. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s all talk and no—”

Quinn’s lips are on yours again before you can finish the sentence, cutting off your words with a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than the last one. It’s like he’s determined to prove you wrong, to make you eat your words, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s succeeding.

But you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet, anyway.

You push back against him, shoving at his chest just enough to create some distance, even though your body is screaming at you to do the opposite. His eyes flash with surprise, and you smirk up at him, a little breathless but still in the game.

“Easy there, Hughes,” you murmur, your voice laced with false bravado. “I didn’t say you could take control.”

Quinn arches an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly smug smile that makes you want to both slap him and drag him closer. “Oh? I must have missed the memo where you were the one calling the shots.”

You grit your teeth, not entirely sure whether you want to punch him or kiss him again. Maybe both, but that would just be giving him the upper hand. Instead, you decide to hit him where it hurts—his ego.

“Please,” you scoff, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “You’ve been in my palm since the moment we met. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He lets out a low, amused chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re fantasizing about me at night?”

Your stomach flips at his words, but you refuse to let him see the effect he’s having on you. Instead, you tilt your head, letting your lips ghost over the shell of his ear as you whisper, “In your dreams, Hughes.”

But as much as you’re trying to play it cool, you can’t deny the electric tension between you both. It’s like the air is crackling with it, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. All you can focus on is Quinn—his hands, his lips, his damn voice that keeps pulling you deeper into this mess.

His hand slides down your side, settling on your hip, and your breath catches when he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together in the cramped space. You can feel every inch of him, the solid warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you don’t either.

Quinn’s lips are back on yours, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate. Like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time, driving you absolutely crazy with how good it feels. You’re so wrapped up in it, in him, that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working on rolling up your shirt until it’s halfway up.

You pull back, just enough to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gives you a look that’s all innocence, but there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands keep moving, sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin. “Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Comfortable?” you repeat, your voice coming out a little higher than you intended as his hands roam over your bare skin. “You think this is making me comfortable?”

Quinn leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “No, but it’s making you hot, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitches, and damn him, he’s right. He’s so infuriatingly right. But you’re not about to admit that. Instead, you try to muster up some semblance of defiance, even though you can feel your resolve crumbling with every touch, every heated look he throws your way.

“You wish,” you manage to say, but the words lack the venom you were aiming for. Instead, they come out breathy, almost like a plea, and you hate how much that turns you on.

Quinn grins, and it’s a wicked, knowing grin that makes your stomach twist in the most deliciously infuriating way. “I don’t have to wish,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Before you can respond—before you can even think of a comeback—he’s kissing you again, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that makes your head spin. You’re drowning in him, in the heat, the intensity of it all, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re going to lose yourself completely.

But then Quinn’s hands are on your hips, lifting you up onto the shelves, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You grab onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it hard to remember why this is such a bad idea.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to fall apart at the seams. But your voice betrays you, coming out shaky, uncertain, and Quinn hears it. Of course he does.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers teasing the edge of your shorts, and you can’t help the way your breath hitches, the way your body arches toward him, desperate for more. Damn it, you shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want him—but there’s no denying it now.

“You can stop this anytime you want,” Quinn whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Just say the word.”

But you don’t say anything. Because you can’t. You don’t want to stop, not when his hands are on you, not when his lips are trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to let go, to give in to this insane, reckless desire.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with everything you’ve got, trying to show him that you’re not backing down, that you’re just as in this as he is. Maybe more.

Quinn groans against your lips, and you can feel the way his body tenses, the way his hands tighten their grip on your thighs. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him, the way you can make him unravel with just a kiss, a touch.

But then his hands are slipping under your shorts, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s happening, it’s really happening, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re ready for this. If you can handle what comes next.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to lose it completely. But he’s not listening, or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t care, because his hands are still moving, still exploring, and you’re melting under his touch.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your stomach flip. It’s dark, intense, full of heat—and, damn it, he’s giving you that smug smile again, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless, a contrast to the arrogant tilt of his lips. “You good?”

Good? Is that a joke? You’re anything but good right now. Your heart is racing, your mind is spinning, and your body—well, your body is betraying you in every way possible, pressing closer to him, silently begging for more.

“I fucking hate you,” you manage to choke out, though the words feel flimsy, a pathetic attempt at maintaining some semblance of control. Quinn’s eyes narrow slightly, and you know he doesn’t believe you for a second. But instead of calling you out on it, he leans in, his lips brushing against your jawline as he murmurs, “Then why are you so fucking wet?” He punctuates the words by brushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your underwear.

Your brain short-circuits at his words. Like, did he really just—? You’re torn between the urge to slap that smug look off his face and the overwhelming desire to pull him closer, consequences be damned. The nerve of this guy, thinking he can just—

But then his fingers move, and every coherent thought you had goes flying out the window. A gasp escapes your lips, and you curse yourself for giving him the satisfaction, but, damn it, how are you supposed to keep your wits about you when his hands are doing that?

Quinn’s watching you, his eyes dark with amusement and something much more primal. “What’s the matter?” he teases, his voice a low rumble.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to muster up some sort of retort, but all that comes out is a breathy, “Shut up,” which only makes his smirk widen. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so badly, but every time you think you’re about to regain control, he does something that completely derails you.

Like now, for instance, when his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and your hips jerk forward entirely of their own accord. Quinn’s chuckle is low and throaty, and you feel the vibrations of it against your neck as he nips at your skin, leaving a trail of barely-there bites that make your pulse race.

“Shutting up doesn’t seem like your style,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. “But I think I can find a way to keep you quiet.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean because his hand finally dips lower, and suddenly, you’re not sure whether you want to moan or curse him out. Your body makes the decision for you, your head falling back against the shelf as a breathless moan escapes your lips, and you feel Quinn’s grin widen against your skin.

“God, you’re so fucking—” Your words get caught in your throat as he moves his fingers just right, and the sound that comes out of you is more of a whimper than anything else. It’s humiliating, really, how easily he’s reducing you to this—a writhing, desperate mess—and the bastard knows it.

“Sensitive, are we?” Quinn’s voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a huskiness to it now, a slight hitch in his breath that tells you he’s just as affected by this as you are, even if he’s better at hiding it. “That’s cute.”

“Cute?” you manage to gasp, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance, even as your body betrays you by arching into his touch. “I’ll show you—” Your words trail off into a moan as he circles his fingers just right, and suddenly, the only thing you want to show him is how quickly you can come undone if he keeps this up.

You're about to fire back with something scathing, something that’ll put Quinn in his place, but all that comes out is a breathy gasp as his fingers work a little faster, a little rougher, hitting that spot that has your entire body going slack against the shelves. God, if anyone walked in right now, they'd have one hell of a show.

"Something you wanted to say?" Quinn’s voice is thick with that damn arrogance, but there's a slight edge to it now, like he's barely holding it together himself. Good, you think. If you’re going down, you’re taking him with you.

"Y-you're…" You try to form a sentence, anything to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words get tangled in your throat as Quinn’s other hand slides up your thigh, his touch hot and demanding. "You're such a…"

He smirks, his lips hovering just over yours, so close you can feel the heat of his breath. "Go on, sweetheart. I'm dying to know."

"Oh, fuck off," you mutter, but your voice lacks any real bite, especially when his fingers dip lower, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily. "Quinn…"

He pauses, his lips still pressed to your jaw, and for a moment, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s going to stop, give you a chance to catch your breath, to regain some semblance of control. But then he moves again, his fingers slipping past your last shred of dignity, and you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a curse.

"That’s what I thought," Quinn whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew you couldn't keep that tough act up forever."

"Screw you," you hiss, but your words are cut off by another sharp gasp as Quinn’s thumb brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh, God…"

"Already there," he murmurs, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He presses a kiss there, soft and maddeningly slow, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and you can see the barely-contained hunger in them. It sends a thrill of both fear and excitement racing through you.

"Quinn, I swear, I’m gonna—" you gasp as his fingers continue their relentless assault, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Or maybe I'll just—"

"Just what?" he presses, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to finish the sentence. "Come all over my fingers? Because that’s what you’re about to do, isn’t it?"

There’s a part of you—the sensible, rational part—that’s still trying to cling to some semblance of control, some dignity. But that part is losing, rapidly being overpowered by the heat pooling in your stomach and the way Quinn’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the entire world.

For a moment, you consider making some sort of last-ditch effort to regain control, to pull away and regain your breath. But then Quinn’s thumb brushes over that spot again, and all thoughts of self-control go out the window. Instead, a moan slips past your lips—loud and unrestrained, filling the tiny storage closet with a sound that’s undeniably needy.

Quinn’s smirk widens, his eyes darkening with satisfaction, and damn it, he’s enjoying this way too much. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna come for me, yeah? Or do you want my cock instead?”

Your brain is short-circuiting, struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. The idea of him inside you, combined with the way he’s touching you, is almost too much to bear. You’re on the verge of losing it, and every part of you is screaming for release.

Finally, you manage a breathless, “Fuck it,” and let your hands wander lower, fumbling with his belt, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. You don’t care about the consequences, the logical part of your brain completely overridden by the burning need coursing through you.

“I swear, if we ever make it out of this closet,” you gasp, your fingers struggling with the stubborn belt buckle, “I’m going to have a hard time looking you in the eye.”

Quinn chuckles, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But right now, I think your focus should be on something else.”

You manage to loosen his belt, your hands shaking with anticipation. The urgency of the moment makes every touch and every breath more intense. “And what would that be?” you retort, trying to keep some semblance of your usual sarcasm. It’s hard, though, when his fingers are still doing deliciously wicked things to you.

Quinn’s fingers trace teasing circles, making your breath hitch and your body squirm against him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your ear. “Maybe on getting me out of these pants before I lose my patience.”

“Geez, Hughes, such a gentleman,” you manage, your voice breathless as you finally get his pants undone. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. It’s a heady feeling, and it’s only adding to the feverish heat between you.

You push his pants down just enough, and as you finally free his hard length, you’re met with the unmistakable evidence of his own need. The sight makes you gasp, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Quinn groans into your mouth when you reach inside his jeans, his hips jerking forward as if seeking more contact, more friction. You’re both teetering on the edge now, the line between control and complete surrender blurred beyond recognition. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and you’re not sure if you want to keep pushing him or if you just want to let go and fall into the abyss together.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Quinn breathes against your lips, his voice rough with need, and there’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where you think you see something more in his eyes. Something deeper than just desire, something that sends a jolt of fear straight to your heart. But then his hands are on you again, pulling you closer, and whatever that look was, it’s gone, replaced by the raw, primal hunger that’s been simmering between you from the start.

You shudder as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough force to make you gasp. You can feel him, hot and hard against your palm, and it’s taking everything in you not to just give in, to let him take what you both so clearly want. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to let him have the upper hand, that wants to make him beg, make him come undone for you.

“Say please,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

Quinn freezes, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed him too far, that he’s going to pull back and leave you hanging on the edge of oblivion. But then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Please?” he echoes, his tone dripping with arrogance, as if the very idea of him begging is laughable. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you stroke him slowly, deliberately teasing, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches, his bravado faltering ever so slightly. “No?” you murmur, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip, your voice low and taunting. “You sure about that?”

Quinn’s eyes darken, and for a split second, you think you’ve got him—that you’ve managed to gain the upper hand. But then he’s moving, faster than you can react, pinning your wrists behind your back with one hand while the other yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way that sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You want to play games?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Fine. But I don’t play fair.”

Before you can respond, before you can even think to respond, he’s pressing into you, his body solid and unyielding, and all coherent thought flies out of your head as he finally, finally gives you what you’ve both been craving.

The world tilts on its axis as he thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you’re not sure if the sound that escapes your lips is a moan or a sob or something in between. All you know is that you’re completely, utterly lost in him—in the way he’s filling you, stretching you, driving you to the brink of madness with every rough, relentless movement.

Quinn’s breath is ragged against your ear, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You’re so close, so fucking close, and it’s taking everything in you not to just let go, to give in to the blinding pleasure that’s consuming you from the inside out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Quinn groans, his voice strained, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable in the way he says it, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. “I’ve been imagining this from the first moment I walked in here.”

Your hands are still pinned behind your back, your body arched against the shelves, completely at Quinn’s mercy. And damn it, he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the brink, how to make you lose every ounce of control you thought you had. His movements are powerful, purposeful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, until you’re teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“Quinn—” You gasp out his name, your voice shaking with the intensity of it all, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through you like a living thing. His grip on your wrists tightens, the roughness of his touch sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, and there’s something possessive, almost desperate, in his voice that makes your heart race even faster. “You’re fucking mine.”

And you’re so damn close, so close to falling apart entirely. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to give in, to let him have all the control. So, you tighten around him, just enough to pull a sharp, choked-off groan from his throat, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as his rhythm falters, just for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re—” Quinn’s voice is hoarse, strained, as if he’s holding onto the last shreds of his control by a thread, and it sends a thrill through you to know that you’re the one doing this to him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe out, trying to sound cocky despite the tremble in your voice. “Maybe you should—”

But you don’t get to finish the thought, because Quinn shifts his angle just slightly, and suddenly, he’s hitting a spot that has you seeing stars, that has your back arching off the shelves and a cry escaping your lips before you can stop it.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the triumph. He’s found your weakness, and he’s going to exploit it for all it’s worth. “Right there, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out again as he starts to focus all his attention on that one spot, his movements growing more precise, more deliberate. He’s relentless, driving you closer and closer to the brink, and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, to lose the tenuous grip you have on your composure.

“Quinn, I—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, don’t even know if you can say anything at all with the way your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

Quinn’s chuckle against your ear is low and dark, the sound a tantalizing contrast to the rough, punishing way he’s moving inside you. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it over the sound of you moaning my name.”

The arrogance in his voice is infuriating, but it’s also the last thing on your mind right now. Every thrust he gives you is like a jolt to your system, making it harder to stay focused, harder to cling to whatever shreds of control you have left. Your head is spinning, and you’re almost grateful for the way his body is pressed against yours, anchoring you in a whirlwind of pleasure.

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your body betrays you by arching into him. “You’re insufferable,” you manage to gasp out, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual bravado. “And you’re really bad at this whole ‘being a gentleman’ thing.”

“Is that so?” Quinn’s voice is a low purr, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep telling me how much you hate me. It makes this so much better.”

You roll your eyes, even as a moan escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re such a jerk,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky and breathless, betraying just how much he’s affecting you.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s breath is hot against your neck, and you feel the brush of his lips against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “That’s not what your body’s telling me, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth, determined not to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s getting to you. But it’s a losing battle, and you both know it. Especially when he starts moving faster, his pace relentless as he drives into you with a force that has your entire body trembling.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the shelves as you struggle to stay upright. “You’re—” Your words are cut off by a sharp cry as he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you again that has your vision going white around the edges.

You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to process the fact that you’re completely, utterly exposed in a storage closet with a man who has made a sport out of driving you insane. All you can do is feel—every touch, every thrust, every ragged breath against your ear is pushing you closer to the edge, closer to losing the last of your control.

“God, you’re so… fucking… cocky,” you manage to choke out between gasps, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desire. “It’s disgusting.”

“Mm-mhm,” Quinn’s voice is a low growl, his words vibrating against your neck as his teeth graze the sensitive skin there. “And you’re just an annoying brat who brushes me off every time I say something nice. But I figured it out, you just wanted me to rail all that attitude out of you.”

You try to respond, to counter his taunts with some biting retort, but all that comes out is a breathless moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more urgent. “Fuck, Quinn,” you gasp, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your control. “You’re—”

He interrupts you with a sharp, possessive growl. “I’m what? Don’t hold back now. Tell me how good it feels.”

Your head is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and frustration. “You’re a complete—” Another moan escapes you as Quinn hits that spot inside you again, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. “A complete… asshole,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

“And you love it,” Quinn’s voice is a triumphant whisper against your ear. “You love every second of this. Don’t you?”

You can’t even respond, the pleasure overwhelming you to the point where you’re just barely able to hold onto the edge of sanity. All you can do is nod, your body arching into him, your hands still pinned behind your back, completely at his mercy.

“You’re so close,” Quinn murmurs, his voice low and rough. “So fucking close. I can feel it. And I’m going to make sure you get there. I promise.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you feel yourself starting to unravel, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. Quinn’s movements are relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, until you’re on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into oblivion.

“Quinn, I—” You try to speak, but the words are lost in a cry as he thrusts into you with a force that has your vision going white around the edges.

Quinn’s grip on your hips tightens, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “Come for me,” he growls, his breath hot and urgent. “Let go. Give it to me.”

And with those words, you shatter, your body convulsing with a pleasure so intense that it’s almost painful. You cry out his name, your voice echoing through the storage closet as you come apart, your entire world dissolving into a blur of sensation and release.

Quinn follows close behind, his movements growing erratic as he drives into you with one final, powerful thrust. You can feel his release inside you, hot and thick, and it sends a shiver through your entire body. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged and heavy, and you can feel the tension in his body as he finally, finally finds his own release.

The two of you are left panting in the aftermath, your bodies pressed together in the confined space of the storage closet. Quinn’s breath is hot against your ear, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your back.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “That was… intense.”

You manage a shaky laugh, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice still trembling. “That’s one way to put it. Now, get off of me. I have to get back to work.”