#you don’t know what you’re talking about!!! is all i’m saying

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2 coming soon.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

[beskarandblasters]

Swimmin’ Pool Glimmerin’, Darling

Dad’s Best Friend!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Dedicated to my love and fellow hen @chaotic-mystery (｡◕‿◕｡) 💕

Summary: You wear a skimpy bathing suit at the neighborhood pool party to get Joel’s attention. Later, Joel punishes you in the pool house.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: no outbreak, reader is able-bodied, Joel is not a father in this, established secret relationship, unspecified age gap, jealousy, drinking, groping, spanking, Joel eats it from the back and he’s a MUNCH, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, begging, light choking, sir kink, praise kink, pet names (baby, angel), no use of y/n

You glance at yourself in the mirror, hands running along the edge of your bathing suit bottoms. The cut falls in the middle of your ass cheek, a lot skimpier than you’re used to wearing for a neighborhood pool party. You’d typically reserve this type of suit for a trip with your friends. But you know a certain someone will be at this party— Joel. And you’re not going to pass up an opportunity to tease him. You’ve had a secret casual relationship ever since your last year of undergrad and it’s still in full swing as you work through your master's degree. He’s one of your dad’s best friends and as far as you know your parents are none the wiser. 

You throw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before leaving for the party with your dad. Your mom’s out to dinner with her friends so it just leaves you two to attend the Moreno’s party. 

As you walk through the backyard gate you notice that it’s crowded. Many of the neighborhood’s residents are in the pool and a few groups are talking on the lawn. The back deck is filled with people sitting on the patio furniture and eating, including the Moreno’s. But you don’t immediately spot Joel, sending you into a bit of a panic. You didn’t want to wear this bathing suit all for nothing. You were looking to impress him, not Dan, the finance guy who’s your age, or Mrs. Smith’s weird son who insists on talking your ear off about golf. 

Your dad turns to you and says, “Have fun, and don’t forget sunscreen! I’m going to get a drink.” 

Typical. 

You head to one of the chairs by the pool, scanning the backyard for Joel before you take off your clothes, still not spotting him. Now you’re wishing you joined your mom and her friends for dinner instead. 

But when a voice behind you says, “Hey there,” you startle with a jolt. You turn to find Joel and playful slapping him on the arm. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt and dark jeans, making you wonder how he’s not melting in this heat. 

“Not funny.” 

“I’m just messing with ya. You going swimming?” he asks before taking a sip of his beer; a Corona, his staple. 

“Mhm… Speaking of that, can you put sunscreen on my back?”

Before he can answer you shed your clothes, tossing them on the chair. His jaw goes slack, eyes trailing up and down your skimpy suit. 

“Are you kidding me?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

“What?” you respond innocently. 

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s just a bathing suit, Joel.” 

You roll your eyes and reach for your bag, handing him your sunscreen. You turn around as he sprays your back. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s staring at your ass, eyes fixated on the revealing cut. He sighs as he rubs the sunscreen into your skin, handing you the bottle and muttering, “Get in the water already.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you giggle, stepping into the pool. 

You float on your back and watch as he grumbles, shaking his head before walking away to socialize. You spend most of the party swimming, only getting out for a quick break to eat and returning for another dip. The Austin heat is relentless and the water is the perfect temperature to cool off. 

To your surprise, Joel changed into his swim trunks inside– navy blue and hanging dangerously low on his hips. He joins you in the pool and comments, “Thought I’d take a dip.”

“Smart,” you respond, swimming over to him and dropping your voice by an octave. “It’s rather hot out, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

His voice is strained. God, you have him wrapped around your finger. 

One of your other neighbors, Becky, another girl around your age, suggests volleyball and Joel jumps on the opportunity, needing a refuge from you to remain cool. The group separates into teams, eight people splitting into teams of four. There are few people you don’t recognize so you’re sure to get on Joel’s team, for a sense of familiarity but also to find another opportunity to mess with him. As you take turns hitting the beach ball back and forth you watch Joel, toned muscles glistening with water droplets in the sun. But you’re not the only one watching him. 

Tammy, one of the moms in the neighborhood, is watching him, too. She sits by the pool, sipping her daiquiri, sunglasses low on the bridge of her nose as she ogles him. It’s painfully obvious but you’re also sure you’re the only one who’s noticing what she’s doing. You can’t be jealous and you shouldn’t be jealous. Your relationship with Joel is a secret. 

And yet you can’t help yourself, the jealousy bubbling up inside you and threatening to force its way out. Joel notices her gaze after a while and offers her a small wave, just trying to be polite. But by now you’ve just about had it. When the ball comes your way you dive for it, swatting it at the other team but also reaching your other hand underwater, lightly grazing Joel’s bulge in his swim trunks. He makes a startled sound and says, “I need to take a break,” hastily getting out of the water and grabbing a towel. 

“Well, now that we’re uneven I guess the game’s over,” one of the other party guests grumbles. 

Maybe you went too far this time. 

You spend the rest of the party relaxing in the pool. It isn’t until the sun starts to set that you finally get out, sitting on the lounge chair and drying off. 

A lot of the guests have gone inside to evade the mosquitos, except for one person. Joel’s still lingering outside. When he notices you drying off your legs he marches over to you, another Corona in his hand and a frown on his face. 

“You need to explain yourself.”

“Why should I?” you counter, folding your arms. 

“First you wear this skimpy little suit. Then, you pull that fuckin’ stunt in the pool.”

“So? Did you not see the way Tammy was checking you out?”

“Baby, that means nothing. You know that.” 

“I don’t want her to think she can take what’s mine,” you pout. 

“Do I need to remind you?”

“Remind me of what?”

“That I’m yours and only yours,” he says in a low voice. 

“Right now?” you whisper. 

He looks behind you and says, “Meet me in the pool house.” 

“But-”

“Don’t go right after me. It’ll be too obvious.”

“O-Okay,” you breathe, sitting and watching him walk to the pool house. He slides the glass door open and steps inside, drawing the curtains closed. You take a deep breath and wait a bit, gathering your stuff and glancing around the backyard for anyone watching. 

But when the coast is clear you follow him, glancing over your shoulder one final time before entering the pool house. The lights are dim and there’s a couch with a coffee table situated in front of it. You toss your bag on it as Joel slides the glass door shut. Soon enough his hands are on your waist, pulling your back into his chest. 

“You’re mine, baby. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Joel,” you breathe. 

He takes one of his hands, trailing it along your outline all the way down to the revealing edge of your swimsuit. He pulls the fabric back and snaps it against your skin. You yelp at the sensation, prompting him to growl in your ear, “Be quiet.”

You nod, leaning against him. His bulge pokes your ass so you grind against it, desperate to have him inside you already. 

“Joel, please,” you whine. “I need you.”

“Not so fast. Bend over for me,” he commands, guiding you over to the couch with a light spank on your ass. 

You bend over the couch, feeling slightly bad for the way you’re about to defile the Moreno’s couch. He pulls your bathing suit bottoms down and coaxes your legs apart. He gets on his knees and cups your ass, burying his face in your cunt. 

You grip the back of the couch for purpose, shivering from the sensation of his tongue swirling around your pussy. His hands run up and down your thighs, his tongue leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your knees shake beneath you while he circles your clit, moaning at your taste. 

He’s an expert at reducing you to a mess, all of you at the mercy of his tongue and its movements. 

“Joel, I’m gonna cum,” you whine. 

He hums into you as if he’s permitting you. Your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as he laps up your release. Your back arches and you stand on your tiptoes, the remnants of your high ripping through you. The motion of his tongue slows but never stops, lazy licks encircling your sensitive pussy. 

But you need more. You need to be filled by him already. 

“I need more,” you whisper as a shiver runs down your spine. 

He pulls away, but just barely, face still mere inches away from your pussy. His warm breath tickles you as he says, “I’m not done.”

And with that he’s back in your cunt, nose perfectly rubbing against your entrance. You whine as he pushes you closer to the point of overstimulation. He’s eating you out for his own pleasure, getting drunk off of your wetness coating his face. He’s reveling in every moment your taste is on his tongue and your scent fills his senses. 

A second orgasm breaks loose, the pleasure originating at your core and spreading outward. Everything from the tips of your ears down to your toes is on fire, all thanks to him. Your knees tremble again and you’re but sure how much longer you can stay upright. Your body shakes with all the pleasure he just pulled from you in a short amount of time. 

“Joel, please. I need more.”

“Gotta be specific, baby. Use your words,” he says in between delicate licks. 

“I need your cock,” you whine. 

“How bad?” he asks smugly, a smirk evident in his voice. 

“So fucking bad,” you sigh. Your desperation is unbearable and you’re aching to be filled. 

You hear him stand up behind you, leaning forward and gripping your throat as he whispers in your ear, “Needy little thing you are. You can do better than that.”

“Please fuck me, sir. Please. Please. Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you cry. 

“Good girl,” he praises, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. He nips at your earlobe before standing upright and pulling his cock out of his swim trunks. 

His cock enters you in one swift motion, splitting you apart and eliciting a deep moan from you. More choked-up sobs force their way out of your throat as he draws his hips back and slams into you again. He buries his cock down to the hilt, hitting the deepest, most pleasurable angles inside you. You squirm, knees threatening to give out underneath you as he fucks you with so much force as if you’re nothing but a toy for him. His large hands grip your waist, forcing you to stay upright and in place for him. 

“That’s right. Take my fuckin’ cock,” he commands, releasing one of his hands to deliver a snack on your ass. You moan and shake under his grasp, past the point of sentences. But he’s not done making you talk. 

“Who makes you feel this good?”

“Y-You,” you say with a shaky breath. 

“Say my name,” he commands with another spank. 

“You do, Joel!” you cry, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“That’s right. You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine,” he says, fucking you harder. 

You can’t hold on any longer. He pulls your third orgasm of the night from you, cunt spasming around his cock. Tears stream down your face and stars dance in your vision, your entire being sent into a state of pure euphoria. 

“Good girl,” he praises, returning his other hand to your waist, continuing to drive his hips in and out of you. He fucks you through your high, making it last even longer before finally coming inside you. You’re filled with the warm sensation of his cum coating your walls, the both of you finishing together in a beautiful crescendo. The rhythm of his thrusts turns sloppy as he pushes his cum deeper inside you, keeping you stuffed full until his cock goes soft. 

He pulls out of you and puts his cock back in his trunks. An aftershock of your orgasm sends a shiver down your spine as you slowly stand up straight. He slaps your ass again and says, “That was your punishment.”

“Not much of a punishment,” you respond, a smirk gracing your face. 

He whips you around to face him, cocking his head to the side and asking, “Was that not good enough for ya?”

“I’m just saying it’s not much of a punishment,” you shrug. 

“Guess I have to show you a real punishment.”

He turns his head, glancing at the clock on the wall before groaning. 

“It’ll have to wait. We should get back to the party before anyone notices we’re gone.”

“Can’t wait,” you smirk, reaching for bathing suit bottoms. 

He goes to the door, giving you one last look and telling you, “Until next time, angel.”

“Until next time, Joel.”

And then he disappears through the glass door, leaving you alone as you slip on your clothes. You make sure the pool house is just how you looked before your little rendezvous and join the rest of the party, trying hard to forget about Joel’s cum dripping down your thigh. 

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @cyberangel-graphics

MDNI Banner: @saradika-graphics

[mrsbarnesblog]

i am not the only one who saw that, right?

masterlist ko-fi ao3

summary: your friends find out that you secretly dating their enemy, but their opinion might completely change when they see Rafe from another point of view

words count: 2.2k

warnings: secret relationship, pogue!reader, attempted assault, mention of blood, soft and protective Rafe

a/n: inbox is open for requests💘

“You cannot be dating Rafe fucking Cameron, Y/N!” John B exclaimed, burying his hands in his hair and walking all around the place. 

“No, seriously, this is not a good idea.” Sarah looked at you, giving out a nervous laugh. 

You were currently surrounded by your friends, who were all practically yelling at you after they accidentally saw a message from Rafe on your phone. You were one of the pogues; you never hanged out around the kooks, but somehow, when you were visiting Sarah a few months ago, you got into a random conversation with Rafe, and since that moment, the connection between you two has only gotten stronger. 

It was an instant click and as much as you both tried to deny the spark, it was there. As you started going out, secretly from everyone, of course, you decided to keep it private until the right time. 

“Alright, guys, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew that this would be your reaction. It just happened, okay?” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache from the tense situation. All of your friends were standing on the opposite side of you and it felt like they were just attacking you. 

“What were you thinking? You know that he hates people like us, like you. We are pogues, Y/N. How the hell did that even happen?” Kiara was standing with her hands on her hips, as her piercing eyes were studying you. You felt awful looking at Pope, who was the one who always supported you, but he just shook his head and stepped away. 

“I don’t know. It just happened. We talked once when Sarah left, then I accidentally met him a few times in town, and then he texted me. He’s not bad when you know him closer.” You sighed. “Look, I know Rafe was a lot of trouble for us. He did bad things; I know that. But he’s not like that; he’s sweet and caring, and he has never shown any sign of being disrespectful towards me. I just can’t deny my feelings for him.”

“Honey, Rafe is not a good person. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone; he’s evil, selfish and manipulative.” Sarah stepped closer to you, touching your hand. “He’ll play with you, hurt your feelings and just throw you away.”

“And he probably just wants to get into your pants.” JJ grumbled, also taking a defensive position. 

“I haven't even slept with him yet, JJ!” You desperately snapped at him. It felt ridiculous, like all of them turned against you at the same time. Sure, Rafe wasn’t the sweetest person to them before, but they didn’t even give you a chance to say something in your defense. “And you’re wrong too, Sarah. All of Rafe’s actions were just to get people’s attention and appreciation. All it took for me to get on his soft side was to just listen to him and give him some affection. Other people didn’t care enough, including you and your father. He needs someone who he can trust and open up to because he’s hurt.” 

“No, Y/N. If you think that he loves you, then he just got into your head. My brother doesn’t love anyone. It will end badly; I just know that.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, and a lump in your throat made it difficult to say anything back, so you just stupidly stayed there. You had no strength to fight with all five of them at the same time. You turned around, silently getting back in the car, even though your head was filled with doubt and dark thoughts because of their words. 

For the next few days, it was tough for all of you. You and the rest of the group were still close, and even though they were completely against your relationship, you still met and hung out. The pit in your heart was still there, no matter how hard you tried to act nonchalant and not let their words get into your head. 

Rafe noticed the change in your behavior—that you were upset with something—but he didn’t put any pressure on you and allowed you to decide for yourself when you wanted to open up. 

Pogues decided to go to some party on the cut near the beach and as much as you tried to refuse, Sarah and Kiara managed to drag you there. You all rarely went to such places, preferring to hang out in your little circle, but apparently everyone wanted to clear their heads and saw it as the best opportunity. 

It was pretty fun with a bunch of people you did not know, some music, and drinks, and you mostly hung out with your friends. Though quickly it got overwhelming and made you want to go home or at least go outside of the house to get some fresh air. As you left your friends and wanted out from the backyard to a part of the beach, you didn’t notice the guy who had been eyeing you the whole evening. 

He came out of nowhere from your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You yelled at the sudden and unwanted touch, and your heart seemed to drop into your stomach when you realised that it wasn’t just a joke from JJ, who liked to scare you. You started wiggling in his hands to get free, but he was fighting you back, dragging you up when you fell to your knees on the ground. 

It was such a mess trying to scratch and punch him that you almost did not notice his hand coming into contact with your face several times. You screamed again, this time loud enough, until you saw JJ running towards you. The guy behind you pushed you away as soon as he saw someone, and you fell to the ground with a loud huff. 

“That fucking bastard!” JJ was right near you, helping you to get up as tears streamed down your face. He tried to comfort you, checking your body for any injuries, but you pushed his hands away, wrapping your own around yourself in a defensive way.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” You heard Kiara, along with your other friends, calling your name. “What the hell happened?”

“H-he attacked me.” You sniffed, trying to catch your breath and, with shaking hands, reaching to the pocket of your jeans shorts to get out your phone. All of them looked at each other, questioning your actions, until you pressed someone’s contact button and put the phone to your ear. “Can y-you pick me up, p-please?” You sniffed again, now trembling from the adrenaline. 

“Baby? Are you crying? Where are you?” You heard your boyfriend’s concerned voice through the phone, feeling how JJ tensed beside you. 

“I’m on the cut. Near the beach. There’s a party and... Please, Rafe.” 

“I’m coming, angel. Just wait for me, ‘kay?” You heard the sound of the car engine at the other end of the line. Rafe didn’t ask any more questions, and as soon as you mumbled quiet 'mhm’ he ended the call. 

You all heard him before you saw him. The sound of the tires drifting through the sandy street was loud, drawing attention to the expensive car that was unusual to see at this part of the island. 

Rafe didn’t bother to properly park, turn off the engine or even close the door when he saw you sitting on some old chaise lounge, with his sister and Kie trying to talk to you and your other friends arguing nearby. 

The girls stepped away from you as soon as they saw Rafe running towards you with a furious expression on his face and ready to deal with anyone who made you cry. It looked like he didn’t even care about the pogues, with whom he always had to get into arguments; he was fully focused on your shivering form.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He squatted down in front of you, and you started sobbing again. Your hands immediately found their place around his neck, and, before he could even properly look at your face, you pulled him closer to get some sense of comfort from his warmth and smell. Rafe hugged you back, soothingly rubbing your back. His eyes shot towards your friends, who were watching in awe at the interaction. “Which one of you did that?”

“It’s not us, you idiot. Some guy jumped her when she walked outside.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes at her brother. “JJ heard screaming, and when we walked outside, he ran away.” Rafe pulled away, finally taking in your appearance.

Your knees were covered in dried blood mixed with the sand. He gently took your hands to see the palms scratched from you trying to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Rafe’s eyes were burning with fury, showing his side that he rarely revealed in front of you. His hand reached to move your hair from your face, noticing a red, now already turning purplish, bruise covering the side of your cheek.

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” He softly brushed his fingertips along your cheek and you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. Your bottom lip started quivering and you bit inside your cheek to calm yourself down. “Sh-h im here, okay? You’re safe. Did you see him? What did he look like? Just tell me and I’ll deal with it.” He almost begged, but you only shook your head. JJ suddenly stepped closer, slightly hesitating to actually normally communicate with his longtime enemy,  but he thought that it was the least that he could do for you.

As much as he hated The Kooks King, JJ knew that Rafe was the best option to find the guy who hurt you. 

“Tall, with dark and curly hair. Never seen him before, probably someone new on the island, but I’ll recognize him.” They looked at each other for a moment, and Rafe just simply nodded, turning his attention back to you. 

“I’ll find him, ‘kay? I promise I will.” He gently took both of your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. “We should go now. I need to take care of your knees and that bruise, baby. You don’t mind going to Tanneyhill, yeah?”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You whispered, slightly bending forward to ask for a kiss. Rafe smiled at you, his thumbs gently swiped the leftovers of the tears under your eyes, and then he kissed you on your forehead, nose, and gently pecked your lips. 

Your heart flattered at his soft touches and for a second, it felt like you two were in your own little bubble. Rafe's eyes shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and the way he looked at you, soft and caring, made you want to kiss him again and again. You suddenly snapped out of the trance, looking back at your friends, who all had different levels of shock and uncertainty written on their faces. 

“C’mon, pretty girl.” Rafe stood up, lifting you in bridal style without an effort, carefully not to hurt your bleeding knees. He almost walked away, but then sighed, turning back to look at his sister. “You coming home with us or somethin’?”

“Um, no, I’ll be with John B. It seems like I would be third wheeling with you anyway.” She shrugged, not being able to keep a smile when you two met with your eyes. 

Rafe then looked at JJ, thinking his words over. “I appreciate it, Maybank.” 

They exchanged a tight nod, both slightly shocked that for the first time ever, they communicated without biting each other's heads off. You leaned closer to Rafe, comfortably nestling in his protective hands, and looked at your friends, who were still too shocked to say anything. 

“I’ll see you guys later, okay? 

Everyone agreed, saying goodbye to you and asking you to text them when you get there safely. They saw how Rafe made sure to slowly put you into the passenger seat, then circled the car and drove away. An awkward silence fell around them, everyone at a loss for words. 

“Okay, so I am not the only one who saw that, right?” Pope spoke first, looking around the place as if he were trying to find something. “Rafe freaking Cameron just was acting cute and didn’t threaten to do something to us?” His own body physically shrugged at the word ‘cute’.

“I don’t know, dude. We all just probably drank something and it’s messing with our heads.” 

[aajjks]

TEACH ME (m)

synopsis. Teach me.. that’s what he says everytime he’s got his fingers deep inside you.

trope: age gap [10 years] yandere, forbidden relationship and cheating.

warnings. f-ngering, expl-cit themes, pr-fanity, he’s got a filthy mouth, f-rbidden r-lationship [teach-r x st-dent], y-ndere jk, p-sessive beh-viour, j-alousy, ch-ating, m-oning strict 18+ THEMES. MDNÏ.

note. PHEWWWWWW 🫠🫡🥵… YALL….. this is for all the horny girls on my blog. ONLY FOR YOU!! I think this is not gonna be a series but just a one shot and I hope to get it out soon but I wanted to put out a teaser and please talk to him and I just know you’re gonna love him because I know you guys have some fucked up fantasies. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS. I LOVE READING YOUR THOUGHTS AND YOUR ASKS also YALL the colored gradient text looks so pretty 🥹🥹🥹

note 2.0. This is strictly for 18+ so please do not interact if you’re underage. [TEASER]

If you wanna be tagged, please reply under this post x

“Hahaha what??”

Jungkook walks to your figure, you’re standing behind your desk, your back leaning against the blackboard, he knows you’ve said something really important right now but…

How the fuck is he supposed to take you seriously when your tits are practically popping out of your right dress shirt? Or the pencil skirt that is clinging onto your ass like second skin?

Goodness you’re so fucking hot, his cock is practically pulsing inside his underwear.

“Ms yn… what?” He manages to say, now towering over your smaller figure, you glare at him, swear tickling down your forehead.

“It’s Mrs Jeong for you!”

“Ms yn…. No.” Jungkook rolls his eyes as he closes the distance between you two, there’s no one in this empty university hallway, your door is closed,

Jungkooks eyes are set on you like a predator and the way your breathing is irregular suddenly, makes him feel superior to you despite your age difference of 10 years.

“Sorry that’s almost sounds like you said Mrs Jeon…. Haha… so similar won’t you agree?” His chest is now touching yours, his eyes contain a carnal hunger for you.

“I’m sorry but that can’t happen, yn.” He tsks, feigning disappointment, like he’s sympathizing with you, but you know better.

Jungkook knows that you know him better than anyone.

You know him so deeply and so intimately.

Jungkook forces his knee between your legs, spreading them, you gasp, he smirks.

“How dare you try to abandon me huh? I don’t give a fuck- NO JUNGKOOK YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I-I CANT COMPROMISE- shhh.” He presses his finger on your tinted lips.

He guides his hand down your panties, playing with the hem of it, “n-no jungkook please don’t-“” jungkook doesn’t stop, “listen yn- or Mrs Jeong.” He grits his teeth while spitting your last name out,

“I don’t give a FUCK ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC HUSBAND! OR YOUR SHAM OF A MARRIAGE!” He seethes,

“How pathetic you are huh?” he bites his tongue before speaking. “You sleep on that very bed with your stupid husband where I’ve made you cum so many fuckin times huh?” He tugs your panties down roughly.

You need a reminder of who you belong to, and he will gladly do it right here in this classroom.

“J-JUNGKOOK What are you doing?” You stutter, he rolls his eyes.

You know damn well what he’s doing. “Oh ms yn. You should know damn well and what I’m doing. Because your body knows it.” He smiles, almost cruelly at you.

He starts to tease your wet pooling heat, his fingers skilled as he starts to move them around your clit.

“nghh nooo..” you can’t even hold your moans at this point. He gets your sexual frustration. Your pathetic excuse of husband can never please you.

Your brain & your heart, and especially your pussy are currently fighting with each other right now disagreeing with what you really want and what you should do.

arguing with you between what’s wrong and what’s right.

“Oh come on ms yn- you’re soaking wet for me..” he plunges his fingers inside your inviting cunt.

“Oh yes moan for me…” he groans, whispering in your ear.

Your eyes are at the verge of rolling back he fucks you with his calloused fingers. “Divorce the bastard and I’ll let you cum.”

He pumps them in and out of you- teasing you.

Jungkook licks the side of your neck, grunting in your ear.

“If you won’t divorce him I’ll murder him and then fuck you right infront of his rotting corpse.”

[fastandcarlos]

Biggest Fan : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: lando had never expected to fall in love when he was invited to visit psg…that was until he met you

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 849,302 others

landonorris: pretending to know what I’m doing 😂 thank you psg for inviting me to watch a game tonight - I loved it ⚽️

73,940 comments

username1: new signing when???

username2: I love that he went to watch the women, I heard he even stayed around to meet the players after too

danielricciardo: not you pretending to be good at another sport

landonorris: @/danielricciardo idk what you’re talking about, ronaldo is quaking in his boots 😂

username3: nobody show this photo to manchester united

oscarpiastri: so this is why you refused to have dinner with me tonight 🙄

username4: footballer lando was an aesthetic I did not prepare myself for

georgerussell63: personally very offended you didn’t invite me to come and enjoy this with you

logansargeant: I thought I taught you better than this…this is what we call soccer 🤦🏼‍♂️

landonorris: @/logansargeant get in the bin 🗑️

username5: I play football too, come and see me play instead 😂

ynusername: thank you for stopping by and seeing us, we had a great time meeting you and learning a bit more about formula 1 ☺️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ybffusername, jackie_groenen_14 and 482,050 others

ynusername: quick getaway during the winter break ⛷️❤️

39,583 comments

username6: wait what whose the guy

username7: since when has y/n been in the dating game wtf

ybffusername: excuse me missus, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do

grace_geyoro: you said you were going on a solo ski holiday 🙄

ynusername: @/grace_geyoro whoops 💁🏻‍♀️

landonorris: the question is…are you as good a skier as you are footballer?

ynusername: @/landonorris I’m a woman of many talents 😂

username8: are we watching lando norris shoot his shot with the y/n y/l/n right now

username9: peep how y/n was the only player he followed after visiting psg

username10: can’t be the only thinking they’d make a pretty hot couple 🔥

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 382,493 others

ynusername: thought I’d repay the favour and see what f1 is really about, thank you for a great day mclaren!! ps am i a papaya girl now?? 🏎️🧡

48,596 comments

mclaren: you’re welcome back anytime y/n 🧡🏎️

username11: how do you look better in papaya than in red and blue 😭

username12: the photo of lando’s garage too 🤔

oscarpiastri: it was lovely to meet you, make sure you come back and visit us soon!!

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri give me a date and time and I’ll be there…I had a blast!!

username13: has lando managed to turn y/n into an f1 girlie?? 😂

landonorris: definitely think you should stick to kicking a football around 😂

ynusername: @/landonorris I’d have been able to drive the car if I didn’t have such a rubbish teacher 👀

username14: something is brewing…trust me

georgerussell63: the mercedes garage is always open fyi 😂

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 lando told me to tell you I’m a mclaren girl now

username15: omg lando told y/n what to say

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by username16, f1source101 and 3,593 others

f1wags: rumour has it around the paddock that y/n and lando aren’t just winning on the pitch and in the car but off them two. our sources have told us that the duo have been spotted throughout the weekend looking very close with each other. maybe not so much friends after all?

695 comments

username17: my heart won’t ha able to take it if these two start dating

username18: officially now my only otp

username19: lando has seemed to be a lot happier recently ☺️

username20: pls don’t break my heart like this lando

username21: they both deserve happiness!! we need confirmation asap

username22: I’ve never shipped two people harder

username23: apparently they were all over each other most of the weekend 🥰

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by psg_feminines, oscarpiastri and 439,103 others

ynusername: huge win in lyon tonight, so proud to be part of this time ❤️💙

38,594 comments

psg_feminines: two goals and an assist…you’re our superstar y/n!

username24: yay y/n!! man of the match for sure tonight!

landonorris: huge win!! smashed it legend 💙❤️

ynusername: @/landonorris I didn’t realise you were watching 🥺

landonorris: @/ynusername ofc I never miss a match ⚽️

username25: it’s not fair how one person can look so good on the football field

oscarpiastri: can confirm that lando was glued to the screen for the entire match 😂

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri I’m so sorry you had to sit through it 😬

username26: lando’s so busy and yet he made time to cheer for y/n

username27: can you two just date…forever??

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, ybffusername and 593,054 others

ynusername: a well deserved weekend off, with some pretty cool company too 🌊🤍

73,842 comments

username28: LANDO LANDO LANDO AODLDQML

username29: damn I knew it

ybffusername: you’ve got to be kidding me right now omg

username30: my heart has never beated so fast in my life

landonorris: look at you all sunkissed and relaxed 🔥

ynusername: @/landonorris it’s amazing what a holiday - and pretty fun company - can do 🥺

username31: this is everything!!

danielricciardo: I’m guessing my invite just got lost in the post 😔

alex_albon: look at you two 😘☺️

username32: my two favourite people in the world

username33: oh to be on a beach with lando norris

oscarpiastri: make sure you bring him back in one piece y/n

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri 🫡🫡🫡

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and 583,506 others

ynusername: always an honour to wear the badge of my country, a great weekend of internationals before heading back to paris! merci ⚽️🏆

69,293 comments

landonorris: so glad I could be there to watch 🥺🥰

username34: lando was there that’s so sweet

username35: notice all of lando’s friends in the likes, they adore y/n too

username36: people on social media are saying how loud lando was all night long

username37: @/username36 I was there…he didn’t stop cheering every time y/n touched the ball ☺️

alex_albon: who knew watching football could be so fun 😂

oscarpiastri: even without lando I tuned in…what have you done to me y/n??

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri you’re so sweet, thank you 🥺

username38: y/n has been playing out of this world since she started talking to lando

username39: world cup incoming surely!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, maxverstappen1 and 904,843 others

landonorris: adventuring with my favourite person ❤️💙

104,382 comments

georgerussell63: we get it okay, you’re not single anymore 😂

landonorris: @/georgerussell63 now you know how I’ve felt for all these years

ynusername: I had the best time with you!! thank you for being the best taxi driver 💕

landonorris: @/ynusername it’s an easy job with you as passenger princess

username40: you cannot convince me that these two aren’t just the cutest couple in the world

username41: being driven by lando is the dream, y/n is so lucky damn

danielricciardo: looks like a great adventure!! 🤩

maxverstappen1: love seeing you so happy brother ❤️

username42: wherever they are, I want to go

username43: still managing to get the papaya in too 😂🧡

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by psg_feminines, oscarpiastri and 1,392,906 others

landonorris: champions league final ⚽️ so proud of you and the team my love for getting this far - you’re amazing!! 💙❤️

104,593 comments

alex_albon: good luck y/n, we’re rooting for you!!

oscarpiastri: lily is disapproving but I’m watching too, go y/n go!

georgerussell63: cannot wait to see you at the next race with that winners medal round your neck!

danielricciardo: ik nothing about football but hoping you win y/n ❤️

maxverstappen1: just remember to do what I don’t, aim at the goal 😂 you can do it y/n!

lewishamilton: no doubt in you y/n…victory is yours!!

mclaren: everyone at the mtc is rooting for you y/n 🧡🧡🧡

logansargeant: good luck on the soccer field y/n 🏆

lance_stroll: idk what the champions league is, but judging from your suit I’m guessing it’s serious - good luck y/n

carlossainz55: seeing as madrid aren’t playing I guess I can cheer for psg just for tonight 😂

charles_leclerc: allez y/n allez psg

ynusername: thank you for always supporting me - and everyone else too ❤️💙⚽️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 593,604 others

ynusername: winning on the field and off the field these days - ily lando 🩷💕

58,704 others

landonorris: if anyone is winning, it’s definitely me 😂 thank you for choosing me 🧡❤️💙

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[solemnarration]

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter three

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 ��𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, reader wears shorts and a t-shirt, swearing, underage drinking, kissing, mentions of controlling mother, mentions of mutual masturbation (minors DNI), use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: kind of nervous to post my version of the iconic hotel scene but i hope you all like it!! 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟐𝟎𝟔. 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 – 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔. 𝟏𝟐:𝟏𝟓𝐀𝐌.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you hissed as you followed Tashi down the corridor of the dingy hotel you were staying at. You marched behind your best friend in light blue and white striped pyjama shorts, a white fitted t-shirt, fuzzy socks, and your favourite slippers. 

“What can I say? My persuasive abilities started getting better since we became friends,” she retorted, rolling her eyes and smirking. “I guess you’re a good influence on me!”

You sighed, crossing your arms defensively and staring at the door of Room 206 once you arrived. “Tashi, this is insane,” you insisted, keeping your voice down in case Art and Patrick overheard. “They’re just going to be annoyed that I’m here. Plus, I’m going to have to entertain the leftover guy when you eventually pick one to make out with! You know how I feel about small talk with strangers.”

“You weren’t complaining at the beach,” Tashi pointed out. “Or when I was taking pictures with the trophy. And shut up, they’re not going to be annoyed you’re there, they want you to come!” She paused, trying not to laugh. “Literally and euphemistically.”

You groaned at her joke. “I’m getting a strong vibe that we’re about to star in our own horror movie. Exit, stage left!”

Your best friend crossed her arms. “Why did you come with me if you don’t want to see them?” 

“Because I’d be a really shitty friend if I let you get murdered by yourself,” you argued, naively hoping Tashi wouldn’t recognise your go-to tactic of using humour to avoid confronting your emotions. “For the rest of my life, people are going to see me on the street and say, ‘That’s Y/N Y/L/N, the girl who let beloved tennis star Tashi Duncan become a cautionary tale instead of going to those guys’ room with her. What a bitch.’”

Tashi grinned. “You like them, don’t you? You really like them.” Before you could argue, she knocked on the door four times.

You grabbed Tashi’s arm and asked her, “Are you sure about this?” 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” she challenged you, raising an eyebrow. “Think about it. Really give it a second. If they’re boring, we’ll leave. If they’re annoying, we’ll leave. If they’re being gross, we’ll leave. We have all the power here, Y/I.”

You frowned. “We do?”

As if proving her point, Tashi knocked on the door again before motioning for you to press your ear against it. You listened as Art and Patrick scrambled to tidy their room. Tashi covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh too loudly. 

“Y/I, they’re literally obsessed with you. Everything’s going to be fine!” 

“Wait!” a muffled cry sounded behind the door.

“Oh, shit,” a second voice added. 

You grinned, listening to their pounding footsteps approaching the door. You stepped back just in time for Art to wrench the door open. 

“Hi,” he greeted.

Patrick appeared a millisecond after him. “Hey!”

The pair of best friends were dishevelled, their hair still ruffled from hurriedly pulling on shirts, and their chests heaving slightly from the effort of a last-minute clean-up they were trying to conceal. Their appearances betrayed the frantic scramble to present a semblance of order in their room, and their efforts made you bite your lip to hide a growing smile. Most notably, their eyes were just as intense as you remembered, locking onto yours with a piercing gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. 

Breaking their entranced stare, Tashi wondered, “Can we come in?”

You were quickly ushered inside and invited to sit on the carpeted floor. With amused, slightly confused eyes, you looked at Tashi and tilted your head, wondering why they were fussing so much. She rolled her eyes, mouthing the word, whipped, and gesturing to you. Soon, the boys settled on the carpet opposite you and Tashi, forming a natural square as they opened the can of beer they promised you.

Feeling awkward, you scanned the room and registered the twin beds pushed together with interest, suspicious after seeing Art and Patrick’s state of undress. Both were in their boxers and had shirts carelessly thrown on. Patrick’s shirt wasn’t even buttoned, revealing his toned torso with pride.

“We aren’t interrupting something, are we?” you wondered, eyes flitting between the best friends with an amused smile. 

“Of course not,” Art was quick to deny your insinuation. When you spotted the shower cap covering the hotel smoke detector and frowned, he realised it wasn’t just that you didn’t smoke. You hated cigarettes and smoking. “We were just–”

“Passing the time,” Patrick filled in when Art hesitated.

“Right.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you guys go to, like, Mommy And Me classes together?” Tashi wondered, eliciting laughter from everyone in the room. Patrick took a sip of his beer, grinning. “What? You just seem like brothers.”

Their bond reminded Tashi of her friendship with you, and that was a rare feat. 

“Well, that’s what the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy will do for you,” Art said in a musical tone, smirking at Patrick beside him. 

Tashi chuckled. “Oh. Right, right, right. You guys went to boarding school.”

“We’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve, so…” Patrick trailed off, shrugging.

“Hence the closeness,” you completed his sentence. “That’s cool!”

“Very cute,” Tashi agreed. 

“You two ever think about doing something like that?” Art asked before drinking the can he got from Patrick. 

“Boarding school?” Tashi shook her head. “No. No, no, no. We couldn’t afford it. And even if I could get a scholarship or something, there’s no way that my parents would want me coming of age in an environment like that,” she added, gesturing with her hands. 

Patrick’s eyebrows pulled together. “Why? What were they afraid of?” Tashi lifted her eyebrows and nodded, silently pointing out the obvious. “Oh, yeah. Right!” Everyone laughed at that. “What about you?”

Usually, when a group of people had their eyes on you, it made you incredibly anxious. Sitting here with Art, Patrick, and Tashi felt safe. You weren’t worried about expressing your true thoughts or wearing the protective mask you had created over the years. 

“I wish they would have sent me to boarding school,” you mused, rolling your eyes. “If my mother had it her way she would have homeschooled me and never taught me anything other than how to hit a ball across the net. I’d be a living, breathing tennis machine if it was up to her.”

“Ah.” Patrick nodded. “Right.”

“Luckily my dad convinced her that my education is just as important as a tennis career, so I got sent to a cushy private school nearby that was lenient enough to let me miss classes for competitions,” you added. “It was actually pretty great, I loved going to school. Getting into Stanford was a lifelong dream come true.”

“Really?” Art asked, grinning. He ran a hand through his curls and gave you the beer next. You were sitting so close that your bare knees brushed once in a while, sending a jolt through your body like a shot of espresso each time. 

“What? Do I not seem like the brainy type?” you retorted, passing the can of beer on to Tashi after taking a sip. 

“No, no, no–”

“I’ll have you know I was my class salutatorian, and just three months ago I gave a speech at graduation that was so beautiful it made everyone cry,” you bragged.

Art and Patrick couldn’t keep their eyes off you as you relaxed around them, your bare face free of makeup and your smile illuminating the room with a natural, effortless beauty. You were enchanting when you were at ease, making their heart swell with admiration. Every time your skin touched Art’s, it stirred something insatiable in him.

“Oh, it was heart-wrenching,” Tashi agreed. “Y/I is the only person I know at that school and I still teared up. She’s brilliant, she would’ve gotten into Stanford even without tennis.” Grateful, you leaned your head on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. 

“At least now we finally get to play on the same team,” you mentioned happily.

“So how long have you two been friends?” Patrick questioned, motioning between you and Tashi. “Did you meet through tennis?”

“We met when I kicked T’s ass when we were fourteen,” you informed them, grinning teasingly at your best friend and lifting your head from her shoulder.

“I think that might be my favourite match I ever played,” Tashi confessed fondly.

You sat up straight, looking at your best friend and gaping. “Are you serious?!” 

Tashi Duncan, the woman who lived and breathed tennis and trophies, had the most fun during a tennis match when she lost? It didn’t make sense, even to you, her best friend of four years.

“Definitely! You were the first person I met who played me and actually challenged me. I lost that game and I just thought, ‘I have to meet this girl. I’ve never played against someone who loves this game as much as me before, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go.’”

“Wow.” Patrick nodded, impressed. “That’s as good as the whole boarding school bond.” 

Tashi grinned, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “So, is that where you met your girlfriend?” If Patrick was going to pursue her best friend, Tashi needed to get to the bottom of his romantic situation.

“Oh, she’s not my, um…” Patrick glanced at Art as the blond crossed his arms and leaned in close, looking pleasantly smug that someone had called him out. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And you? Why aren’t you pretending not to have a girlfriend?” Tashi questioned Art, taking another sip of her beer. 

“Art’s in between ladies.”

It didn’t surprise you that Art and Patrick were popular with the girls at their school; not only were they ranked fifth and second in the juniors, but they were magnetically charming and wonderful to look at.

“Oh, no, no–” Art pointed at his best friend, resenting the tone Patrick took on– “That makes it sound like I’m some sort of–”

“Player,” Tashi suggested.

“Pompous promiscuous philanderer,” you offered an alternative. Tashi and Patrick giggled, enjoying your alliteration.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, Art does fine for himself,” Patrick added happily. “I mean, look at him–” he reached over to touch Art’s face and was immediately pushed away.

“So…” Tashi looked expectantly between the boys. “How often does this happen?” she inquired, motioning her pointer finger in a circle to indicate the situation you now found yourselves in. “Going after the same girls?”

“Not as often as you think, actually.” 

“Really?” you exclaimed.

“No.” 

“Yeah, no, we, uh…” Art grinned. “We usually have different types,” he revealed. 

“Hmm. So you’re saying we should be flattered?” Tashi teased.

You sat up, holding your hand up as if you were taking an oath. “I know I am,” you played up the ridicule Tashi had started. “The thought that two teenage boys might both be interested in me? That’s about as rare as tennis balls at practice!”

“Or sunshine in California,” Tashi chimed, referencing more common things to hammer the point home.

“Boys are too easy,” you commented. “All it takes is boobs to capture their interest, that’s it.”

Art risked a look at you and grinned broadly. “Isn’t that just because you’re everybody’s type?” he retorted. His candied gaze swept your body languidly, lingering on the boobs you just referenced. You felt your cheeks warm at the attention, equally stunned and impressed by his gall.

“Ah, yes. Many have tried and none have succeeded thus far,” Tashi reported, handing the can of beer back to you. “Y/N’s very picky when it comes to guys. They don’t tend to stick around, and not because they don’t want to.”

That caught Patrick’s attention. “Oh, really? You have a specific type, do you?” He glanced at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. 

You tried not to stare at his lithe body, stretched out and perfectly on display. “Of course,” you agreed readily. “Only the best for me. Six foot one, brunet, build like a god–”

“So far so good,” Patrick mused, pleased with your description.

“Spanish,” Tashi added helpfully. At that, Patrick deflated.

You pointed at her, nodding enthusiastically. “Right, thanks! Yes, Spanish–” You paused to recall what attributes you might have forgotten. “Youngest French Open winner in history–”

At that, Art burst into laughter. “No fucking way! You’re just describing Nadal,” he accused.

Patrick groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on! I thought you were being serious.”

You smirked, shrugging and sharing a pleased look with Tashi. “What can I say, I like winners,” you teased, not meaning it. “With glorious biceps.”

“So glorious,” Tashi agreed through her laughter. 

You smiled and shook your head. “No, I don’t have a type. I’ve just never met anyone who wanted me for something other than my looks or status, so I didn’t ask any of them to stay.” Art and Patrick nodded, sympathising with you.

“What about the two of you?” Tashi inquired, motioning between the pair. 

Still smiling, Art asked, “What do you mean?”

“You know…” you nodded intentionally. “Beds pushed together, hanging out with minimal clothing. Have you ever…?” 

Patrick’s smile slipped a little, and he tilted his head, thinking it over. Art seemed startled by the suggestion. “Oh! No,” he declared. More awkwardly than you expected them to, they laughed. “No. Why? Is that surprising?”

“Not surprising,” you mused. “You just seem very…”

“Close,” Tashi implied. 

Everyone turned to look at Patrick, waiting for his input. As you observed his expression, you noticed a subtle tension in his features, hinting that he was restraining himself beneath the surface.

“What?” you wondered, too curious to hold back. 

“Well–” 

“No,” Art interjected. His smile was long gone, and a deadpan expression kissed his features. He shook his head, looking more severe than you thought the blond was capable of. Perhaps that was the real reason he was ice in their dynamic…

“I mean–” 

“No,” Art insisted. Patrick spluttered, trying to get a word in as nervous chortles escaped him. “Patrick, no.”

Still laughing, Patrick said, “Sorry.” 

“Yes,” Tashi encouraged happily.

“No.” 

“I think you need to tell us now,” she added. 

“It sounds way too good to hold back,” you excitedly agreed.

“No.” 

Patrick reached for the beer and looked at his best friend with a delighted smile. “I think it’s a sweet story,” he remarked. 

“Uh-huh,” Art agreed sarcastically, putting his head in his hand to hide his face from you. “All right.” 

“Well, let’s hear it,” Tashi exclaimed excitedly. 

Embarrassed, Art allowed it, “Yeah, no, go ahead.” 

“Uh…” Patrick and Art spluttered, dissolving into awkward laughter. “I taught Art how to jerk off,” Patrick confessed. You stared at him in surprise, not having expected that answer. “So…”

To avoid your eyes, Patrick drank his beer, and Art hid the bottom half of his face inside his grey Stanford t-shirt. As you and Tashi exchanged amused glances, a silent understanding passed between you, your eyes alight with shared delight. At that moment, the dynamic in the group shifted, and you realised Tashi had been right.

Whether or not you believed her earlier, you had the power here; you were in control. 

“I think I need a little more than that,” you admitted, testing the waters and not wanting to push them too far. 

Art’s head popped up. “Okay,” he began, making you and Tashi howl with laughter at his sudden 180. “Patrick was an early bloomer–” Art pointed an accusatory finger at his best friend, who smirked– “Okay? And I think that I was on time. And one time–” he emphasised that it only happened once– “When we were twelve, he thought I was asleep and he was, you know…” 

“Jerking off,” they chorused. 

“And, yeah… And I asked him, ‘What are you doing?’ And he told me. He’s…”

Again, in unison, they said, “Jerking off.”

You bit your lip to suppress your laughter.

“He asked me if I had ever done it before.” Art snickered as he spoke. “And I told him no. And so, he just… He showed me how.” When he was done, Art finally looked up at you and Tashi. Proudly, Patrick nodded, confirming the story.

Tashi stared. “What do you mean he showed you how?” she wondered, mimicking how Art had pronounced the words. You looked behind you at their beds pushed together and nodded, also wanting to know the specifics.

Spotting your sideways glance, Art quickly defended himself, “No. I mean–” 

“Well–”

“I mean, he did it on his bed–” Art pointed to the left to indicate where Patrick’s bed was in their room. “I did it on my bed–” he gestured to the right, purposely creating distance between their beds in the story– “We did it together, but like on opposite sides in the room.” 

“Yeah. Mm-hmm.” Patrick wagged a finger and assented with a nod. Your eyes travelled south as he adjusted his underwear, and you raised a sceptical eyebrow at the timing. 

“You know.” Art cleared his throat loudly. 

Tashi was entranced by the story, finding it more entertaining as they provided further details. “Silent?” she inquired, astonished. 

“Oh, no, no!”

“No, no!” The boys laughed.

“No, we were talking about Kat, weren’t we?” Art recalled. 

Patrick pointed and agreed, “Kat Zimmerman!” 

“Patrick said it’s always better–”

“Yeah.” 

“–if you’re, like, thinking about somebody when you’re doing it. And so I asked him who you’re thinking about, and he was talking about this girl–” 

“Kat Zimmerman,” they recited in harmony.

“And so, I thought about her, too.” 

“Wow,” you and Tashi intoned in unison, rendered speechless by their story. 

“Yeah…”

“Okay.” As the bolder of the two of you, Tashi had no problem probing them for further information, even if it was embarrassing. “And who finished first?” 

“Oh, I don’t remember–”

“I think you,” Patrick cut in.

The air crackled with tension as Patrick and Art’s gazes locked in a loaded stare, the weight of the personal revelation hanging between them.

“Is this a normal thing guys do?” you wondered, changing the subject so as not to dwell on Art’s embarrassment. “What happened afterwards?”

Patrick chuckled as Art shook his head. “I think Art was a little surprised by the whole thing,” he revealed, telling the rest of the story through unsuccessfully suppressed laughter. “He was–” another chortle escaped him; Art hid his face in his shirt again– “He was just sitting there covered in all of it.”

Tashi laughed. “What?!” 

“He looked like a kid who’d spilled milk all over his lap!”

As the four of you roared with laughter at the hilarious story, Art couldn’t help but yell, “Jesus, Patrick!”

The shared laughter unexpectedly deepened the bond between the four of you; the tension that had previously hung in the air dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and closeness thanks to the reverberating giggles. The story was rooted in innocence and exploration that made you feel at ease in Art and Patrick’s company, forging connections that transcended your brief acquaintance with them. 

It was easy to fall into place with them and feel like you belonged.

“I knew enough already at this point to have a sock nearby, right? Forgot to tell Art about that part,” Patrick added. 

“Yeah. Mm-hmm.” Art took turns burying his face in his t-shirt and letting himself laugh in the open. 

“Yeah, so…”

“Right. Okay.” Tashi grinned ear to ear. “And what about Miss Zimmerman?” She reached over to take the beer from Patrick’s grasp. “What ever happened to her? You guys…” Tashi trailed off. 

Patrick shook his head. “Neither of us… She got injured a week later and had to quit.”

You frowned a little. “Really? That’s terrible!”

To cheer you up, Patrick quickly assured you, “She wasn’t very good in the first place.” 

“No, she sucked,” Art agreed. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right. That is a very cute story,” Tashi gave them her stamp of approval.

Patrick quietly laughed. “Thanks. What about you two?” he turned the tables on you. Art perked up at the suggestion.

You rolled your eyes. “You wish,” you waved them off. 

“We really do,” Art joked.

“No, me and Tashi are soulmates for sure, but nothing like you two ever happened,” you clarified. “It can’t be explained by platonic love, but it’s not romance either. We’re just…” you paused, trying to find the right words for it. “Two halves of a whole, completing each other.”

“It’s actually really crazy,” Tashi chimed in. “I was going through life thinking something was missing, and when we met I realised I wasn’t a whole person until I had Y/N in my life.”

“Wow,” Art mumbled quietly, entranced by how you and Tashi spoke about your relationship.

“Have you ever met someone and it feels like they’ve been a part of your life forever, even though you just met?” you added, hoping to paint an accurate picture for Art and Patrick. They smiled fondly, making brief eye contact and nodding. “That’s what it’s like with me and Tashi. We just click, you know? We always did. Like two pieces of a puzzle. I can’t explain it, but being with her just feels right.”

“Same here,” Tashi added happily. “It’s like she’s the mirror–” she motioned from her chest to you for emphasis– “reflecting the best parts of me back at myself. Without her, I’m not sure I’d recognise the person staring back at me.”

You smiled affectionately at your best friend, going to retrieve the beer from her but finding it empty. “Oh,” you exclaimed. “We’re out of beer.”

The boys looked at each other unsurely. “Um…”

Tashi glanced at you expectantly, and without speaking, you could tell what she was telling you. We have all the power here, Y/I. You were more aware of this truth than ever but didn’t know how to proceed. You thought to yourself, if you were as bold and confident as Tashi, what would you do?

You got to your feet, suddenly looking down at your new friends. You weren’t sure if it was the minimal beer in your bloodstream – combined with the champagne you and Tashi snuck at her party a couple hours ago – but your heart raced, palms growing clammy as nervous excitement coursed through your veins. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gathered your courage, feeling a flutter in your stomach as you sat on their beds.

When Art and Patrick stared at you with awe-filled eyes, you smiled. “You know, it feels a little lonely up here without you–” You barely got the words out when Patrick took a seat on your left, Art joining you on your other side right after. “I don’t believe that you don’t go after the same girls for a single second,” you admitted, carefully studying the boys’ faces. “But there is something I’m curious about.”

“What?” they chorused.

“Who the better kisser is,” you revealed. You heard Patrick and Art’s breath catching in their throats and looked at Tashi on the floor with a surprised grin. “Feel like joining us, T?”

Smirking proudly at your nerve, Tashi rested her hands on the carpet and leaned back to observe. “I’m good here,” she declined your offer, preferring to watch from her spot on the floor. Tashi knew those boys were there for one girl only, and it wasn’t her. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“So… who wants to go first?” you offered. 

Painfully desperate to kiss you, Art whispered, “Please.” It was like he didn’t realise he had said it.

You turned to him, admiring his features. Art’s face was flushed with a deep, rosy hue, his adoring eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of pure, unwavering worship. It was as if the entire world had vanished, and all he could see – all he could focus on – was you, the girl who had captivated his soul. Your heart pounded at the sight of his unadulterated emotions, wishing you could be so open with your own.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you replied, letting your eyes flit between Art’s deep blue eyes and pink lips before closing the space between you and kissing him. 

Your lips met softly, a gentle brush that made you both shiver. For a moment, Art couldn’t think; his senses were overwhelmed with the pillowy touch of your lips and the fact that you kissed him first, not Patrick. The warmth of his touch ignited a spark in you as he swept his thumbs across your cheeks affectionately, caressing you to ensure that you were real and not just a part of his imagination. The subtle scent of something characteristically Art was intoxicating, and you deepened the kiss, parting your lips slightly and shifting closer. Like they did when you sat on the carpet next to him, your knees touched, and his skin felt scorching hot. 

Getting bolder, Art ran his hands up your bare thighs, sighing against your mouth at the feeling of the warm expanse of your legs. Your cheeks and legs felt hot; it was like all the warmth in your body was flowing to the areas where Art was touching you. It was almost like a dance, and it occurred to you that kissing Art was just like meeting his eyes, unrestrained in his emotional expression and leaving you wanting more. Gently, he nudged his nose against yours, almost lazy in his slow exploration of your mouth.

It wasn’t just sweet; it was heavenly.

When you leaned back to pull away, Art’s lips chased you. You had to place your hands on his chest for him to open his eyes and realise what you were doing. For a moment, you just looked at each other, enjoying your flustered expressions and the sight of your bruised lips.

You barely turned to face Patrick when he crashed his lips to yours and collided with a fiery intensity different from your kiss with Art. Like his playing style, Patrick’s kiss was a passionate exchange that left you breathless and your skin tingling with every brush of his mouth. This kiss was raw and emotive, a stark contrast to the sweet tenderness and devotion of Art’s. Where Art relished in the slow ease of your kiss, Patrick’s swift confidence was dominating and fiery. You gasped a little when his teeth bit your top lip. He chuckled, pecking your lips before his tongue soothed the spot he bit. 

While Art had grabbed your thighs to touch more of you, Patrick nearly yanked you towards him to have you closer, almost impossibly so. From the sudden movement, Art’s hands fell from your thighs, and he stared, open-mouthed, as his best friend made you groan appreciatively. Patrick’s hands cradled the back of your head, ushering you in his direction, and you tangled your fingers in his tousled curls. The hunger and need in his kiss sent your head spinning.

He kissed you like it was his last day on earth, head tilted to one side and tongue teasing yours in a way that made you glad you were sitting because your knees felt weak.

Running out of air, you pulled away and felt your stomach flooding with heat at the sight of Patrick’s pupil-blown lake-blue eyes. You didn’t realise someone could look at you with so much desire, and it made you gasp quietly. The low orange light of the hotel room glinted off his eyes, mirroring the spark you felt jolting your body each time his lips touched yours. Patrick was warm and intense but still adoring. He was flushed but not as pink as Art. Instead, his cheeks were red, and the rest of him was almost golden. His blue-green, deep eyes stripped away your defences without any effort, hinting at the effortless understanding you had only ever felt with Tashi in the past. You were so seen, so understood that you wanted to shy away from his gaze; it was like Patrick could see the depths of your being, leaving you feeling exposed yet inexplicably drawn to him.

“I’m not sure I can decide,” you admitted as your heart raced. Your mind swirled, trying to grasp the reality of the sweet and dizzying kisses that left your lips tingling and your thoughts pleasantly hazy. There was an inexplicable lightness in your body despite the heaviness in the air. They were both perfect in their own ways, neither better than the other.

It was nothing Art or Patrick had ever experienced before.

You touched them with such care and emotion, so much want, that it left them needing more. It wasn’t just that the brush of your lips felt like perfection, but the fact that you were the one doing it made all the difference.

You had kissed them. You had made them feel this way.

They couldn’t hide their physiological response to your sweet affection and didn’t even try. For Patrick, it was visible in the heavy way his chest rose and fell to catch his breath while the tightening sensation in Art’s pants was there for everyone to see. 

“Maybe the two of you could help me decide…” you trailed off, gently closing the gap between the two best friends and encouraging their lips to meet.

Patrick and Art were so entranced – not only with you but by the effect they had on you – that they didn’t fight it. Perhaps it was because they had so many years of history, but their kiss was even more impassioned and unrestrained. They were all tongue and teeth, connected only by their mouths until Patrick tugged Art closer by the shoulder. You watched with hungry, curious eyes, noting how Patrick always seemed to need to be adjoined to the person he was kissing. Art got lost in their kiss just as he had with yours, giving everything he had to Patrick and holding nothing back. 

It was so beautiful you didn’t know what to do with yourself. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling for them.

Breath hitching in panic, you dragged your eyes away, looking down at Tashi for help.

“Well, this was fun,” she declared, effectively saving you from having to say anything. Tashi was proud that you’d gone after what you wanted, and she could tell with one glance at your face that you were ready to go. If there was one thing Tashi knew, it was that you preferred to run from your feelings than confront them head-on. “Thanks for the beer. We’re going to bed,” Tashi added, getting up and putting her slides back on.

Art and Patrick parted and turned to look at you with twin stunned expressions. 

“We have to get going,” you agreed with your best friend. Tashi pulled you up off the bed with a tender tug. 

“What about your numbers?” Patrick asked, now more desperate than ever before.

“We already told you, we’re not homewreckers,” Tashi reminded them as you placed your feet into your slippers. 

Art nearly begged, “Please.”

Tashi released a short laugh. “Um… Okay, uh… We will be watching your match tomorrow. Y/N likes winners–” Everyone’s eyes flickered over to you, and you averted your eyes shyly– “so whoever wins can have their girl of choice’s number. The other guy has to back off.” 

Art exhaled, leaning forward in disappointment. Smug, Patrick readily agreed to the terms of the bet, “All right.”

“Don’t give up before the match even starts,” you encouraged Art, wanting to take one last look into his icy blue eyes before you returned to your room. “You can beat him if you want to. I really believe that, Art.” The honeyed way you said his name only worsened the blond’s hard-on. He inhaled sharply, eyes shutting in a moment of bliss.

“Are you saying you want me to?” 

“Are you saying he’s the better kisser?” Patrick added curiously. His hooded eyes made his already dark eyes appear almost pitch-black, pupils blown wide. 

“She’s saying you’re not going to get anyone’s number if you don’t,” Tashi corrected him. 

Art asked, “But what do you want?”

“I don’t know about Y/N, but I want to watch some good fucking tennis,” Tashi said pointedly. “I’ll leave that up to you two. Good night.” She grinned and went to open the door, stepping outside and holding it open for you.

You cleared your throat and resorted to humour like you did when the tension was too thick. “Why don’t you just–” you motioned to the beds they had pushed together– “You know. For old time’s sake.” Art stared at you with huge eyes at the insinuation. When your eyes flitted to the brunet beside him, you could tell Patrick was trying not to smirk. “And don’t forget, it’s always better if you’re thinking about somebody when you’re doing it,” you quoted Patrick in a faux innocent voice, lips curving into a smug grin as Tashi shut the door behind you.

[eomayas]

distracted • hjs

pairing: husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! fluff, parent au, non-idol au

synopsis: reader is literally just feral for joshua

warnings: pwp, p in v, oral (m receiving), riding, praise, dirty talk, soft!dom!josh, breeding, josh calls reader a ‘slut’ (lovingly) once, reader & josh are parents, reader losing her mind over josh mainly. JOSHUA ARMS. unedited ;)))

a/n: i’ve experienced extreme joshua brainrot lately then did an extreme deep dive of jarms (joshua arms) until 2 in the morning. i am unwell and need him like a fish needs water

joshua pushes the shopping cart that holds groceries, and your daughter in the front of the basket, down the aisle. you trail a step or two behind them, mind a bit foggy and… distracted. you don’t know what it is, he’s just wearing a plain, white tshirt and blue jeans—he’s worn it before—and you’re running errands together like you always do. but today is different, and you can’t seem to comprehend a single thing going on around you, or really look at your husband without feeling mild insanity.

first, you’d wandered into the store in a daze, forgetting that joshua was grabbing the shopping cart with your daughter, after having sat in the front seat watching him drive for twenty minutes. his hand sat steady at ten and two, ever the safe driver when your daughter was present, though at stop lights he would sometimes grab your hand or settle his palm on your leg. you felt lost since the morning, woke up with your mind cloudy and your brain foggy just at the mere sight of him.

then, you couldn’t remember a single thing on your grocery list. in your clouded state, you must’ve forgotten the list in the kitchen; it wasn’t a big deal, except for the fact that you literally couldn’t think about a single thing that you needed to buy, and you are usually the one leading the pack around the store. so the three of you have been wandering around the grocery store for longer than you want to be, circling back to the same aisles you’ve already been on because you can’t remember what it is you need to buy.

now you’re back in the dairy aisle, unsure of why you’re back because youve already grabbed milk and cream cheese, so you’re just standing in front of the cold, double doors without a single thought in your head. “yogurt, maybe?” joshua tries, pausing his conversation with your child to help you out. you blink once, twice before mumbling out a ‘right’ and pulling the doors open and grabbing a container.

“mommy, that’s not the right one!” your daughter whines when you drop it in the basket. she’s frowning at you, eyebrows crinkled the same way joshua’s do. god. you make the mistake of looking up at him, and your entire body flushes you meet his gaze. his eyes are soft but questioning, asking if you if you’re alright without actually saying it. no, i’m not, you think to yourself, discreetly sweeping your hand up your neck to check your pulse. it’s fast, and you’re definitely still alive.

joshua watches you with mild concern; he’s noticed your strange, avoidant behavior since this morning when he got back from the gym. you had looked almost surprised when he walked into your bedroom, like you weren’t expecting him back. your eyes widened, and your lips parted like you were going to say something but nothing came out. he beat you to words, anyway, giving you a soft ‘good morning’ that made you blush—he’d ignored it because you seemed… off—and kissed you on the lips. he thought he really smelled with the way you rushed your lips off of his and rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over your own feet. joshua grabbed you so you wouldn’t fall, and he felt you tense in his hold, a frown etching on his features. he brushed it off and asked if you wanted to shower with him, expecting a ‘yes’ from the look that flashed through your eyes, but you instead mumbled something about having to make breakfast before hurrying out of the bedroom all together. you basically avoided him all day since then, never really looking at him or talking to him directly—none of which you do on a constant basis.

the yogurt was, in fact, incorrect down to the brand and flavor. “i’m sorry, baby,” you say to your daughter, running a hand over her hair before grabbing the yogurt to swap it out for the correct one, this time taking a few seconds to scan everything in the fridge. you appreciate the cold air from the refrigerator, as it cools you down from the rush of heat you feel along your face and neck. you take a breath and tell yourself to get a fucking grip before dropping the correct item into the cart.

“daddy, can i get ice cream?” your daughter asks joshua as you start ambling through the grocery store. you cut your eyes at your daughter for not asking you, but you know it’s because joshua never says no to her.

“of course, princess,” and you watch with pure adoration as he places a kiss on her forehead and she just giggles, scrunching her shoulders up to her ears. joshua is a good husband, but he’s an even better and you love watching him interact with your daughter. they have a special connection that you love to witness, a secret language just between the two of them. it’s moment like this where you want another kid—or maybe it’s part of the hazy mess you’re in because of his sheer existence.

you follow behind joshua towards the ice cream aisle. the shirt he wears is tight on him, straining against his biceps and shoulders. you can make out his back muscles depending on how the light hits the fabric, and you feel even crazier than before. his muscles have been the source of your you distracted state today. joshua has always been muscular, and he’s always worked out, but something about him recently has flipped a switch in your brain that has made you feel absolutely feral every time you catch a mere glimpse of his arms—which is quite literally every day. this morning it was too overwhelming, him coming home and shedding his jacket to reveal himself in a simple black tank top that looked a size too small, and gray sweats that made you feel like you needed to go to confessional.

another rush of cold air pulls you out of your lustful daze and you stand at the back of the shopping cart as joshua shuffles through the cartons of ice cream, asking your daughter her input. you try to keep your eyes focused on your daughter, anything else, but cant help when they drift over to your husband, his arms flexing each time he grabs a pint and displays it to your daughter. joshua casts a glance at you, a smile that says can you believe this? when you daughter shakes her head for the fourth time, despite not asking to look for herself. you blush under his gaze, heat spreading down your neck and chest before settling in your stomach.

"i thought you liked the oreo one?" you say to your daughter, voice slightly hoarse. you smooth a hand over her hair to give yourself something to do, hands a little clammy from all of your nerves working overtime.

"i do..." she trails off, turning to look at you with a tiny pout on her lips.

"tell daddy before he freezes," you say, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. just the mere reference to joshua feels heavy in your mouth, makes your stomach flutter for reasons you can't really explain.

joshua places the pint of oreo ice cream into the cart, circling around to the front and playfully ticking your daughter under her chin. she giggles loudly and you smile as you watch her become a spitting image of her father. arms cage you between the carts handlebar and a firm chest, and suddenly your eyes are no longer on your kid but on the strong, veiny forearms that belong to your husband. “excuse me,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice like he knows that you’re losing your mind at the simple sight of him.

wordlessly, you gently grab his right arm to remove yourself from his entrapment. “hey,” joshua says softly, reaching out for your wrist as you move swiftly to get away from him. turning, goosebumps arise on your skin, and you tell yourself that it’s because his hands are ice cold. “you okay, honey?” your stomach flips and you press your lips into a small smile, nodding.

joshua stares at you for a beat before leaning down a few inches, silently begging for a kiss. you nearly combust at the thought, not trustworthy of yourself to behave normally in public. but his eyes are fond, and you love him so much and want him so bad that you raise up on your toes and brace yourself on his shoulders before delivering a soft, quick peck to his lips. you’re proud of yourself for holding back, but joshua isn’t satisfied because he stays leaned over in the spot you kissed him in for a few seconds after the fact that you’ve pulled away. if you were at home, he’d yank you back to him but because you’re in public he files that grievance away and straightens up.

“i want a kiss,” your daughter pouts, cutely crossing her arms over her chest. since she doesn’t specify from whom, both of you lean in and press kisses to her cheeks. her giggle ripples through you, filling your stomach with butterflies and your chest with a type of love reserved only for her. you’re momentarily pulled away from your joshua shaped daze, until his hand is settling on your lower back. it chilling, his touch, and it’s not because his hands are ice cold from standing in the grocery store freezer for two minutes.

a shiver runs up your spine and you slip out of his grasp, not paying attention to where or what you’re walking into until joshua is pulling you back into him, his hand splayed across your stomach and your back colliding with his chest. “babe, watch out,” a woman pushing a cart stops short, a look of remorse on her face.

“oh my god, did i hit you?” she asks, and you figure you must look injured or something, because she looks genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. the flush on your face is not due to the fact that you were almost ran over, but because joshua hasn’t moved his hand from your stomach and hasn’t put any distance between your back and his front. he stays pressed against you, holding you firmly in front of him, his hold tightening ever so slightly.

“n-no, i’m alright,” you manage, lips tingling. “i swear.” you add when her eyebrows don’t drop from her hairline. at that, she seems to believe you enough snd offers you a smile and a curt nod before hurrying down the aisle.

“are you alright, honey? you’re trembling,” joshua says, his deep voice like melted wax running down your back. you make the mistake of looking up and over your shoulder at him, his palm pressing into your lower belly.

he peers down at you with soft eyes, ready to question you again until your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you tuck your bottom lip under your top one and nod. he knows the look in your eyes all too well—hunger, but not for food—and heat pools in his chest. joshua is much better at hiding his desire for you, especially in public and in front of your child, and he’s able to keep his expression the same, pretending he never saw that look in your eye. “i’m fine,” you’re shuffling away from him again, this time checking to make sure you’re not seconds away from being ran over with a shopping cart.

somehow, you three mange to finish your shopping trip without anymore mishaps. it requires circling back to the same aisles more than once because neither you nor josh can remember what you wanted to buy, but at least you can say you’re done. joshua loads the groceries into the trunk while you buckle your daughter into the backseat. she yawns, stretching her little arms up and out. “sleepy?” you ask her, a small smile on your face.

“no,” she says, vehemently shaking her head. you chuckle hum a sound of disbelief before dropping a kiss on her forehead and going to the front seat. the trunk closes and you suck in a breath as you watch him in the rearview mirror. he brushes his hand through his hair, and even through the mirror and the tint of the trunk window, you can make out his bicep muscle flexing with the motion.

it’s nearly pathetic how horny you feel just looking at him—like an overgrown teenager who just got into their first relationship. except you’re an adult, married to this man, and this behavior is no longer considered ‘cute’.

joshua gets into the front seat and smiles at you, leaning over the console to give you a kiss. his hand rests on the side of your neck, and you wonder if he’s trying to check your pulse, to mess with you. you keep your hands to yourself, because if you touch him, you might never stop.

pulling back from your mouth, he looks into your eyes before flicking them back down to your lips. joshua starts to lean in but seems to remember you’re not alone, and sits back in his seat, his hand lingering on your neck for a moment before he starts the car and asks your daughter if she’s ready to go.

the car ride is quiet, save for your daughters yawns and insistence that she is not tired. she makes most of the noise, talking about random things that you and joshua entertain with ease. he watches her in the review mirror with real, unconditional love in his eyes. it does nothing to help your situation, and just makes you want to give him another baby.

when you arrive back at your house, you quickly get out of the car, grateful to get out of the stuffy, suffocating feeling of being in the front seat. you walk around the back and help your daughter out, ready to carry her inside until she exclaims, “i want to help!”

you ser her down on the ground and she runs over to joshua. you watch him give her two of the lighter bags of groceries, and raises her arms to show you, a big smile on her face. you smile back and press in the garage code and tell her to go inside of the house, seemingly leaving you and joshua alone. you sidle up next to him, and joshua lightly bumps his hip into yours. “hmm?” you question without looking up from the numerous bags in the back of the car.

“why are you avoiding me?” he asks, and the directness makes your hands clam up.

“i’m not avoiding you,” you say, taking a few grocery bags and backing up from him.

“you quite literally are.”

you stare up at him, his eyebrows knitted together in slight irritation. “i still love you, if that’s what you’re asking,” you clarify. his features soften and his shoulders relax a bit. those shoulders. your eyes drifts down his figure, lingering on his flexed forearms, veins bulging out from the tension of carrying the grocery bags.

joshua watches you obviously ogle and check him out, his entire figure relaxing at his realization. “oh, i get it now,” he teases, a slow smirk sliding across his lips.

“get what?” you play dumb, taking a tentative step backwards before turning around and trying to keep your walk casual as you walk through the garage. it’s so obvious you’re trying to keep space between the two of you, putting anything in the way to keep you off of him.

“that you wan-“ joshua cuts himself off because you push open the door that leads you into the house. he clears his throat and closes the garage door before following behind you into the kitchen. your daughter is standing on her tippy toes trying to reach a cupboard that’s way to high for her, concentration etched on her face. “need help, bub?” he asks, setting his bags down on the counter.

“i can’t reach,” she whines, yawning immediately after. joshua lifts her up into his arms and opens the cupboard for her abd allows her to put the item away. “i’m tired, daddy.” she rests her head on his shoulder, tiny arms encircling around his neck.

you watch them and you feel your heart grow three times in size, like the grinch. joshua coos at her and pats her head before agreeing to put her down for a nap. you busy yourself with unloading the groceries, stomach flipping at the thought of having at least an hour alone with your husband. you can’t believe how depraved you feel.

joshua comes back downstairs a few minutes later, right when you’re putting the last thing into the fridge. “you finished?” he asks. you nod, heart hammering in your chest as he walks over to you. his hands drop onto your hips, pulling you flush against him. you keep your eyes straight ahead, leveled wirh his chest, and joshua dips his head down to meet your eyes. “see: you’re avoiding me.”

hear creeps up your neck and you shake your head. “i’m not.”

“don’t try to gaslight me,” he teases, making you roll your eyes and finally look up at him. “there she is.” he murmurs, leaning down a few centimeters to connect your lips. your hands flatten against his chest, and he walks your backwards into one of the kitchen counters. joshua leans over you, trying to press you flat against the surface despite the lack of space.

“shua,” you breathe once you pull away when he unbuttons your jeans.

“what, you’ve got somewhere better to be?” he asks, arching one of his eyebrows.

“i… i have to do laundry…” you say halfheartedly. joshua laughs at this, dropping his forehead against yours. “i’m serious!” you say, but you’re smiling too. “i want to go back to avoiding you.”

joshua pulls back to look down at you, making a face that says for what? “i thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“yeah, i’m afraid nothing will keep me off of you if we start,” you say honestly. joshua blushes deeply, a boyish grin on his face. “i want you so bad—i think i might be ovulating? i don’t know. i just want you so. bad.” you punctuate the last part with the press of your knuckles into his chest.

“you’re ovulating?” it’s like bells went off in his head.

“maybe, i don’t know. i don’t keep track of that shit. i just need an explanation for how i feel,” you say, hands sliding along his chest absentmindedly.

joshua raises both of his eyebrows at you, fake shock on his face. “maybe because you have a super hot and sexy husband who is also a really good father? just a hunch.”

“no, i don’t think that’s it,” he rolls his eyes at you and you giggle, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him down to you. joshua grips onto the counter to steady himself, his hold tight enough to turn his knuckles white. he presses his pelvis into yours, his his erection pressing against your leg.

joshua wraps an arm around you and splays his hand across the small of your back. he presses you down onto the counter and you grip his shoulders tightly, craning your mouth away from his to breathe out, “not here.” he pulls you up from the counter and looks down at you, his chest moving up and down quickly. you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he thinks about a place to fuck you that won’t bring attention to the two of you. “laund-ah!” he swoops you up into his arms easily, already carrying you in the direction of your laundry room before you can even get the entire word out.

you wrap your legs around his waist as you buzz with need and anticipation. you let yourself revel at being carried by him after lusting over his arms all day. he carries you like you’re weightless, with his his hands resting under your ass for support. “god,” you whisper to yourself, pressing a kiss into his neck.

“i love you,” he rasps as he enters the laundry room. he shuts and locks the door behind him before dropping you onto the washing machine. his hands are flying to undo the buttons of your blouse and you pull him closer using your ankles that are still wrapped around him.

“love you more,” you murmur, helping him with removing your top. “your turn.” your urge, pulling the hem of his shirt.

“sure you can handle it?” he teases. you flush and lightly push at his abdomen. “don’t wanna make you pass out or anything.” he smirks at you, loving to watch you squirm.

“i can handle it,” you say, feeling so embarrassed to even be in this position. luckily, joshua is sweet to you above all and draws you in for a kiss. you skate your hands up underneath his shirt, nails lightly scratching against his torso. “take it off.” you mumble against his lips, hands pushing up the material of his shirt. you feel like you could rip him out of the fabric.

joshua pulls back and makes an entire show of getting undressed. he runs a hand through his hair and purposefully flexes his bicep as he does so. if this was any other time, you’d roll your eyes and call him annoying. but today, all you can do is watch and try not to drool.

he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into an empty laundry basket nearby. you waste no time leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. you move to kiss his jaw and then his neck, your hands sliding down his body. you kiss across his chest, going lower until the position becomes uncomfortable. lightly shoving him, you hop off of the washing machine and drop to your knees in front of him.

joshua watches you with dark eyes, holding onto the edge of the machine. you fumble with his belt, hands shaking with anticipation of finally having him, and he makes no effort to help you out. your hands work too fast, and you mess up when you try to pull the buckle open for the second time. “i’ve got all day,” he say smugly. you ignore him, and finally pull his belt free. you work his pants down to his ankles, leaving. him in just his briefs. you let out a breath and look up at him with pure lust. “as pretty as you look right now, you’d look much better with my cock in your mouth.”

quickly, you pull his underwear down and let them pool together with his pants, hands flying to grab ahold of his member. you pump him a few times, flicking your eyes to look up at him. joshua gives you a slight nod, signaling you to start sucking, and you eagerly oblige. sticking your tongue out, you lick up the precum that dribbles out of the tip before you wrap your lips around the head and push him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you go. a groan escapes joshua’s mouth and he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you drag him into your mouth inch by inch, your eyes never once leaving his. his chest heaves up and down, moving faster and faster the closer you get to taking him all the way. tears prick in your eyes when he hits the back of your throat, but you keep going until your nose nearly presses into his hips. “shit,” he whispers, leaning more of his weight into the washing machine.

you bob your head up and down, pulling back and stroking what doesn’t fit. you swirl your tongue around the tip, cheeks hollowing to create more suction when you suck on the tip. joshua moans lowly above you and tells you how good you’re doing. his eyes flutter shut, squeezed shut in pleasure and his chin drops down to his mouth. you want his eyes on you, want him to watch you as you make him feel good, so you purposefully scrape your teach against his dick to get his attention.

his eyes fly open as he jerks back from you, glaring at you when you smile around him. “brat,” he spits and tightens his grip on your hair. you sigh through your nose and press your thighs together, cunt throbbing with need. you keep bobbing your head, speeding up slightly and taking more of him into your mouth. when joshua presses your head down, you relax your throat and let him take control, hands moving to hold onto his thighs. “good girl.” he grunts, holding your head down on his dick for a few seconds until you gag, and then he pulls you off of him.

he does this a few more times, his cock twitching against your tongue. tears gather in your eyes but you power through, determined to make him cum. he pulls you down onto him, cursing each time he hits the back of your throat. “fuck, you take me so well. i’m c-close,” tears slip down your cheeks and mix in with the spit and cum. your face is a mess, but neither of you care.

joshua fucks his cock into your mouth, holding your head steady in his hands. you dig your nails his thighs to combat the ache in your jaw. he thrusts into your mouth until he can’t take the feeling of your warm mouth around him anymore, his cum shooting into the back of your throat. you keep your mouth open to catch all of his seed, some of it gathering around the corner of your lips. “s-swallow,” he demands when he pulls his cock away from your mouth.

you obediently swallow, and he whines in the back of his throat. “goddamn, i love you,” he holds his hands out to you and helps you up onto his feet. he wipes the corners of you lips with his thumb and shoves it into your mouth, lips parting when you suck on his thumb like you just did his cock. “youre such a slut.” he murmurs, a loving gaze in his eyes.

a trail of saliva connects your lips to his thumb when you pull it out of your mouth. “promise?” you ask.

joshua smiles and pulls you into a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. his hands make use of unbuttoning your jeans and shoving his hands down your pants. your panties are damp, and he’s a bit shocked and honored that you’re this wet for him. “i need you,” you whine, peppering kisses down his neck. you don’t even want his fingers, just want him inside of you.

“i know,” he rasps, slipping a finger between your folds. you shudder when he touches you, his finger playing with your arousal and brushing over your clit, just to make you jump. you clench around nothing, and it’s nearly painful how turned on you are.

“joshua!” you whine, nipping at his neck. his hand immediately grabs onto your hair and yanks, a hiss emitting from your lips followed by a smirk.

“needy brat,” he grumbles, walking the two of you over to the work bench in the room. he drops onto it and spreads his legs invitingly. you quickly step out of your jeans and underwear, his eyes roaming over your body. “you’re a beautiful, y/n.”joshua says sincerely; at the end of the day, he is simply a lover boy.

you smile at him and quickly drop yourself onto his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you reach between the two of you and position yourself over his cock. his hands grip onto your hips tightly and guide you down onto him, bottom lip drawing in between his teeth.

“ah-fuck!” you cry when you sink onto the tip, the initial stretch rippling through you.

“you’ve got it, baby,” he encourages, thumbs rubbing sift circles into your hips. you bite down on your bottom lip, hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders as you sink lower and lower onto him. “goddamn, girl.” he grunts, hips bucking when you clench around him.

when you manage to take all of him, you sit still and catch your breath, head resting on his shoulder. joshua unhooks your bra and you lean back to slide it off your arms. “you okay?” he asks, hands groping your chest.

“uh huh,” you rasp, taking it as a sign to start fuckign him, licking your lips and raising your hips before dropping onto his lap. “fuck, shua.” whimpers leave you lips as you fuck yourself onto him, using his shoulders as leverage to move yourself up and down. joshua relaxes into the wall, his grip on your hips loosening as you gain momentum and find a rhythm.

“you’re so tight,” he groans, one of his thumbs finding your clit and rubbing slow circles around the sensitive nub. “been thinking about fucking you all day.” joshua sighs and rubs your clit quicker, eyes peering up to watch your facial expressions. “you need me as bad as i needed you?” he mumbles, voice low and husky.

“more,” you pant, still bouncing up and down on him. your cunt clamps around him like it’s trying to keep him there. “shuaaa!” you whine, thighs burning. you sit on his lap, rolling your hips into his.

he chuckles breathlessly, rolling his other thumb over one of your nipples. “yeah? tell me,” he grins at you devilishly, this side of him only coming out in your intimate moments.

“so bad,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. “w-wanna give you a-another baby.” you squeeze around him involuntarily, a knot forming in your stomach. joshua twitches inside of you at the mention of having another child.

“yeah? want me to fill you up?” you whimper and nod, legs starting to shake. “want me to fuck you full of my cum until you’re pregnant again?” he lets go of you breast to place both hands underneath your ass. he lifts you up and drops you down, a show of his strength as he fucks you up an down onto him.

joshua grumbles filthy things into your ear; tells you that he’s gonna fuck you until you can’t walk, that he’s gonna stuff you full, that’s he’s going to give you another baby tonight. “f-fuck! i-im gonna cum,” you cry, throwing your head back in pleasure. he bucks his hips up into you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you repeatedly.

spots blur your vision and your cunt spasms around him as you reach your climax. it hits you like a thousand bricks, and you’re shaking in his arm and crying out his name. you expect him to stop, but he keeps thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm further. you can hardly think through the waves of pleasure, which is why you hardly register that he’s lifted you up until you’re placed on a cold surface.

joshua drags you to the edge of the washing machine and slams his cock into you, nearly knocking the wind out of you. “o-oh my god,” you gasp, tears brimming in your eyes for the second time tonight. “you feel so good!”

he drives his hips into you brutally, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. “f-fuck, i’m not gonna last,” he groans, dropping his head into your neck. he kisses your skin and lightly bites, though not hard enough to leave marks. you cling to him, arms secured around his shoulders like you may fall if you dont hold on.

his thrusts get sloppier by the second, indicative of his nearing climax. “i love you,” you breathe, nails clawing at his back. he grunts, whining out curses as he cums inside of you, his dick twitching between your walls. he stills, fingers applying bruising pressure to your hips.

after a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. he presses his lips to your gently, sighing against you as he goes soft. “shit,” he pants, followed by a light chuckle.

you can’t help but giggle back, running a hand through his hair. he doesn’t want to pull out, not yet at least, wanting to make sure his cum stays inside of you as long as possible. he lets go of your thighs and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. you kiss the column of his throat, right on his adam’s apple and rubs soft circles into your back.

“we should clean up,” he murmurs, starting to draw back from you. you make a sound of disagreement and squeeze around him on purpose. “b-brat.” he stammers, curling away from you.

he pulls out of you with a lewd squelch, both of you turning light shades of pink at the noise. he helps you off of the washer and you lean against it. he finds a random towel and comes back to wipe between your legs before cleaning himself off and tossing it in the same basket he threw his shirt in. “i guess i could start a load,” you say, looking at all of the discarded clothes, making joshua laugh.

he helps you gather them up and drop them into the washer. you add in the detergent and slam the top closed. except, when you go to start the washer, joshua places a hand on your back and presses you flat against the washer and slots his knee between your legs to spread them open. you don’t get a chance to prepare yourself because he’s pushing into you again, a strong arm wrapping around your middle to hold you steady as he fucks into you from behind, determined to get you pregnant tonight.

[day-dreamed]

spencer reid x reader

spencer forgets his lunch at home, so you decide to bring it to him. what’s the worst that could happen?

cw: fem!non-bau!reader, roommate!spencer, angst, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, mutual pining

note: this is the longest thing i’ve written on this blog 😭 little nervous abt posting it ngl but i hope you guys like it 💓

You’re puttering around in the kitchen when you notice it on the counter. Spencer’s lunch, a sticky note with his name taped to the front. Immediately you grab your phone to shoot him a text, saying that you’ll bring it to the office for him. It’s your day off, so it’s not like you have any other plans.

The drive there doesn’t take too long. You hit some traffic, but it ends up moving quickly, which you’re grateful for. When you arrive at headquarters, the process of getting in is easy. Spencer had given them your information, like your ID and your car’s license plate, so you’re in their databases. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but since it makes things easier, you let it slide.

Once you’re in the building, it doesn’t take too long for you to get lost. The place is huge, a maze of long hallways that seem to lead everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re about to panic when you spot a directory sign that has the Behavioral Analysis Unit listed, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you make your way towards it.

When you walk into the bullpen, you freeze, your eyes flickering about the room for any sign of your roommate.

“Can I help you?”

You jump and turn towards the source of the voice, face growing warm. “Um, hi! You must be Mr. Hotchner, right? I just—I’m looking for Spencer, is—is he here?” you stutter out. “He… he forgot his lunch,” you hold it up lamely, giving the man you’ve heard so much about a sheepish smile.

He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, you spot Spencer coming up behind him. A close lipped smile adorns his face as he sidesteps his boss to get to you.

“Hi. What—what are you doing here?” he asks. His gaze travels from your face to the lunch bag gripped in your hands, and his mouth parts slightly. “Oh. You brought my lunch for me?”

“Mhm,” you nod, holding it out to him.

When he takes it from you, his fingers graze yours for a moment, making your heart flip. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you seem to remember that Spencer’s boss is standing about a foot away. Your roommate jumps and turns to him with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, Hotch, um, this is—this is my roommate,” he says, his face turning red.

“It’s great to meet you, sir,” you say, holding out your hand.

The man reaches out to take it with a small smile on his face, his handshake firm but gentle. “Please, call me Hotch. We’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name.”

You stare at him. “What do you mean?” you ask, your heart doing somersaults as you glance sideways at Spencer, who’s got a panicked look on his face.

“Reid is always—”

“Hey! Um, I could give you a tour, if you want?” Spencer blurts out. “You know, since it’s your first time here.”

Your face burns. “Sure,” you say, clearing your throat. “It was great to meet you again, sir.”

Spencer is grabbing your hand before Hotch can respond, and you stumble after him as he pulls you away. You don’t get very far, though, before a woman appears in front of you, all bright colors and smiles.

“Oh my god! You must be Reid’s roommate,” she exclaims, immediately reaching forward to wrap her arms around you. “I’m Penelope Garcia, the BAU’s amazingly wonderful tech analyst.” When she pulls back, she rests her hands on your shoulders. “Wow. Spencer always talks about how pretty you are, you know. And he’s right.”

“Garcia!” you hear Spencer groan, but it sounds far away.

“He does?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, suddenly feeling like the air has been stolen from your lungs.

A man appears from seemingly nowhere next to Penelope, his smile wide and bright as his eyes flicker between you and Spencer. “You’re pretty boy’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Penelope slaps him on the shoulder. “Derek! You can’t just ask that.”

“Why not?” he frowns at her. “I’m only joking.”

You gape at him, your brain scrambling as you try to find the right words to respond. Spencer comes to the rescue, thankfully.

“You guys, she—she’s just my roommate!”

“Okay, man, whatever you say,” Derek grins.

“Hey, don’t listen to him. He’s just being a jerk, okay?” Spencer says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

But you don’t hear him, still too busy thinking about the word Derek had said earlier. Girlfriend. Your heart pounds in your chest, breath caught in your throat.

“Sorry, I—excuse me,” you mutter. “I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

You avoid looking at their faces as you turn and flee, nearly running until you manage to find your way to the restrooms. The door slams behind you once you’re inside, and you cover your face with your hands, attempting to take a deep breath.

Everything that’s happened since you got to headquarters replays in your mind. Hotch saying that Spencer always talks about you. Penelope telling you that he’s always saying how…pretty you are. And then Derek, calling you Spencer’s girlfriend.

It’s all too much. Too overwhelming.

You’re so in your head that you don’t hear a knock at the door, followed by Spencer’s voice calling out your name. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

“I’m fine,” you call out, but the crack in your voice says otherwise.

“I’m coming in.”

“Spencer—”

Your protest is cut off as the door opens. A frown curves his lips when his eyes land on you. “What’s wrong?”

You just shake your head and let out a teary laugh, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing, Spence. It’s stupid really. I think—I’m just gonna go.”

“But—”

“I said I’m fine, Spencer.”

That shuts him up. You don’t usually use his full name, so when you do he knows not to push any further. “Oh. I… okay. Will you be okay getting back?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding.

“Text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it safe.”

For some reason, his request makes your stomach twist and a lump form in your throat.

“Yeah. I will,” you breathe out, desperately hoping that he didn’t hear the way your voice trembled.

[ghouljams]

Here's Hoping Things Look Better On the Other Side Chapter 1: The Cowboy Rating: E (minors please do not interact) Words: 6k Tags: Ghost x f!reader/OC, fingering, unprotected piv sex, oral (m and f receiving), deep throating, soft sex, face riding, dangerous driving practices, one night stands, first meeting, dom!Ghost, flirting Summary: You decide to spend you last night of freedom before saddling yourself with farm work, saddling up on something else. You know what they say: Save a horse, ride a cowboy. a/n: happy 1 year anniversary to this blog, as a mark of this occasion I'm doing what I kept talking about but never had the courage for and posting the "official" Cowboy Ghost story, or at least the first chapter. If some of this looks familiar, it's because a lot of my initial posts in the au were straight from this draft

Thank you @ethereal-night-fairy for giving this a once over, you're the best ❤️

There’s plenty about small towns that you miss living in the big city. The lack of bars is not one of those things. At least your friends don’t seem to be complaining. Anything to take the edge off the hours you’d spent in the car. One of the girls laughs pushing at another’s arm, the table is littered with empty shot glasses and half drunk beers. You glance back at the room over your shoulder, eyes darting to find a tray you could pile some of this on to make the bartender’s life easier. It’s dimly lit, as all dives are, and may as well have a sign hung up boasting about how flammable it is with all the wood in here. Wood tables and chairs, wood bar, wood floor, wood walls, you wouldn’t be surprised if the mirror over the back of the bar was wood too.

Still, you’re happy to be home. You miss small town living, miss the farm. You’ve been an accountant long enough, lost the calluses on your hands and you’re ready to dive back in. You’ll have to report to your daddy’s ranch earlier than the sun once morning rears its ugly head. You may as well have some fun, enjoy your last night of freedom before breaking your back breaking horses. And lucky you it’s the start of planting season, plenty of fresh blood in the water.

It’s good timing really. You know everyone in town too well, and the last thing you need is for word to get back to your daddy that you slept with the McKennan boy or worse. No, seasonal help is the best choice for a one night stand. No one you know that knows you(or your father). You glance around the bar, plenty of faces you don’t recognize. No one interesting though. No one that seems like they’d give you anything good. Mackayla already has a hat fixed square on her head, a cowboy coo-ing at her like she’s the luckiest girl in the bar.

Your eyes hit the man hunched against the bar. An unfamiliar face, a dark black hat, and denim stretched tight over his thick thighs. He’s got a good build, broad shoulders, thick fingers that dwarf the long neck in his hand, biceps you could sink your teeth into… You can’t see his face, but there’s an air about him that screams “leave me alone”. That plus the way he keeps to himself says he doesn’t know anyone or care to. Perfect. You toss the last of your bourbon back and toss a few bucks on the table.

“I’m gonna snag a cowboy,” You tell your friends, “Don’t wait up.”

You earn a few thumbs ups, a whistle and a “get it” that makes you laugh, before turning to snag the spot next to your man in black at the bar. You lean against the bar to catch his eye, standing close as you push your chest out, and tip your head. They’re brown, you think, warm like liquor and kept steadfastly forward. Must be having a staring contest with his own reflection. There’s a mask too. A black swath of fabric with a jaw bone painted onto it covering half his face. That explains why you couldn’t get a good look at him across the bar.

“So-” You start, only to be cut off.

Your cowboy holds up a twenty neatly folded between his fingers without even looking at you, "How much is it gonna cost to get you to leave me alone?" He asks, the bass rumble of his voice making you all the more sure of your decision. You glance from the skeletal mask to the black Stetson tipped low over his eyes.

"The hat."

"Not for sale."

“Not even just for tonight?” You ask, feeling buzzed and bold as you lean against the bar. There’s the slightest turn of his head as he looks at you. The warm brown of his eye as it peaks from under the shadow of his brim hits you better than any shot could. His gaze drags over you, and you let it, feeling his eyes settle on the way you push your tits out, then trace down over your hip. Your skin prickles with warmth, your stomach fluttering excitedly. He drags those lovely brown eyes back to meet yours and hums, looking back at the mirror.

“How about a drink,” He says, motioning for the bartender.

“How about two,” You grin, his mask shifts, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, “What are you drinking?”

“Piss,” He says, pushing his mask up enough to get a swallow of his beer. He’s funny in a dry sort of way, you’d laugh if you weren’t so entranced by his lips against the bottle. You rip your eyes off him when he pulls the mask back into place. You gotta get this man a decent drink. You press up onto your toes to lean across the bar and talk to the bartender.

“Are the Sisters still making hooch?” You ask, the tender nods and grabs two shot glasses for you. You settle back on your feet, feeling the pleasant weight of your companion’s gaze dragging over you. You wait as the glasses are filled with 2oz of the only thing you missed on the coast. Well, maybe not the only thing. A glass of crystal moonshine is set in front of each of you. Your cowboy’s fingers pinch around the sides of the shot, his hand dwarfing the glass as his other hand tugs at his mask. You both tap your shots to the bar before throwing them back. You shake your head at the burn as he lets out a cough.

“Oh that is dead,” He says, lord his voice is so thick when it’s pleased. Rumbling nicely in his throat, you’re desperate to see what it tastes like.

“So,” You draw his eyes back to your face with just one word, “What’s a Manchester boy doing in this shithole?”

He lets out a breath through his teeth, flicking the brim of his hat back to get a better look at you. His eyes make you warm all over in a way that alcohol never could. “Manchester, huh-” He motions for another shot, “You even know where that is, Princess?”

Oh the way he says it, so deep and condescending, but inquisitive, makes a shiver run down your spine. You’d do anything to hear him call you that again. Including answering his question with the minimum amount of sass.

“North of Birmingham, west of Sheffield. Do you need my footie team too before you to take me home?” You smile, tapping your refilled shot against his before downing it. His fingers hesitate on his glass as he looks at you, eyes following your tongue as you lick the last drop of moonshine off your lips. 

He reaches up and takes off his hat, settling it on your head. It’s big and warm, and sits just a little too low on you, but you don’t care, it’s his. His claim on you. He takes his shot clean, pulling his mask back up as he tosses far too much cash on the bar and grabs your hand. 

You barely get to his truck before you’re pressed against it, his hands gripping your face as he presses his lips to yours. Too eager to remember he’s gotta pull his mask off first apparently. It’s warm and cotton-y. Not that you mind. You laugh, feeling bubbly from the moonshine, as he growls and rips his mask off before kissing you again.

And oh, he’s good with his mouth. You can tell by the slide of his lips, the way he holds your face just the way he wants to. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you open eagerly for him, letting him taste the cheap sugary booze you’d been sipping before you saw him. He licks into your mouth, skimming your teeth before twisting his tongue against yours in a way that makes you shiver. His mouth is warm and wet, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. You want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. He tips your head back and back, his hat held to your head by the closed cab door as he crowds you against his truck forcing you to take everything he gives you. 

Your chest is warm and you can feel your blood pumping want through to your fingertips as you twist them into his shirt. You want to be drunk on him, want to feel your head spin as your thoughts turn to cotton. You think this is the best decision you’ve ever made. Especially when his hands leave your face to grab your hips, his leg wedged between yours. He drags your hips to grind against his thigh, all hard muscle and oh you can feel him. The hard line of his cock just at the apex of your movements. It makes all your heat drop to pool between your legs. Mm, he was absolutely a good decision.

“What am I screaming for you?” You murmur, between kisses, desperate to know your cowboy’s name. 

“Simon,” He tells you, ducking to mouth at your neck. “Simon,” he says it again, bites it into your skin, like he’s reminding himself.

“Simon,” you sigh, enjoying the way saying his name makes his hold on you tighten.

He works your hips against his thigh, his lips sucking at your neck before his teeth dig into the blooming bruises. There’s something animal and desperate in his movements, something that speaks to a man who hasn’t had a woman in a long time. Good. You want all that pent up stress, all the need, that he can muster. You make a soft noise at the twitch of your hips, the tingle of need in your own body starting to soak your panties. It’s only when you start to feel that same wetness soaking the denim scraping your thighs that Simon pulls away.

“You drive stick?” He asks, the warmth of his iris consumed by dark black. You tip your head, pull him back to brush his lips against yours. You want him to keep kissing you, his lips just on the right side of chapped and his tongue exploratory. You hold onto his face until he grabs your wrists and pulls you off. “Manual, Princess. Want you in my bed before I fuck ya.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You murmur, eyes fixed on his mouth, “I can drive stick.”

Simon pulls you away from where you’ve been plastered against the truck cab and opens the door. You squeak when he picks you up and sets you on the seat. Your eyes dart to the wet patch on his jeans, then to check out his ass when he leans down to grab his mask off the gravel. Damn.

You pull your door closed as Simon pulls himself into the driver's side of the cab, turning the ignition and switching gears. You always liked the click of the gear shift, but now the engine thrums in your blood, a heady promise of what’s to come. Simon grabs your hand from where it’s settled on your thigh to hold it under his on the gear shift. He shifts up a gear, then drops his hand to your thigh. His hand is big and warm, a bear’s paw gripping your leg, digging his fingers into your skin. You’re glad Amanda convinced you to wear a skirt.

“You shift when I tell you, alrigh’?” Simon asks, one hand sliding under the edge of your skirt as the other turns the wheel to leave the bar's parking lot. You nod quickly, your fingers tight on the stick shift as his skate across the edge of your panties. One thick finger tip drags along your sopping slit, feeling you through your underwear. He gives you the next gear and you pull the shift with a shaky hand, rushing to accommodate him, to show how well you follow directions(to not get the both of you killed if the engine stalls). His fingers don’t move, giving you space as you shift in your seat.

It’s different when you lean back against the seat again. His fingers press against you properly, teasing you through your panties with his thumb against your clit. The feeling of cotton against the sensitive bud, wet and cool from the night air, makes you whine, and push your hips towards his touch. Simon chuckles from the driver’s seat and you feel a wave of heat rush over you.

“Spread your legs love,” He orders, you’re quick to comply, going a step further to shuck your panties so he can touch you properly. After all, you’ve never been one to disregard an order that directly benefits you. Simon’s fingers touch you, spread your sticky slick folds with a pleased noise. He’s got calluses, you can feel the rough edges of them as he drags his fingers over you, and you follow the motion with a slight raise of your hips. “Eager thing, aren’t you?” Simon rumbles, you glance at him, at his lap. As if he’s one to talk.

His cock must be aching from pressing against his zipper like that. He says something you don’t hear, too busy trying to measure his bulge with your eyes. He smacks his fingers against your slit and you jerk your attention back to him. Shift down. Shift down, you can do that. You know how to do that. 

Your clit tingles when his fingers find it, still aching from the smack and desperate for attention. Simon rolls it between his fingers, pinching it enough to be felt before rubbing at it. Then he’s up and down your slit, spreading your slick as it drools from your pussy, lubing his fingers to keep toying with you. You try to keep your mind on his words, try to keep your brain from giving in to the feeling of it. He doesn’t stop rubbing just because you need to shift gears, and it drives you mad.

One thick fingers pushes into your cunt and you whine. Your toes curl as you try to force yourself down against the shallow thrusts he pumps in and out of you. The drag of his callused finger against your walls warms in the pit of your stomach. It’s more than your finger’s ever been but it’s still not enough. You want to feel the stretch of him, you’re sure you’ll need it. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit, your hips following the feeling. He pulls away just enough to add a second finger and you moan. 

The stretch is divine. Friction heat tugging at your entrance, pushing warmth through you with every pump. You do your best to fuck yourself on your cowboy’s fingers as the slick noise fills the cab of the truck. Your breathing is heavy, your whines turned to whimpers. He gives you just enough to make you eager for more. His fingers are slow and dutiful as they thrust into you, keeping you alert for his next command.

You try to reach for his cock, your fingers digging at his belt buckle. Only to have his fingers leave you, his firm hand wrapping around your wrist to put it back on the gear shift.

“Gotta be patient, Princess,” He tells you, “you want somethin’ you ask for it.”

Your fingers tighten, and you spread your legs a little wider. “Make me come,” You tell him, because you don’t think he can do it at this angle, with his eyes on the road.

“Good girl.” The praise shoots through you like lightening, your nerves on fire when his fingers push back into you. Slow and steady is gone, replaced by a pace that makes your head spin. Simon’s fingers curl, hitting the soft spongy spot near your entrance until you’re seeing stars. There’s a tightness in your belly, and a heat that washes over your cunt. He keeps his attention on your hole, your tingling clit ignored in favor of punishing your cunt for your attitude. 

He doesn’t let up when he asks you to down shift. Your brain mush, your hips squirming as your muscles try to figure out what they’re supposed to be doing. You barely manage to get down to the next gear before you’re consumed by the raging heat and tightness his fingers fuck into you. Your whimpers are full blown moans, his name on your lips as you attempt to find the brain cells to beg for him to let you come. It’s all too much, too tight. You can hear the wet squelch of his fingers louder than the blood rushing in your ears, louder than the rumble of the engine.

You feel wet, something dribbling over your cunt, as your head tips back to account for your eyes rolling. Your back arches and all your muscles shudder as Simon’s fingers work you through the slip-splash of wetness. He only slows enough for you to get your bearings. Just enough for you to take in the wetness on the dashboard and soaking the fingers he raises to your mouth. Another downshift, your eyes fixed on him more than the scenery, your tongue swirling around his fingers. 

Simon’s fingers leave your mouth to settle over your hand on the gear shift as you hit a gravel road. It’s so dark out, you could be anywhere, but Simon promised you a bed, and you don’t think a murderer would make you come before killing you. The truck is thrown into park, the engine switched off, your brain catches up just in time for Simon to open your door and pull you out. You’re tugged into a little house, and almost as quickly as the door is closed behind you, you’re set on your knees.

It’s dark in here too, but you can hear the rustle of denim, the groan of a man freeing his hard cock. You know your eyes will adjust, you’re already starting to make out the shadows of moonlight streaming in through the window, but you’re dying to see the monster you’d seen straining against his jeans. Simon’s hand finds your cheek, cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your lower lip.

“Open your mouth love,” He murmurs, “Lemme feel your tongue.”

You follow his command too eagerly. His shadow leans over you, huge in the darkness, and his tongue drags against yours before he pulls back and spits on it. Your breath stops short, your stomach flipping as it starts to kindle a new heat. Simon’s cock slaps against your tongue. It feels heavy, uncut, the skin soft and salty. He drags it over your tongue, barely dipping into your waiting mouth, lubing himself on his own spit. Your head goes a little fuzzy at the thought. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, your cunt aching between your legs. As if he didn’t just get you off all over his truck.

It’s worth a little embarrassment for the way Simon groans at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. He’s heavy on your tongue, weight against your jaw as he feeds you his cock. Inch by inch, so slow you can drag your tongue over the veins that thrum under his skin. Just the taste of him makes you want to buck your hips, and you reach to settle your hands on his thighs when he hits your gag reflex. 

He stills, your fingers digging into muscle and coarse hair. You take steadying breaths through your nose before pushing your head down again. Something bright and ringing like a bell in your head is desperate to know where he stops, to feel him stretching out your throat. You have to swallow, shake your head to find the spot that doesn’t make you gag, not that Simon seems to mind. You think he likes when you pull back, gasping, so you can spit on his fat length and try again. Sucking and bobbing your head as you take him deeper and deeper is the least you can do for this man. That doesn’t mean you don’t feel a swell of pride when your nose finally buries itself in the curls at the base of his cock.

Simon’s hand comes around to cup the back of your head, holding you there. You glance up at him, his eyes shining in the low light. “Good fucking girl,” He growls out, “Just made to take my cock aren’t ya?”

You hum around his length, roll your tongue against him as best you can. His fingers grip your hair and pull you back, your spit slicking his length even with just moonlight setting the room aglow. Simon holds you at the tip, letting you circle it with your tongue, sucking and swallowing down the pre-come that drools from him. Simon’s hips buck, a soft swear dropping from his lips as you take the unexpected inch. His hand leaves the back of your head, fixing his hat where it’s started to tip off you and gripping the sides of your head. You lean back to look up at him, blinking the static of dark vision from your eyes. 

“Gonna fuck this pretty face,” Simon tells you, his voice rough, like his vocal cords have been dragged through gravel. Despite the lack of tone, you know it’s a question, one you give a short nod to.

The first thrust of his hips is gentle, testing. You breathe through your nose, let him get acquainted with your gag reflex as you get used to the in and out feeling. Simon holds your head still, inching his cock deeper into your throat with each thrust. You hold your tongue flat against the underside of his heavy length, feeling the pulse of blood, the twitch of muscle as he works himself faster and deeper. 

Your throat constricts and Simon pauses, before his hands yank you sharply, bypassing your gag and nestling you at the base of his cock. Your eyes water, your nose starting to run as your throat works around the intrusion. He stretches your throat around his thick cock, you can feel the press of him, uncomfortable but dripping warmth down your spine. Simon pulls you off, and you gasp, suck in a breath as you watch spit string between your lips and his cock. You get one good breath in before he’s fucking your face in earnest.

You whine around the fat cock testing the ache in your jaw as Simon’s hips snap against your lips. His balls slap against your chin, heavy and already pulling tight. You do your best to keep your mouth open, lips sucking at him as he moves. There’s an ache between your legs, a voice in the back of your mind that wishes it was your pussy getting this treatment. You can only imagine how deeply he’d hit you, the stretch of your lips around his cock making you prickle with ideas of the way he’d split your cunt open.

Simon pulls back with a low groan, and come hits your tongue before he’s pushing back in. You blink the tears from your eyes, swallowing as best you can as he comes down your throat. It’s a lot, enough that your hands leave his thighs to cup under your chin, waiting to catch the drool and spend that you’re sure is dripping from between your lips. Warm and bitter, you wonder what he’s been eating since he came to town, if he needs someone to put vegetables on his plate. He pulls his cock out of your mouth and you tip your head back, swallowing the hot come still on your tongue. You open your mouth, tongue out to let him see that you’re empty.

Simon is silent. Something in his shining eyes seems to mirror yours. His thumb strokes over your tongue, with a hum that makes you think he’s got something on his mind. It feels almost sweet, almost affectionate, as his fingers stroke over your jaw. He crouches in front of you, and his hands leave you, only to reappear on your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder as he stands with nothing more than a grunt. His shoulder is broad and warm under your stomach, you drag your hands up the corded muscles of his back and feel a pulse of attraction thrum through the heat simmering in your stomach. Fuck, he’s strong.

You’re tossed onto what must be his bed. You bounce on the mattress and attempt to get your bearings in the low light. Simon’s hat tumbles off your head, and you glance about in the darkness for it. The lamp next to the bed clicks on and you flinch at the sudden rush of light. The wash of warm light is too much after so long in the dark, but you’re faster adjusting to this than the darkness. Simon settles a hand on your thigh, pulling you close as he settles on the bed beside you.

“On me love,” He murmurs and you drag your eyes to his face, “wanna see when you ride my face.”

Oh. He isn’t wearing his mask. His eyes are desperate, brows drawn low to shadow the watery browns that stare at you. His nose looks like it’s been broken one too many times, and there’s a scar running across his lips that tugs a little too much of his teeth into such a pretty picture. There’s something soft to him though, something aching in the length of his jaw that makes you want to hold him close. You must hesitate, must take too long looking at him.

“Tongue still works,” He teases you, the pink muscle dragging over the split in his lip, his teeth.

“You’re awfully pretty to be wearing a mask,” You smile, moving to settle your knees on either side of his ears. (Big enough ears you think he must’ve had to grow into them) Simon hums, his hands coming to grip your thighs and pull you down against his mouth. You can see pink starting to creep over his cheeks even as his tongue drags along your slit. The thought that Simon must not take compliments easily is erased from your mind as his lips close around your clit and suck hard.

The electric feeling jerks through your body. So much time on your knees worshiping a cock that should have been splitting you open left you buzzing and now you’re getting some well deserved relief. Simon’s tongue is hot as it splits your folds, wiggling to lap at the slick you’d been drooling before rolling against your clit. Each touch to the sensitive bud sends another zap of pleasure ripping up your spine. You whimper, your chest heaving with breaths you hardly have the chance to take with the way he sucks at you. One of Simon’s hands leaves you, fishing around on the bed beside you. You frown down at him, pout really, until you feel his hat settle on your head again.

“Gotta keep your- your claim on me?” You ask, though you don’t think your tone is quite right. Simon hums under you, a groan of assent. He tips his head, dragging long strokes of his tongue over your slit. You’re too worked up already, his mouth feels like a furnace, his tongue touches you like a brand. Your hips move on their own, following the course of Simon’s tongue, your clit bumping against his nose as you grind yourself against his mouth. Your fingers hold your skirt up out of the way, you may as well be planning to shred the thing with how tightly your fingers dig into the fabric. 

Simon stares up at you, his eyes closing with a satisfied groan as you grind a little more firmly against his tongue. Having his attention on you like this makes your stomach clench. You can feel his smile, feel his teeth just graze over your clit, teasing before he’s sucking at it. You squeeze his head between your thighs, half formed praises on your tongue as you feel your muscles start to tremble from the strain of your tightening orgasm. 

The longer he licks you the less you can hear your own thoughts, too consumed by the satisfied groans and slurping sounds between your legs. Simon eats you like a starving man getting his first meal. His hands move to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers, and spreading you open just to feel you. Your slick is smeared over his mouth, smeared over your thighs where his stubble has dragged it across your skin. You feel wet and warm, your cunt tingling on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. His tongue wiggles its way into your hole and you break.

“Fuck me.” You whine, your words almost sobs as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if it’s a demand or simply a needy expletive. It doesn’t stop Simon from sucking your clit hard, his tongue swirling around the bud until your back arches and the tension in your stomach bleeds out in a rush of shivers and moans. Your pleasure coursing through you as Simon licks and sucks at your cunt until you’re jerking at the new sensitivity.

Simon holds your hips, drags you down to sit on his stomach, the firm muscle flexing as your legs are forced further apart by the sheer width of the man. He drags your sensitive pussy against his stomach, letting the blond hair tickle your clit. You pout, settle your hands on his chest to hold yourself steady with even when your muscles still shiver with every twitch of your hips.

His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt when you demonstrate you can grind by yourself. Simon tugs it up over your head and you happily assist in undressing. He’s quicker with your bra, unhooking the clasp before you can shrug the straps off. Simons big hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. The touch is firm, appreciative, he squeezes the soft skin and you whine.

“Lemme ‘ear it again, Princess.” Simon rumbles. You can feel his voice low in his chest. His hands drop back to your hips to guide you. You don’t need to think to know what he’s asking.

“Fuck me Simon,” You breath, leaning to kiss him. You pull your tongue over his lips, tip your head to clean your come off his face. His mouth opens to catch your tongue, pushing his own to meet yours as you dip it between his lips. His hands raise your hips, angling you to notch his cockhead against your entrance. 

You know this part, know the press of your hips down onto him, the breathless anticipation as he slowly stretches you. You must have forgotten how big he was on your tongue. You drop your head to rest your forehead against Simon’s cheek, the stretch of just his head making your eyes start to roll. His fingers stroke down your back, a comfort as you ease yourself down his length. Your every breath feels like it’s softened by a moan. The stretch of him burning against your entrance, his cock dragging against your gummy walls. You feel so tight around him you can feel the curve of his dick, the veins that line it, the ridge of his thick head. 

Your legs still shake from your orgasm. If it weren’t for Simon’s hands holding you, you would’ve sunk down to the base of his cock just from the inability to hold yourself up. You attempt to push yourself up from the way you’ve cuddled close to your cowboy, and he holds you tight. The hand which had been petting down your back presses firm between your shoulders, his other arm wrapping over your him. You wonder- and then he thrusts the rest of his fat length into you and you don’t wonder anything else.

You all but collapse on his chest, his arm tight on the small of your back, arches your hips up as you bury your face against his neck. You can feel the mattress dip where he plants his feet before you feel the drag of his cock out of you, and the sweet friction of it sliding back home inside you. You dig your teeth into Simon’s shoulder, the scarred skin dipping under your bite as he fucks up into you.

Each stroke of his cock is like a punch in your stomach. The stretch of your cunt around him, his cockhead hitting your sweet spot every time it nudges your entrance, only adds to the devastating length of him. Your eyes roll, your voice tight when you have the air to let it escape you. He hits something inside you that almost hurts with how good it feels, the electricity of it shivering up your spine and tightening your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to push your hips back into the feeling.

“Tha’s it, sweet’eart,” Simon murmurs in your ears, “Jus’ like that.”

You whine at the praise, at the groan that follows it. He keeps you held so tightly against him, your nipples dragging against his firm chest with each thrust. You try to kiss at his neck, lips parting to pant with each pull of his cock. He fills you so full and deep you can hardly think. You’ve never had anyone hold you like this, never had anyone fuck you with the same sort of intense desperation. Simon’s lips press to your temple, his hips snapping to meet your weak thrusts with the wet squelching sounds of pleasure following.

Trying to draw a full breath is too much, you moan and squeak against Simon’s skin. Your lips travel over the scarred flesh, your teeth desperate to mark, to hold onto something as your fingers curl against his firm chest. There’s nothing for you to do but hold on and let this man take his pleasure from your body. Your hips stutter, the pleasure hitting you too tightly to keep your muscles moving. The tension in your muscles doesn’t stop Simon’s movements. His groans turn to growls, his lips moving with silent praise as he pistons into your clenching cunt. 

The drag of his skin against your soft walls, the burn of friction, coupled with the deep punch of his cock drives you to the edge and holds you there. Every twitch and movement making sparks of pleasure light up your skin. Your muscles shake with the burn of contraction, the ache of being split open. Your cunt burns with desperate heat, and you snake one of your hands down to rub tight circles over your clit. It doesn’t take much for you to fall apart. Your cunt flutters, sucking at Simon’s cock as the attention to your clit shoots up your spine and melts over your muscles. You fall apart, and just as sincerely you fall against Simon’s chest, panting and whimpering his name on every stroke.

He fills you fast, his cock stilled inside your cunt as you feel it twitch. Heat fills you, burns you, marks you from the inside. Simon moans low in the back of his throat. He gives a few short thrusts, enjoying the clutch of your pussy, as you settle into the floating feeling of satisfaction. He pulls out and you feel his come drip out of your hole, sliding through your folds to pool against his softening cock.

"What is your favorite footie team?" Simon asks once he's found his breath. You yawn, wiggling to cuddle against him.

"Reds," You murmur, and hear him snort out a short laugh.

"Liverpool?"

"Can't all be Man U fans," You sigh, and Ghost thinks your voice must be like honey the way it sticks to his mind, "Someone's gotta win games."

Ghost bites down his smile, feeling the way you unspool against him. Your body going lax and your breathing evening out. Do you trust him so readily that you'd fall asleep like this? You barely know him, hell he doesn't even know your name, but here you are.

“Gonna keep you,” He tells you, it feels like speaking sin into the world, tainting this perfect thing that's fallen into his lap, but he's too greedy to care, “Not le’in’ you go, can’t.”

You don’t answer him with anything more than a half asleep hum. Your lashes flutter against his skin, your face pressed against his neck. Wrapped around him with all the comfort he could ask for. Ghost swallows, turns his head to press his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and the sweat of sex. Such a pretty thing to fall into his arms so willingly. You compliment him too well, know what he wants before he asks for it. He’d be a fool to let you go. No, he’s keeping you, you’re the sort of girl men chase after with wedding rings, and he can already hear the bells ringing for him.

[chimielie]

“I really like this place,” Yachi says brightly, “the owner is really nice, and he doesn’t mind when I take ten minutes to decide what I want. Once I took twenty minutes and he actually just brought me food, like, decided for me, and at first I thought that was so nice! Then I got worried that maybe I should be upset that he didn’t let me choose, but then I remembered that I could just come here again so I wasn’t missing out on anything. The food was really good, anyway.”

You hover between the cool interior of the restaurant and the summer daylight as she speaks, unwilling to walk away even though she’s holding the door open and probably letting all the cold air out. With a short yelp, she realizes how long the two of you have been standing there and crosses inside. You stand behind her in the line behind the counter, shuffling forward as you read the posted menu.

“I think I’m gonna get the salmon,” you decide. “Hey, so how are things with that girl you’ve been seeing?”

“They’ve been good!” You’re about three people away from the counter, but the first one is line is like, a really huge guy with a booming voice who has been talking forever. Maybe he knows the cashier? “She’s really pretty, and she doesn’t mind or get impatient when I’m anxious. She also gets anxious!”

“That’s great?” You pat her on the shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, Yachi.”

“Me too,” she beams at you. “What about you? Have you met anyone?”

“No,” you snort. “I’m on the apps. So dating is basically a cesspool.” The giant guy who was ordering seems to be done now, but he’s still talking, being slowly dragged away by the elbow by a guy in a cardigan and glasses. You slide your phone out of your pocket and open your dating profile. “See?”

At that moment, your phone pings with a new notification.

Atsumu liked you!

He’s not… bad looking. If you saw him in real life, you’d probably hide behind a bench or something and stalk him with your eyes just so you could look at him as long as you wanted, actually.

He’s your age, a pro volleyball player, his hair dark where it’s been shaved short on the sides but dyed blond up top. He has a kind of sardonic, dead-eyed expression in all of his photos that you think is really funny.

My love language is… arguing in missionary.

You smother a laugh.

“He’s kind of cute!” Yachi peers at your phone. “Kind of scary…”

“Please, I could beat him up,” you laugh. “I don’t know, he’s fine, I guess.”

You swipe left. He’s hot, but definitely a fuckboy. You’ve reached the counter, anyway, and a pro athlete on the apps is like, so many red flags.

You look up at the cashier.

You look down at your phone and click undo. The profile reappears.

You look up at the cashier.

“Fine, you guess?” Scowls Atsumu, 23, (volley)baller. Or maybe not, considering his Onigiri Miya apron. “Welcome to Onigiri Miya, what can I get for ya. Geez.”

He talks in Kansai dialect, you note, which you’ve always thought is melodic. Pretty.

In real life, Atsumu is very pretty. His eyes have midtones of honey and amber that don’t show up on photo and give him a sparkling dimension that sort of detracts from his aura of evil. Even though he’s scowling at you, you want to ruffle his hair and bite his cheek.

“Um, I’ll have the salmon ball,” you say. “And, yeah. I guess.”

He scribbles so hard he breaks the tip of his pencil. With a grunt of disgust, he tosses both notepad and pencil over his shoulder.

“What, pro athlete not good enough for ya?” He points at Yachi, who squeaks. “And for ya?”

“What?” She says, looking terrified. You put a bracing hand on her shoulder.

“Your order,” he drawls.

“Oh! I don’t know.”

“Two salmon balls!” He yells to the back. “‘S on the house.”

“What?” Yachi gasps. “We couldn’t possibly—”

“You’re clearly not a professional athlete,” you say. “You’re a cashier.”

“This is charity work!” He snaps. “My teammate is right over there if ya need proof. I’m Miya Atsumu—this is my brother’s shop. I help him out on my off days.” He emphasizes his family name, underlining it on his apron with a finger.

That’s really sweet. You swoon a little inside, then shake yourself.

“You’re off every time this time this week?”

“Yeah, about,” he turns and bends over to grab his hastily discarded notepad. You do not make a secret of checking out his ass and quirk your lips into a smile when he turns back around, one he matches with reckless abandon. He has nice teeth, not perfectly straight, that imply that maybe he didn’t need braces growing up.

“Let me repay you for the meal,” you put a hand on the counter and lean across it, biting your lip, stomach singing with nerves. “Eight, next week?”

“Nah,” he shrugs you off, gestures for you to move along so he can get to the next customer in line. Your stomach drops, and so must your face. “Too far away. I’ll see ya this Friday for dinner.”

[cloudwhisper23]

Guess who did another art trade with @pixlokita? This one's about their Werebunny AU! Hope y'all enjoy!

Warning: 11k words

Jeremy cursed as he dropped the screwdriver. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, buddy.”

He put pressure on the gushing stream of blood coming from his thumb muttering to himself about how dumb he was. Mangle’s ear flopped as they tilted their two heads in confusion.

“I’m okay, bud.” Jeremy tried to flash a smile, but the blood leaking down his wrist was too distracting. “Okay, I need to find a sink or something.”

Standing up made Jeremy dizzy, but he managed to get to a wall and lean against it as he made his way to the kitchen. “I could get fired for this, you know,” he remarked to the animatronic clinging to the ceiling above him as he walked. “We’re not supposed to tamper with the animatronics at all, and clearly, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The beeping and static overhead did not give any indication that they felt anything in regard to his response.

Jeremy stumbled. “Whoa, I think I need to sit down for a second…” He slid down the wall as black spots danced across his vision.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before a heavy weight dropped into his lap and cold plastic pressed against the side of his face. “Augh! I’m okay, Mango! I’m fine!” Jeremy batted at the white plastic with both hands, smearing blood across their face.

“I, uh. I need to get up, bud.”

The mangled (and now bloody) fox animatronic tilted their two heads yet again, seeming to be unable to understand what Jeremy wanted.

“Can you…?” Jeremy tried to shift his weight beneath the pile of metal in his lap.

Mangle’s ears lifted, and they crept onto the floor, offering a paw to help Jeremy get up.

“Um, thanks buddy.” Jeremy still wasn’t sure why the animatronic was so fond of him, but he’d found himself returning the favor whenever possible. The company had long given up on repairing Mangle, but Jeremy wanted to help them look nice. Just like Ramona and Becky for me, he thought to himself.

Shaking away the fondness from the memory, Jeremy let his weight shift onto the animatronic. Static buzzed loudly out of Mangle’s voicebox, but they hardly bent under his weight. Jeremy decided that washing out the wound could wait until he was home. For now, he needed to clean up the mess he’d made in the pizzeria.

The wrapped bandage itched. Jeremy had wrapped a ton of gauze around his hand and refused to explain to anybody what had happened. At least, not in any detail.

Ramona had glanced at it with suspicion the last time they talked, but she never liked to pry. She told him that if he changed his bandage at her apartment, he wasn’t allowed to get blood everywhere. “It will stain the countertops,” Ramona said matter-of-factly.

So Jeremy had gotten away with no one saying anything. But the longer he left it, the more it itched and burned. He flicked through the cameras without really thinking about it, hardly remembering to wind the music box on time.

His hand burned, and when Jeremy got home from his shift, he ripped it free and turned the spigot on, running cold water over his scabby and swollen skin. Jeremy knew he probably should’ve gone to an actual doctor about his injury, but he figured that stitches couldn’t be too hard, and it seemed like the skin itself was healing fine.

Maybe he got an infection from the cut though. Jeremy wasn’t very good at remembering the medical advice Becky gave him, much less how to clean a cut properly. But the skin itself looked fine. There was something shimmery beneath it, which Jeremy could almost ignore if it didn’t make his skin burn so badly.

Jeremy’s dog whined at his feet, impatient for his morning meal. “Just a minute, Percy.” Jeremy tore the thread out of his injury, glad that the skin had started to seal itself back together.

He carefully rewrapped the injury, glad that the itching had gone away a little bit, at least. Jeremy kicked his shoes off and loosened his tie as he went over to fill Percy’s food bowl and check on the water level. “Doing good there, bud? I need a nap first, but I’ll walk you in a bit.”

Jeremy yawned, scratching at his head to loosen the pressure after he removed his ponytail. “Just… one… a quick nap…”

He stumbled forward, faceplanting into the floor as consciousness slipped away. Percy whined, nudging at his face and licking it as his spine started to bend and elongate, fur sprouting from his hands and curled claws burst from his fingertips.

Percy growled at the intrusion of the new characteristics, but he stuck by Jeremy’s side as his eyes rolled back and his ears melded back into the sides of his head to make room for longer, fluffier ears more equipped for a rabbit. And that was what Jeremy’s body was shifting into. He was growing larger, his clothes no longer enough to hold the mass of his entire body.

Jeremy’s claws lashed out at Percy, tearing the fur and skin of his dog. Percy whimpered, backing away to get out of his space as his nose wrinkled and twitched rapidly, taking in the surroundings in a new way. His ears folded back as a deeper growl vibrated in his throat.

Percy scurried away, not quickly enough as Jeremy bounded forward and sank his teeth into the poor dog’s back. Percy barked, a frightened noise as he tried to squirm free from Jeremy’s mouth. Jeremy gnawed for a few moments before releasing the dog, blood dripping down his fur.

Percy escaped and rushed into Jeremy’s bedroom, hiding under his owner’s blankets as he trembled.

Jeremy’s nose twitched again, nosing against his front door. Offended by the obstacle in his way, Jeremy’s claws dug deep into the hardwood, scratching a jagged hole in the floor and part of the door.

When Jeremy finally came to, his clothes were tattered and hanging off his body, and his mouth was full of blood. Dazed, he got to his feet and immediately winced as splinters dug into his bare skin. What happened? He blinked at his surroundings, startled to see claw marks in the furniture and the floor. Blood smeared across the floor by the couch, which was presumably where he’d taken his nap…

Had he ever laid down for the nap? Jeremy couldn’t recall, trying to remember and think about what could’ve possibly happened while he was asleep. He spat the blood out of his mouth, wiping at his mouth, only to realize that there was blood under his fingernails and all over his hands.

“Percy?” he called out tentatively, hating how gravelly his voice came out.

Surely nothing had happened to his dog, right? Jeremy cautiously stepped across the floor as he searched for his dog. The clumps of fur were not a promising sight as he looked around his house.

“Percy?” Jeremy tried to call out again, but his voice failed him.

He felt very ill, flicking the light on in his bathroom to stare at his very pale, bloodied face. Nothing ached or hurt, but he was absolutely covered in blood.

Jeremy splashed his face with water, scrubbing at the blood staining his face and hands, desperate to get the sight out of his head. Pieces of his uniform slid down his arms into the water of the sink.

What had even happened?

The shower afterward was completely necessary, and Jeremy felt feverish from everything that had happened. His memory was beginning to return, although he did not feel that he’d been in control for most of it, feeling defensive enough to lash out at Percy, who’d only been trying to help.

The bloodstained lump on his bed was something he pointedly made himself ignore when grabbing underwear and socks. He needed more time before he could try to deal with that.

Tears built up in his throat as he grabbed his spare uniform from the shelf by the door and made sure it was fully intact for his shift that night. At least there was something that hadn’t completely gone wrong.

I need a cup of coffee or something, Jeremy thought to himself, shuddering. But he did not feel comfortable enough to do much in his own home, not with reminders of his outburst everywhere.

He avoided his apartment for the better part of a week after that, knowing that it wasn’t healthy to cope by avoiding what happened, but he just couldn’t go back, knowing what he’d done to Percy.

By Wednesday’s shift, Jeremy was properly jittery as he clocked in for work and walked down to the office. The music box was fully wound, as Scott sat in the chair, patiently waiting for him with a friendly smile. “Hiya Jeremy!”

“You sticking around today?” Jeremy asked? He knew about Scott’s tendency to kind of just come in during shifts and stick around. Phil said it was because his own work was boring, and besides, Scott loved being helpful, despite being 7 years old.

“Yep! I’ll keep that nasty balloon boy away!” Scott chirped cheerfully.

“Well, that’s fantastic, buddy. Thanks for that.” Jeremy squatted down to squint at the camera screens, his typical habit to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

“Is your hand all better now?” Scott asked.

“Huh?” Jeremy glanced up from the cameras, momentarily distracted.

“Well, Dad said you’d done something to your hand, and we could all see the bandages you’d put over it. ‘Course, he said it was none of our business since you didn’t file any paperwork for it, but-“

“You just can’t keep your nose out of it, can you?” Jeremy shook his head, flipping through the cameras again to make sure the toys were in their places.

The familiar sound of Mangle creeping around in the vents was not as reassuring as it used to be. And Mangle didn’t really like the other employees either. Jeremy had no idea if Scott and Mangle got along even.

“Get your mask ready,” Jeremy said quietly, checking the vent light. Sure enough, Mangle peered into the room from the vent as he shoved the Freddy head over Scott’s head.

“I can do it myself!” Scott exclaimed, his voice muffled by the fabric. “Wait, where’s your mask?”

Jeremy crouched by the vent and reached a hand out to touch the cool plastic of Mangle’s mask. The animatronic fox let out a series of happy clicks, nudging harder into his hand before ducking away to presumably wander around the pizzeria some more.

“How did you not die?” Scott asked, tearing the Freddy head off to drop it back on the corner of the desk. He flipped through the cameras while waiting for an answer, stopping to wind the music box.

“Mangle likes me,” Jeremy shrugged, peering at the cameras over Scott’s head. “Looks like a quiet shift today.”

“Yeah, if Mangle counts as a quiet shift,” Scott muttered, dropping the monitor back to the desk. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” Jeremy replied.

“You night guards are so weird. My dad got all affectionate about Foxy, even though he had to pull out the stun gun for him. Masks don’t work on all of them, and my dad had to have all the affection for the one most likely to kill him.” Scott eyed Jeremy wearily. “Kind of like you, actually.”

“Thanks. Maybe Foxy wouldn’t have killed your dad, you know.” Jeremy glanced at the stage camera again. Toy Bonnie was noticeably absent, but there was nothing to worry about yet.

“He would’ve. He tried constantly.” Scott ducked under the desk, and Jeremy heard faint mechanical laughter before a loud clanging noise. Balloon Boy sprinted out of the room with one of the masks in his hand.

“Aw, you gotta be kidding,” Jeremy sighed as Scott stared after the animatronic. “If anything comes in here, you get the mask.”

“But it’s-“

“I’m the night guard, buddy.” Jeremy shook his head, flipping through the cameras. There. Toy Bonnie had slipped into a party room. “I gotta keep you safe, first and foremost.”

“They would never hurt a kid,” Scott muttered, staring into the hallway, hands clenched tightly around his flashlight.

“Don’t even think about going after him, Scott.” Jeremy wound the music box, not sparing a glance at the kid. “There’s too many factors out there, and you know exactly what Phil would say.”

“Yeah yeah.” Scott scowled. “He’s never taken a mask before.”

“First time for everything,” Jeremy sighed, rubbing his eyes. He’d been feeling more exhausted lately, but that was from nightmares. He really needed to get better sleep.

“Bonnie,” Scott whispered, dropping the flashlight to reach for the mask. His hands trembled, and Jeremy was reminded that Scott was still a little kid.

He heard the sound of Toy Bonnie crawling out of the vent, but instead of reaching for Jeremy, Toy Bonnie went for Scott, who hadn’t finished putting the mask on.

“Wait, hang on-“ Jeremy whacked the animatronic’s arm with the camera monitor in his hands. The animatronic didn’t spare him a glance as it pulled Scott across the desk by his shirt. “Leave him alone! Hey!” Jeremy’s yelling turned into a growl as his shirt ripped to allow room for him to grow larger and larger.

The animatronic rabbit twitched backward, seemingly surprised and maybe even a little afraid. However, Jeremy’s transformation did not seem to make Toy Bonnie more inclined to let Scott go. If anything, Toy Bonnie pulled the kid closer as he backed away from the desk.

Jeremy’s own ears flattened against his head as he vaulted over the desk to pry Scott free from the animatronic’s grasp. The sound of ripping fabric didn’t deter the giant golden rabbit. His focus fixed on what he saw as a danger, and his teeth broke through the cheap plastic easily, puncturing fluid containers and severing wires.

Toy Bonnie’s screech echoed, even as it abruptly cut off by Jeremy destroying the voicebox. Black shimmering liquid dripped down Jeremy’s maw as he stalked forward, whiskers twitching as he sensed more animatronics beginning to stir.

Scott got to his feet wearily, tugging his torn shirt back to its place. He silently pressed himself against the wall behind him, knowing better than to make any sudden moves as he placed the Bonnie head on the floor. It would do him no good to appear as a threat.

Scott’s decision to not look like the old purple rabbit seemed to prove right as an animatronic with torn fabric arms and exposed wires stalked his way into the hallway to investigate. His ears seemed to move much easier than Toy Bonnie’s as they swiveled to express fear, even without a proper face to do so.

Jeremy did not seem to recognize the distinction, growling at the new opponent in his space. Bonnie’s head tilted to the side before he turned to race down the hallway with heavy echoing steps. Jeremy bounded after him, much faster as his limbs were more natural, taking on extra power after Jeremy’s transition into a larger, more predatory form.

Bonnie spared no time in his own fearful screech, something that was answered with a deep, ominous growl. Scott, somehow still unafraid, followed the fighting rabbits to investigate.

The giant golden rabbit towered over the animatronic standing in his way, a similarly colored animatronic bear with no pupils. The bear’s ears wiggled as it set in place, a firm grip around Jeremy’s wrist to stop him from striking out with claws.

A pressure built up in the back of Scott’s head as images and unspoken words forced their way into his head. Based on the way the giant bunny was twitching and shaking his head, it appeared he wasn’t the only one. The angry bunny let out an outraged whine as he was tossed against a wall with seemingly no effort. The unspoken command lingered in the air as the rabbit dug into the tiles to launch himself toward the exit door.

The golden bear turned to Scott, who’d finally gained the sense of mind to realize that maybe the animatronic would turn on him. He gasped out a frightened breath before the barely tangible forms of two children roughly his age appeared in front of him. The girl tried to give him a reassuring smile as the boy stared down the hallway where the rabbit had disappeared. He picked up the night guard hat with what appeared to be disinterest, before crushing it into a tight ball.

“Bad rabbit,” he said softly.

The girl nodded. “We’ll keep you safe until 6 a.m., okay?”

Scott brightened at that. Nothing could hurt him now, especially with the animatronics seeming to avoid the back area he’d ended up in. Bonnie peered at him with red LEDs before slowly making his way back into the corridor, presumably to continue nosing around like the rabbit he was.

Ramona hated to be this nosy. She did. Really. But when Jeremy wasn’t around and missed their weekly coffee, she had the right to be suspicious. Especially after that pizzeria started asking for more help again. Night shift position. That was what Jeremy’s job was. Which meant the first step was seeing if he’d quit.

“Jeremy!” Ramona called, knocking harshly at his door.

When she got no answer, she started peering in the windows, looking for some indication that something had happened. The curtains were drawn, though, so she couldn’t see into the house. He’s lucky I keep a spare key, Ramona thought to herself as she let herself into the house.

“Jeremy?” Ramona called into the house, trying not to gasp at the ripped-up floorboards and tattered furniture. “Jer, are you home?”

Stepping over the destroyed floorboards, she peered at the bloodstained carpet, feeling a flicker of concern. “Jeremy?” She knew her voice was getting louder as she became more afraid of what had happened to her brother.

A whimper from Jeremy’s bedroom made her whirl around and rush to the room. “Percy?”

Jeremy’s dog had nestled underneath his blanket, soaking them so thoroughly with blood. It was Percy’s blood, she thought to herself, approaching her brother’s injured dog cautiously. “Hey, Percy. It’s okay. It’s me, remember? Auntie Mona?”

Percy whined again, blinking through the blood on his face.

“Alright,” Ramona took a deep breath. “Perce, how do you feel about coming to stay with me for a while? Looks like you might need it pretty badly.”

This was decidedly not a good sign.

It had to be raining every day this week, didn’t it? Michael glowered at the clouds, hating every moment of the weather that made his skin itch and burn. He couldn’t go outside, not for anything.

It was lucky Michael could even bear a shower anymore.

The bills on his table protested his refusal to go outside, of course. He’d already been fired from two jobs for refusing to work on days when it rained. He’d lost a few more interview opportunities for cancelling last minute because of the rain.

Mike’s eyes drifted back to the newspaper advertisement. Much as he hated to admit it, Freddy’s was probably the only job that would not care if he skipped a shift because of rain.

Still, he didn’t want to work at Freddy’s under any circumstances. Not after the… incident…

Michael ripped his gaze away from the newspaper, the memories already making him feel ill. The letter on the edge of his table sat untouched. He didn’t want to know what his father wanted either. He’d rather stand in a thunderstorm than see what his father needed from him this time.

That might be the only option, he thought duly, eyeing his overflowing trashcan. With a painful sigh, Michael yanked his raincoat from the rack and slung it across his shoulders. The hood pulled tight over his head, making his scalp burn. He retrieved his umbrella from behind the sofa (how had it gotten there?) before compacting the trash to make all of his garbage fit in the bag.

With only another moment of hesitation, Michael twisted the doorknob and stepped outside.

“Well, fancy that! Michael Schmidt out in the rain! I thought you were a witch or something with the way you avoided water!” Michael’s elderly neighbor called out, unphased by the rain like she always was.

“Good afternoon, Miss Wess,” Michael replied politely.

“I don’t know about good,” Miss Wess wrinkled her nose. “Poor Logan just can’t handle this type of weather. Kind of like you, actually.”

Michael forced a smile, glancing at the irritated cat at Mis Wess’ feet. His tail drooped as he glowered at the puddles on the sidewalk. “We can’t all be unbothered by the weather like you are, Miss Wess.”

“We’ve known each other long enough, dear. Call me Beverly.”

Michael didn’t reply after that, opting to walk toward the dumpster on the street corner, knowing she wouldn’t follow him.

“You know, a handsome man like you could find a woman easily! I’m sure she’d be more than happy to handle chores like going outside in the rain!” Miss Wess called cheerfully before heading back into her house for the sake of her poor cat.

Michael did not need a girlfriend. He did not want a girlfriend. He did not deserve to be loved, after all. That ship sailed a long time ago, he thought bitterly, shuddering as he felt his damp hair on his face.

The letter on the table mocked him as he threw his wet coat over a chair, water splashing on the surface of the paper. He ignored it, more concerned about tearing the damp shirt off his body, frantically rushing to grab a towel to dry his hair as well.

The shirt went in the sink as Michael sank to his knees sobbing into the towel. Maybe he should’ve just bit the bullet and opened the letter from his father, but now it was near impossible to even imagine it.

He glanced at the bills again with a pained groan later that night. He really needed to get a job.

It’s my own fault. I suppose Freddy’s would be the only place that would hire me at this point. With a very aggravated groan, Michael dialed the number on the newspaper clipping.

“Uh, hello? Hello, hello?” The voice at the other end seemed distracted and maybe even a little nervous. “You’ve, uh, reached Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. How may I help you today?”

“Hi, this is Michael. Urm. Michael Schmidt. I saw your ad in the newspaper? I was wondering if I could apply for the night guard position.”

“Oh, you were?” The guy chuckled a little. “Well, that, uh. That’d be great! When could you come in to interview?”

“Um…” Michael tried to think. “Do you know when the rain is supposed to stop?”

“Hmm, let’s see…” Michael heard some rustling noises as the guy on the other end of the phone presumably checked the forecast. “Well, it’s uh. It’s supposed to be done raining tomorrow afternoon. Will you be able to come in tomorrow?”

“Yes. Does three o’clock work?” Michael asked.

“Uh, sure! I’ll mark you down for three o’clock. I’ll also ask that you bring a copy of your resume, uh, a driver’s license or passport, and uh. No, that about covers it. You’ll be wanting to look for a guy called Lloyd. I’ll er, I’ll check to see that he’s in tomorrow, hang on.”

There were more rustling noises. “Yep! We’re in luck, he’ll be here. So you’ll want to come in and talk to Lloyd, and he’ll interview you for the job. Sound okay with you?”

“Yes, that sounds fine.” Michael found himself twisting the phone cord tightly around his finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”

“Nope! I actually don’t work that shift. But uh, I’ll see you some other time. If you get the job, that is.” He chuckled again. “I’ll uh, catch you on the flipside!”

“Goodbye-“ Michael started to say as the other man hung up on him. Weird.

Well, a job interview seemed promising enough. That was how it always sounded though. The trick was keeping the job, really.

Still, Michael had to at least keep this job through a paycheck or two. Maybe the rain would properly let up enough for him to keep the job long enough to pay off his bills.

The next morning, Michael woke up relieved to hear water dripping from the roof. There was no sound of rain pouring from the actual sky, just the leftovers from the day before. Slightly hopeful about how things were turning out, Michael went to brush his teeth and get prepared for the day.

“Someone’s energized today!” Miss Wess called when Michael went for a short walk that morning.

“No reason not to!” he called back. “The rain’s stopped.”

“You and Logan both seem pleased today.” Miss Wess shook her head, smiling slightly. “Michael dear, do you happen to have a bit of time this morning to come have a chat?”

“I suppose…” Michael considered it for a moment. “So long as it’s only during the morning, I think that’d be fine.”

“Great! Come right on in when you’re finished with your walk then.”

Odd… Michael shook his head, continuing his walk while he still felt the light joy in his chest.

When he got to Miss Wess’ house, she offered him a cup of tea. “Freshly brewed!”

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing too crazy. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?” Miss Wess asked, sipping at her own cup of tea.

“No…?” Michael sat uncomfortably with his tea in hand. “Why?”

“Well, I’m going on a trip with my daughter next week, and I need someone to watch Logan here! He’d get so lonely without me here.”

Logan seemed disinclined to acknowledge Miss Wess’ words, instead choosing to jump onto Michael’s lap and startle him.

“Fancy that, he already likes you!” Miss Wess exclaimed as Logan put his front paws against Michael’s chest to sniff his face for a moment before licking it.

“Ah! I can see that.” Michael gently pushed Logan off of his lap. “So you want me to cat sit for you?”

“Only if you’re willing to. I can find someone else if you don’t want to, but I figured this would work out better! You live right next door, so all you’d need to do is come in and make sure he’s fed and has water. Oh, and you’ll need to walk him twice a day so he can stretch his legs properly. Logan loves to be outside.”

“Right…” Michael debated with himself for a moment before asking his next question. “How many days will you be gone?”

“Oh, from Sunday morning until Saturday morning. I should be back Saturday afternoon.” Miss Wess could clearly see that Michael was considering it. “And, it’s only fair that I pay you for your time, of course. I’d say $500 would cover the week, wouldn’t you?”

Michael blinked. That would more than easily cover his bills for the month. He’d have less to worry about with his new job if he already had the bills covered. “I suppose…”

“Or I could say $750?” Miss Wess offered.

“I don’t need that much,” Michael said quickly. “I can watch Logan for you. You said walk him twice a day?”

“Yes, and one of those times, I’d appreciate if you make sure his bowl is full.” Miss Wess seemed happier knowing that she’d sorted that out. “And if you’d like, I could introduce you to my daughter on Saturday when we get back.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Miss Wess.” Michael forced himself to take a sip of his tea in order to stop himself from scoffing at the stupid suggestion. She couldn’t possibly be trying to set him up with her daughter, surely?

“Alright, fine, fine. You’d like to take your own pick of the pack, that’s fine. But you will need to stop by anyway to return the key.” Miss Wess’ eyes twinkled as she finished up her tea.

Michael smiled thinly, feeling a bit hollow at the thought. He couldn’t bear to try to meet new people, to try to explain to them that he didn’t deserve their love, that he was a monster and a killer. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Wess.”

“I already told you to call me Beverly,” she scolded gently. “But you’re welcome here anytime, dear.”

Michael nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to say much else. “I need to go…”

“Oh, that’s fine dear. Have a good day!” Beverly Wess watched Michael hurry to leave her house. “Oh, that poor man. He needs someone to comfort him.”

“Mrow?” Logan meowed, putting his paws on her knees, preparing to jump up.

“Yes, Logan. He needs some love in his life. I don’t know what happened to leave such a dark shadow over him, but he’s too lonely for his own good.” Beverly sighed, shaking her head. “Too sad for his own good too.”

Michael left early for his interview, knowing that he needed to make a good impression. Sure, they probably were going to hire him just because he was interested in the job, but maybe he wasn’t the only one interested in the job.

Taking a deep breath, he walked into the pizzeria, feeling the familiar scent wash over him and the familiar site greeting him. The animatronics were different, but that was the only thing that seemed to have changed. What appeared to be a Freddy and Chica model were performing onstage, and he could make out a mangled torso of another animatronic in the corner, surrounded by toddlers. Is that even safe? he wondered.

Shaking his head, he asked an employee where he could find Lloyd. They gestured toward a corridor where the light seemed to flicker. That wasn’t ominous at all, Michael thought, but he entered the hallway wearily.

The music felt more muted in the hallway, and Michael could see party rooms lining the corridor. Party room 2, he thought to himself, reaching for the door handle.

“Hey, you here for the night guard job?” A woman interrupted his thoughts, grabbing his arm to stop him from entering the party room.

“Uh, yeah?” Michael blinked, surprised as the woman yanked him away from the door and pulled him a ways down the hallway. “Hey, what are you-“

“Shut up.” She seemed to assess him. “What’s your name?”

“Michael? Michael Schmidt?” Was this some kind of extra test? To make sure the night guard was up for the position? Michael’s eyebrows scrunched, and he pulled his arm free. “Who are you?”

“Ramona Fitzgerald,” she answered, still assessing him. “Hmm… your clothes are shabby, although you did brush your teeth for this…” She stuck her hand in his hair, yanking him to her level. “Greasy hair though… Are you unemployed right now?”

“Yes?” Michael tried to flatten his hair. “Why are you grilling me?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here, Schimdt.” She frowned at him.

“Well, you’re interrupting my interview time, so we can talk later-“

“Shut up. I’m not done with you yet.” Ramona’s eyes narrowed. “Are you British?”

“I- I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Michael replied defensively. “What is your deal?”

“What’s your deal?” she shot back at him. “Mister distinguished, showing up in a shabby button-down with greasy hair to a job interview.”

“It’s Freddy Fazbear’s. You probably care more than they do.”

“What if they put you on day shift?” she kept going, undeterred by the fact that he was giving her good answers.

“Miss Fitzgerald!” A voice from down the hall called. “I thought I told you to quit interrogating my interview subjects.”

“I’ll stop when I’m dead,” Ramona muttered. “Where’s my brother, Lloyd?”

“Your brother is missing?” Michael asked, suddenly completely interested. “What happened?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be here.” Ramona glowered at Lloyd. “Go to your stupid interview. I’ll be waiting.”

With that ominous message out of the way, Michael went back to where Lloyd was waiting for him.

“Sorry about her, Mister…?”

“Schimdt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Right. She’s been acting crazy since her brother went missing a few days ago. Seems to think we took him out to replace him.” Lloyd shook his head in disbelief. “Which is utterly ridiculous. Jeremy was an excellent night guard, and he got along with the animatronics better than most. None of that ‘the animatronics are haunted’ nonsense either. No, if we’d had a problem with Jeremy, we would’ve fired him.” Lloyd cleared his throat and started the interview.

Leaving the interview with more questions that he should not have wanted to investigate, Michael was given a pat on the back, a set of keys, and a uniform. Lloyd told him his next shift would be tomorrow night, starting at 12 a.m., which was shockingly early.

“You got the job then?” Ramona asked dryly, following him out.

“Were you standing outside for that entire interview?” Michael asked, somewhat glad that she’d actually stuck around. Maybe she’d have some of the answers he needed.

“Maybe.”

“When you said your brother went missing, I assumed that meant he was an younger brother,” Michael remarked.

“He-“ Ramona stopped herself. “He’s only a year older than me.”

“Yeah, but I thought he’d be like, five. Not twenty-two.”

“Details details,” Ramona replied dismissively. “I didn’t realize this got at you. Concerned about the kids, are you?”

“Someone should be,” Michael muttered.

“Then why aren’t you working a day shift?” Ramona asked.

“The position was for night shift. So I’m working night shift.”

“Yeah, but-“ Ramona paused, realizing that they were just continuing down the sidewalk. “Do you not even have a car?”

“No?” Michael blinked at her.

“Okay, no, we’re not doing this. Come here.”

“What-“

“I’m driving you home, this is ridiculous.”

“I don’t need-“

“GET IN THE CAR, MICHAEL.” Ramona’s tone left no room for negotiation.

“Yes ma’am,” Michael replied weakly.

He pointedly did not address the dog sleeping in the back seat of the car. The dog blinked sleepily as he got in, but Ramona cooed softly at him, telling him everything was fine and he could go back to sleep. The injuries on the dog’s face begged to be asked about, but Michael didn’t think he deserved the right to ask.

“So you wanted the night shift, or you’re just taking the night shift because that’s what they offered you?”

“I’m taking the night shift because I’d rather the night shift than the day shift. I’m not good with kids,” Michael replied stiffly. “Next question.”

“Why Freddy’s? Why now?”

“It’ll pay the bills.”

“Yeah, but why Freddy’s?”

“I’ve been in and out of jobs for a while…” Michael shifted uncomfortably.

“So you wouldn’t be able to get a job anywhere else.” Ramona spared him a glance as she drove. “You’re a mess, no offense.”

“I’m aware.” Michael stared out the window. “Why are you so determined to bug me about this stuff, by the way?”

“Because. You seem almost genuine, but I’m not entirely sure on your motives just yet.”

“Wow, thanks,” Michael said sarcastically, finally facing her. “I’m glad I’ve gotten to the stage of mostly unsuspicious in your books.”

“No need to be rude about it,” Ramona wrinkled her nose. “I just want to make sure my brother is okay.”

The dog in the back seat whined.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Percy. We’ll find him,” Ramona told the golden retriever.

“So, I’m guessing that’s your brother’s dog?” Michael asked wearily.

“He sure is. I went to Jer’s apartment to look for him first, but he wasn’t there. The whole place was trashed, and Percy looked like he’d been gnawed on by a big animal. Couldn’t find it anywhere though, so I have no idea what actually happened. So I went to ask Lloyd if he knew where my brother was and found him conducting interviews.”

“I figured I wasn’t the first interrogation,” Michael observed.

“You weren’t. The others wussed out and just left though.” Ramona shrugged, pulling into Michael’s driveway. “I guess I helped test the proper strength for that job. You know the place is haunted, right?”

“Those are just rumors,” Michael answered, digging for his keys in his pocket.

“Uh huh. No, with the chompers on the Toy Bonnie animatronic? For sure those things get out and attack people. I’d bet either he or one of the other freaks from that place attacked Percy. Which means they probably got my brother too.”

Ramona let Percy out of the car to follow them into the house, something Michael really wished she’d asked him for permission for first. But she seemed the type to just do whatever she wanted to, so he wasn’t too offended. It was honestly just as invasive as she’d been since he met her.

He swiped the bills and his untouched letter from his father off the table and put them away in a cupboard. Ramona raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “So, you think the animatronics attacked your brother?” he asked, hoping to distract from his rapid movement.

“Yeah… I think it’s kinda suspicious that Toy Bonnie was removed from the show. Apparently all three of them are typically onstage at the same time.”

“It did feel weird that Freddy was there without Bonnie today.” Michael shrugged, setting the bundle on the table. “But I don’t know that I believe that the animatronics are haunted.”

“How did they get into Jeremy’s house then?” Ramona countered. Percy seemed to agree with that as he paced around Michael’s kitchen.

“I don’t know! Burglars get into people’s houses all the time.”

“But they don’t chew on people’s pets.”

Michael’s mouth thinned. “Okay. Maybe the dog got hurt while they were on a walk or something and that’s why.”

“Jeremy would never mistreat his dog,” Ramona argued. “How dare you imply that.”

“I’m not implying anything!” Michael held his hands up in surrender.

“Mhm,” Ramona glowered at him. “Well, seeing as you seem invested in this, how about we team up? You help me find my brother, and I leave you alone with your questions answered. I get my brother back and you get to do your job in peace.”

“That doesn’t seem like an even trade-off,” Michael muttered.

“Oh, you want to play that game?” Ramona’s eyes flashed. “You really want to play that game with me, Michael Afton?”

Michael stiffened. “You-“

“I don’t know why you’re trying to lie about your legal name on job applications, but I bet they’d like to know that you’re not who you say you are. Especially since a ton of kids went missing a few years ago at this exact location.”

Michael’s mouth thinned. “You’re-“

“A bitch? Please, I’ve heard that from plenty of men before. You WILL help me, or your secret is out.”

They stared at each other, neither happy with the fact that they had to work together.

“Fine. What do you want from me?” Michael asked, resigned to this mess he’d gotten wrapped up in.

“Tell me about your night shifts. If anything weird happens, I want to know.”

“And if nothing weird happens? If there’s no sign of hauntings?”

Ramona rolled her eyes. “Well, you still have to help me find my brother. If it wasn’t the haunted animatronics, then it had to be something.”

Michael scowled. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other for another long moment before Ramona clicked her tongue and walked out, Percy following slowly behind her. He looked back at Michael and whined for a moment before hurrying after Ramona.

Michael rubbed his face. This was not going to be a pleasant experience, he could already feel it.

The week crawled by slowly. Michael got to a certain point where he just moved Logan’s food and water to his house and walked the cat after his shift each morning and then let the cat hang out and wander around his house. He’d stupidly bought a litterbox, but Miss Wess had paid him half before she’d left and was promising the second half after she got back, so it was fine.

Logan yawned, stretching across Michael’s torso.

“Oof!” Michael coiled in on himself as Logan launched himself off Michael’s stomach. “I thought I told you to quit that!” he scolded.

Logan just looked up at him before meowing.

“Nuisance,” Michael muttered. “I’ll feed you in a minute.”

Logan meowed at him again before slipping out of the room.

Sighing, Michael stretched before getting up. He’d given himself a few hours before his shift, just like he usually did, but most of his time came in the actual morning, which was when he’d typically call Ramona to give an update.

He glared at the stormy weather as he fed Logan, not happy that his shift was going to start with rain. He’d tried to get out of it, of course, but Phil, the guy who had the shift before him, had a child who’d gone to work with him. And Scott couldn’t stick around the pizzeria for a 12 hour shift, not when he had school in the morning.

So Michael had to go to work in the rain, something he hated much more than anything else he could imagine. He shoved his hat onto his head and double-checked his tie before giving Logan a thumbs up and walking out the door, his umbrella snapping open.

He’d long given up on being in a calm state of being before work, knowing that the animatronics were hunting him down (thanks for the late word of warning, Phil!) and wanted to kill him. There was no way he was going to be fine at the beginning of his shift.

Discarding the umbrella in the corner of the office, Michael took a deep breath, opening the cameras to wind the music box. Having the music playing loudly in his ears meant he did not hear the footsteps quickly approaching his room until his monitor was ripped from his hands by a golden hand.

Startled, Michael jerked back from the animatronic bear with a stuttered gasp. The combination of the water soaking through his clothes and into his skin and the very angry Fredbear standing before him was altogether too much.

Warmth seeped down his leg, making Michael dimly register that he’d wet himself. The animatronic didn’t leave him much chance to think about it though, as he was hefted out of his chair by his throat, leaving his feet scrambling for purchase on the table’s surface.

He choked out a breath as his hat tumbled from his hair and clattered to the desk, right next to the cracked camera screen. Feebly, he thought this is it, certain that he was finally earning his death for what he’d done to his brother four years ago.

Hot breath left Michael suffocating as the animatronic growled softly in his ear. “We’re taking back what we deserve.”

Michael closed his eyes, knowing that he deserved whatever the animatronic decided to do with him.

“Wait,” a soft voice echoed in his mind. “He’s not doing what he’s supposed to do. Why isn’t he begging?”

“He doesn’t have to beg. He just needs to die. We need to make sure it never happens again,” another voice argued. Her voice sounded harsher, more firm. “No more golden bunnies to hunt us. No more monsters to hurt or kill.”

Michael recognized one of the voices as his brother, but he couldn’t place the other. Weakly, he gasped out, “I don’t deserve to live anyway. Why would I beg?”

“Something’s wrong,” Evan whispered softly.

The tight grip around Michael’s throat loosened slightly.

The girl groaned, but she muttered something to herself before the animatronic completely let go of Michael. Pain flared up his whole leg as he collapsed back to the floor.

He groaned weakly, looking up to see two small children standing over him. Evan, he thought in a daze, trying to sit up. Michael wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned back against the desk, waiting for one of them to say something.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded.

“Michael.” He stared at her. “Who are you?”

“Unbelievable,” she scoffed. “Right. You made this mess, you clean it up.”

“Michael?” Evan echoed quietly, not seeming to hear the girl. “But… Michael’s dead…”

“No?” Michael’s eyebrows creased. “No, Evan, you were the one who died.”

“I know I’m dead!” Evan snapped. “Obviously! But I thought-“ He shook his head. “I guess I was wrong…” He reached out a hand tentatively, touching the side of Michael’s face. “You’re alive,” he said with wonder in his voice.

“Evan, you’re going to have to explain.” The girl crossed her arms. “I thought you said this was our killer.”

“I- Well, they look similar…” Evan looked sheepishly at the girl. “Sorry Cassidy.”

“Sorry Cassidy,” she repeated shaking her head. “Next time you get me all stirred up for something, it better be a golden rabbit, Afton.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Evan tried to smile, but the girl had already vanished, just like the animatronic.

Faintly Michael realized he’d have to tell Ramona about all this. I guess she was right about the pizzeria being haunted, he thought grimly. “You weren’t entirely wrong, at least,” Michael told his brother. “I did kill you-“

“No.” Evan shook his head firmly. “It was an accident. You said you’d be better if I woke up. And I tried so hard, Mikey. I tried so hard. I almost succeeded.”

Michael’s throat dried up. “But you still died. And it was my fault-“

“Michael.” Evan interrupted him. “You did not kill me. You didn’t do it.”

“But-“

“Can you let me speak for two seconds?” Evan shook his head again, this time with a huff of impatience. “Father killed me. He took me off life support.”

“But… why would he… No, that can’t be-“

“I saw him do it,” Evan said faintly. “I heard him grumbling about how this whole mess was your fault, and it wouldn’t go away unless he handled it himself. He killed me, and I thought that meant he was going to kill you too.”

Michael slowly got to his feet, still a bit unsteady. “That’s crazy.”

“He killed a bunch of other kids. I thought it seemed plausible enough. He hates you, Mikey.”

“Great.” Michael huffed out a frustrated breath. “I… So, you don’t blame me?”

“I mean, you didn’t mean it, right? You didn’t try to kill me?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why would I blame you?” Evan inquired, perching on the corner of Michael’s desk as he wound the music box.

“Because it was my fault?”

“It was an accident,” Evan insisted. “And you apologized over and over again, which is more than I can say for Father.”

“I don’t think you should forgive me.”

“That’s because you don’t forgive yourself.” Evan peered at the cameras. “Toy Freddy’s coming.”

“I know.” Michael shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “Are you trying to do my job for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Evan scoffed, a smile forming on his own face. “You’d get yourself killed if I wasn’t here!”

“I was doing just fine until you tried to kill me!” Michael shot back.

“Liar, you wet yourself!” Evan jeered.

“No comment. Just let me do my job in piece, you crazy ghost.”

“No more crazy than you are for working a night shift here,” Evan muttered.

A thought suddenly occurred to Michael as he sat with his brother. The phrasing made him think of something Ramona said to him when they’d met. “Evan, did you know a guy named Jeremy Fitzgerald? He used to work the nightshift here before I did.”

“Yeah, he was friends with some of the animatronics, why?” Evan’s smile faded slightly.

“What happened to him?”

“I…” Evan hesitated. “I think he’s dead, Mike.”

“Dead? Why do you think he’s dead?”

“We had a break-in that night. And he was wearing a bunny costume. He dismantled Toy Bonnie, tried to kidnap a kid, and…” Evan paused. “Well, he took Jeremy’s hat. So I don’t think he stood a chance against that guy.”

“What got rid of the robber?” Michael asked, shoving the Freddy head over his ears as Toy Freddy strolled into the office.

Evan made a shooing motion, and the animatronic went away. “Cassidy scared him off, I think.”

“Fair enough.”

Their conversation mellowed out and turned into a continuing series of bickering back and forth, Michael narrowly missing death several times. The animatronics seemed unamused by the brotherly banter, but Michael didn’t care. Evan had never seemed this happy in life, and he was glad to have a chance to see him again, even if it was as a ghost.

Michael found himself humming cheerily as he walked home that morning, swinging the compacted umbrella around his wrist. The rain still made a trail down his back, but for once, he didn’t feel the thick blood gushing over his head and onto his shirt.

Logan meowed impatiently at him as he returned home. Michael rolled his eyes, hanging his hat by the door. “You’re so needy.”

Logan meowed again in response, uncaring of what Michael thought of him. Michael rubbed his face, and Logan leaned into the scratches. He smiled faintly at the cat. “Okay, okay, fine. You deserve food.”

Logan meowed reproachfully as Michael took his hand away to get his food ready. Logan jumped onto the counter, and Michael had to shove his face away. “Give me some space, you ridiculous cat.”

“Meow,” Logan replied, licking his hand as he waited very impatiently for his food.

Michael set the food back on the floor and walked away to go take a shower. I’ll walk him after, Michael thought to himself. He needed to change his clothes anyway, not to mention he needed to run his uniform through the wash.

Completely cleaned off with his clothes in the wash, Michael coaxed Logan over for his walk. Logan was not happy to go out into the rain. “Come on, buddy. Just one quick lap and then we can come back inside.”

Logan yowled at him in response, flattening himself against the house.

“Logan,” Michael said, tugging the harness gently. “We gotta do this really quick, and then you can go back inside-“

Logan wiggled free from his collar somehow, shooting across the street and in between some of the houses. Michael cursed, racing after him and stumbled as he went through the tall wet grass. “Logan!”

He lost track of the cat briefly before spotting him near a dumpster. “Logan, I swear-“ Michael cut himself off as a rustling noise came from within the dumpster.

Logan stiffened as well, flattening himself against the ground as he sniffed the air. Michael faintly heard growling and wondered if they’d run into a stray dog or something. The top of the dumpster stirred as golden fur peaked through, and for a brief moment Michael wondered if it was Percy, somehow having escaped Ramona to dig around in the trash.

The next moment changed his mind as giant clawed paws gripped the edge of the dumpster, and the head of the massive golden rabbit was visible. Huge ears flattened against the rabbit’s head as the rain started to soak into its fur.

“Logan, get back here, right now,” Michael whisper shouted to the cat at the base of the dumpster.

The cat replied by slipping underneath the dumpster, somewhere where the rabbit couldn’t get him.

“Um…” Michael trailed off as the rabbit’s eyes zeroed in on him. “Hi?”

The rabbit’s nose twitched slightly, and its head tilted slightly, almost human in its motions.

“You seem… lost?” Michael said, still uncertain about what he was saying. Somehow he hadn’t been eaten yet, and that was lucky in of itself.

The rabbit crept out of the dumpster, definitely towering over Michael. It came close, sniffing him. Michael had no idea how wild rabbits behaved, but suddenly he remembered what his brother had said about a rabbit in the pizzeria. Right. That had happened. Was it this rabbit maybe?

He stared at the chipped paint under the rabbit’s claws, wondering about the light blue coloring. And there was black inky stuff leaking down the rabbit’s mouth and across its chest a little bit.

Tentatively, Michael reached out a hand and stroked the rabbit’s nose. The nose twitched again before it butted aggressively against his hand, almost petting itself using his hand. Oh… it was just a stray bunny. A really big stray rabbit, but a sweet creature nonetheless.

Logan reappeared suddenly, meowing up at the rabbit. The bunny paid him no mind, too busy nuzzling against Michael’s hand to care much about the black cat. Logan meowed again, sounding more irritated.

“Right. Yeah, we gotta get back…” Michael stared forlornly up at the rabbit, a coil of fondness already tangling around him. “Do you… want to go with us?” He retracted his hand slowly, and a small squeak escaped the rabbit’s throat.

“Uh…” Michael picked up Logan, feeling his wet fur soaking through his shirt. “Follow me, I guess?”

The rabbit trailed behind him as he walked back, and Michael felt odd knowing that it had decided to trust him, but he’d already decided he didn’t care. If Logan wasn’t hissing at it, then it was probably fine… right?

Back home, Logan resumed eating, paying no more attention to the bunny who’d barely squeezed through the front door. Michael went to retrieve more towels, quickly returning to start cleaning what he assumed was motor oil from the rabbit’s face and then helping to dry it.

The rabbit nuzzled against his face, seeming happy with the results. Michael knew the fondness in his chest was not going to go away any time soon. He sighed to himself. How was he going to explain this to Ramona?

He’d presumably found the thing that had made her brother go missing, but he’d adopted it into his home, and it seemed harmless so far. In fact, it seemed to love him.

Teeth scraped against his neck, and Michael blinked. “Hey, no biting.”

The bunny tilted its head, jaw twitching slightly. Oh. It needed a chew toy. Glad he’d caught that before it turned deadly, Michael offered one of the dry towels up, bunching it up slightly to make it more firm.

The bunny gnawed at the towel, shredding bits of it off.

“You’re going to make me invest in chew toys, aren’t you?” Michael shook his head with a sigh. He yawned, unable to keep it in as he rubbed the rabbit’s belly.

His body swayed forward, and the fur was so soft, and Michael couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Faintly, he registered the pause in the rabbit’s chewing as giant paws scooped him up to nestle him closer. Michael sighed as he was surrounded by fluffy warmth and couldn’t stop himself from falling asleep any longer.

The sound of a phone ringing jolted Jeremy from his sleep. It was loud, piercing through his head like a hammer. He buried his face in the other man’s shirt before registering what he was doing. Wait, what?

Jeremy sat up quickly, looking around. He was… on the floor. Okay. There was a man beside him, and they were both surrounded by towels. One of the towels looked awfully ratty, and Jeremy found himself wincing as he spat out a piece of fuzz. Right. Apparently, that had happened.

The next realization was that he was completely naked. Oh. Okay. Uhhhh… Panicked, Jeremy scanned the room looked for a bedroom of some kind. A door creaked, and Jeremy flinched, expecting someone else to be in the apartment. Instead his eyes landed on a small black cat. The cat blinked at him, tail rising as it went to go lick the other man’s face.

“Wait, don’t do that!” Jeremy whispered loudly. Panicked, he grabbed the cat who squirmed and meowed in his face. “Shhhhh!”

The man on the floor shifted slightly, muttering something in his sleep. Jeremy went rigid, the cat dangling in his arms as the man sighed deeply and relaxed again.

Jeremy looked at the cat again. “Do you know where the bedroom is?”

The cat meowed in irritation, squirming some more before swiping its claws across Jeremy’s arm.

“Ah! Fuck!” Jeremy swore loudly, dropping the cat with a heavy thud. “Shit,” he whispered as the guy beside him finally rolled over and opened his eyes. Jeremy grabbed a towel and covered the other man’s face.

“What the hell-“ The man tried to pull the towel away and caught Jeremy’s wrist. “Who the fuck-“

“Uhh, can you give me a second, please? I don’t know how I got here or anything, but I’d really appreciate a moment of privacy.” Jeremy blurted out, his face burning over the brief second he’d heard the other man speak. Shit, why’d he have to sound attractive too?

“Pardon?”

“I, uh. I appear to have no clothes. Like, at all. So, unless you want to see that, I would love if you gave me a second.”

“Where are you expecting to get clothes from then?” the other man replied seemingly fully awake now. “Just cover up with towels or something. I’m sure there’s a bloody pile of them on the floor right now. I’ll get you some clothes.”

“Ah, I guess that’s… yeah, okay…”

Jeremy relaxed his grip on the towel, quickly burying himself in the rest of the towels around him before giving the man the go ahead to uncover his eyes.

Bright blue eyes blinked wearily at him, taking in his long golden hair and trailed down his torso. “Hey…”

“Right, clothes, sorry.” He shook his head and got to his feet. “I had to see if you were my size, but sorry.”

Well, that was an excuse if Jeremy had ever heard one. Still, he’d let it pass because he was still gawking at the man as he walked away, entering the room that the cat had come from.

Jeremy wanted to scream. Of all places to randomly wake up after a few nights of being trapped as a monster, a hot guy’s house was not where he was expecting to wake up. And why had they been asleep together? Did the guy have a fetish or something? Oh god, he really hoped not. It’d be a shame if this attractive guy was some kind of creep or something. Jeremy both hated and loved the implications, but the cat didn’t seem to be staring at him too judgmentally, so surely nothing had really been happening.

“Here. I think these should fit, but I’ll give you a second.” The man was interrupted by the phone ringing again. “Uh, bathroom’s that way.” He gestured vaguely before going to answer the phone. “Shit, what do you want Ramona?”

After the initial daze of being handed a bunch of clothes, Jeremy froze at the name. “Ramona Fitzgerald?”

The other man shot him a look before returning to his phone call. “Yeah yeah, you nosy bitch. I do have things to report. Can you give me like, ten minutes? I’ll call you back.” The man pinched his nose and hung up the phone. “Okay, pretty boy. Who are you and how the hell did you get into my house? And why do you know Ramona Fitzgerald?”

“Um. That’s… Well…”

Blue eyes leveled an impatient look at him, and the man slowly approached him. “Well?”

“I’m uh. Ramona’s my sister…” Jeremy scratched his neck. “I.. I’m.. Well, my name is… I’m Jeremy Fitzgerald.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” The man stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Well-“

“No, no, just stop talking. Stop for a second.” A hand covered Jeremy’s mouth. “You’re really going to sit here and say that you’re Jeremy Fitzgerald after everything I’ve had to tolerate because of your sister? Do you have any idea how worried she is about you?”

Jeremy blinked. He couldn’t bring himself to move away from the hand covering his mouth.

“God, you would be a bloody idiot, wouldn’t you.” The man sighed. “Go get dressed. We can finish this conversation later.”

The cat meowed at that moment, too impatient to wait much longer.

“Yeah, I’ll get you some food, Logan, you fucking glutton.”

The cat shot him a look, meowing again.

“I’m getting to it!” The man stood up, clearly exasperated. “If you sit in my kitchen all morning instead of getting dressed, I will kick you out, with or without answers.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Jeremy scrambled to his feet, still nervous about the man turning around again. He hesitated for a moment before bolting to the bathroom to try on the clothes.

His first impulse was to sink his fingers into the shirt, surprised by the soft, worn material. He had so many questions that were not appropriate to ask, so he pulled the shirt over his head before staring awkwardly at the boxers and pants. Shaking the thoughts free from his head, he hurriedly pulled on the rest of the clothes and exited the bathroom to see the other man nursing a cup of… coffee? Tea? Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure.

“Uh, hi again,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

The man raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to just stand there?”

“I was planning on it, yeah.”

“Sit.”

“Okay…” Jeremy perched tensely on the edge of a chair.

The man stared at him for a moment before muttering something to himself. “Jesus, can you calm down enough to be normal?”

“I… I mean, I really shouldn’t be here. I appreciate all the help and everything, but I don’t think me sticking around is a good idea-“

“Shut up for a minute, would you? Ramona is going to be here in 20 minutes. We’ll see if she thinks you are who you say you are.”

“Oh.” Jeremy stared down at the table, afraid of more questions.

“So. I’m Michael.” The man took a sip from his mug of whatever he’d been drinking.

“Okay.” That was a lovely name, Jeremy thought. It suited him too, and Jeremy couldn’t help but sweep his gaze across the man’s tired face and tangled brown hair. “You seem a bit exhausted there, Mike.”

“Michael,” he corrected, frowning slightly.

“Right. Sorry. You seem tired, Michael.”

“What did you do with the rabbit?” Michael said suddenly. “There was a rabbit here before.”

“Uh…” Jeremy pointedly looked away. “I think that should be a bit more obvious.”

“Evan said you were probably dead. The rabbit supposedly killed you.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Jeremy answered bitterly. Flashes of the last few nights flickered across his mind. The cat seemed more afraid than Michael did. The soft gaze from his memories nearly made Jeremy melt. He wanted to find a way to earn that gaze again. Of all the times to have appeared as a rabbit.

Michael stared at him, seemingly waiting for him to say more. A knock at the door made him curse, and he got up to answer the door. “Fucking Ramona.”

Jeremy wanted to smile at the way Michael’s accent made his curse words sound. But he had a feeling that wouldn’t be appropriate.

“Let me see him,” the familiar demanding tone of his sister’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Mona?” Jeremy blurted out.

“Jerry?” Ramona shoved past Michael to walk into the room. “Oh, you’re okay!” She yanked him out of his chair and squeezed him in a tight hug.

“That’s my end of the deal upheld,” Michael said stiffly, closing the door.

Logan hissed, shooting between Michael’s legs to hide behind the man.

“You can get out of my house now,” he added, crossing his arms. “Ramona.”

“Oh, go to hell, Michael. I just found out that my brother is alive and unharmed, give me a minute to process before you be an ass.”

“Fucking hell,” Michael muttered, walking past them to enter the bathroom.

Jeremy tried to sputter out an apology, but Ramona was squeezing him so tightly he could barely squeak out a breath. “Mona, please let me breath.”

“Sorry.” Ramona released him from the hug, still holding both shoulders. “You’re okay? Nothing broken? Nothing bruised?”

“I’m just a bit hungry.”

Ramona’s eyes flashed at that. “You didn’t feed him?” she shouted at Michael.

“I haven’t bloody well eaten yet! Leave me alone woman!”

“It’s not Michael’s fault. Ramona, please calm down for a second.”

“His father’s a killer, Jeremy. The apple doesn’t tend to fall too far from the tree,” Ramona said quietly.

“Well, he was plenty nice to me. I think you just put him in a bad mood,” Jeremy said sheepishly.

“These aren’t your clothes,” Ramona noticed suddenly. “Oh, Jer, tell me you didn’t…”

“What?” Jeremy blinked, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation. “Ramona, are you feeling okay?”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with Michael.”

Jeremy’s mouth fell open. He had no idea how to answer that question. “Ramona.”

“Did you or did you not?”

“I did not have sex with Michael!” Jeremy said a bit too loudly.

Michael scowled at the pair of them, holding his hand up in a rude gesture. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“Fuck you too,” Ramona shot back. “Come on, Jeremy. Let’s go.”

“What- Wait, Ramona, can’t you at least-“

“We’re leaving.”

Jeremy tried to shoot an apologetic look to Michael, but the man had already turned away to resume brushing his teeth. Great. So much for first impressions.

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

[saintslewis]

𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

- drabble.

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black! fem reader

summary: reader will never let the paddock forget who Lewis Hamilton is.

warnings: cussing.

saint’s team radio 🪩: this is just a lil something. I was pissed tf off yesterday because of some lewis “fans” and i will never miss an opportunity to let ppl know who my goat is 🫦. enjoy

ps, i’m not adding actual reporter’s names for this so i made up random names.

taglist: @mauvecherie-writes @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @emjayewrites @purplelewlew @hopefulromantic1 @motheroffae @exotic-iris13 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @greedyjudge2 @cocobutterqwueen

-

The tag from your denim jacket had been irritating you since the second you put it on but you chose to forget about it, often adjusting it with your nails or a little shimmy of your shoulders.

Holding the mic from Sky Sports F1 wasn’t all too odd for you, the broadcast team only handing it to you when talking about Lewis and his achievements. Your support for the Stevenage driver was strong, often being as labelled as biased but you couldn’t care less. The support was mutual between the two of you, usually lingering on the line of friendship but doubt and time was always against you.

Your sunglasses sat on your braided head with a bored expression on your face, just wanting to get this segment over with so that you could go back to your individual blogging and interviews. Standing patiently in front of the cameras while other reporters ran around unorganised, you played with your beaded ‘44’ bracelet.

“My goodness, Y/n! I have no clue how you are so calm, this is always so hard!” One of them exclaimed, laughing in the process. “Not to mention the outfit! You look like you could go to a party!” Another laughed, her smile faltering when your eyes snapped to her, expression never changing.

After a while, the segment began and off the reporters went on a scripted tangent about other teams before getting to the main topic; Lewis. “Now, onto a different subject, Lewis Hamilton’s performance in that car has been nothing short of a…disaster if I could say.” Jimmy said, deciding to look at you as he spoke. Almost as if he was challenging you.

“For a specific race weekend or overall? His teammate, George is doing significantly better. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, it’s like he doesn’t know how to drive.” Jennifer spoke, poorly making an attempt of a joke.

“I’m not too sure why you’re speaking as if he is a rookie. You lot can see that Mercedes hasn’t been doing well as a collective yet you’re targeting one driver who has brought then 8 constructer titles rather than the other who has one win.” Lifting your mic, you spoke with a clear voice, never stuttering.

Frank shook his head and tried to chuckle. “Look Y/n. We understand he’s your boyfriend or whatever but we need to be factual here. What Ferrari has done is a mistake by signing him. I mean, there needs to be more space for others and he’s taking up space.”

“And Alonso’s dusty ass doesn’t need to leave? Using my support for Lewis to try and justify your dislike for him is unprofessional. I have no clue how you have the gumption to say all this.” You responded, still not moving from your spot.

The other 4 reporters stared at you in shock along with other people stopping in the paddock, surrounding the space just in front of the official f1 hospitality suite.

“There’s no need to use aggressive language, Y/n.” Jennifer lifted her hand to place on your shoulder but you moved away in time. “Aggressive for who?” You challenged, tilting your head.

It had gotten quite. “The viewers. It’s not a lie, Lewis is just not good anymore. He needs to make space.” One of them spoke up but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to anyone else other than Frank, your eyes trained on him.

“What? We need to speak with the producers, having an independent journalist was a mistake.” Frank smirked.

“You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass. Thanks for having me, Sky Sports F1.” You turned to the camera to blow a kiss then you gave the mic you were holding to whoever would catch it.

Walking away from the set, you knew what you did was undeniably unprofessional but those people had always had a vendetta against Lewis and any reporter/journalist who support him. Breathing out, you sashayed your way through the paddock with people staring as your braids glided in the slight breeze.

The buzz of your phone shook you out of your racing mind, a little gasp escaping your mouth as you read the notification from instagram.

lewishamilton no joke, that was the best thing i’ve ever seen. glad we have that interview together in 5 minutes :)

You first looked around the paddock after reading that message but you figured that he watched it live just like everyone else did. Your anger for that segment had clouded your thoughts so much, you forgot about the interview you were supposed to have with the champion.

Rushing to the large luxurious paddock club, you received all types of looks from those who either clearly watched the broadcast live or they’re looking at your outfit, although the latter was made up in your mind.

Luckily, he hadn’t arrived to the designated room you booked to have the interview with him but as soon as you got your phone out to record and your notes, the screams and excitement were heard from outside the door and a smile couldn’t help but sneak on your face.

You have only interviewed him three times in your entire career but every time you did so, he never wanted it to end, always trying to make it longer by asking his own questions to you or just sharing a laugh.

With security opening the door for him, he entered the room and spotted you with a smile on his face. He entered alone in the mercedes shirt already on. No words needed to spoken by either of you, Lewis opening his arms for a hug to greet you. Once in his embrace, you thought it’d be quick but to your surprise, it lasted a few moments longer.

“Hi Y/n.” Lewis spoke, a hand still on your shoulder. You took a quick breath and immediately relaxed on the spot. “Hey Lewis.”

“Your response to Sky was insane but I liked it.” He chuckled, sitting across from you with his legs open and a ring clad hand sat comfortably on his lap.

You didn’t want to show him how the sight affected you especially when your emotions are sky high so you remained calm on the outside. “It’s just…I’m pretty sure I lost my job just now because of how I reacted.” You sighed out, flicking a few braids back.

“Some of them had said worse things so you’re okay.” Lewis responded, his tone wasn’t all too sure but he just wanted to lift your mood. “Yeah but I’m black. They used micro aggressions too.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at everything once recalling back to that moment.

“I heard. I’ll have a word with Sky.” He reassured you. “Oooh okay, Sir.” You joked, masking how the reassurance made your stomach flutter. You’d like to think he was openly flirting with you but you quickly put that thought at the back of your mind.

“I just don’t want those people to forget who you are, you know? I’m sure you hear this all the time. You know what you’re doing and you’re the best at it. I wanna remind the people who the goat is.” You rambled a bit, noticing his smile growing as he listened to you.

“You’re too kind, really. I know what I am, it’s just a little tough right now.” He shrugged as he fully leaned back into his seat. “If you need me to fight anybody in your team, let me know.” You winked, flashing a comical smile that made Lewis laugh.

Giving you a once over, Lewis leaned forward and rested his tatted arms on his knees. “You look good today. You always do but today…phenomenal.” He spoke, his voice noticeably relaxed. “Don’t make me blush, Sir.” You smiled, failing terribly at hiding your feeling.

“That nickname, Y/n,” He chuckled. “Is that door locked?” He asked. All you had to do was nod at the man and Lewis smirked, licking his lips in the process.

“C’mere.”

saint’s notes 🪩: slightly rushed, george pissed me off, hope you enjoyed. bye. <3

[ghostkennedy]

I'll Never Feel Ashamed

~re6! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

i wrote this request back in december for @death-paint 's birthday. i never got around to sharing it here and i believe our daddy dom leon here needs to see the light of day. i love you lill <3 thanks for the constant support, love, ideas, and motivation you always give me. xoxo

Word count: 1850

Content warnings: established relationship, calls reader housewife/good girl/whore/slut/crybaby/bitch in heat, condescending leon, dom leon, daddy kink, breeding kink, creampie, p in v sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

!!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY SI STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!!

You’re turning the heat down on the stove, reducing your homemade sauce to a simmer when his presence materializes behind you.

Your head whips around and a smile breaks out across your face. “Leon! You’re home early!” You place a quick kiss to the tip of his nose before turning back around and stirring your sauce. 

He nuzzles his face in your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. It has goosebumps rising across your skin. You’re gently biting your lip, trying to keep yourself focused on the task at hand. But he’s the most distracting son of a bitch to ever exist.

“I think the sauce is done. All I gotta do is pour it over the chicken and toss it,” you speak cheerfully. He still doesn’t speak, just hums into your skin before lightly sucking on it. 

“Leon-”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Finish your chicken. Pretend I’m not even here.” He mumbles into your skin. He’s so close to you; you can feel the slight vibration from his throat as he speaks in that low timbery voice of his. 

All you can do is roll your eyes. Pretend he’s not even here? Right. As if he isn’t continuously breathing, kissing, sucking on the most sensitive part of your neck. As if his half hard dick isn’t starting to poke at your ass. 

You remove your sauce from the heat, slowly pouring it over the skillet containing your chicken. You’re trying to stir it, toss it, just anything, but he’s pressing himself so hard against you. He’s basically holding your body hostage where you stand. 

Another minute passes and you’ve successfully coated your chicken in sauce, turning the heat off. When you go to move–to grab plates to dish out the food–he stops you. Pulls your ass against his groin, forcing you to be hunched over and completely engulfed in him.

“Leon? You don’t want dinner?” You ask with a pout on your face and he can hear it in your tone.

“Baby. Not even gonna give me my appetizer? Tsk. You’re supposed to be my good little housewife.” He teases you and you have to force your eyes closed to prevent them from rolling back. You love when he talks to you like this.

“But I worked so hard on-”

“I know you did, sweet girl. Don’t tell me you’re not soaked right now just from a few kisses on this neck. How wet are you already for me?” He cuts you off, leaving you with your mouth gaped open subconsciously. Brain already foggy from him barely touching you. All you can focus on is his body heat against you and his dirty words. 

You whimper, “So wet. Throbbing so much it hurts.” Your cheeks heat up at the words leaving your lips, but it’s worth it. Worth him groaning into your hair, pulling both of your hands behind you and forcing your wrists together. 

He stands up straight and pulls you along with him. Walking you to the back of the couch, pushing your hips into the back of it and pushing your chest down. He releases your hands so that you can brace yourself, pushing your hands into the seat cushions to keep yourself steady.

“Just shut up and take it for me, yeah?” He pulls your pants and panties down in one swift movement. You moan out at his words and he chuckles at you. “What? Don’t wanna be a good little housewife for me? Wanna be treated like a dirty little whore, hmm? Or does it not matter to you? As long as you’re getting fucked, you don’t care what else I say or do.” His hand smacks your ass hard and your feet nearly leave the floor from how hard you jump.

“Nooooo, daddy. I’m your pretty housewife. I’m a good girl for you,” Your voice is super high pitched and whiny. And it drives Leon absolutely crazy. Such a sweet, shy girl completely flipping a switch and becoming a needy slut for him? Yeah. He’s going mad.

“You know how you can be such a good girl for me, baby?” His hands are caressing your hips and plump ass. Your body always sends him into a trance. He can’t get enough of you.

You look over your shoulder and hum in intrigue at him. His dirty blonde fringe falls in front of his eye as he smirks at you. “Let daddy pump you full of cum. Let me breed this tight cunt until I know my baby is in there. You’d be such a pretty mama for me. Stomach all round with the proof of how well I fuck you. Doesn’t that sound nice? Let me bury my cock so deep in this cunt that your body can’t help but take my child? You want that, baby?”

Your eyes gloss over as he continues to speak to you. Just when you think he’s done, he just keeps going. 

“Oh fuck. Yes! Want you to fuck a baby into me. I need it so fucking bad,” Your voice is pleading. Your mouth waters as his hands leave your body and he slowly starts to fumble with his belt.

“Well, of course, sweetheart. All you had to do was tell me. Daddy will breed a baby right into this hot pussy. I can see how fucking wet you are; all ready to be bred until you can’t take it anymore. Don’t you worry, baby. You won’t have a choice. Gonna give you all my babies.”

He frees his cock from his pants and you can see how fucking hard he is. He strokes his hand teasingly up and down the length of his shaft. “How bad do you want it, baby?”

You can’t stop yourself from whining. You’re so wet, you can’t take anymore teasing. You’re a minute away from reaching down and touching yourself. You’re so desperate for some sort of stimulation that all shame is leaving your body. All that matters is your pleasure.

“Daddy! Stop teasing me,” your voice nearly breaks. You want to cry from how much you want it. No. Tears are falling from your eyes; you are crying from how much you want it.

“Awe. Such a little crybaby. So pathetic–crying for daddy’s cock like this. Patience is a virtue, you know that?” You’re about to bite back at him when he finally shoves his dick into your hole, bottoming out immediately. “Oh fuck, baby. Cock slid right in. Even this pussy is a crybaby for me.” He chuckles at you.

But you don’t care, not at all. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut as your pussy squeezes even tighter around him. 

You don’t mean to. You can’t help but slowly push your hips back and forth on his cock. You need him to move and your brain is so gone that you can’t even utter the words to ask him for it.

“Look at you,” Leon coos out as he removes his hands from your hips, lazily placing them on his own. “Go ahead, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock like a bitch in heat. Being such a good little slut–breeding yourself on my cock like this.” 

His words are making you work yourself faster on his cock. His filthy words only work you up more and more. You could cum like this. Shit. You might cum like this and he can feel it too.

“That’s it; fucking just like that. Show me how much you need daddy’s cock. Cum on daddy’s cock and I’ll fuck you like the slut you are. Fuck you as hard and as deep as you like.”

You’re pathetically moaning nonstop. All you can focus on is the pleasure; how fucking close you’re getting. 

Leon bends over, slipping his hand down between you and the back of the couch. His fingers immediately connect with your clit and the change in position has shifted the angle of his cock.

Your hips stop moving as his cock stays pressed firmly up against your sweet spot and his fingers quickly rub your clit in the exact way you like. The way that has you clenching around his cock and cumming hard around him.

Your head is thrown back as you moan out loudly through your orgasm. Your hips start to shake as the overstimulation hits and he removes his fingers from your clit. He straightens his back and uses his feet to kick yours even further apart, spreading your pussy even more open for him.

He stares at your leaking cunt with admiration. Your fluids are coating your thighs and it looks like fucking Heaven to him.

He doesn’t give you very much time at all. You’re still panting and shaking with aftershocks when he shoves his cock back inside of you, immediately starting a punishing pace.

“Oh! Fuck! Daddy, I-” You try to tell him how you can’t take it. How it’s too much and it hurts, but the words won’t formulate. They won’t string together and form any sort of coherent sentence. 

You're basically lying limp over the back of the couch, your head and arms laying limply over the cushions.

He grabs your throat with his hand and pulls you up, bringing your back to his chest. His other hand grabs your hip and pulls you off the ground. Your legs immediately tuck under yourself, but he quickly forces them apart. 

Your ankles are up against your ass cheeks and your knees are spread far apart on the back of the couch. Your hands shoot up, gripping to the forearm of the hand that’s wrapped around your throat. 

You aren’t holding yourself up at all. It’s all of Leon’s sheer strength holding you against him. And his thrusts never falter. The new angle has your eyes rolling back and drool dripping down your chin. 

“There you go,” His cheek is right up against yours. You allow your head to completely lol back and lay softly over his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Gonna breed you, fuck. Gonna give you a nice cream pie, baby. You want that? Wanna be stuffed with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” It’s the only word you can think of. The only word you can force past your lips. 

His hips stop as he buries his cock deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan right into your ear. And you’re moaning right back from the sound of him cumming and the feeling of his cock so deep in your tight pussy.

You stay like that for a minute, both trying to catch your breath again. 

You think he’s going to pull out of you when he shifts, but he starts slowly pushing his cock in and out of you again.

“Leon!” You squeal out as he starts to slowly and steadily pick his thrusts back up.

“Dumb girl. You think one cream pie is gonna be enough to get you pregnant? I told you I was gonna be sure, baby. Gonna be nice and thorough. Won’t stop until I’m shooting fucking blanks.”

~masterlist~

consider supporting me on ko-fi

[solangelotus]

she’s thunderstorms

luke castellan x reader (MDNI)

beautiful patterns on the window pane

summary: you and luke agreed to be friends with benefits, but that all changes for you after a climactic moment together. luke knew his feelings before this agreement, but yours are a sudden revelation.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: zeus!reader, talks about greek tragedies/violence, angst if you squint, smut MDNI! (warnings under the cut). clarisse x silena. reader wears a bikini. percabeth mentions. reader has long enough hair for two braids

author’s note: this is based off of this post i saw! also, this is my first time writing something creatively in a whopping FIVE years! so please be kind <3 this will be a small series that i have planned out, but i want to see how this is received before committing!

masterlist

previous | next

smut warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do that), p in v, slight breeding kink maybe, praise, pet names. little bit of dom reader and sub luke but nothing too obvious

a forbidden child. gods and monsters alike all wanted you to pay for a life you didn’t even ask for. you had tried leaving camp occasionally, opting to try and live a somewhat normal life but it wasn’t possible as a child of the king of the gods. you always made your way back to camp half-blood, and back to the only place that feels like home.

this summer the heat is overwhelming. any day where you weren’t forced to teach combat or how to make friendship bracelets meant taking advantage of the empty beach that overlooked long island sound. your reprieve from the heat was typically spent with other campers. silena beauregard and clarissa la rue joined you today, and all three of you rested on towels underneath the bright sun.

“where’s luke?” clarisse asks, handing you a bowl of strawberries from the picnic basket you three had packed at lunch.

“oh, him and chris are stuck on dish duty,” silena explains with a shrug, not caring about the fact she’s to be blamed for their absences. “their cabin was a big mess this morning, and it was the nicest job i could give them. cabin nine is on stable duties right now. can’t have charlie thinking i’m soft on him. lee’s at an infirmary shift i think.”

“you are soft on him,” clarisse teases and silena scrunches her nose at her taller girlfriend. the latter shoves a strawberry into the former’s mouth with a laugh. “what? it’s no different than my friendship with chris, and i am not afraid to admit i’m soft on him. they're our exes.”

“y/n’s not soft on her exes, she’s only soft on her boy toy,” silena points out, and you lift your sunglasses to rest them on the top of your head. you narrow your eyes at the daughter of aphrodite.

“i don’t have any exes, and he is not my boy toy.”

“no, he’s just your best friend who you occasionally fuck and are completely in love with.”

“but you’re not denying that you have a soft spot for him?” silena smirks. of course, you are soft for luke castellan.

the son of hermes was the first person you met at camp and had been your best friend since you were fifteen. no matter how prideful you were, there was no chance of denying your loyalty to the boy who had been at your side for the last four years.

“it’s not like that,” you say to clarisse, ignoring silena’s question. “it’s strictly platonic. we have an agreement.”

“yeah, yeah, we know you don’t do relationships,” silena interjects, stating it as if it’s the biggest sin someone could commit. you suppose it may be to her; she was a favorite of her mother, and everything she did and said was full of love.

“no fighting, you two.”

“rich coming from you.”

“y/n!”

“what? i was joking!”

“it’s so funny,” clarisse deadpans, and the three of you begin to laugh. you put your empty bowl back into the picnic basket and pull your band tee off before pushing yourself up to stand.

“can we swim now?”

“give me a second,” the daughter of aphrodite says and takes your hand to stand. covering her swimsuit is a floor-length pink sundress that you’re certain was the reason she and clarisse happened to be late to the beach.

silena may have inherited desire from her mother, but clarisse inherited passion from her father. you never would have pinned clarisse to like fashion, but anytime silena wore a sundress it was bad news for anyone around them. once she sheds the dress, clarisse grabs her hand and runs towards the water. you trail behind them, enjoying the sight of two of your closest friends' love for each other.

truth be told, you did envy them to some extent. the average demigod's lifespan was already short, and yours was even shorter. making it to nineteen was a miracle in and of itself.

it didn’t seem fair to rope someone else into a romantic greek tragedy. you would only do it if you were the one left behind. but as a forbidden child, that was and will never be an option. you are the eurydice, the hyacinthus, the daphne, and the achilles. in every version of your story, death would be your only option. grief would be a privilege.

by the time the boys finished their chores, they came into view with a few stragglers behind them. “oh, great. i thought the point of beach days was that they were childless.”

“who even is it?” you ask after silena splashes clarisse for her comments.

“looks like that fucking new kid.”

“you stay away from him, clar.”

“no promises, love.”

“oh, are you talking about percy jackson?”

“yeah, he failed his cabin inspection too,” silena answers you. if you had a soft spot for anyone, it would undoubtedly be the only other forbidden child at camp (sans your pine tree sister). luke spent a lot of time training percy, and you spent a lot of time voicing your experiences and frustrations with each other.

“he’s the only one in his cabin.”

“so is y/n, and she hardly ever makes it in the top five,” silena points out and you splash her. the boys set down their stuff, and you notice percy getting pushed by another girl. you make your way onto the shore as percy sprints past you with annabeth right on his heels.

“hey, stormy,” luke greets you. you swat at his hand which tries to touch your hip and push him away from you with a laugh. he gets his hands back on you and pulls your back flush against his chest. his hand snakes around to rest on the lower part of your belly. “can you blame me for wanting to get my hands on you when you look this good?”

“luke!” you chastised. before summer started, you both had snuck out of camp to go shopping with the money your mom had sent you. when you tried on the royal blue bikini, luke’s jaw had gone slack and you knew you had to buy it. he looks at you with a smirk once you spin around, and you stand on the tip of your toes to whisper in his ear. “you can do that later.”

“gods,” he mumbles and watches as you run back into the water. you cup a handful of water and throw it at percy who retaliates by sending a wave of water down on top of you.

luke feels like he can’t breathe when he sees you laugh and squeeze the water out of your soaking braids. he watches your hands and feels his heartbeat race as he sees you adjust the bottoms of your swimsuit.

“stop staring,” lee fletcher nudges him with a smile, and chris nods from beside him. the boys relentlessly tease luke at every chance they get. they knew to keep the information about you and luke to themselves but he was a loudmouth. he had trouble keeping it in when you were such a beautiful person to love on.

“i need to go help lena with clarisse before she tries to kill percy,” chris groans and runs into the water when percy accidentally splashes her in the process of trying to get annabeth. beckendorf follows him to help, but silena successfully stops clarisse’s anger with a kiss. luke wishes he could be so open with his affection for you.

he pulls his shirt off and sets it down beside yours. he catches your smile when he begins his descent into the water, and your eyes dip down to his v-line that pokes out from his swimming trunks. gods, he is going to kill you someday.

“y/n,” annabeth drags out your name and tugs on your arm, “play chicken with me and percy, please?”

“sure, you want castellan in on it?”

“luke,” she calls out and wades over to him. he smiles at her and tries to shake his head, but the young girl tugs him over until you are face to face with his pout.

“this feels unfair, stormy. why did you say yes?”

“just bend down,” you instruct and he blushes. he would be lying if he said he doesn’t love when you order him around.

“yes, ma’am.”

you push yourself up onto the lithe boy’s shoulders, just as a wave pulls annabeth out of the water and onto percy’s shoulders. she squeals in surprise, and he latches onto her hands to keep her balanced. you smile at the two, and look over at silena who sends you a silent message: percy is trying to impress annabeth. he likes her, and you know the daughter of athena well enough to recognize those feelings are returned.

annabeth calls your name, and you find yourself tugging and pushing against her to try and knock her off of her perch. luke’s grip on your thighs is distracting, especially as you feel him move his hands higher up at each opportunity. your heart speeds up in your chest and you can’t tell if it’s from the hands teasing the flesh on your legs or from the excitement of pushing the girl into the water.

percy groans and dips under the water to find her, while you and luke cheer. you try to coax him to look up at you but fail to move his head and feel a sharp, pleasurable pain on your thigh. you smack his chest, and he looks up at you with a wide grin. your heart drops to your stomach when you see the deep red mark presenting itself on your thigh. you splash water at his face when you hop down from his shoulders and he winces. “did you fucking bite me?”

“that,” he pauses and pulls you flush against him, “is payback for annabeth wanting me to go to the infirmary last week for the hickeys you left.”

“oh.”

it wasn’t very often that luke was able to make a mess of you in public. usually, you force him to keep it behind closed doors. he stares down at you with a smirk, enjoying the pink dusting your cheeks.

he spins you and wraps his arms around you from behind. you were familiar with this dangerous dance of his, one that he does when he wants you. “it would be a shame if a storm were to ruin our beach day, and we had to go back to your cabin.”

“a shame indeed,” you agree, and feel a tug in your stomach as you hold your hand towards a faraway point of the rocky shore. lightning strikes down, and a scream comes from percy as rain clouds begin forming overhead. annabeth laughs at her boy’s antics and runs with him as he tries to get to the shore as fast as possible. “you’re going to have to work a little harder than that to get what you want.”

“y/n, luke! come on!” silena calls and luke whines as you push off of him. he watches as you saunter out of the water, one hand behind you as you wield more storm clouds into camp. he slowly follows you and dies when you pull your tee shirt over your head. your ass pokes out from the bottom of the arctic monkeys shirt he had gotten with a five-finger discount at a concert you had snuck into. he would do anything you want right now if you were alone on this beach.

you turn around and toss him your towel, which blinds him as it lands directly on his face. you and percy laugh together, and luke just stands in defeat until he feels the fabric fall off his face. you move and stop yourself in front of him to wrap the towel around his neck as if it’s a cape. the smile on your face as you dry off his shoulders and chest makes him fully believe you were made for him. he says a silent prayer to zeus. he finds himself praying to your father more than ever. only the king of the gods could bring such an ethereal being to life. he’s sure that you were more divine than human.

“you like this, don’t you?” you ask. luke leans his face into your hands as you dry his hair off.

“hmm?”

“me taking care of you,” you add, causing him to blush. he takes the towel from you and covers his face again. “nothing to be embarrassed about, pretty boy. you know i like it, too.”

“stormy,” he groans and you rip the towel off his face.

“c’mon guys, we need to get back to our cabins before the storm starts,” lee ushers everyone off the shore.

“it just came out of nowhere,” percy pouts, saddened by the rain ruining his swimming.

“yeah, super weird, perce,” silena agrees and narrows her eyes at you. you tug luke with you as you run off into the tree line with him. far enough away from both the beach and the cabins is when you find yourself pushing luke against the trunk of a tree. he smiles down at you, his cheeks red, and he reminds you vividly of the first time you decided to sleep together.

bruises litter his skin as you kiss a path up his chest back to his neck. his hands grip your thighs and you let out quiet sighs when he squeezes them ever so slightly. you sit up, your core resting lightly on him, and grind down on him. his eyes close at the movement and he lets out a low groan, his grip becoming tighter. it feels more intimate than anything you have done. your best friend squirms underneath you, and you feel a love and desire unlike any before.

you cup his cheeks and instruct him to open his eyes. he looks at you with heavy lids, and a heavy, warm feeling erupts in your chest. his cheeks are flushed, and he has a small content smile on his face. you feel like the most important person in the world; you feel like more than just a daughter.

you dip down and kiss him hard, a moan surprising the both of you from the back of his throat. you roll your hips against his again and open your mouth in surprise at how hard he is. his head falls back against your pillow, and you begin to kiss along his jaw, “is this okay?”

“yeah, that’s — that’s okay, y/n,” he speaks through gasps and you smile against his skin. he feels your teeth against his adam’s apple and murmurs your name again. “please, keep going. don’t stop.”

luke’s mouth on yours brings you out of your reverie. his hands toy with the end of your shirt, and he slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp. his fingertips trace lightly over your core on your bikini bottoms, and your hands grip his arms tightly. you can hear your friends closing in from a distance. “we can’t be doing this here, luke.”

“i want you,” he whines when you circle his wrist with your fingers to pull it away. you let go and walk backwards in the direction of the camp with him walking slowly towards you, like a predator to prey.

“come get me then,” you tell him and turn to sprint towards your cabin. he has an advantage in sword fighting, but you will always be faster than him. he gains ground on you with his long legs, but you run into your cabin before him. his chest heaves by the time you let him lay you down on the bed.

luke likes you in control of him, teasing and teaching him where you like to be touched. he enjoys you teaching him new things about himself, where he’s most sensitive, and what makes him cum fastest. he loves when you relinquish control once in a while and you let him divulge and enjoy every part of your body that he can.

what luke castellan enjoys most is when your body shakes as he eats you out. he knows you love it, too, by the eagerness with which you allow the bottoms of your bikini to be removed.

he applies light pressure to your clit with his tongue and pushes your hips down to prevent you from squirming away from him. fervent moans leave your body, and your thighs squeeze his head. the way his tongue quickly switches from kitten licks to lapping makes your head spin until his name comes out like a mantra, like a prayer. luke, luke, luke. you’re tempted to give gratitude to the gods for blessing you with such a lover.

when he kisses you, you wrap your legs around his waist and rake your fingers through his hair. he pulls away and nuzzles his face into your neck. you wrap your arms around him, in a tight hug, and a contented sigh leaves his lips. he enjoys moments where you let him love you too.

his feelings remain unknown to you, but each time he finds himself touching you, tasting you, and feeling you around him is reason enough to enjoy your friendship as it is. although, truly, he feels this is something that even friends don’t do. you confirm his suspicions when you manage to flip him and remove his swim trunks. no friend that he knows of could ever touch him so easily, get him to breathe so heavily, and make him nearly cum with just a few strokes.

“leave your shirt on,” he breathes out, his breathing heavy from you guiding him inside you. he fills you completely, and a sigh escapes your lips. your eyes meet each other and luke believes you look like royalty with the soft glow of the sunset in the background creating a halo around your head. your hair is in two braids — something he was sure clarisse did for you — and he toys with the ends, trying to steady his breathing as you remain reluctant to move.

“why?”

“truthfully, you look stunning in nothing but that shirt?”

“this shirt?” you laugh, and he groans as he feels you tighten around him. his head falls back against his pillow, and you move your hips in slow, languid circles against him.

it’s hard to keep serious, to act like he doesn’t press against your walls in the most perfect ways. like he doesn’t make you feel better than any person before him. you rest a hand on the nape of his neck and push lightly so he is forced to look at you. you try to remain calm, despite the building pressure. “clarisse always goes crazy when silena wears sundresses. you feel that way with these shirts?”

“yes,” he sighs. you often find yourself being asked to keep the band tees on during sex that he has stolen for you. luke can’t explain it, there’s just something so electric about something he has gotten you adorning your body. the bands, and the music, brought you much passion and you when you were passionate was something that drove him up a wall.

he couldn’t deny that your frame adored by the graphic band tees was something he thought about while fucking his fist when he failed to have you. now that he has you, he tries his best to share what turns him on the most. “you look like royalty.”

“i am,” you retort, and increase the pace of your hips. you groan and lean down to rest your forearms on either side of his head. he looks at you, eyes full of bliss, and he sits up enough to smash your lips together. you moan into his mouth, struggling to keep your wits when it feels so good. “what do you want, pretty boy?”

luke takes a second to comprehend your question. he’s whimpering and gripping your sides hard enough to leave bruises. sometimes you wonder if you are made for each other when he fucks you this well. he tries to take a deep breath, but his breath comes out in shutters. “can i mark you up?”

“f-fuck, yeah,” you mutter, and he sits up, his confidence increasing from the stutter in your words. he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you tight against him. he nibbles at your neck, running his tongue over the marks to soothe them. you are sure you have reached elysium; his teeth on your neck, and his hands guiding your hips as you rock against him. “luke?”

this is the most control you have ever granted him. he relishes the opportunity to make you fall apart and wonders why it all suddenly feels so different as you struggle to keep up your pace. on the other hand, you found yourself experiencing similar thoughts. you are more relaxed this time, more comfortable with allowing him to do whatever he wants with your body. it’s true intimacy, you finally allow yourself to relinquish what led you to sex in the first place: control.

“yeah?”

“i-i want, um, i want,” you pause, taking in a gasp of air. he feels so good, so godly. you feel pathetic but fail to care. you know luke would never use this vulnerability against you. it’s hard to focus when he fills you so perfectly to the point where you are nearly knocked over the edge.

“what do you want, princess?” he asks, and you blush at the near-pornographic moan that leaves your throat. you rest your forehead on his shoulder, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. he reaches between your sweaty bodies and begins to rub harsh circles on your clit, causing a high-pitched whine to leave your throat. “c’mon, princess, you're doing so good. tell me what you want.”

“fuck,” you cry, biting down on his shoulder to prevent another loud moan from escaping your mouth. he groans and quickened his pace on your clit, causing another string of whimpers to leave you. you are entirely sure that you have never remained on edge for so long. you want to scream, to shout his name to anyone who will hear. you don’t even care if the whole camp hears. the praises, the nicknames, it’s all so new and so invigorating.

“please, talk to me.”

“i’m so close.”

“me too, baby. where do you want me to finish?”

“luke,” your voice comes out as a whine again, “cum in me.”

few words escape either of you, they are replaced with lewd sounds loud enough to only increase your arousal. he channels his unraveling with fast, rough movements on your clit, and with his mouth sucking on your neck.

you cum first, squeezing him within an inch of his life. he removes his fingers from your core, and places them on your hips, lifting and slamming you down on his cock. you nearly scream, the feeling so overstimulating after two orgasms.

when he finally cums in you with a groan, you clench around him, milking every last drop you can get. when you first slept together (and every consecutive time following), you felt embarrassed at the idea of him cumming inside of you being so hot.

he assures you each time that he feels the same, but you never have the confidence to let it happen. now you couldn’t care less at the idea as he collapses onto his back with you falling on his chest.

both of you are unsure of how long you lay there, but it’s long enough for him to soften inside of you. every movement leaves you whimpering, so spent from the activities of the day. he holds you tight, and you trace shapes and letters on his chest as he tries to guess them.

when he finally falls asleep, you pull yourself off him and admire the soft, kind boy beside you. you trace the scar on his face, and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth. he doesn’t so much as stir in his sleep, and you catch yourself tracing three letters on his chest: I, L, Y.

luke is clueless of this as he sleeps, which you thank the gods for. love was never something you thought you would experience, but this surely had to be it, right? this was something so spectacular and ground shaking to you.

there were parts of yourself that he knew of that you would never tell anyone. you were fucked, you knew this the first time he made you cum. all of that pent up tension was more than sexual frustration, it was desire and blooming feelings you tried to hide from the moment you met him.

no one matches the feeling in your chest when he smiles. no one matches the butterflies in your belly when he pays you attention. no one ever has and ever will receive the same love you give luke, and maybe this is the moment where you finally will accept that it’s okay to love the son of hermes.

[kisses4reid]

warnings: mentions of being unlovable, angst, happy ending, love.

Spencer’s hands wrung with each other, the cool breeze in the car park pushing his hair from his forehead, “I love you.”

You blinked, heart sinking into the pit of your stomach, breath catching. You stood in horror, gulping and immediately lowering your gaze to anything but Spencer.

To yourself, you were an outcast in every sense of the word. No one likes you, and no one would pick you out of a room full of people. Why would they, anyways? You’re you, and you can never change that. Who would want to be stuck with you? Anyone who’s ever admitted to liking or loving you had told you it was a mistake, that you wasted their time, they should’ve spent their time on something worthwhile.

You didn’t want to put Spencer through that.

“And it’s completely fine if you don’t feel the same it’s just- I know we say we won’t profile each other but I kind of think that you might- maybe- like me back and-“

“Stop, Spencer.” You looked down at your heels, shifting your weight nervously.

Spencer obliged and gulped, eyebrows furrowing. His nerves were visually increasing, as were yours. The wind was loud, so was your heart.

“Spencer,” you sighed. How could you do this to him? Deny his affection, when it’s the one thing you crave, the one thing you’ve been thinking about for the past two years. “Spencer. You can’t do that.”

His face crinkled in confusion and then relief, “I know, it’s a bad place to confess things- We could go down to the park in front of your house or, that café you like?” He had a smile on his face, a cute one, one you didn’t want to leave.

“You can’t love me Spencer.” You replied, holding his gaze, heart breaking when his face dropped.

“Oh.”

Your eyes searched each other’s, and you felt like you would throw up at any second.

You turned to go, assuming that would be it. The end of your friendship, the end of your feelings and his. Until his voice croaked,

“Why not?”

You stopped, your car was only a few short steps away, tears brimming your eyes. Turning, you took a breath and decided avoiding his eyes was the best way you were going to get through this without crying. You’ve cried in front of him before, you’ve lied as well, and you’ve told him secrets nobody else knows. Why hold it back now? Why hide yourself from someone who loves you?

He won’t for long though. That’s how it always goes.

“You just can’t. It’s not… right-“

“All we have to do is talk to HR-“

“You don’t love me Spencer. You don’t, you won’t. Not now, not in the future. It doesn’t happen with me, okay? You just need some sleep and, I don’t know,” you ran your shaking fingers through your hair, tears welling onto mascara covered lashes before Spencer moved and grabbed your hand tight.

“You don’t know that! I do love you, Y/n. More than anything else,”

“No you don’t-“

“You don’t know how I feel-“

“I know how you will feel.”

Spencer flinched, hand dropping yours, the sudden absence of his touch freezing your wrists. He took a breath and trailed your face with his eyes, squinting them in disbelief.

“Y/n. I’ve loved you for years, nothing has changed- if anything my love for you has increased which statistically goes against everything that research suggests about relationships but I truly do believe it.”

A shiver ran down your spine, a tear rolled down your cheek. He looked sorrowful and hurt. You had caused it.

“I’m sorry Spencer.”

His shoulders slumped, “D-don’t say sorry. I respect your decision, um.”

“I love you too.”

The words escaped you before you could even think them, your eyes mirroring Spencer’s wide ones. And you continued with no second thought, “I have loved you, but, I don’t want to lose you.”

“How could you lose me?”

“Everyone I love leaves. It’s because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You stared at each other for seconds, moments, what felt like minutes. You hadn’t even realised you’d been sobbing until a tear drop landed on your shoes.

“Y/n you aren’t unloveable. I’m living proof. Let me be proof, please. I will love you and stay with you until I can’t tie my own shoes and my dentures fall into my oatmeal.” He looked tired, disappointed. He had worked up all of this courage, done all of the confirmation you might have liked him back- and you did! But why, why, weren’t you letting it happen? “I can love you, I won’t get hurt, you won’t hurt me. The only thing I’ve seen you hurt it your own ankle trying to chase the ice cream truck outside Rossi’s house. Please, Y/n.” You stood a metre apart, but he closed it, “Please,” and took your hands.

Your heart pounded and you looked into his eyes. There was something there you’d never seen before. Eagerness, longing, yearning.

“Okay.” You whispered.

“What?”

“Okay.”

“Really?” Spencer broke out into a smile, causing you to slowly grin.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, thank you.”

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[forzarma]

world’s best teacher

lewis hamilton x fem! Reader x students

A/N: i couldn’t stop thinking about this so i had to do it😭(not proofread)

10 years ago, you found out you were pregnant. You were buzzing, but your happiness unfortunately didn’t last long as you discovered you had a miscarriage. Your life was miserable, but thank God, Lewis was with you through your ups and downs. After 12 years of marriage, you’re still together, stronger than ever.

After 3 years of your miscarriage, you decided to go back to work as a school teacher. After you got pregnant with twins in 2017, it lightened up your life.

You can’t say being a teacher is an easy thing, if you’re being honest, but you love your students to the moon and back. You even treat them as your kids.

Of course, they know that their teacher is married to one of the best F1 drivers in history, if not the best, and they love it. They don’t go a day without mentioning how you are their favorite.

They even met your kids multiple times before, during school events where you brought them with you.

“Good morning, everyone,” you say as you enter the classroom.

“Good morning, Ms.,” they say back.

You greet them as you wait for the others to enter the class.

“So, I want to discuss something with you guys,” you’ve said.

“As we all know, last exam, you guys really disappointed me with the results,” you continued.

“Hmm,” they hummed.

“And we all know the next exam is in one month, so I want you to prepare as best as you can. And I have a surprise for you: if you score above 90, you can pick any reward you want. It could be anything, for example, a concert ticket of your favorite artist, a paddock pass that comes with meeting the drivers, etc. Which means you’re going with me, or a football game ticket to watch your favorite team.”

Your students buzz with excitement.

“Really, miss?”

The room erupts with chatter, feeling their energy and determination.

A month later, you’ve already graded the exams. You stand in front of the class with a stack of papers.

“I’m really proud of all of you,” you begin. “You’ve worked really hard, and you guys did not disappoint this time, so let’s see the results.”

“First, Livvy, you’ve got a 92. What would you like as your reward?”

Livvy beams. “I want to go to a Raye concert.”

“Done,” you replied, making a note. “Jason, you’ve got a 95. What about you?”

Jason grins. “I want the paddock pass.”

“Excellent choice,” you wink at him. You always knew he was a die-hard F1 fan.

You continued down the list. “Olivia, 89, so close but still great job.”

Olivia nods, smiling. “Thank you, miss.”

“Finally, Nick, 91. What’s your pick?”

Nick thinks for a moment. “I think I’d pick the football match.”

“Alright,” you agree. “We’ll make it happen.”

After everyone has chosen their rewards, you gather them together.

“I want you all to know how proud I am of each one of you. You’ve worked incredibly hard, and you deserve these rewards. Remember, this is just the beginning. Keep striving for excellence, and you’ll achieve great things.”

After saying goodbye to your students, you head home, still feeling excited. When you walk in, you see Lewis, and you can't wait to tell him about your day.

You give him a big hug and say, "Lewis, today was amazing!"

Lewis smiles and asks, "What happened?"

You tell him all about it, from the rewards you gave to the happy faces of your students. Lewis listens carefully, proud of you the whole time.

"Wow, that's awesome!" Lewis says, giving you a kiss on the forehead. "I'm really proud of you."

You feel warm inside, knowing he's there for you. You spend the evening talking and enjoying each other's company. As you go to bed, you feel grateful for your life together with Lewis and the twins.

theycallmelivvy has posted

Liked by yn,lewishamilton and 3,268 others.

theycallmelivvy: MS y/n appreciation post🙏🏼

See 350 comments

jasonthecoolest: hail my glorious queen

whatthesigma: oh how i love her

yn: i love you guys🥹💕

f1.wags has posted

liked by f1.paddock,ynupdates and 350,679 others

f1.wags: apparently yn hamilton. Lewis Hamiltons wife has made some incredible promises to her students sources say she said if they got above 90 she’d reward them with whatever they like and some of her students chose the f1 race choice what an incredible teacher💕

view 78,572 comments

ibelieveinlestappen: oh my teacher could never

ilovelewishamilton: how i love her omgg

F1updates: god bless my queen

theylovejackey: THATS MY FREAKING TEACHER EVERYBODY

f1fantasy: that’s why there were some people we’ve never seen makes sense now!