#this is the only thing i’ll be thinking about now...
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I’ll be honest, when one party’s aiding and abetting the genocide and the other’s outright gonna kill all my friends, I don’t really care if the fascists “win”. They’ve won already.
You know who would be delighted to hear that? Trump and Putin. The US far right and the Russian government have poured lots of time, effort, and money over the last decade+ into convincing US leftists and liberals that things are hopeless, there's no point in even trying to make things better, and the Democrats and Republicans are functionally interchangeable. They do this because one of the easiest ways for them to win is if the left gives up and stops trying. Every person on the left they can convince to give up in despair brings them closer to complete control. Defeatism on the left actively supports victory on the right.
I think your statement is wrong on a number of levels, both factual and emotional. It comes from not understanding what the actual options are for the US government and the President specifically, either at home or abroad. And it will allow actual fascism to flourish and make the world far worse than it is now.
On an emotional level, the way to address this is to stop doomscrolling. Stop focusing on the worst things happening in the world. Don't ignore them! but don't let them consume you. Start looking for the things that are going well. Find places in your community that you can get involved in making things better. Even if it's only on a small scale like volunteering in a soup kitchen or homeless shelter, it will help you realize that you aren't helpless, that there are things that can be done to make the world a better place. Stay informed about things on a local, national, and international level, but limit how much time and attention you give to things that depress you that you can't affect. Instead of sitting there thinking about all the ways the world sucks and how awful things are, look for things you can do that are productive, and then do them. You'll feel better and you will have made your corner of the world a little better. And you will be a lot less likely to unintentionally fall into the despair, nihilism, and passivity that the fascists want you to be consumed by.
Always remember that the worlds problems are not resting solely on your shoulders, or solely on America's shoulders, and neither is the hope of fixing them. Everyone has things that we can do to make the world a better place, but there are also things that are beyond our control. We can control what we do; we cannot control what others do. We can and should try to make the world a better place, but focusing on the things we can't change has no positive benefits. Focusing on things we can't change accomplishes two things: it makes you feel bad, and it stops you from doing the things you actually can do to make things better. Neither of these things is good for you or anyone else. Look for things you can do and do them. Keep informed on the things you can't change, but don't focus on them.
On a factual level, let's look at "aiding and abetting genocide," shall we?
First, it's important to remember that the US President is not the God-Emperor Of The World. The US government has limits to what it can and can't do in other countries, and both legally and practically. If the US wants to intervene in a problem in another country, there are a variety of things we can do that boil down to basically four categories. It's a lot more complex than this in practice, of course, but in general here are the categories of things we can do:
Send in the troops. Invade, either by ourselves or as part of a NATO or UN operation. (Or maybe just send in a CIA wetworks team to assassinate the head of state.) I hope you can see the moral problems with this option, and also, we've done this a shitton of times over the course of the 20th Century and pretty much every time we've done it, we've made an already awful situation worse. On a moral level, it's pretty bad, and on a practical level, it's worse. Sure, we could stop the immediate problem, but what then? Consider Afghanistan and Iraq. We got rid of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban, and everything went to shit, we spent twenty years occupying Afghanistan with pretty much nothing to show for it. (The Taliban is back in control of Afghanistan.) Things were worse when we left than when we arrived. So this option is pretty much off the table (or should be).
Diplomatic pressure. Now, the thing is, they're a sovereign nation, they don't have to listen to us if they don't want to. We have a lot of things we can leverage--including financial aid--but the only way to force them to do what we want is to invade and conquer, and that only works temporarily. Since we can't force, we have to persuade. This requires us to maintain our existing relationship with the country in question, and possibly strengthen it, because that relationship is what we're leveraging to try and influence them to do what we want them to do. If we do not maintain our relationship, they have no reason to listen to us.
Cut ties and go home. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things and we wash our hands of the whole situation. This keeps our own hands lily-white and pure, but it also means we have zero leverage to work on any kind of a diplomatic solution. They have no reason to listen to us or care about what we think. We can pat ourselves on the back for doing the right thing, but we destroy our own ability to influence anything. Not just now, but also in the future. Let's say the current crisis ends, and then ten years later there's another crisis. If we want to have any effect then, we would have to start from square one to start building a relationship. Cutting ties would be great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, and there are times when it's the only option, but it should be a last resort. If there is any hope of being able to influence things for the better this will destroy it at least temporarily.
Cut ties and impose sanctions. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things, but also use the might of the American economy to isolate and punish them. We've done this a lot over the 20th Century, too, and it has never actually resulted in the country in question buckling down and toeing the line we want them to. What happens is the sanctioned country has an economic shock (how long it lasts and how bad it gets depends on a lot of factors) and then pulls themselves back together economically, except this time they're more self-sufficient and less reliant on international trade and financial networks. They tell themselves that America is evil and the cause of all their problems, and so not only do they not listen to us, they actively hate us. And they have fewer international relationships, so fewer reasons to care about what the international community thinks about them. So they're most likely to double down on whatever it is they're doing that we don't like. This one is completely counterproductive and utterly stupid. It's great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, but if we actually care about being able to use our influence for good (or, at least, to mitigate evil) this option shoots us in the foot. It encourages other nations to do the very thing we're trying to stop them from doing.
So, with those four options in mind, both option one (invasion/assassination) and option four (sanctions) are off the table for being immoral and counterproductive. That leaves "breaking our relationship and going home" and "using diplomatic pressure" as our only two viable options.
Biden has chosen option two, diplomatic pressure. Yes, he and our government have continued financial support for Israel ... but with strings attached. They have put limits on it that have never been put on any US foreign aid before. They have taken legal steps to lay the groundwork to target Israeli settlers (i.e. Israeli citizens who confiscate Palestinian homes and businesses). We've been hearing reports for months that Benjamin Netanyahu (Israeli Prime Minister, and a far-right-wing demagogue) hates Biden's guts, because Biden is pressuring him to stop the genocide and work towards peace. Biden is maintaining the relationship, and he's using that relationship to try and influence things to curb the violence and pave the way for a just peace settlement of some sort. Biden has also mentioned the possibility of a two state solution where Palestine becomes its own completely separate country. That's huge, because up until this point the US position has always been that Israel is the only possible legitimate nation in that territory. If Biden stopped US support for Israel, it wouldn't force Israel to stop what it's doing ... but it would let them ignore us. It would remove any leverage or influence we might have.
Biden's hands aren't clean. But the only way for them to be clean would be to also give up any chance of influencing the situation or working to protect Palestinians now or in the future. Only time will tell if it works, but I personally would rather have someone who tried and failed than someone who didn't even try. You might disagree about whether this is the right course of action, and there's a lot of room for honest disagreement about the issue (there's a lot of nuances that I'm glossing over or ignoring). But please do acknowledge that Biden isn't supporting Israel because he supports genocide; he's doing it so that he can continue to maintain diplomatic pressure on Israel to stop the violence.
Which brings us back to "aiding and abetting genocide." Trump is not like Biden. Trump is good friends with Netanyahu and backs Israel to the hilt. Trump thinks that all Arabs are terrorists (and all Muslims are terrorists) and genuinely believes the world would be a better place with them dead. Biden is continuing to support Israel, but using that support as influence to get them to stop or slow down. Trump would be using that influence to encourage them.
And those are the two choices. Someone who is trying to curb the genocide, and someone who actively supports it.
I really hope you can see the significant and substantial difference between those two positions.
But let's say that you're right and Biden's policy towards Israel and Palestine is every bit as bad as Trump's would be. If there was nothing to choose between them on foreign policy grounds, there would still be a shitton to choose between them on domestic policy grounds. You admit that the right wants to kill your friends, and yet you don't seem to think that stopping them from killing your friends might be a good thing to do.
"We can't save Palestinians, so we might as well let Republicans destroy the rights, lives, and futures of LGBTQ+ people, women, people of color, people with disabilities, poor people, non-Christians, and anyone else they don't like." "We can't save Palestinians, so why bother to try to save the people we might actually be able to save." "We can't save Palestinians right now, so there's no point in trying to build up a longer-term political bloc that might drag US politics to the left over the long run."
Do you get why there's a problem with that line of thought?
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There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted.
the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.
one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.
"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."
the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"
bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.
over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.
"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.
a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"
that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."
"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.
a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.
at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.
"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.
a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.
"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."
"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."
over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."
"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."
"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."
"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -
right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.
"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.
ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"
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the styles' nanny: part two
Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.
Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry
Word-count: 10.2k
Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex
here’s part one!
A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!
—
I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now.
I’ll see you soon,
Y/N
That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered.
Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.
Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.
It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself. Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.
“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?”
Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum.
“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?”
“Of course.”
As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.
But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.
He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.
He was ready to offer that to her.
—
Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.
And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.
“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.
“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”
Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.
She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.
Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.
“No.”
His eyebrow raised, “no?”
“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”
He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.
“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”
“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”
Concern warped his features.
“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”
She’d turned heads.
“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.”
She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.
“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.
The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.
“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”
“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”
“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”
In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.
“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.
As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.
“Are you driving me to my apartment?”
And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.
“Where’s Jamie?”
He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”
“Oh.”
The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.
Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.
“Y/N, have some water.”
“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.
He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m tired.”
“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”
She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”
“Y/N.”
That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.
“Why’d you go out drinking again?”
“Wanted to.”
“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”
“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”
Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.
Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”
Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”
“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”
It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.
The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.
It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.
“You still there, baby?”
And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.
But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.
“Yeah.”
“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”
“No, I‘m not like you.”
“Ouch.”
Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.
“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”
His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”
And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine.
“Yeah.”
“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”
Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.
“Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”
She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”
Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.
“I know so.”
“Thank you.”
“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.
“You sure?”
“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”
And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?
For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.
“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.
She knew what.
“Nothing.”
“M’kay.”
“Stand up for me?”
Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.
As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.
“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”
He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.
“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.
He hummed, “I know.”
“But thank you.”
“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”
“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”
Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.
“Last time what?”
He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.
He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.
Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.
What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.
She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.
—
Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.
Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”
“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”
“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”
“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”
“Probably.”
Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.
“I—“
“Are you— oh, sorry.”
“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.
Harry smiled, “are you okay?”
“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“
Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”
“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”
Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”
“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.
“No go on, tell me.”
“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”
“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”
“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”
“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.
The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.
“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”
A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.
“Oh.”
He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.
“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.
There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.
“But you…”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t… because of yesterday?”
“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”
His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“
“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”
“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”
She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”
“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”
“Yes.”
Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”
“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”
“Enlighten me then.”
Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.
So she deflected.
“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“
“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”
“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."
Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.
“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”
“I don’t know.”
She almost laughed, “sure”
“Sweetheart—“
“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”
“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”
“There’s nothing to consider, okay?! I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“
What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.
It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.
Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.
But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.
“Wait.”
His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”
“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.
He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.
“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”
She only nodded.
He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.
Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.
—
Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.
The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.
Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).
As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.
“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”
“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”
“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”
“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”
Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.
“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”
Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”
“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“
“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”
Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.
“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”
“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.
It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”
“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”
“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“
“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”
A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.
Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.
And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone: “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.
—
Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.
“Y/N—“
“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“
“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”
She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.
“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”
Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”
“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”
Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”
“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”
“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”
“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”
“Do you love her?”
Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.
Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.
Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.
“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”
Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.
Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.
When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.
“That’s… yeah. I get that.”
This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.
Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.
“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”
Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight. “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”
“Okay.”
A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”
“I’d like you to come.”
“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”
“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”
“I’m quitting. That’s it.”
“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“
“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”
She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.
Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.
And yet, he was determined to keep trying.
—
Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.
The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.
This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.
“So how flexible is time for you?”
“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”
“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”
“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”
This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.
That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.
“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”
Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”
“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”
“I don’t expect you to understand—“
“No. We’re not doing that.”
“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”
“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“
“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”
And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”
“For good reason.”
“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”
“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”
Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.
“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”
“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”
He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”
“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.
“Do you have another job lined up?“
“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”
“Where?”
“A cafe.”
“Where?”
“You wouldn’t know it.”
“Are you hired?”
She huffed, “no.”
“Where else?”
“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”
“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”
“No.”
“Financial help, maybe?”
Y/N groaned, “no.”
“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“
“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“
“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“
“Can we just— can we not?”
And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts. Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.
There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.
For now, he had to be okay with this.
—
Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.
She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.
He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.
But it hadn‘t been real, had it?
It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.
Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.
But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.
Wouldn‘t he?
He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.
And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.
She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.
“You okay?”
“Hm? Yes. Why?”
A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”
“What? No, I’m fine.”
God, she was feeling small under his gaze.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”
His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”
“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”
But she failed to move.
Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.
“Sweetheart?”
“Hm?”
“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”
Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“
“Last night you what?”
“I had… I had this dream and—“
She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.
“Is this okay?”
His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”
He hummed.
“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”
“It’s only seven.”
“Yeah.”
Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat. He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder.
“Can you do my arms?”
“Of course, baby.”
She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.
And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.
“Is this okay?”
She nodded promptly, heart racing.
Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.
A love like his would feel so great.
“You look really beautiful, you know that?”
“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“Me neither.”
“You’re the one who keeps running.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.
“I’m scared to stay.”
He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”
“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“
“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”
Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”
“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”
“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”
“I doubt that,” he retorted.
“Past experiences have proven as much.”
He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”
Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”
“How easy it is to love you.”
Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.
“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”
Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.
And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.
When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.
—
A month later.
“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”
As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.
She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.
“Are you nervous?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”
“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”
“You ready then?”
“Yes.”
Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.
“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”
Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.
“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”
“Yes, they still are.”
Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”
“You said that you don’t.”
“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”
Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”
“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”
“Who?”
Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.
He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.
When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.
“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”
The silence was short lived.
He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”
“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”
“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”
“Really?”
“I do.”
This stumped her.
And now it was her turn: “wow.”
Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.
“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”
She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.
“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“
“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“We’ve only been together—“
“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”
“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”
And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.
“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”
“Would he?”
“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”
“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.
“Then move in with us.”
A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”
“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”
“Harry!”
“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“
“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”
“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”
“I know that.”
“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”
“I need to make money somehow.”
“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”
“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”
“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“
Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”
“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”
“Sorry.”
Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”
Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”
Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t regret it."
He'd been right.
--
The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it
tags:
@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl
I hope I didn’t forget anyone!
#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles x you#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles series#harry styles materlist#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles x nanny#harry styles ceo#harry styles fanfic rec
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GymRat!Miguel Part 8
content warning: fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI, thigh riding 😙, thigh fucking 🤪, public indecency??? exhibitionism???, katoptronophilia aka mirror sexy time (thanks for the word jelly 🪼), just overall a really good time
word count: 4.4k, not proofread (we're only gearing up to what I assume will be another giant chapter 😷)
Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist
GymRat!Miguel who does some sets of push-ups, sit-ups, and leg raises in place of the gym. You watch him while you wait for room service, encouraging him from the side. Your presence was especially needed during the sit-ups when you sit at his feet, holding them down and giving him kisses when sits up.
GymRat!Miguel who sings loudly in the shower after his workout. You have to answer the door with an apology as the server laughs at Miguel belting out Britany Spears.
GymRat!Miguel who finally decides to respond to his texts. He’s had enough time to cool off and your presence was like a calm breeze, kissing away at his skin.
He discards his empty plate, placing it back on the cart. You’re still chewing away at some fluffy pancakes, enjoying the views of the high-rise hotel as the default channel played soft jazz.
GymRat!Miguel who lays in your lap while you eat some fruit. He has his phone in his hands ready to type, but he opens his mouth, silently begging for you to feed him grapes and pineapple chunks.
He hums to himself happily when you comply, combing a hand through his hair. He felt so peaceful like this. Serene.
GymRat!Miguel who sighs as he opens the message app. Here we go.
Abuela 💕:
“Abuela I’ll call you tonight”
“And there will be no babies. Not now”
“There better not be!”
Pa:
“Gracias pa”
“I’m glad you were able to meet her”
“She means a lot to me”
“I can tell”
“Mijo you pack a big punch!”
“Uno más!!!”
“You got that from me 👍🏽”
“Sure did pa 😭”
Gabri 🤡🤏🏽:
“You’re such an instigator”
“It’s not instigating. It’s reporting 😌”
“‘It’s reporting ☝🏽🥸’”
“Shaddap”
“You think I’m letting a member of the robotics team bully me?”
“You have perfect pitch and play the saxophone”
“You’re not winning this battle”
“Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining my girl? 🤨”
“Direct this clown act to her”
“Not sure how she puts up with it but I’ll free her soon”
“Stfu”
“A real man would be doing OTHER things but I digress”
“Did you really have to send a pic”
“You hate me”
“It’s clear to me now”
“Anyway what’s this about Tyler punching things”
“OHHHHH”
“He got him good”
“Square in the face”
“A bloody mouth to match his nose”
“TWINEM”
“Good”
"Pa said he granted me the ability to punch"
“He can dream on about that”
“Because where tf is my strength 😒”
"He punched Tyler before"
"Your time will be soon"
"😕"
"Also Ik about Nancy cheating already"
"Tyler told me in high school"
"I didn't want to be the one to tell Kron"
"Ur better than me"
"I would have told him that after that punch"
"YOUR MOM IS A HOMEWRECKER!"
"That's not what that means but ok"
Dana:
“Does your bf know you’re lusting after others?”
“Not if you don’t tell 😙”
“….I don’t think I want to give you her number”
“You’re perfect for Gabri”
“You’re both unbearable”
“What’s unbearable is I’m not talking to your gf rn”
“It’s too many O’Haras”
“Too much testosterone”
“SAVE ME MIG’S GF”
“MIG’S GF SAVE ME!!!”
Dad….Tyler:
“It’s ok. For what it’s worth, I can tell that you had good intentions.”
“Gabri told me what happened”
“I apologize for acting out of order and punching your son, but I couldn’t let him disrespect my girlfriend and my mom. No matter how difficult she may be, I’m the one who should tell her about it. Not him.”
"I completely understand that. You did what you thought was right, and that's far more admirable than what Kron did."
"In another reality, you and Kron could get along. For now, I will aim for cordial. I will make sure that he apologizes to you, your girlfriend, and Conchata."
"I don't want an apology if it's not genuine."
"Let's move on from that. You said you wanted to make it up to me? I saw that you added more dates to the hotel. Thank you for that, you didn't have to."
"Yes! If you are willing, I would love for you and your girlfriend to meet with me. I actually arranged something for you, Gabriel, and your girlfriends. I want to hear your input before I finalize the details."
"Sure thing. Is this afternoon ok?"
"That's perfect. I'll see you then."
Ma:
Read: 11:10 AM ✓✓
“Ugh,” Miguel groans, shutting his phone off and closing his eyes.
You stop rubbing his hair and look down, “What’s wrong?”
Miguel grunts as he moves your hand to continue, “My mom wants me to come home. Not sure if I want to do that right now. Not unless I know she’s ready to be accountable for once, which I highly doubt.”
You hum in understanding, “She’s still your mom, though. You’ll have to see her eventually.”
“My mom or not, she had no right to talk to you the way she did,” Miguel said reaching his hand up to your face. “It was cruel and…strange coming towards you. She doesn’t know you. Not yet, anyway.”
It’s not like she was trying to know you, either. Miguel seemed to understand this in your silence.
“I have to go grab some clothes so she might just get her wish,” Miguel says, turning his head towards your stomach.
You look down at him, “You don’t have to. Today is my last day here.”
“Well, lucky for us, Tyler extended the stay for a few more days,” he grinned. He started to move your shirt to fondle your skin.
Your stomach twitched as his breath brushed your skin. He started to kiss along your front, head disappearing under your sweater. He hummed as he started to tug at your underwear with his teeth.
“Hey,” you say, watching his head moving around through the material. “Stop that and finish talking.”
You pulled your sweater up to reveal him, his teeth still holding the band of your panties and eyes like a cat that got caught.
He let the band go close to your stomach so it wouldn’t snap, “This visual is making me forget everything.” His eyes are heavy and wandering.
You look to where he’s looking to see that you’re essentially flashing him.
You drop your shirt in embarrassment, letting out a sound of panic.
“No, no, baby let me see.”
“No, you’re at such a weird angle.”
“All art must be viewed up close and personal.”
Miguel sat up from your lap. He watched as you huffed and pinched the neckline of your sweater, moving it for air.
"You're so confident from afar, but when I'm near you like this, you get so shy. Even in public, you can be so bold. It's just you and me here."
"It's just," you watch Miguel as he crowds your space. His mouth goes behind your ear to press his lips into your skin. "I don't know. It feels like...more when it's just us. More real."
"Does it not feel real when we're in public?"
Miguel sits back, eyes wondering to yours. There's a pinch in his eyebrows, so faint you almost miss it.
"It does! That's not what I mean."
"Then, what is it? Tell me. Talk to me."
"I want to do more with you."
"But?" Miguel holds your hands in his, stopping you from picking at the loose threads of the sweater. He rubs them with his thumbs, itching to pull you closer.
"But, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could pass out. I get overwhelmed and nervous. I don't want to say or do anything stupid. It gets harder to control myself. I feel crazy."
Oh.
Oh.
"Then there are moments when my brain fools me into thinking that you don't like me in the way that I like you. Moments when that girl from not so long ago comes back, ashamed of herself and her body. A small part of me that thinks you could date anyone else and you're settling."
Miguel takes a moment to process your words.
He takes a breath, then opens his mouth.
"You really don't understand how much you affect me, do you?"
Miguel pulled you in his lap, fed up with this charade.
You grip his shoulders, steadying your balance with how fast he grabbed you.
"Miguel-"
"I don't know everything that your last boyfriend did to you and I don't know everything that you've experienced because of your body. Baby, I don't even know what you've seen all this time to make you think you're not worthy of love and respect, but I'm here to squash it."
"I meant it when I said that I love you. I'll learn it in a hundred languages just to remind you. I'll even tattoo it on my forehead for you to be reminded of it every single time you see me."
"I don't think you need to go that far," you say, eyes warm.
"No, I think I should. Anything for you to understand me. Anything for you to see you like how I see you."
"Letting out my deepest darkest secrets here, but do you know what I did when we first met?"
You shake your head, curious.
"I had a dream about you that was so good, I fell out of my bed. Peter never lets me live it down."
"A sweet dream?"
"Now, you and I both know it was more than that. Two cold showers should answer your questions."
You hide your face in his neck, heartbeat drumming through you, "Did you really?"
"Hand to heart. I understand your feelings. I acknowledge them too, but I need you to understand mine as well. Trust me when I say that you are unbelievably sexy. I love you and your body. My eyes caught your appearance before I came to know your personality. Anybody would be lucky to have you, but I'm the luckiest because you chose me."
Miguel hugged you close and kissed your head.
"Now let's rewind. You said you feel crazy when you're close to me?"
You groan in his neck.
"Uncontrollable? Heated?"
"Miggy, stop."
"My girlfriend is head over heels for me," Miguel hummed as he rubbed his hands down your naked legs. "She wants to ruin me."
"No, I don't."
"She's still wearing my clothes with nothing underneath but her panties and is leaning all over me. Her thighs are around my waist and she just told me that she wants me."
"You put me here," you lean up and stare at him. Your cheeks were hot and your eyes were dewey.
"She's looking at me like she's upset, but now I know that her heart is going crazy. I want to kiss her."
"Then do it," you whisper.
The kiss is sweet, the taste of fruit and syrup still on your lips. You finally relax in his arms, body melted against his. His hands slip under your sweater, dancing over your back. Your skin is soft and warm, a blanket over Miguel's figure.
The time where you two connect extends deeper and longer. You let your hands venture further than the nape of his neck, roaming until you brush across his chest. Miguel's breath hitched as your nails raked his nipple, chest jumping at the impact.
You break for a second, wanting to get air, but Miguel leans back in, desperate. He's whining, groping your body all over. His noises go straight to your core, twitching above him. He matches your pace, dragging your hips across his, reveling in how fast your body was reacting to him.
When he leans back, there's a string of saliva connecting you two. He's breathing hard as he watches you.
"Can I take this off? Please," Miguel grips the bottom of your sweater, eyes pleading.
You bite your lip and slide the sweater over your head, dropping it to the bed. You bring your hands over the top of your chest, arms framing your breasts.
You can't look Miguel in the eyes, too shy, "Is this fine?"
Miguel's eyes almost turn as he watches you, so shy but so seductive. He reaches out to cup your breasts in his hands, groaning when they plush through his fingers.
"You're so," Miguel rubs his thumbs across your nipples, enjoying you twitching and gasping in his hold. "Fuck."
His gaze burned into you, hungry as you lapped his tongue around your nipples. You let out a whimper when you feel him pull your skin in, mouth hot. It doesn't beat his pleased hum, voice like a man finally getting relief.
He massages your vacant breast, movements getting harsher. His grip is like a vice making it harder for you to second-guess yourself.
You hiss and rake your hands through his hair, "B-baby, be careful."
"Lo siento, mi amor," Miguel says, kissing across your areolas. "'M sorry."
You find your breath, fighting to steady your voice, "You're on me like we didn't just do something earlier."
Miguel paused and placed his cheek on your chest, "Baby, I'm a virgin and a man, not a prude. With practice, I could go all day."
The thought of that has you tightening your legs around him, hips stuttering. Miguel shifts to pull you over his left thigh.
"Does that excite you, baby?" Miguel smirks.
You close your eyes and nod, hips rolling over his thigh, keening high as he hikes his thigh closer to your sex and grips your waist. His muscles feel so good against you, the sounds getting wetter and wetter with each swipe.
"God, you're so pretty like this," Miguel sighs. "My gorgeous girl."
Your movements are becoming more frantic, Migiuel's voice in your ears spurring you on. He was sucking into your neck, growling as you scratched against his shoulder blades.
"That's right, baby. Keep going. Use me to get off," Miguel helped your hips keep a steady pace, pulling at your briefs to a makeshift thong. The tightness of your underwear combined with his thigh and his voice sends you into overdrive.
"Miguel!" you sob, hands gripping his hair. Your body trembles as you squeeze your thighs around him, cunt pulsating around nothing but your underwear, release leaking onto his leg.
Miguel cooed as you dropped your weight against him, body limp and hips fluttering with aftershocks. You panted as you kept your head on his shoulder, willing yourself to calm down.
"Are you ok?" Miguel asks, kissing your temple, your ear, your cheek. He feels you nod into his skin, blissed out.
"I like how you called me the needy one and you're the one who came three times today," Miguel mumbled, laughing as you swatted at his pec.
"I already confessed what you do to me. This shouldn't be shocking."
"Didn't say that. 'M just happy you feel more comfortable around me. It's what I want." One last kiss to your face seals his joy.
You lift up on shaky knees, hands holding onto Miguel for dear life. Your thighs were still shaking and your underwear was ruined. Miguel's cock twitched at the essence that seeped onto his leg, watching as sticky lines dragged from his skin to yours.
He grabbed you by the waist with one hand and wiped at your slick with another.
He's about to swipe at it with his tongue until you stop him.
"Miguel! Don't do that," you say, flustered.
"What? I'm just enjoying the fruits of my labor," he pouts as you grab some napkins and clean off his hands and thigh.
"So close to eating you, yet so far," he sighs miserably. "One day."
You ignore him and look down at his erection, taking a knuckle and lining the side. It was your first time really paying attention to him down there, now that you weren't distracted by his advances.
"What about you?"
He twitched as you walked along his clothed shaft, pre-come leaking through the fabric.
"As much as I want you to continue, we have to get ready for today," Miguel jerks as you continue your ministrations with a pout on your face. "And, I need condoms if you want to take this any further."
"Not even a blowjob?" you peer at him with your deer eyes again.
Miguel took a deep breath, "I was right. You are trying to ruin me."
GymRat!Miguel who lets you know that Tyler wants to meet you both after you both have changed clothes for the day. Something about a surprise.
"I love surprises!" you say turning to Miguel with a smile on your face. "As long as it's nothing like last night. I think it'll be ok."
Miguel matches your smile and presses his lips to yours.
GymRat!Miguel who stops at his home briefly, trying to get in and get out. He manages to fill up his travel bag, drop off his laundry, and give Gabriel a heart attack all before his mom notices he's there.
"Where are you going?" Gabriel asks with his hand over his heart, headphones lopsided around his neck.
"None of your business, nosy."
"Uh, it kind of is my business. You think you're grown when you're really not."
Miguel rolls his eyes. He didn't really want to tell Gabriel, but sometimes he couldn't say no to him.
"We're going out to see Tyler. He has a surprise for us. He also said he arranged something for us including you and Dana."
"Oh shit! Ok. And if mom asks where you are?"
"Tell her I'll come by tomorrow. I'm spending the next few days with my girlfriend."
"Alrighty," Gabriel sing-songs, placing his headphones back on his head. "You kids be safe. Don't scare my girl away."
Miguel smacks Gabriel across the head and runs out the door before he can catch up.
GymRat!Miguel who just laughs at your face while you frantically unlock the car to let him in.
"Baby, what's wrong?" you ask, voice in a panic.
"A string bean is trying to attack me," he responds, giggling as Gabriel runs out of the house.
"I'm getting you back for that you oaf!" Gabriel yells as Miguel backs out of the driveway. He stops his anger to wave at you, which you return with a sweet smile.
"Baby, you're encouraging him."
GymRat!Miguel who guides you through the doors of a cafe that Tyler recommended. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his stark white hair and light clothing. The only semblance of color on him was his silver jewelry.
He sat there, typing away at his phone, oblivious to the people around him who found familiarity in his form.
"Dad," Miguel said, the word funny on his tongue. He tried to make an effort to refer to him as his father in public, something Tyler appreciated greatly.
"Son!" he got up and engulfed him in a hug, giving you a softer version afterward. "It's good to see you both."
"It's lovely to see you again as well, Mr. Stone," you say, giving Miguel a smile when he pulls your chair out for you. "Thank you so much for thinking of us after all that's happened. Thank you for paying for my stay as well, the hotel is very lovely."
"Anything for Miguel's loved ones," he smiles in a way that has a hint of Miguel. You feel better going into the rest of this meal.
GymRat!Miguel who almost chokes on his coffee before Tyler can finish his sentence.
"A yacht?!"
"Is it too much? I can do something else to your liking," Tyler frets, wiping his hands on his slacks. "I'm not sure what all kids your age like nowadays."
"I've never been on a yacht. so I don't even know how to react," Miguel responds.
The two of them are sporting the same deer-in-headlights look.
"I'm sure it would be a great experience for all of us. If everyone doesn't mind, I'm sure we can get together and have a great time," you say, helping the two of them out. "Something nice to start the summer off."
"That's great! I will have everything ready by the beginning of next month then," Tyler says, mood lifting immediately. He was a lot like a golden retriever. "With that in order, I'd like to grant you this."
He takes his wallet out, reaching in to grab a card.
As he slides it across the table, your eyes grow big.
It's a black card with T. Stone pressed across the bottom.
"What's this for?" Miguel asks, staring at the card with building curiosity.
"You all need clothes for the trip, don't you?" Tyler asks. "And I'm sure you need more clothes to wear this week. Please take this, I don't mind. I trust you not to go overboard. I'll let you know when to give it back."
Miguel took the card in his hands, the weight of it heavier than any of his own.
"I guess it's time for a shopping spree," Miguel said, a smile growing on his face.
GymRat!Miguel who drives you straight to the mall. The windows are down as you both laugh and sing to the song on the radio. Miguel wishes he could record this moment, but for now, he dials it back to replay in his memory.
GymRat!Miguel who is happy to carry your bags and encourages you to buy more. Whenever you start to feel like you've gone overboard, he just whispers "black card" in your ear like a devil on your shoulder.
GymRat!Miguel who convinces you to walk around the name-brand stores. He did have Tyler's card, but he was also thoroughly watching what you gravitated towards. He locked away so many gift ideas for later.
GymRat!Miguel who joins you in the mirror of a shades shop. The both of you take pictures with coordinating glasses and you giggle as Miguel makes silly faces in some of them.
GymRat!Miguel who becomes your doll as you pick out outfits for him. He's smiling down at you as you put different shirts up to his body, mumbling to yourself as you make decisions. So pretty.
GymRat!Miguel who waits while you try on some clothes, giddy whenever you show him a new outfit. You managed to find clothes that coordinated with his and you're super excited about it.
"Close your eyes!" you yell through the door.
He does so and listens for you to walk out. After you take a while, he opens his eyes a little.
"Baby, no peeking," you chastise.
He huffs and waits a little longer.
"Ok. 1, 2, 3, open!"
His eyes land on you in a dress that hugs your curves like no other. Your chest fills out the top perfectly and seeing your stomach through the front is driving him mad.
"Do you like it?" you turned around, giving Miguel a grand view of how your ass was sitting in the dress.
"Do the dressing rooms have a time limit?"
You blink at him owlishly, "No? Why?"
GymRat!Miguel who drags all of your bags and you back inside of the dressing room with lightning speed. As soon as he locks the door, he's attached to your lips, kneading at your ass and hips.
You gasp in his mouth, shocked at how fast he's moving.
"Miguel, what- oh," you sigh as he leans down and pulls your dress up, face buried in your neck.
"You look so good, mi amor. I can't help it."
GymRat!Miguel who almost cums when you pull his dick out. Your eyes grow along with his erection, watching as he twitches in your hold. You've never taken anyone this big and from your hesitance, Miguel can gather this much.
"We don't have to do anything. In fact, you don't have to do that here," he pants.
"You mean take you down my throat?" you ask, running your thumb over his head, watching in awe as liquid seeped out. Miguel bit his hand to quiet his moans. "I'll wait until we're somewhere more private and less noticeable that I'm on my knees for you."
Miguel looks at the open space under the dressing room door, "Yeah that's probably for the best."
GymRat!Miguel who places you in front of him, both of you facing the mirror. Your dress is bunched up and Miguel is rocking his cock in between your thighs.
He's bent down, biting lightly on your shoulder so that he doesn't shout. Your thighs were so warm and plush against him and his pre-cum was spewing out of him like a fountain.
"You feel so fucking good, baby," he moans a little too loud after a few minutes.
GymRat!Miguel who watches you in the mirror. Your tits were so close to slipping from the top of your dress, the impact from his hips jerking your entire body. He grabbed at both of them, watching as you moan at the contact. His slaps got louder and louder, milky fluid running down your legs.
GymRat!Miguel who is overcome with need when you turn and run your tongue across his earlobe. He convulses as his release spurts across the room, landing on the mirror. He grips your hips and breathes hard into your skin, the tempo of his heart moving quick.
You pat his head and praise him, heavy eyes following your hand as you rub his tip that's still rubbing through your thighs. He whines, sensitive, but not moving away from you.
GymRat!Miguel who wipes you down carefully with some wipes you have in your purse. Luckily you both haven't ruined yet another pair of underwear.
He kisses you softly when he finishes, little confessions of love traveling from his lips to yours.
GymRat!Miguel who checks the dressing room one last time, making sure he's gotten any evidence of his removed from the area. Your green dress is in his arms and you've changed back to your outfit.
The area is clean, but there are fresh hickeys on your neck, something he got carried away with.
GymRat!Miguel who walks out like nothing happened. You on the other hand, hand over some extra clothes you didn't like to a worker in slight embarrassment. He eyes you both with a look of horror.
GymRat!Miguel who feeds you Auntie Anne's in the crowded food court. You hum happily after each bite. He dusts cinnamon off the corner of your lips with a smile.
GymRat!Miguel who moves from dusting to leaning across the table to lick the crumbs off when a table full of guys keeps eying you.
"What was that for?" you asked, oblivious to the hound dogs around you.
"Nothing. I just love you, baby."
dividers by: @plutism 🩵
a/n: I got a very useful lesson on condoms and BJs while writing this chapter. It won't ever be applied to this fic, BUT it was still kinda fun nonetheless.
HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! Leave a like, a reblog, and COMMENTS if you did!!! 🩵
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Entitled To You (3.6K words)
Norstaptri x Reader
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.
Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.
Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T
Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.
“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!
“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”
“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”
She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.
To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”
The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.
She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.
The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.
They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.
If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.
“Not so confident now, huh?”
The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”
“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”
“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.
His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.
“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”
“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.
“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.
It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.
And then nothing.
A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.
His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?
“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.
She blacks out.
~~~♡~~~
Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.
When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.
Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.
Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.
She can't move.
It's dark again.
~~~♡~~~
The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.
The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.
“Max, she always responds.”
“I know Lando.”
“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”
“Lando?”
“Yes?”
“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”
The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.
Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.
They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.
Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.
“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.
“What the fuck?”
Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”
Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.
“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.
It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.
“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.
The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.
Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.
It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.
He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?
“When will they let us see her?”
“When she wakes up, most likely.”
He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.
“-She’s asking for us.”
He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.
Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”
She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.
Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.
She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”
“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.
“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”
“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.
“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”
“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.
“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”
“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”
Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.
~~~♡~~~
Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.
On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.
The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.
Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.
Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.
“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”
The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”
“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”
“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.
It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”
“And what if I am?”
She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.
They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.
Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.
Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”
“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”
“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.
Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”
“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”
“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”
He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.
“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”
“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.
Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”
~~~♡~~~
It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.
He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.
Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.
Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.
Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.
“Get out!”
“We were just talking-”
“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.
He’s not prone to violence.
Really, he’s not.
Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.
The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.
Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.
“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”
“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”
Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”
“Equilibrium.”
“Yeah that!”
He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.
They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.
The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?
“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”
“Christian said-”
“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”
lando Can’t help but share her feelings.
~~~♡~~~
She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.
At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.
The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.
They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.
She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.
She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.
Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.
She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.
The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.
Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.
The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.
She wins the next race.
“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”
“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.
“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.
“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”
“You’re a genius Oscar!”
She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient.
“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.
She smiles back.
#x reader#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#fanficion#max verstappen#lando norris#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x you#max verstappen f1#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x lando norris#lando norris imagine#landoscar#lando norris x reader#ln4#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x oscar piastri#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#op81 fic#mv1#mv33 x reader
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on the nose
member — minghao x f reader
genre — smut, fluffy ending
word count — 6.2k
synopsis — you're too shy to be on the nose about what you want. luckily, minghao's got you figured out... he even likes the fluffy tail, too.
warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, established relationship, nicknames (bunny, baby, love, honey, good girl, etc), unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, pet play, lingerie (bunny costume), teasing, begging, anal plug, oral (f receiving), not quite ass eating but close to it, breeding kink, creampie, filming during sex, praise, little bit of manhandling, overstimulation, spanking, hair pulling, biting, marking, squirting, generally rough and messy sex, and then it does a total 180 and it becomes really soft and gentle i'm sorry i can't help it this happens every time it's just who i am, pls lmk if i missed any there's a lot nksdjfsfh
notes — requested by anon for my 🐈 1k event — thanks so much to @onlymingyus and @highvern for helping me brainstorm <3 this was a challenge to write tbh but i'm glad i decided to finish it. if you enjoyed and want to see more like this please lmk how you liked it with an ask or a reblog! i always want to try new different things and feedback on this would be super appreciated :)) hope you enjoy this my slutty little bunnies mwah xoxo
you've been waiting for this day for weeks.
“hi baby,” minghao says warmly as you walk inside the house and slip your shoes off, setting your bag on the chair by the door. he wraps his arm around you to pull you in for a kiss before he turns his attention back to the boiling soup on the stove. “there was a package for you when i got home.” he nods his head towards the living room. “it’s on the table.”
“ooh, it’s my new hat!” you squeal and race across the room. “it's finally here!” you tear into the plastic like a wild animal, taking it out of the package and holding it up to show him.
it’s a knitted white beanie with white floppy ears hanging down from the sides of the hat. you pull it on over your hair, repositioning it so that the long fabric dangles at your shoulders. “what do you think?”
“you look so cute, baby. i love it.” he grins and moves closer to kiss you again. “though you know i’ll love anything you wear.”
you scrunch your nose at his reaction, but minghao must mistake the disappointment on your face for joy, because he leans down to kiss the tip of your nose before letting go of you and moving back towards the stove. “dinner will be ready in a bit, love. i’ll let you know when it’s on the table.”
you take off the beanie with a soft sigh and fold it up as you walk to your bedroom, not wanting to get it dirty before you’ve even had a chance to wear it anywhere. it's unreasonable to think he'd get it immediately, you know that, but you can't help but wish he'd have been just a little bit more excited at the sight of your bunny ears.
the soup is already done and minghao is waiting patiently once you come back out of your room changed into your pajamas, and by the time he’s got you pinned beneath him in bed later that night drawing pretty little moans from your lips, your bunny fantasies are the furthest thing from your mind. laying on your side as you listen to his gentle snores, you sigh and close your eyes, leaving it be. for now.
you wait a couple days before you try again.
“have you thought about what you’re gonna be for halloween?”
minghao looks up from his laptop sitting next to you in bed. “not really,” he chuckles. “it’s only april. why, did you have something in mind?”
you purse your lips, trying to seem casual. “i was thinking of being a playboy bunny. don’t you think that’d be cute?”
“mm… cute isn’t the first word that comes to mind,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking up into a smile. something flashes across his eyes and you hold your breath, hoping for the reaction you want this time. “we can look for costumes closer to october, yeah?”
you start to frown at his answer but quickly catch yourself, hiding your dismay with a smile. “good idea. hey, i’m gonna take a quick shower before bed, m’kay?”
he nods, and you lean over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek before standing up.
but this time he doesn’t miss the way your expression falls, his brows furrowed as you walk out of the room and close the bathroom door with a quiet click. he knows there’s something you want, something you’re not happy with, but sometimes it’s so hard to get you to tell him what’s on your mind.
he closes his laptop and sets it aside on the bedside table, crossing his arms over his chest in thought as he hears the shower water start to run. if all you’re willing to do for now is drop hints, then he’s just gonna have to start paying better attention until you feel like opening up. he’s not exactly a mind reader, but he’s figured you out before and he’ll do it again.
the next time it comes up, you don't even mean for it to happen.
you're walking through the mall, hand in hand as you stroll past boutiques and shops. something in one of the windows catches your eyes, and you tug on minghao's hand to go inside. he follows your gaze to the display of frilly white dresses, the wire rack wrapped with pastel garlands for their spring sale.
a sales lady with a cheap rabbit ear headband walks over and greets you with a smile, quickly launching into a memorized script about new items and clearance sales. you subconsciously squeeze minghao's hand and he pauses to watch the way you look at the woman as she talks, trying to see what you're looking at.
and then he notices something, and things start to click into place. you say something to the woman that he doesn't hear before she nods and walks away, and he sees your gaze lingering on the little cottontail tied to the belt loop of her jeans, bouncing with each step.
“you like these?” he asks curiously, running his hand over one of the dresses you'd been eyeing earlier.
“hm?” you ask absently and whip your head back around, your attention clearly drawn elsewhere. “oh, yeah. they're cute.”
well, he may not be a mind reader, but he has a hunch that the reason you wanted to come in this store wasn't to look at the clothes.
he has the chance to put his theory to the test later that night when you're straddling his lap, hands gripping your ass as he pulls you up and down along his cock.
he decides to try it, under the guise of dirty talk in the heat of the moment, and he's so casual about it you'd never suspect a thing. it already doesn't take much to get you fucked out in his arms, so when he slips it in between curses and moans you'd never be able to guess that he's been thinking about this all afternoon.
he groans as you grind down against him, waiting for the perfect opportunity. “bouncing on me so good, like a little bunny,” he says, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust that makes you fall forward onto his chest.
like a magic word you instantly clench around him, whimpering loudly as your hips stutter and fall out of rhythm with him. he sees your eyes squeeze shut as you struggle to keep going, blatantly ignoring his words and pretending they don't affect you like he knows they do.
he lets himself grin at your reaction and thrusts up into you again, making you whine again as the tip of his cock presses into the spot that has you falling apart for him.
“hao! fuck, fuck, i'm—” you barely have time to moan out a warning before you're cumming, your body trembling against him from the strength of it as you gasp for air.
when you finally come back down he does everything he usually does, nothing out of the ordinary. he kisses your forehead and cleans you up and tucks you into bed beside him. he files this new little piece of information away for later and doesn't bring it up again.
for a while you start to think it was probably just an accident, a slip of the tongue when he wasn't thinking. he says a lot of things when he's inside you; he doesn't always have to mean them. but you should know better by now not to underestimate your boyfriend when he's got an idea in his head.
days go by and both of you pretend like it never happened; you because you're embarrassed at how much it affects you, and minghao because he has bigger plans up his sleeve.
everything seems perfectly normal until one evening when you come home from work and he's waiting for you at the door, wrapping you in a hug as soon as you step inside.
"hey, baby,” he smiles, his hands resting on your waist. “got a present for you."
your cheeks warm. "but it's not my birthday or anything?" it's not uncommon for him to spoil you with gifts, but he never makes a show of it. he just hands you things like you've owned them all your life, little surprises popping up without explanation like the necklace with your birthstone on it or the box of chocolates he'd known you were craving.
"it doesn't need to be. just something special i want you to have." he runs his hand over your forehead, tucking a strand of hair gently behind your ear. "it's in the bedroom, if you wanna go take a look.”
you give him a suspicious look and pull away, slipping your shoes off and leaving him by himself. he doesn't follow you down the hall, just standing in place and folding his arms with a satisfied grin once he hears squeals coming from the bedroom.
the house goes silent for a moment, and then he sees you poke your head out into the hall. “minghao?”
“yes, baby?” he grins teasingly as he leaves the living room, meeting you in the bedroom where he finds you standing next to the bed. you raise an eyebrow at him and point at the pretty white lingerie set he'd laid out for you.
the thin lace stands out laying atop the dark bedsheets, accompanied by a pair of fluffy white wrist cuffs and a headband with soft floppy ears similar to the one worn by the lady at the store the other day but clearly much higher quality; maybe even custom or handmade. the finishing touch is a thin, white leather collar with a bow, and he can't help but smile as he surveys his layout.
“what is this?” you draw his attention away from the setup, and though your tone sounds accusing he can tell how secretly thrilled you are despite the way you try to downplay it.
“i told you,” he smirks. “a present.”
now it's your turn to cross your arms at him. “and why is it here?”
“because i thought you'd like it,” he says in a low voice, moving closer to you. “don't you wanna be my little bunny?”
you yelp in surprise but then sigh, finally giving in. “how'd you figure it out?”
“you're easier to read than you think, my love,” he chuckles. “i know you too well.”
“you don't… hate it?” you ask shyly, lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.
he wraps his arms around you again. “of course not. you know you could've just asked me, right?”
you scrunch your nose and pout. “i was nervous you wouldn't want to. or you'd think it's stupid.”
“you know i'd do anything you want, love. it's not stupid to me.” he leans over to press a quick kiss to your lips. “now, will you get changed for me? i can't wait to see my cute little honey bunny all dressed up.”
with a reluctant but excited squeal you push him out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him so that the reveal will be a surprise. minghao grins at the way you try to hide your enthusiasm, leaning against the doorway as he waits patiently.
finally you open the door just a crack and poke your head out, hiding your body behind it nervously. “ready?” you ask.
he nods, and with a deep breath you pull the door open all the way. you give him a little spin, the ears flopping against your hair as you show off the outfit. he smiles proudly as he joins you in the room, his fingers falling to your waist and backing you up against the bed.
“you look adorable, baby. just like i imagined,” he says in a husky voice, and you bite your lip shyly. “do you like it?”
you smile, and it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. he'd buy you a million outfits and lingerie sets if it means he gets to see you like this every day. “i love it, hao. it's perfect.”
he sits down next to you at the edge of the bed and lifts his hand to pet your head, smoothing down your hair between the ears. you shiver in excitement, and it only makes him more eager to get started, his pants growing tighter every minute.
“i have one more present for you, mkay?” he leans away from the bed and pulls out an object from the dresser drawer. your breath catches in your throat when you realize what it is, a shiny silver plug with a round little white tail at the end that makes your heart race. “can’t be a bunny without a tail.”
you bite your lip and look at him, and he puts his hand on your thigh when you don't respond verbally. “is that okay?” he says gently, but your quick nod reassures him.
he stands up from the bed and quickly strips off his clothes, and you watch with lustful eyes as his cock slaps against his stomach, almost drooling at the sight. once he's ready you let him flip you over, kneeling down on your hands and knees with your ass readily pushed up in the air. he slips a finger under the seat of your panties, pulling them carefully to the side as he reaches over to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand beside the bed.
you shiver as he pours the cool liquid over your ass before rubbing the toy against you to coat it. once he's satisfied with it he starts to drag the metal upwards, and you jump involuntarily as he presses the end of the plug against your hole. “mm— it’s cold,” you whine as he teases you with it once more before pulling it away.
“but it won’t be for long.” he chuckles at your reaction and rubs his free hand across your lower back soothingly, and you lean your hips into his touch. with a grin he bends down and presses his lips gently against your ass cheek, and you moan when his teeth graze your skin. “just relax for me, baby, that’s it…”
he begins easing the toy past your entrance, just a little bit at a time until it's fully enveloped inside you. you've played with plugs before, but somehow the stretch is like nothing you've ever felt. knowing that this time you've got a cute little bunny tail attached sends a new wave of desire throughout your body.
with one finger he carefully pulls your panties back into place to cover you up, admiring the fluffy tail that protrudes from your hole. it really does complete the outfit, and he smiles at his own thoughtfulness, proud of his handiwork.
you wiggle your hips to test it out, adjusting to the feeling of its weight stuffed inside of you. minghao's hand comes down hard on your ass and you yelp, bucking away from him in surprise. immediately you feel his hand gently touch your stinging cheek, rubbing small circles to massage the pain away. "fuck— sorry. don't know what came over me." he says, voice gravelly. "you just… you look so fucking good right now, baby. you make such a cute bunny."
your face flushes as the initial shock fades, and you push your hips back towards him encouragingly. "it's okay. you can do it again, if—if you want."
he grips your waist and pulls you against him, and you whine as you feel his hard length grinding into your ass. "if i'd known you'd like that, then i would have bought the matching paddle with the ears and the tail too," he groans. "this is why you gotta speak up, baby. gotta tell me what you want so i can give it to you."
you bite your lip and bury your face into the pillow, ears burning in embarrassment, but you quickly lift your head again when you feel his hand leave another sharp smack on your ass. "mm, mm, don't hide from me now, love." he tsks in disappointment, his voice laced with fake sympathy. "you wanna be an obedient little bunny for me, don't you? well-behaved bunnies get rewarded."
you start to answer, but he runs his cock against your clothed pussy and your head falls back down into the pillow instinctively, letting out a muffled string of moans. his tip teases you, pushing the lace into your wetness and back out again. "what was that, baby? i couldn't hear you."
you scrunch your nose and raise your voice, though it still only comes out as powerful as a squeak. "i said, i'll be good!"
he grins and squeezes your ass with both hands before he pulls your panties off all the way, tugging them down your legs until the thin fabric bunches up at your knees. he drags his cock over your dripping entrance again as you clench around nothing.
“hao,” you whine softly. you tilt your hips backwards to try and push him inside, but he leans back out of your reach.
“be patient.” he runs his hands along the curve of your ass, bending down to come face to face with your aching cunt. “think i’ll eat this pretty pussy first instead. is that what you want, hm? give me a nice view of your cute little bunny tail while i make you cum all over my tongue?”
you whimper in reply, hiding your face in embarrassment as you lay on your stomach with your ass pushed into the air, proudly displaying your glistening arousal.
with his hands on either side of your hips he pulls you towards his waiting mouth. you gasp into a moan when his lips latch onto your clit, his tongue flicking at the sensitive spot as his nose prods against your entrance.
he presses his tongue flat against you, licking upwards before pulling away. it was happening so fast, too fast, and you wanted more. you needed more. but you should’ve known better than to think he would give you what you want that easily.
“feels good?” he hums, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“please, hao,” you moan. “need you. please, i’ll be good. just don’t stop.”
he scoffs lightly, his face next to your cunt but still too far away for your liking. “and why should i do that? are you gonna behave next time and tell me when you want something?”
“mhm,” you nod weakly. “i will. promise. please, minghao—”
“that’s my good girl. now just let me take care of you, hm?” he presses his lips against your ass in a kiss and you whimper when he begins sucking, hard enough that you know it’ll leave a bruise later. once he’s satisfied he sits back up to his knees, reaching over to pat your head between the ears of your headband. “don’t you worry your fuzzy little head about a thing.”
you let out another moan at his words, relishing in the way he talks about you. it gets you going more than you could’ve ever imagined, and you love him for the way he’s embraced this so wholeheartedly, falling into the role so easily that you’re cursing yourself for ever trying to hide.
he slides back down behind you, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart to give him easier access as he pushes his tongue into you. you can feel yourself growing wetter every second that passes, coating his lips with your slick as he eats you out like a starving man.
he directs his attention away from your clit, tracing his tongue up until it reaches the underside of your tail and the tip of the plug poking out. just like he’d predicted the metal is warm now, heated by the warmth radiating from your holes.
he smooths his hands over your cheeks, kneading them with his slender fingers and pushing you back further into his face. his tongue darts out to lick around the edges of the toy in your ass, and you can’t help but squirm in his grasp as his mouth wanders between your legs, briefly moving back down to suck at your clit before licking upwards again.
your thighs tremble, feeling so much stimulation in ways you'd never knew possible. he traces his tongue over your pussy, dipping into your entrance before he sits back on his knees.
“you think you deserve to cum now?” he says, and even though you're facedown in the mattress you can still hear the teasing lilt in his voice. “has my little honey bunny earned it, do you think you've been a good girl?”
you're so fucked out already you can barely speak, but you know he wants you to beg him before he'll actually do anything. so you collect yourself and twist your head to look over your shoulder, bunny ears flopping against your back and the most pleading expression you can muster. “mhm… please? been such a good bunny for you.” you prove your point by wiggling your hips, shaking the little tail plug that sticks out of your ass back and forth.
he groans, hands squeezing your waist tighter. he can tell how much you wanted this, how much you're enjoying this, and who is he to deny you any longer when you've been so well behaved? “mm, alright.” he leans down over your back to kiss your shoulder, brushing your hair and your floppy ears out of the way. “gonna let you cum on my cock now, is that what my baby bunny wants?”
you nod eagerly and let out a yip as he finally sinks into you. you swear you've never felt this good in your life as he starts to fill you up, your walls stretching to accommodate his length.
“so fucking tight,” he groans through gritted teeth when he finally bottoms out, his cock buried in your heat. “clenching so hard, i can barely move.”
“minghao—” you plead out his name, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock but his grip on your hips is too strong to let you have even a little bit of control.
he stays still for a minute to give you time to adjust, but that doesn't stop him from playing with your tail and tracing his fingers teasingly along your lower back, relishing in the way it makes you shiver and moan his name louder.
finally when neither you nor him can take it anymore, he starts to slide out of you, groaning at the way his shaft is already coated in your slick. he's not sure you've ever been this wet for him before— and you haven't even cum yet.
it doesn't take long for him to build up his pace, propelled by the sight of your cute little tail bouncing with each deep stroke. he spreads your cheeks apart to watch the spot where his length disappears inside you and groans, an idea hitting him as he digs his fingertips into your hips. “fuck, baby— want me to video this? you look so fucking good taking my cock, wanna let you see yourself.”
your walls clench around him faster than your lips can whimper out a “yes”. god, the thought that later you'll get to watch yourself, kneeling on the bed in your pretty lingerie getting fucked like the slutty little bunny you've always wanted to be? it's your biggest dream come true.
he gradually slows down his pace so he can reach over and grab his phone off the nightstand, fingers fumbling with the buttons to start the recording. he shifts his phone into one hand and uses his other to push down on your lower back, forcing you to arch up more for him.
his long fingers wrap around your side as he starts to thrust into you again, pulling you backwards to meet his cock with each stroke as he builds back up to a brutal pace. he holds the camera up by his chin to make sure he captures a full view of the scene, your pretty ass pushed into the air as a constant stream of whimpers and whines escapes you.
“look at my pretty bunny,” he pants out, squeezing your hip even harder as he fucks into you, knowing everything he says will be immortalized for your pleasure when you watch this together later. “look at you. so good for me, aren’t you?”
you moan out something unintelligible that sounds like a yes, and he rewards you by fucking you harder. he grins and moves his phone closer to your ass to get a better view of your pussy, close enough to see the glint of metal poking out and the way your muscles contract around both it and him with every thrust.
his eyes rake over your body, occasionally glancing at his phone screen to check the video. after a minute he stops the video and tosses his phone aside, quickly moving both hands back to grip your hips so he has more leverage to plunge into you more deeply. your arms give out from the force and you fall forward against the bed, whimpers muffled by the sheets that you grip so tightly to stay grounded to.
one of his hands suddenly leaves your hips and you feel his fingers tangle in your hair, gasping as he jerks your head up again.
“c’mon, baby,” he says, winding his hand around your hair until it tugs your scalp. it burns but it feels so good, sending a shiver down your spine as he pulls on you. “you’ve been so good for me, don’t ruin it now. you can take it. isn’t that right, bunny?”
“fuck,” you whimper as you strain your neck backwards, your tits pushed against the lacy front of your lingerie as you arch your back. “i can—i can take it. please… please.”
his other hand slides up your stomach, pulling you to sit upright with your back against his chest. if it weren’t for minghao’s grip on you, you doubt you’d have even been able to hold your head up on your own, let alone the rest of your body; his forearm wraps around your chest, holding you flush against his body. you swear he’s never fucked you this hard before in your life, slamming his hips into you so hard you already know you’ll be feeling this for days afterwards, his pace never tiring.
minghao is good at giving you what you want, but you’ve always been able to retain at least a little bit of control even in your most fucked out state. but tonight your head is reeling, mouth hanging open with not a single coherent thought running through your mind. maybe it’s the thrill of being “caught”, of him finally figuring out your secret fantasy and letting you play into it.
your first orgasm catches you off guard, overtaking you with no warning. you double over in minghao’s arms as you writhe against him, clenching so hard that even he can’t keep up the pace. his hips stutter as he struggles to continue thrusting, barely managing to even stay inside of you as your muscles contract and try to force his cock out from your pulsing walls.
“go on, baby, let go for me,” he breathes in a low voice against your ear, holding you tighter to keep you in place. “such a good bunny, cumming all over my cock.”
“cu—cumming!” you manage, and you squeeze your eyes shut as another wave slams into you.
he curses under his breath as he snakes his hand down the front of your body to toy with your clit. “fuck— that’s it, baby. let me have it, give me more. such a good girl.”
you lean your head back against his shoulder with another broken moan, all the tension suddenly leaving your body in a rush. the bed is soaked, his thighs are soaked, your pussy is soaked, but you can't stop. his fingers don't stop either, rubbing fast circles on your clit as you squirt.
after what seems like an eternity of cumming you claw at his fingers on your clit, weakly trying to pull his hand away. “h-hao,” you moan, your voice cracking. “wait. stop—”
his grip on your body loosens and he moves his hand before pulling out of you slowly, his cock still hard and aching and his heart pounding with adrenaline. immediately his tone is softer, keeping his voice quiet beside your ear despite his heavy breathing. “what is it, love, what do you need? can you tell me?”
you lean your head back to rest against his shoulder, your body shaking as you try to catch your breath. it’s hard. you can barely think straight from so much stimulation all at once, your head still cloudy from such intense orgasms back to back, and it takes a long few seconds before you can string together your thoughts. “just… need to slow down.” you find his hand on your thigh and squeeze his fingers with all the strength you can muster. “but don’t wanna stop.”
he exhales and turns his head to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. “okay, sweetheart. just let me know. i’m here.”
he knows he was getting a little carried away, but he wasn’t expecting this to get him so riled up. even after he’d figured you out and put his plan into motion he hadn’t once thought about how he felt, so focused on making sure you’d be happy with him.
he’d spent hours online looking for the perfect outfit for you, pretty lingerie that would be comfortable yet still make you feel as beautiful and sexy as you are to him. if only he hadn’t wanted it to be a surprise, because he kind of wishes you’d been able to see the grin on his face when he’d picked out the cutest little tail and ears to match.
he never considered how much he’d enjoy seeing you in the outfit, maybe even more than you, the lace hugging your body as you whimper and whine so cutely for him. if anything, he knows he's definitely going to get his money's worth out of your pretty costume set, because he's already planning out in his mind the next time you'll get to do this together.
you hum his name softly and it brings him out of his head, looking down at your hazy expression. this is still sort of new to him, but he’ll figure out how to handle it. he’s good at that.
“do you wanna lay down?” he asks, fingers tracing up and down your sides and gently toying with the fabric of your bra as he holds you against his body.
you hum in agreement and turn over in his arms, letting him slowly guide you onto your back as he hovers on his hands and knees above you.
you tug at your ears headband and toss it away, and instinctively his hands begin smoothing over your hair to carefully massage your scalp. “uncomfy?” he asks as your eyes flutter shut, a sweet smile on your face at his soothing touch.
“after a while, yeah,” you say softly, leaning your head into his fingertips. you open your eyes slowly, finding his face just inches above yours. “i’m still your bunny?” you ask a little shyly, watching his gaze.
he smiles and leans up to kiss your nose, a habit of his that now means so much more. “mhm. cutest bunny i’ve ever met. and she’s all mine.”
you can feel his throbbing cock resting atop your stomach, and you sigh out his name, reaching up to pull him down to meet your lips. “minghao…” you lift your hips a little, whimpering quietly in response when he groans from the pressure.
“ready to go again?” he breathes, and at your nod he positions his cock back at your entrance, pushing in slowly. the stretch is easy this time and it doesn’t take long before he bottoms out again, bending over you to leave kisses all over your face as you readjust to him.
you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer, whining softly as you squeeze his bicep to try to get him to move. even just having him completely still inside of you feels incredible, but you're eager for more, almost insatiable for him. you don't want this to end just yet.
“god—” he chokes out, thrusting once into you so deep that it makes your head spin. “i'm gonna cum if you keep doing that. not gonna last much longer.”
maybe he’s delirious from so much in one night, but minghao swears you clench harder when he says that. you shake your head, trying to pull him even closer. “don’t care. just want you to fill me up, please?”
he lets out another groan, long and low as he pushes his hips in and out in a slow but steady rhythm. “oh, is that what you want? you want me to breed you? pretty bunny wants to be full of my cum?”
between his dirty talk and the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you, your mind goes blank, and all you can manage is a squeak and a nod and a prayer that he’ll figure it out, how badly you want him to do exactly that. despite everything he’s already given you tonight, you’re absolutely desperate for it, and if you could recall words and sentences right now you would’ve started begging him like your life depended on it.
luckily for you he knows you just as well as he says he does, because he adjusts his hips and thrusts deeper into you, his cock angled upwards to hit you just right with every stroke as filthy words spill from his lips.
“gonna fuck you so full,” he huffs, and you stare wide eyed at the sweat dripping down his cheekbones as he pounds you into the mattress. “taking it so well, gonna breed you like my bunny deserves, stuff you so full. my pretty little bunny, always so desperate for me…”
he doesn't stop, his words beginning to ramble as he focuses all his energy on thinking about your pretty eyes and the sweet, fucked out look on your face that he knows you always get when he cums inside of you because he knows how much you love it.
“please… please,” you whimper, your fingers gripping onto his shoulders so tight, and you know he's right at the edge. each stroke fills you completely, and the pressure from both his cock and the plug still inside you makes you dizzy with pleasure.
minghao buries his face in your collarbone, biting down to muffle his groans as he cums. your own mouth falls open in a gasp as you feel his cock jerk against your walls, pulsing with each thick rope of cum he releases inside. his breath catches in his throat and forces his cock deeper, his pelvis firmly pressed against yours as far in as he can possibly go.
with shaky hands and even shakier breaths, you wrap your arms around him and hold his head against your chest, your heart still racing as you come down together. he doesn't try to pull out yet, laying down on top of you and letting his weight cover you. you whimper softly as you feel his cum seeping out of you, running down the backs of your thighs.
after a minute he sighs, looking up at you to make sure you're still okay. “was that alright?” he asks, but your lazy grin tells him all he needs to know.
“love, hey.” he tilts your chin to make you look at him, brushing his thumb against your cheek to make sure you're paying attention. “promise me one thing. next time, just tell me if there's something you wanna try. okay?” he says. his tone is still quiet and gentle, but you can tell he's serious.
as fun as it is to play this game, he'd much rather you just come to him and talk about it, even if you think it's silly or stupid. he knows it's hard to talk about things you want, but he feels comfortable enough to tell you anything and he hopes one day you'll feel the same, without him having to pry.
“mhm,” you hum sincerely, smiling in contentment at the soft feeling of his fingers on your skin. “i will.”
despite your mumbled voice he can tell you're being genuine with him, and he rewards you with a gentle kiss.
you giggle and run your fingers through his hair, basking in the warm, fuzzy feeling that radiates both inside and out. “so… next time you're gonna wear the outfit, right?”
he laughs and kisses you again, happy that you seem so satisfied after everything. “well, that depends on whether or not you've been a good bunny.”
i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!
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#kvanity#kflixnet#k-labels#caratlibrary#[📌] — june.writes#[💻] — onlyhuis1k#minghao smut#the8 smut#svt smut#seventeen smut#minghao fanfic#minghao scenarios#minghao x reader#minghao imagines#the8 fanfic#the8 scenarios#svt scenarios#svt x reader#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#seventeen scenarios
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genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au
paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader
warning(s) -> mentions of abuse, anxiety / paranoia, etc.
words -> 2K
abstract -> Everything was lie... did I become who I hate?
y/n's perspective
“How’d it go?” San asked me as I just got comfortable in his arms.
“You shouldn’t get too comfortable, you need to get out of these clothes,” Yeosang said and I sighed. “You guys are watching the news?” I asked as I saw the TV on. “So far they’ve captured over eighty hybrids,” Wooyoung said and I felt disgusted that such people could do such things. “How was it?” San asked and I sighed.
“There was this duo… one of them promised to help me if I got the circus shut down. I’ll have to do interviews and then it’s over” I said and they nodded.
“Just be careful… surely they’re being tested in which codes they’ll fit into,” Yeosang said and I nodded. I was planning on leaving when I heard a buzz by the elevator.
“Miss l/n, there are two friends of yours wanting a visit” I heard and I was confused… Wonyoung, Johnny, and Yuta were the only ones to visit me unannounced and they were allowed up here without an announcement so who?
“We’re expecting guests?” Wooyoung asked and I was just as confused as them. “They have lots of bags and suitcases. One of them is named Zhong Chenle?” he said and I felt my eyes light up. I ran to the elevator. “Yes, let them up,” I said, noticing the three boys behind me looking confused at my sudden outburst.
“Who’s that?” Yeosang asked and I smiled. “Some friends, who used to work in the clinic but decided to study abroad in China, didn’t tell me they got back,” I said now excited to see them but I could tell that Yeosang and San weren’t happy about them.
“We heard you adopted three hybrids but we almost didn’t believe it” I heard and sighed at the sight of them. They carried a whole lot of bags… “I told you not to get me anything” I scolded and Chenle waved it off. “Well, you should’ve expected better,” Jisung teased. I chuckled. “Isn’t that?” Jisung wandered off while looking behind me.
“Oh? Did they not tell you about Wooyoung?” I asked and they shook their heads. “No, but I would recognize that face anywhere,” Jisung said as I saw Wooyoung wag his tail and grow a smile on his face.
“We thought you didn’t want to see us,” Chenle asked and he sighed. “Long story, but he’s mine now,” I said and the two laughed.
“We’ve come to leave a few things, our dorm is getting crowded,” Chenle added and I sighed. They must’ve bought a bunch of stuff for the group… “How much?” I asked and they groaned. “You know how NingNing and Wonyoung are '' Jisung said and I could already imagine the whole bunch of text they must've sent them for errands.
“Don’t forget Johnny-hyung,” Chenle added. “Well thanks for thinking of me, was it fun?” I asked and they grinned. “You need to see Chenle’s house” Jisung fanboyed
“Though apparently, we don’t get a break we got back yesterday and Kun and Doyoung-hyung want us in already” Chenle added and I nodded. The circus hybrids…
“They don’t seem bad” “Hmm? They’re really nice, they bribe you with expensive stuff” I heard them whisper behind me. “Good luck! Be safe, I'll be over there soon either way!” I said and they nodded as they said their goodbyes before leaving.
I peeked inside the bags and smiled…
“Looks like hybrid stuff,” I said and that got the three of them their attention.
“This is so hard to find!” Yeosnag said as he looked at the lotions and perfumes. “How’d they know?” San asked and I shrugged. One of my friends must've told them…
“Pretty” Wooyoung said as he found jewelry. Just how much did they buy for me?! I even saw expensive toys and clothes.
San seemed to like the video games and perfumes, Yeosang found all the expensive brand skincare, Whilst Wooyoung found a bunch of toys…
I needed to get ready soon for the interviews…
“Hey! That's mine, it's in my pile!” and they are already fighting… thanks a lot Chenle and Jisung.
seonghwa's perspective
This place was… paradise and hell. I know I was lucky… while others are either being taken by facilities or breeding farms.
Most of the hybrids were red coded and very few were black codes. I was yellow… because I behaved or I wanted to trust humans.
I was just hoping Hongjoong was still here…
“His partner is a red code so be careful. He’s well behaved but… you can’t be too sure” I heard and I saw the door open.
It was her again!
“Press the button if you feel unsafe at any time,” the staff member said as they left her alone with me? They never do that… Some humans have passed by to adopt and there’s always someone with them.
“Hello,” she said and I smiled softly. “Thank you… you actually went through with it” I said and she nodded.
“Now it’s time for your part,” she said and I nodded.
“What do you need to know?” I asked and she looked at her notebook as if seeing what to ask first.
“Let’s talk about the MATZ show,” she asked and I nodded.
“Hongjoong and I are… we’re the only tigers there. We were born there but we’re not related, they decided to pair us up as an act. They decided to make it more dangerous each show… testing our limits” I said whilst she wrote it down. I wonder what she had down… was she analyzing me? Was she even qualified to?
“Can I ask you something?” I asked and she stopped writing to look at me. “Do you own hybrids? Actually, no I know you own three, why are you helping hybrids if you own them?” I asked not wanting to be dismissive about her.
“I do, I have a panther, a Doberman, and a fox. I adopted them here actually… and besides they didn’t have a chance to get adopted by anyone else so I adopted them to help them not because I'm a hybrid collector” she explained and I nodded. Was she telling the truth?
The interview went on about details which she left to talk to the doctor.
“Seonghwa, on your best behavior.” I heard as I saw the employee open my kennel and put on the basic safety equipment. I was led to a different area… the red codes. Most of the kennels were glass-enclosed and so I saw a lot of hybrids staring at me with threatening glares.
I saw her again though. She was in front of a kennel that was closed. “Behave, y/n, Kun is trusting you to be careful with him. He isn't aggressive but be careful, there's a button in case you feel that you can’t handle it anymore” the employee said as the leash was now given to her. y/n is her name… where have I heard that before?
She opened the curtain…
“Hongjoong!!” I yelled as I got close to the glass. “Seonghwa? You’re okay!” he said back and I was relieved. He’s alive… but he’s a code red.
“What are you doing with her?” he asked as he glared at her. “She’s conducting interviews with hybrids… I actually don’t know why I'm here?” I said and she sighed. “Doyoung your doctor is worried about you guys being separated since you guys are a bonded pair” she explained.
Bonded pair?
“I won’t answer any questions from the hybrid owner,” he said and she sighed. I was curious about her hybrids… it was a weird combination and she said she adopted them here.
“You don’t need to worry about them,” she said and he laughed at her. “They are bonded to you,” Hongjoong said and I realized he was right. She’s bonded to them…
“What did you do to have three hybrids bonded to you?” he asked demeaningly and she sighed. “That's my personal business.
Currently, I'm trying to help–” “You can’t do anything. You think if you bring him here in front of me it'll save you? If I get out of this glass cage I'd gladly get revenge for what humans did to me” he threatened and I sighed. I shook my head at him knowing I couldn’t help stop him.
“Press your silly little button. Go home to your stupid little manipulated hybrids, I won't have to do anything cause one day they’ll turn on you. Hybrids will do anything to survive, even bond themselves to silly little humans” he said and I could see that struck a nerve in her.
“If you comply–” “No, get that through your head. Believe it or not I am behaving enough to keep myself alive–” he started shuffling around showing he was actually out of his constraints. “–you aren’t safe. No hybrid owner is the cause at the end of the day we are animals. I could smell a cat hybrid on you… and a domestic one he could kill you. In your sleep or at any time, they’ll overpower you and you’ll deserve it” he said and I could see her eyes hold fear in them.
“Hongjoong stop,” I said and he scoffed. “Is she gonna cry? So sensitive… im telling the truth your firm does hybrid rights, you know the stories of hybrids killing their owners. Claws ripped the skin at their throats, cannibalistic tendencies, poison, and so much more. One day you’ll be on the cover–” She took a shaky deep breath and left… ran away.
“Hongjoong that was unnecessary,” I said and he laughed. He had fun doing that… “It is the truth. You can’t deny it” he said and it was a possibility.
“She seemed nice.. And in all honesty I'd rather be here than in that circus” I said and he laughed. “It's all the same, dear friend. Besides… “ he trailed off without smiling.
“If she reacts like that… she knows it's true. So she isn’t the good little hybrid owner you think she is”
y/n perspective
That’ll never happen… they– everything is okay. They’re happy… but– San doesn’t like humans and didn't like me. Was it because he had to adapt? Wooyoung… he… he likes me right? Yeosang… he… did he decide to be with me because I could help him?
Not everything is real… but, San did… does hate me?
“Miss?” I heard taking me out of my thoughts. He was a man in a hat and a trenchcoat. “Are you okay?” he asked and I tried to compose myself but my eyes kept on producing tears…
“Hey, don't cry. Please get up, Miss. You should be so vulnerable in the street there are terrible people–” I started crying more after that. Am I a terrible person?
“No no no… please don’t cry,” he said. “Miss, someone as pretty as you should be crying,” he said but it didn't help. False and empty compliments.
Am I actually the same type of person that I expose?
“What's bothering you?” he asked and I tried calming myself. “Is owning hybrids a bad thing?” I asked and he sighed. “Do you care and love them?” he asked and I nodded. “I just don’t think… They care for me. Hybrids will do anything to adapt and please their owners… I know that so– this is why I didn't want a hybrid! I-I… don't know what to do” I was lost.
“Miss, please calm down. Hybrids… do adapt but you obviously care for your hybrids and I promise you, you’re overthinking. Did they tell you that?” he asked and I shook my head.
“If you care for them so much and they care for you, that's enough. Not everyone shows kindness to hybrids” he said and I tried to stop the tears.
“You shouldn’t be crying like this miss,” he said and I nodded
He helped me up from my crouching position and patted my head. “Someone like you should be crying like this for silly things. If you care for them this much I bet they care for you just as much maybe even more” he comforted and I smiled softly.
“Oh did you drop this?” he asked as I saw my wallet. “Oh… thank you. I’m sorry I must've taken you from what you were doing!” I said and he chuckled.
“No, of course not Miss. I didn’t mind, helping you”
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#ateez#ateez x female reader#ateez circus#ateez x reader#ateez seonghwa#seonghwa x reader#ateez hongjoong#hongjoong x reader#ateez yunho#yunho x reader#ateez yeosang#yeosang x reader#ateez san#san x reader#ateez wooyoung#wooyoung x reader#ateez mingi#mingi x reader#ateez jongho#jongho x reader#ateez smut#ateez san smut#san smut#choi san smut#ateez woosan#woosan smut#ateez wooyoung smut#wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung smut#ateez yeosang smut
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it’s well past two in the morning when all your guests have left, and it’s just you and jeonghan and some cardboard boxes.
the two of you are taping the last of his boxes shut, a movie you’ve seen a million times playing on the television, both of you talking and laughing over it. the party has just died down — yours and jeonghan’s farewell party.
he’d said it sounded too dramatic, when you first brought it up. because neither of you were going far. you to your new studio apartment and jeonghan moving in with seungkwan, now that the lease was up and the owner wasn’t planning to renew it. jeonghan had dubbed it the “house-cooling” party instead, the opposite of housewarming — the kind of stupid joke he only makes to you.
still, though, as you sit among the boxes and leftover pizza, you feel kind of — wistful. when you say as much, jeonghan laughs, reaching over to tap under your chin fondly.
“wistful?” he repeats, smiling.
you huff at him. “i’m going to miss you, that’s what i’m saying, you ass.”
“i’m not going far,” he reminds you. “we’re literally within twenty minutes of each other. fifteen on a good day.”
“still!”
“i’ll visit you all the time. i’ll get tired of seungkwan doing karaoke. and then we’ll basically be roommates again, because he doesn’t stop doing karaoke.”
jeonghan’s tone is light and easy, but you can’t help wondering why the two of you aren’t going to be roommates again. why you hadn’t looked for an apartment together. neither of you had brought it up, things just fell this way, and all of a sudden you’re thinking about how jeonghan always moves your washing to the dryer for you and how much you’re going to miss him.
because you really are — not just because of laundry. you guys were roommates before you became actually close, brought together by mutual friends; you’ve never known a jeonghan that wasn’t jeonghan, my roommate, and suddenly it feels a little like losing him. because suddenly you love him, and not in a jeonghan, my roommate way. not in a jeonghan, my friend way either — in a way that puts aches in your chest, has your ribs living up to their name, acting a cage for your heart. you’re not sure how long it’s been, but it’s been long enough.
you’d been clinging to the hope that it would pass; everyone knows you don’t date your roommate. but now — now he’s not your roommate, and it hasn’t passed, and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.
on one hand: you could tell him. bare it all out, in the open, raw and bloody and unfettered. on the other hand: there are so many things you would rather do than experience rejection. you’d be able to take just being his roommate if you needed to. could’ve held out until it passed.
“maybe we should’ve moved in together again,” you voice, forcing your voice light and airy and casual, playing it like a random off-hand suggestion.
jeonghan’s vehement shake of the head is surprising, and it stings. more than you expected. “no.”
you can quite literally feel your face fall, staring at him without pretence. “what?”
he looks up from the box he’s packing, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his brown eyes. “ask me why,” he instructs softly.
you swallow thickly. it’s hard not to, when he’s looking at you like that — warm and familiar and intense and scary, all at once. your eyes follow the strand of dark hair that falls over his forehead, suddenly realising just how close he is. “why?”
jeonghan sets down the tape, tilting his head to the side, choosing his words slowly, carefully. “because if i ever ask you to move in with me again, it’ll be very different to this. can you pass me the scissors?”
you barely even hear the last part. “different? different how?”
“just… different.” he shrugs, reaching over you for the scissors himself. “you’ll be dating me, for one thing.”
time seems to come to a halt when he says those words, and you barely manage a whisper — “what?”
jeonghan rolls his eyes and pokes your forehead. “i’m trying to say i’m in love with you, dipshit. can you please take a hint?”
you malfunction. it’s late and your brain is already fried enough from finals and he’s staring at you, and this isn’t a dream, this is real.
and so you launch your roll of tape in his direction.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?”
jeonghan doesn’t even need to dodge the tape, but still gapes at you. “what?”
“you can’t— just drop a love confession like a — like a hot potato, and then expect me to catch it!”
“a hot potato?” he repeats, and then he’s biting down on a laugh, shoulders shaking. “did you just call my love confession a fucking hot potato?”
“no! yes, well — ” you flounder, confused in your embarrassment. “oh my god. you’re so mean. i wasn’t ready.”
jeonghan’s still laughing. “if i’d warned you in advance, what would you have answered?”
and now it’s your turn to stare him down: “you didn’t ask anything yet. what am i supposed to answer?”
that only tilts jeonghan’s smile further upward, and he scoots closer, leaning on one arm. you can smell him, soft and fresh and so incredibly near, as he speaks — “you’re smart. i think you can work it out.”
you kiss him first. quick and sweet, over and over. you think it’s probably answer enough.
also in my head this is the same couple from this drabble but they can be read separately
an / hana comeback era ⁉️ this is just something i wrote super quick but HIII it’s been almost 2 months since i posted some writing 😭 i’m so sorry this awful piece is the first thing u guys get, hopefully will write something better soon!
perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura @dokyeomkyeom
#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan comfort#jeonghan fic#jeonghan fanfic#jeonghan x y/n#jeonghan scenarios
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Notes On a Virtuous Affair
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.
He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;
A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3
Word Count: 3.1K
Read on AO3
Notes On a Virtuous Affair
Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him.
One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.
But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.
The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it.
The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse.
Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.
-
“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you.
You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want.
“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks.
And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come.
One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too.
That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do.
“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby.
He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to.
Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap.
A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also.
The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you.
Sameness.
He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as.
The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.
When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms.
He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it.
“Good girl,” he says now with voice.
-
The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved.
There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else.
Your love too.
And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now.
The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper.
He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness.
He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.
The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance.
You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.
The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you.
He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.
He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is.
“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up.
Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”
You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now.
He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.
“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership.
He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous.
He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking.
The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude.
These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world.
The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful.
“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.
“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.
Complicated and precise.
When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you.
His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well.
When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now.
You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.
Lies aren’t allowed in this house.
He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail.
He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him.
He stares up at them now.
When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?
“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie.
“A good kind of a bad kind?”
You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”
He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then.
“I don’t love you.”
And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game.
You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.
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Hehe for since you asked for fluffy smut, what if reader has had a long day at work and Eddie maybe fixes a bubble bath and they take one together, but then it gets a lil frisky
Is this more smut than fluff? Yes. Am I apologizing for it? Nope.
Collab with @corroded-hellfire who is once again the only reason there's any fluff at all.
CW: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), roommate!Eddie, accidental boners, grinding, lots and lots of touching, mention of oral (f)
WC: 1.9k
Home might have been a tiny, two-bedroom apartment that perched above the heart of Hawkins, but at the end of a long shift, it’s Heaven.
You kick off your shoes; apparently they’re one of the most supportive brands, according to the other waitresses, but your feet still ache.
The throbbing in your feet is nothing compared to the roaring pain that inflames your lower back. Just pressing the heel of your palms into it makes you wince and groan.
“You okay?” Eddie calls from his room. You hear him fumbling to put away his guitar before you can even reply.
The door swings open and he stands there, posture sagging when he sees how beaten down you look. Whatever makeup you had applied that afternoon had long faded, and the stains on your apron certainly added the finishing touch.
Eddie, meanwhile, is refreshed—infuriatingly so. Today was his day off, and though he put in a lot of work the other six days of the week, you still yearned for the well-restedness that had him bounding over to you.
“Bubble bath?” When you two had first moved in together, he used to try and talk to you about your day. He took it personally when you retreated to your room without glancing in his direction. But now he knew that you talk when you regain your energy. And there’s no shortage of gossip after eight hours at Benny’s.
You nod, offering him as much of a grateful smile as you can muster. “That would be great.” You weren’t sure how you managed to find a great friend like Eddie, but you weren’t about to question it, either.
None of the guys you’d actually dated had ever been so understanding. But Eddie…he managed to always know what you needed.
He offers you one of his signature grins that always brighten your day and heads down the hall to the bathroom. You take off your name tag when the loud gush of the tub faucet reaches your ears and you barely have time to yank your socks off before Eddie’s back in your doorway.
“Your spa awaits,” he says. “I would’ve prepared you some music but I don’t think any of my metal cassettes have the ambiance you’re looking for right now.”
You shake your head as you pass by him and step towards the bathroom door.
“Not really,” you agree. “I’ll let you know if I need it for some inspiration working out or welding or something.”
Eddie huffs a laugh and slips his hands into the back pockets of his black jeans.
“Wasn’t that Flashdance?”
“Yeah, but that music wasn’t my thing,” you admit with a shrug before you step into the bathroom. The door clicks behind you as it closes and you’re immediately shedding the stained, greasy uniform you’ve been dying to ditch all day.
A trail of clothing is left in your wake as you step up to the tub, the bubbles fizzing and giving off a calming jasmine scent. Not wanting to scald your skin as the cherry on top of this already grueling day, you slip your hand into the water to test the temperature. It’s perfect. You don’t know how Eddie does it; he must have the magic touch.
The water, the bubbles, the scent, it’s all too inviting. You lift one leg over the side of the tub and climb in, quickly bringing the other in as well. In your haste to start your relaxation, you slip a bit as you begin to sit down. Instinct has you catching yourself on the sides of the tub almost instantly, but it causes the collection of soap, shampoo, and conditioner bottles to tumble onto the floor in a large heap. You stare at the pile for a moment.
“Ah, I’ll deal with you later,” you decide under your breath and sink further down into the warmth waiting to heal you from your long day.
The bubbles tickle your skin as they gradually make their way higher. They stop around your breasts and the warm water wraps itself around every achy muscle in your body.
Suddenly, the bathroom door busts open, a frazzled Eddie charging in with wide, concerned eyes. He’s only in a Corroded Coffin t-shirt and boxers now, so maybe the loud bang woke him from a nap.
“I-Is everything okay?” he asks as he eyes the pile of bottles on the floor.
“Oh yeah, I just knocked those over when I got in,” you explain.
Eddie breathes a sigh of relief but the moment his eyes land on you, his body tenses up even worse than before. He’s clearly trying not to stare at you—especially your chest—but he’s failing miserably. You look down to find that your roommate has a pretty good view of the tops of your boobs.
When you look back to Eddie, you get a pretty nice view yourself. Since he’s only wearing boxers on his lower half, his boner is quite evident.
A smug sense of satisfaction settles over you, even seeing how uncomfortable Eddie seems to be at getting caught. But you’re not going to tease him or make him feel bad about anything. On the contrary, you’ve thought of yet another way he can help you relax.
“Do you wanna join?” you purr.
When Eddie looks your way you give him the most innocent, wide eyed look you can manage and flutter your lashes a few times.
Worry blooms within you when he doesn’t immediately respond.
Did I overstep? Is he completely freaked out? Oh my god, what if his boner was completely unrelated to me and I just assumed—
His voice, smaller than you’ve ever heard it, interrupts your thoughts. “Mhm, yeah. I mean, if that’s cool with you.”
You nod, watching as he peels off his shirt and tosses it aside, exposing the soft tendrils of hair across his chest. There’s a tattoo on one pec; you want him, need him closer so you can run your tongue over it.
He sheds his boxers next. Though you knew he was big just from seeing the bulge behind the fabric, nothing prepared you to see him fully on display. The reddish-pink tip leaks pre-cum as the shaft bobs in desperate search for the warmth of a body.
“Where should I…” He’s gained a bit of confidence from the way you stare unabashedly at his naked body, but he’s still hesitant to push his luck too far.
Scooting forward, you gesture to the now empty space behind you. Nerves buzz throughout your naked body —now wet in more ways than one.
Eddie swings a leg over the edge of the tub, getting his balance before bringing the other to join. The way he places his hands on your shoulders results in an electricity that you can only hope he feels as well.
His lower body disappears beneath the bubbles and he lets out a relaxed groan. You lean back until your head rests on his chest, his considerable length pressing against your lower back.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers. Whether he means to speak that softly or he can’t manage anything louder, you can’t be sure. “Be careful.”
“Careful?”
He nods, lips grazing the shell of your ear. He’s so close to you, and yet he’s still too far away. “You’re so fucking tempting like this.”
You shift slightly, enough to see the blush in his cheeks that you know isn’t from the steamy bath. “Maybe I want you to be tempted.”
One tattooed arm snakes around your waist, fingers trailing upwards and stopped just shy of your breasts.
“Don’t tease me,” he begs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I mean it.”
You take his hand and place it on your left breast. He whimpers, and you swear you could climax from the sound alone.
Water sloshes around the tub as he hooks his legs around yours, gathering the stability he needs.
“Fuck…” His hips move as he ruts up against you, desperate for relief. The way he pinches your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, starkly contrasts the gentle kisses he leaves on your shoulder blades.
You want him. You need him.
His other hand lays in the water and you guide it between your legs, now spread in anticipation of his touch.
“There?” He asks as he finds your clit, rubbing it when you nod in the affirmative.
Eddie increases his pace, fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure. You arch your back, exposing your neck for him to bite and suck.
“When we’re done,” he murmurs, “I want you splayed out on the bed for me. I need to see if your pussy is as pretty as I’ve imagined.”
His words awaken something within you. “Y-You imagine me…?” You start, unable to finish your sentence.
Eddie nods. “Every time I jerk off, Sweetheart, I imagine being inside you. How you’d feel around my cock—mmph, fuck.”
“I picture you, too,” you confess. “Your fingers, or your cock, or—”
He raises a brow. “Or?”
“Or your mouth.” The admission spills from your lips.
“Yeah? You want me to eat that pretty little pussy of yours?” Your own desire for him amps up his confidence. He’s impossibly and impressively hard, and you would do anything for him to stretch you out.
You nod. “Please.”
“Okay, Sweetheart. Soon as we’re done here, yeah?” His breath hitches, his rutting becoming sloppier and needier as he nears orgasm.
Bubbly waves crest over the side of the tub, drenching the bathmat and flooding the tile floor, but neither of you care.
“Eds, little more, I’m gonna…”
He follows your every order, your pussy clenching around nothing as he takes care of your clit.
“Wanna make you feel good.” Eddie kisses your shoulder again. “Please let me make you feel good.”
You can only offer a moan as you come, chanting his name over and over. It’s a name you only ever dreamed about chanting so loudly; it was usually relegated to quiet whispers alone in your room.
A new warmth, different from the bathwater, coats your lower back and drips down to your ass when Eddie finishes, the hand on your breast squeezing tight, pain and pleasure intermingling harmoniously.
“Oh my god,” he pants. “That was…”
“Amazing.”
Eddie nods. “So fuckin’ amazing.”
He lifts a bubble-covered hand to your chin, tilting it slightly so he can kiss you. His lips are soft but move with determination, his tongue sliding between yours. You let him in, your fingers playing with the wet tips of his hair.
“Meant what I said about eating you out,” he mumbles into your mouth before stealing another kiss.
Splayed out on the bed. His to ravish. The thought has you lunging for the towel hanging behind the door in an attempt to dry off.
But when you stand, Eddie reaches out his hand and pulls you towards him, now eye-level with your pussy. “Knew she was perfect,” he says with a smirk. “Bet she tastes even better.”
The kiss he presses to your folds nearly buckled your knees.
“You wanna find out?” He nods eagerly, and you giggle. “It might be a little lavender-y from the bath soap, though.”
Eddie shrugs. “Don’t care. Need you.”
And who are you to deny a man his needs?
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#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson smut#smut#requests
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Glass Desks
A/N: Just a silly little scene I've had in my head for bit now since I work as an occasional house cleaner to try and get by. I got surprised by someone coming in on my last clean and just had to turn it into something.
Pairing: Mafia! Bucky Barnes x House Cleaner! Reader
Words: 1,055
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A sigh escaped Bucky as he ran a hand down his face. He was supposed to have meetings all day today- ones important enough that he’d rearranged everything around them- yet within the first two hours something had already come up and his associates were forced to reschedule.
“Hey, boss? We’re here…” Sam said from the driver’s seat, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him look up at the large empty house before him.
His empty house.
He wouldn’t trade his line of work for the world, truly, but between both the secretive and potentially violent nature of his job, it didn’t exactly leave much room for pleasant company.
He sighed again as he stepped out, “Thanks Sam…. That should be all for today, but I’ll call if I need you.” He said and patted the roof twice before it pulled away.
Making his way up the stairs toward the entrance, all seemed normal at first glance- that is until he spotted an unfamiliar car parked around the side.
It was an old car, parked out of the way in the shade- not quite a beater- but they definitely didn’t make its model anymore. It was non-descript and would blend in with a crowd if needed, but more importantly: it wasn’t one of his.
He moved toward the door with far quieter steps now, listening intently for the intruders. Multiple voices came from inside as if trying to talk over each other in layered tones. Chairs and doors clunked and creaked as they were moved about, followed by the moving voices- were people searching for something?
Instinctively his hand found the gun in his jacket. ‘Sam didn’t say anything as he left… Did he really not notice the car? No-Sam was one of his best men… Maybe he already knew they were here..?’ Bucky thought.
Either way, he wasn’t taking any chances; his fingers closed around the gun’s handle as he cracked open the door, the weapon a comfortable and familiar weight in his hand. His steps were silent as he entered, their practiced paces unknown to anyone but him.
However, instead of finding an enemy gang searching for secrets he found…. You.
You were hard at work in your own little world as you went about cleaning the second floor. You bobbed and sang along to the music emanating from your back pocket, your voice layering over the original as the rags half tucked in your belt swayed with you. The mobster couldn’t help but crack a smile.
He had completely forgotten. Usually, on days when he was meant to be out of the house for hours on end, you would be scheduled to come clean. But apparently, no one had informed you about the change of plans.
You had been hired on as his house cleaner a few months ago, helping him keep things together while work kept him endlessly busy. But despite having been on the payroll for a while now, he still hadn’t found the time to officially meet you- that is, until now.
He couldn’t deny that you looked… rather silly if he was being honest, but your unparalleled passion only made it all the more endearing. His head shook with a faint smile as he watched as you moved into his office. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, he was halfway up the second-floor stairs when he heard you suddenly break away from your song.
“Ugh…,” you sighed loudly to yourself, still thinking you were the only one in the room, “what kind of an asshole has a glass desk? I mean, really- Do you have stock in Windex? Is that what it is???” You asked snarkily to no one in particular, but this was too good for Bucky to pass up.
“Not yet. Should I?” The mobster found himself biting back his laughter as he leaned against the office doorway behind you.
“At this rate? You should really-“Your mouth clamped shut faster than it ever had before, your entire body freezing on the spot as his response finally processed. Your eyes were wide as saucers as your thoughts ran on a panicked loop ‘Oh no, oh god, oh shit, oh fuck. you really just had to insult the infamous White Wolf of New York… In his own home… In front of his own men… Are you STUPID??’ you yelled at yourself internally and quickly put on a brave face, turning off your music and turning to the unfamiliar voice behind you.
Your stomach nearly dropped as you realized it was not only “one of his men” it was, THE man. You instantly recognized him from the few photos scattered around the house; the sharp stubbly jaw and blazing blue eyes were unmistakable, not to mention the hint of the metallic arm you caught between his suit sleeve and glove. You couldn’t deny he was handsome- even more so in person than he was in his photos.
“Mr. Barnes…!” Your voice squeaked out, but he just held his same amused smile, looking anything but upset. “I, uh… I thought you had meetings all day today- I didn’t mix up the date, did I..?”
“Not at all…” he said with a quiet laugh. “My meetings got rescheduled part way though, so I thought I’d spend the evening working from home. Little did I know it’d be the perfect place to get financial advice too.”
Your face burned with embarrassment as you relived the very recent moment yet again, “Right, uh, about the whole ‘asshole’ thing, I-”
But he simply waved you off, “Don’t. It’s refreshing to get an authentic opinion, and honestly? I don’t even like that desk.” He admitted, his heart stirring in new ways as your whole body relaxed and he could finally see you as you usually were, “and, ah… if you wanted to stay for a while, I sure wouldn’t mind the company- I could use a little advice in the stock market.”
You bit your lip to hold back your grin, you wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, “Oh, me? I don’t know if I’d really be suitable company while I’m cleaning.”
A thought seemed to pass over him then as he nodded in agreement, “Hm, you’re right..” he smiled, “Perhaps we should just have dinner then… how’s tonight?”
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def need more ditzy reader with mechanic 141- the only thing that tops my love for military men is blue collar boys <333
make sure to take care of yourself tho lovie!! don’t burn urself out :))
I for sure want to write more of her. Hopefully after this insane week at work I’ll be able to really sit down and crank out some writing. For now I’m battling my way through Ch 3 of Across the Way
But pls enjoy this little not proofread experimental snippet I wrote for ditzy reader
“Look.” Your landlord sighs loudly. Like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I’ll send someone out.”
“That’s what you said two days ago! And three days before that!” You stomp your foot at no one just to get some of the anger out.
“I’ll get to it when I get to it.”
“Why can’t you-“ The line cuts before you can finish. The jerk hung up on you! What the hell!
You pout, plopping down into your desk chair and sighing. What are you supposed to do? You’re not allowed to call a handyman according to the lease and you don’t have a boyfriend right now. You can’t keep washing pans in the bathroom. It’s gross.
You huff.
“Alright?” Simon asks and you whirl in your chair. How does he walk so quietly?
“Yeah…” You pout harder under his steady gaze, slipping down further into the chair.
“You’re a terrible liar, luv.” His eyes crinkle in corners with a smile.
“Well…” You shrug, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “My kitchen sink has been broken for a whole week and the landlord won’t do anything about it! I called and called and he just keeps saying he’ll send someone and then doesn’t!” Your voice pitches at the end, real annoyance bleeding through into the edges of your words. You fist your hands in your skirt.
“That’s all?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just ask one of us?”
You blink twice, staring up at him. Your face heats and you look away bashfully - not wanting to admit you didn’t think to ask for their help. Stupid. “I don’t want to be a bother…”
“I’ll come by after work.”
“You don’t have to-“
“I’ll be there.” He nods before marching back into the garage. You just blink after him as he goes.
True to his word, Simon shows up at your door with a massive tool box in hand. Really, he still can’t believe you live in such a shit complex. Price pays you well enough. The locks might as well be paper-mache. Simon lowers his mask before knocking. He trusts you with his face - hell you probably forget it every time you look away - but he also wants you to trust him too. For whatever reason.
You’re staring when you open the door. Big doe eyes looking up at him and blinking slowly. He wonders what goes on behind those blank eyes of yours - if it’s nothing at all or such a chaotic dialogue that you can’t process it enough to pay attention.
All or nothing.
“Gonna let me in, doll?” He asks. You startle, not realizing how intensely you zoned out.
“Oh! Yes!” You jump out of the way, letting him into your small studio apartment. Every time he thinks your shorts can’t get smaller he’s proven wrong.
Simon takes a look around, huffing at the net full of stuffies hanging on the wall. Everything about your home is soft - soft colors, soft fabrics. It smells like vanilla, just like you always do when you come into the shop. His eyes lock briefly on a well-loved sewing machine covered in stickers with a project still under the needle. You must have been working on it before he got here.
Did you mean to leave your bra hanging on the back of that chair right by the kitchen? Lacy and lilac. He’ll have to remember that for some other time. Maybe your birthday.
“Let’s ‘ave a look.” He sighs, knees popping as he crouches in front of the sink. It’s a fucking mess, that’s for sure. At least you figured out how to turn the water off.
“Pipe’s busted.” He says. “I can seal it but it��ll take a sec.”
“Okay.” You murmur.
Simon sighs as he turns onto his back to get a better look. He doesn’t miss the way you stare blatantly at his midsection as his shirt rides up. He might adjust some to expose just a bit more.
You really are the least subtle thing in the planet, aren’t you?
“Can you come hold the light f’me, luv?” He points to the toolbox.
“This one?” You ask, as if it isn’t the only flashlight in the box.
“Yeah.”
“Like this?”
“Yup.” At first he expects you to sit silently so he can concentrate, but he quickly realizes that was far too presumptuous.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Si?” You ask quietly.
He huffs. “No.”
“Oh.” You chew your lip. “You seem like the kind of guy that would.”
Simon has never heard a bigger misread in his damn life but he’ll take it as a compliment, he supposes. “Why do you ask?”
“Cause this is boyfriend work and you’re good at it.”
Simon tries to see your logic - he really does - but he just has no clue how those things are even remotely related. Sure, guys fix things for their girlfriends but calling it ‘boyfriend work’ when anybody with two cents could do it is a bit silly. More than, if he’s honest. He just grunts in response, at a total loss for how to respond.
Simon looks down at you. The way you kneel as your cleaving spills out of your tiny tank top - one of many you insist on wearing so often. He can give into temptation just a little bit, right? “Gonna need you to get closer, doll.”
“Oh!” You scoot forward until your knees brush his side. So ready to listen. Cute.
“Can you lean in a bit?”
“Like this?” You lean forward, chest pressing against him while your hand splays over his midsection for balance. Fucking hell.
“Perfect. Good girl.”
It’s bold and a bit uncoordinated even for him. Something Johnny would try. The purposeful choice of words seems to go right over your head. Instead you blush and smile, shifting your hips just a bit. Your chest pushes further into him. So soft.
Fuck.
You’ll be the death of him. Thank god you’re too unobservant to notice that he’s rock fucking hard.
He’s already done with the sink by the time of this little exchange, but he pretends to tighten some useless bolts anyway just to keep you against him a little longer before shooing you away. It’s cute, the way you scramble to get out of the way. Simon turns the water back on before standing, and gesturing toward the sink.
“Give it a try, luv.”
A little furrow forms in your brow as you step forward to turn it on, crouching and standing to make sure the leak has stopped. You turn the faucet off and whip your head around with a grin.
He’s pretty sure you burst an eardrum with the pitch of the squeal you let out, bouncing over and tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“It’s no pro-“ he cuts off as you push up onto your tip toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. Little minx.
“Oh, I got some lipstick-“ You reach up to smudge it off but he bats your hand away. He’ll wear it back to the garage and show off the kiss he got. Johnny’s going to absolutely fume.
#answered#simon ghost riley#call of duty#ghost cod#cod x reader#ghost x reader#cod#simon x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#fem reader#mechanic au
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sebastian’s angel.
pairings: sebastian vettel x actress!reader
faceclaim: lucy liu.
summary: when you start attending sebastian’s races, people speculate that perhaps you’re friends or it’s a pr deal for the company you’re both affiliated to. that’s until your instagram post sets the internet aflame.
— part six of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —
liked by ynswifey, yourbffname and 1,383,829 others.
yourusername: newest covergirl of elle magazine. not too shabby right? we talked about my newest movie, my essentials, my f1 obsession and if i could keep that furry jacket.
user8: did u keep the jacket?
-> yourusername: yes! 😁
user1: omg queen of looking stunning from every angle.
-> user2: her JAWLINE 😩
user6: watched charlie’s angels and i think i had my gay awakening.
-> user7: real omg.
yourbffname: thats my gf y’all 😘😏
-> yourusername: love you more than heaven and earth <33
user9: girlie since when were you an f1 fan?
-> user12: worlds colliding. can’t believe my favourite actress is an f1 fan!!
-> hater2: i bet she only thirsts over the drivers 😒
-> user8: boy stfu. look at HER. if anything, they’d be thirsting over her. stay mad bitch!
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liked by messyuser1, messyuser2 and 134,728 others.
ham1ltonshaderoom: charlie’s angels’ actress y/n l/n has been photographed attending many f1 races recently. meeting fans in silverstone and now currently being in italy. rumours are swirling about a potential romance with an f1 driver, what are your thoughts ham1ltons?
user1: she could get a billionaire. i doubt it.
user7: i am hoping for it to be a contract thing because i want her to date cillian murphy. the chemistry in that movie was insane!!
user8: guys… she stated herself she’s just a big fan? why is everyone jumping to the conclusion that she has to be there for a guy??
-> user67: because why not.
user98: she was seen there with her charlie’s angel’s coworkers so maybe it’s for promo for the next instalment?
user72: JENSONY/N SUPREMACY 😩
-> user2: NANDOY/N SUPREMACY 😩
-> user94: USER98Y/N SUPREMACY 😩
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liked by jensonbutton, okmagazine and 1,272,938 others
yourusername: sometimes, the nerd gets the girl.
user7: AHHHHHHHHH
user6: OMG? POWER COUPLE ??
user56: hard launch of the century my god.
-> user8: she said no posting until i get that ring on my finger and she kinda ate…
jensonbutton: gorgeous wedding! would have been better if i was the groom 😉.
-> user5: babe i’ll be ur bride 😍
-> user80: MESSY ASF 😭
yourbffname: seb rocking the stache. gotta respect it.
-> yourusername: begged him to shave but it grew on me.
user2: are u sure this isn’t a soft launch for nico? 🤨
-> user56: love seeing delusional people roaming social media. makes my day to know i’m not alone thanks 👍🏻
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author’s note: just wanted to let you know, in preparation for this smau, i watched a shit ton of sebastian edits on tiktok. i did that purely for this and not at ALL for my own personal interest…. anyways shout out to the girlies editing seb to sexyy red because that’s absolutely my niche. also shout out to the anon that wanted this fic, posted it just for u babe <3333
#jayde’s works ☆#ham1lton 500 ☾#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 texts#f1 fanfic#formula one imagine#formula one smau#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel x you#sebastian vettel x y/n#sv5 x reader#sv5 fanfic#sv5#formula 1 x you
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Hi , miss Raven
Their is something has been on my mind for while ;
In rook suitor suit vignette he Compose a flattering poem about Crowley
While Ace and Epel was talking about how rook would compliment anyone , rook insisted that he mean every word he say .
And there's this specific weird line
"if it weren't for your presence , I wouldn't be here"
Like what do you mean?????!!
Do you think this line is hinting at the fact that rook didn't join NRC via traditional way or he wasn't chosen by the dark mirror , since he is one of the light trio
Or To the fact that he transferred to another dorm smoothly without any problem?
For some reason I started suspecting rook recently 😭
The fact he was one of the reason vil overbloted by convincing him to watch neige performance and also he is the one who convinced vil to add Ace and deuce as part of VDC team while I thought lilia and cater was a better option
I would like to hear your opinion about it 👀
Ah, so if I'm understanding you correctly... You're theorizing that Rook might be an outside agent of some kind? One that Crowley intentionally brought into NRC to facilitate triggering overblots??
I’ll try to respond to one question at a time; hopefully this will make it easier to follow along! The post got quite long, so it's all below the cut~
Beginning with Rook’s poem, and, more specifically, “If it weren’t for your presence, I wouldn’t be here”. It’s funny that you mention this line, because when the vignette first came out (in JP; the terminology used is similar to “I would not exist/be here”), people interpreted it VERY literally. As in… “Rook is Crowley’s son because he literally could not be conceived without a father! They’re even both named after birds! They have to at least be blood related somehow!” Strange how in 2020, Crowley was suspected of being Rook’s father but now in 2024 Crowley’s being suspected of being Malleus’s father. The poor headmaster just can’t catch a break 😂
Personally, I don’t think that line is implying anything strange about Rook’s enrollment. As far as we know, he did not join NRC though any abnormal means, and nor did Silver. Of the “light trio” (a label that I must stress exists within the fandom but is not endorsed by TWST), only Kalim fits the bill. Kalim was originally homeschooled, but received an acceptance letter to NRC a month into the school year. Another month later, he transferred in. As far as we know, all students at NRC (save for Yuu and Grim) were chosen by the Mirror of Darkness, even the light trio. Again, I want to emphasize that TWST does not use “light trio” or a similar term to refer to or to characterize Kalim, Silverc and Rook. We’ve gotten no formal in-universe explanation as to why those three in particular have light cosmic magic instead of everyone else’s dark cosmic magic. (This is entirely separate from meta theories, which are out-of-universe explanations for why the “light trio” exists. The popular meta explanation is that it’s because Silver, Kalim, and Rook are not twisted from Disney villains but rather “good” characters like Aurora, the Sultan, and the Huntsman.)
On the subject of transferring dorms, the option is always on the table. We see mob students talk about transferring dorms as early as 1-14:
In 6-67 (part 20 with the Pomefiore group), Vil describes the transfer process as being tedious and involving a lot of “complicated paperwork and ceremonies”. Crowley also says the process is “burdensome” in 1-20, but this phrasing is quite vague and could mean any number of things. (Burdensome to whom, the staff or the students? Why exactly is it burdensome?) Overall, it seems like transferring dorms would take a long time and require various formalities, but not necessarily be full of problems.
As long as you’re dedicated and consistently complete what is asked of you to complete the process, transferring should be no issue. I don’t think it’s a given that you’d normally experience troubles in trying to transfer. It should be smooth by default (unless the student backs out, is uncooperative, and/or fails to complete the required steps). So following that logic, I don’t think the poem line is saying anything about Rook’s dorm transfer either.
While it’s true that Rook encourages Vil to watch Neige’s performance and advises that Vil pick Ace and Deuce for the VDC/SDC Tribe, I do not believe there was malicious intent behind these actions. It’s hinted throughout book 5 that Rook’s reasoning for doing these things was to help Vil recognize the value of his “beauty” is something he gains from himself, not from the approval of others.
This is most likely Rook’s motivation for suggesting Vil observe the competition or to consider freshmen for the team. It’s exposing Vil to the contentedness that can come with imperfection or not being at the very top, something Vil fails to recognize in himself until the end of book 5. Being as perceptive as he is, Rook would have realized that outright telling Vil the moral of the week would not sway his strong-willed friend’s mind. Thus, Rook devised a more roundabout plan and involved Yuu (who, at this point, has a reputation for settling dorm-wide disputes) and co. (unpolished and clumsy underclassmen that Vil could shape as well as potentially also learn from in a reciprocal manner). Maybe Lilia and Cater would have been more technically skilled, being members of a club band and all, but they wouldn’t have provided the same opportunity for growth that Yuu and Adeuce did.
Rook is someone who has always been portrayed as a supporter of Vil’s, a good friend and a trusted confidant. He does have a nefarious side and is 100% capable of deception (like the time in Endless Halloween Night when he quickened his heartbeat to convince Sebek he was also scared and therefore was not a traitor). However, I don’t think Rook would want to betray his friends by actively harming them and putting their lives in danger (both during book 5’s overblot and immediately after in book 6’s rescue mission); he truly cares for them and wants to see them happy and healthy. (One could argue he should have voted for NRC instead of RSA to help Vil achieve his dream instead of betraying him, but that’s another discussion entirely.)
There’s no reason why Rook would go out of his way to do innocuous things like helping Epel with his UM or imparting wisdom to Deuce unless he actually cared and wanted to see them develop. Beyond the scope of book 5, why would Rook do even more innocuous things like trying to make Epel feel welcome and assisting him with learning table manners? Why wouldn’t he go out of his way to provoke Vil more often? Did Crowley hypothetically have even all of these little details down and instruct Rook to do (or not do) these things??? It sounds too far-fetched to attach a hidden motive behind everything Rook says or does. It could be as simple as “he wants to be there to support his friends”.
Before we wrap up, I’d like to quickly touch on the suggestion that Silver and Kalim too were catalysts for Malleus and Jamil’s OBs, respectively. It’s true that they were, but I doubt Silver or Kalim were aware and did so intentionally. Both seemed genuinely ignorant as to the true stress that Malleus and Jamil were under, and Silver + Kalim do not present as toxic people who would want to inflame their friends’ negativity. Of course, there’s always the possibility that Puppet Master Crowley (™) is orchestrating everything from the shadows (but I’m not going to get into the “time loop to gather all the necessary information and learn what the correct choices are” theory here www). I just don’t think Rook is Crowley’s accomplice in all of this if the time loop + intention overblots theories overlap.
This is one of those instances where I see Rook as being very honest with his intentions and because of his… generally strange character (?), his peers and players alike still suspect there is a deeper meaning to his words. I interpret his poem as nothing more than waxing poetic to expressing gratitude to the one man that makes it possible for him to be at NRC as a student: Crowley. Rook states that he wanted to give an exemplary poem using a subject that both Ace and Epel were already familiar with, so he went with the headmaster. Furthermore, we know that Rook is able to witness many wonderful and beautiful things at NRC, as well as make meaningful relationships with interesting people like Vil. He would not be able to do any of these things were he not extended an invitation to NRC—and it is for this reason that it would make sense for him to genuinely be appreciative of Crowley.
Those are all my thoughts on this matter all for now ^^ Hope it was an interesting read!
#twisted wonderland#twst#Rook Hunt#Dire Crowley#Kalim Al-Asin#Silver#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#question#twst theory#twisted wonderland theories#twst theories#twisted wonderland theory#Cater Diamond#Lilia Vanrouge#Ace Trappola#Yuu#Deuce Spade#Vil Schoenheit#Jamil Viper#Malleus Draconia#book 7 spoilers#book 4 spoilers#book 5 spoilers#notes from the writing raven#rook suitor suit vignette spoilers#Epel Felmier#Pomefiore#Neige LeBlanche#endless halloween night spoilers
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strong enough | J. Jungkook (3)
<series masterlist
pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader
genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut
warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds
w.c: aproxx 11.2
series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.
a/n at very bottom!
To my love, my forever. You will soon find out the reason why I am the way am I. Give me some time, my love, I will express everything and more to you. Soon, you’ll have everything once I am able to love and care for myself the way I want to do to you. You deserve everything and more than what I could ever give you, and I will be there for you always. I may never give you this, I may never allow you to read this. But just know, you mean so much to me. Even if I’m a pain in the ass, or if I piss you off, you will always be the person who helped me want to change for the better. I know it may seem like i’m leaving you behind, but pushing you away is the best way for me and you to be able to find ourselves. Once we are settled and ready, I will never let you go, ever again. Mark my words, use them against me, but I know that once you let me in, I’ll never leave your side ever again. You’re my one and only, forever. You are my future, my light, the person who drags me to be right. You mean so much to me and more. But for now, let me go to become the one that deserves your love and wellbeing. Take care of yourself, Jungkook, you will do many good things in life, with or without me.
“i think you should give it to him,” one of your members slur out, making your already wobbly head tilt up to her as she hiccups for the 5th time that same hour, you sighed and your head pounded as your squinted tightly to look at her, “seriously! i think he would want closure that way,”
Jungkook definitely did. he knew that when you wrote letters, you meant every little thing. he knew something happened between you and your ex, his name is like a slap in the face to you, and he could always notice.
his hands started to shake as he continued to read your note, he didn’t know how you came all the way to his house just to ring the door bell and drop it off. he was even shocked to notice his name in your handwriting on the top of the note. he wasn’t mad about it, he was just so, so sad. his eyes burned as another drop fell onto his lap. Jungkook knew it was for the best, but why does it hurt so bad and why does he feel like he’ll never get better while you do?
Jungkook didn’t want to think that way, but he did. he always did, he hurts to see you go but hurts even more to see you shine without him. he kept all your little notes in a box, he was really considering giving it back to you since it was at some of your most vulnerable times. he wouldn’t want to keep these just in case he snoops through them, like he’s doing right now as he was putting the other note in there along with the tons of others.
one of them wrote a song that you made about him, him never leaving you and the way you love him. it breaks his heart more, knowing that you’re no longer around, and that he just keeps fucking up.
when you wake up the next morning, your hungover member told you about a box she found outside the door step with your name on it, your ears ring as you stand in front of the box sitting on your bed, biting the inside of your cheek because this was Jungkook’s box. it had a polaroid of the two of you with shots in your hands on his balcony last summer. it was his favorite picture of you both and wanted to keep it with all the letters you even written him.
you pace around your room for like and hour, biting your lip and running your hand through your hair to calm yourself down. it finally felt like you guys were officially over, no matter how many times you’ve broken up. when you opened it finally, there was a new one, one you definitely didn’t write. you don’t even remember going to his house and giving him the one you were gonna keep for your sake.
it was Jungkook’s hand writing, you knew it from the back of your palm, literally as you have a tattoo that he gave you himself. it read,
forever
and looking at it makes you sick. you felt like crap anytime you thought of him, what you had put him through, all the stuff he doesn’t know about you. you knew him so well, but did he actually even know you, truly? it made you want to cry, the tears lining your waterline and you fight the urge.
you give yourself time before opening up his letter, preparing yourself for the worst or to cry. when you start reading it, you felt like he was there with you. it felt as if he was pacing around your room, looking you dead in the eyes and telling you everything you’ve been wanting to hear, but at the wrong time.
I miss you a lot, I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. I’m glad you wrote me this, I’m glad you’re trying to find ways to open up to me, I’m glad you love me. You are my everything, I want what’s best for you, and if it’s not me then so be it. You deserve the whole fucking world, and I hope you know I tried so hard to give it to you. Maybe, in the long run, we can be happy together. Maybe we can be able to know each other truly, I always wanted to. I believe in right person, wrong time, because you’ll forever be my person, even if i’m not in the picture. I love you, ______, I always will.
you wanted to sob, you didn’t even know what to do. you had dropped the note off not expecting anything back, but getting everything back? even a letter from him, confessing how much he loves and cares for you. you didn’t know how to feel, if it was closure or not. to you, yours was supposed to be. his, his was a love letter, you’ll never let go of it.
you had one more promotion for you group, and you had to prepare in so many ways. you had to practice tons, and practing handling your emotions until you’re a zombie to what you truly feel, you couldn’t handle being around Jungkook for long. it’s crazy, how much you used to look at him thinking you’d never do anything to hurt him, yet you’re over here making him suffer because you are in your head. it tears at the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel so much at once.
so when it came to the event, you felt your knees lock when you saw him sitting with his team. he looked breathtaking, and it sucks that you can’t look at him for long before you cry because he looks too good. Jungkook always looked good, but whenever you wanted to ignore him, it’s like he knows and wants to look that fine. you gulp hard because walking to over your assigned seats, a couple seats back behind them but at an angle to a way that you can see every part of Jungkook, his hands and thighs especially.
ones that put you through hell, sent you to another universe is what he would of said and has said before, smoking off your balcony as you sat on his lap with your legs shaking trying to not fall off. he laughed as he smacked your thighs, watching them shake more as you practically whine in soreness.
he took another puff off his cig before putting it down on his designated ash tray, but even knowing you didn’t smoke, he kissed you hard, forcing the hot smoke into your mouth and through your pipes, allowing him to do anything to you because you were obsessed with everything he did.
“fucked you out, huh, princess?” he said against your ear as he gave you a second to breathe, making you almost choke as his hand started to move down and between your thighs, giving them a squeeze before going deep between them to touch you where you shook the most.
let’s just say, the memory had your legs close tightly together. the thought of how much have gave you that night, it made you miss him even more for just taking care of you like he said he would. you could feel it starting to stick against your skin, immediately wanting to go to the bathroom.
you thought you were stable enough to walk down the stairs in front of all the idols and fans including, instead you almost dropped face first into the steps instead someone’s hand wrapped around your waist and around the inside of your thigh, gripping it hard as they held you from falling to your death infront of thousands of people.
“your shoes too big for you, baby?”
you really thought you were going crazy, that his presence was just teasing you. but as your eyes dragged themselves down to the hand around the inside of your thigh, you weren’t going crazy. the tattoos proving who the man really was and how his thumb was very close to your throbbing clit. you shivered before quicking bowing at him once you leave his grip and speed walking towards the exit.
the moment you got alone in a hallway, you looked around before pulling out your phone to text your leader where you were going to be, the bathroom, before you hear a door open behind you. you go to put your phone away, but a tight grip around your waist turns you towards the person, your phone falling on to the floor and your mouth to open up, perfect for the attacker to kiss you hard.
another hand grabs your hair and you immediately knew who it was based on the way he was holding you. he knew, and knew it was because of him. that’s all your thought about when his lips were softly against yours, until you felt his hands creeping up. he just knew how to distract you from the facts and knows how to get you to enjoy his attack.
“can we talk soon, princess?” he whispers lowly in your ear once he pulls away from your now desperate lips trying to reach his. you whimper at the nickname, one that just rolls off his tongue in such a degrading way, he grabs your chin softly, turning your face to face him. his eyes invited yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more you felt entranced by him.
“talk about what?” you sighed into his hold, which he notices and gives you your favorite smile in the whole world. it hard to ignore his hands gripping your waist, your hands clinging onto his dress shirt as he holds you, you didn’t expect to be in this position.
“we will talk later tonight, i’ll pick you up?”
“how, with what car-”
“i’ll figure it out, anything for you,” he presses his forehead against yours, making your eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a little chuckle because of your reaction to his proximity being so close to you, you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “you know i’ll do whatever i need to do to see you, i will figure out a way to see you later tonight, bunny, i promise,” he kisses your nose softly before letting you go without your even realizing he picked up your phone for you, a smile across his face as you nodded your head for him.
Jungkook didn’t give you a time, or a place to when he was going to pick you up. before you left the event, you had asked him what he was planning on doing with you and he just told you that you’ll have to wait and find out. Jungkook knew how to make you worry about what could happen. what should you even wear? is he taking me somewhere to eat? it’s kinda late for that-
doink
something just hit your window as you were pulling your pants up, you almost tripped in shock but managed to pull them up and fix yourself before going to your window. there he was, the man of your dreams, the love of your life, standing down there searching for more rocks to toss at your window.
you cracked your dorm room window open, not even wanting to question how he managed to get over the brick wall to get into the dorms, and he smiles when he sees your head peaking from the bottom of the window. he pats his hands on his thighs while you watch him with curiosity.
“get down here bunny, we have a lot to do tonight,” he stood up straight, hands put in his pockets as he stared off at you. you would of jumped right there into his arms after that nickname, you almost whined before nodding your head like an idiot and shutting your window.
you managed to sneak out, grabbed your shoes at the front and headed out from the back blind spot and running to where Jungkook stood, his hands tucked in his pockets to stay warm. his left arm raised so you could wrap your arm around it, a habit of the both of you. you just ignored the bad feelings and wrapped your arm around his, feeling his arm tighten around yours as you both started to walk to the car.
“you gonna tell me where we’re going, Jeon?” you tilt your head, your left knee against his center console as your left side rested on his passenger seat. his hand slid up to your knee, leaving you in shock as he gripped it in warning.
“stop asking questions, baby,” he tapped his finger on your knee, not even bothering to look your way. you huffed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore his thumb moving against your thigh now, his hand resting against it too.
“Jungkook, you know we can be doing this again. i know you remember what happened last time,” you warned, your head felt like it was spinning, none of this felt real. Jungkook bit his lip ring in thought, he just wanted to talk to you and apologize. he always wants to talk to you even if he’s been rude.
“______, what do you think i’m going to do to you tonight?” he spoke deeply, it sent waves through your spine, and down to your poor kitty. it’s crazy, what this big eyed man can do to you with only his hand on your thigh while he speaks to you like your his.
“i- i don’t know, what are you asking me? i’m just confused why you’re doing this-”
“what do you want me to do to you tonight, baby? is there something else bothering you that only i can fix?” his hand rubs your inner thigh, occasionally softly squeezing the skin closest to where you needed help the most. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, you just have to speak up, darling. is that okay? can you do that for me, princess?”
you almost moaned, gasping at his eagerness to help you with whatever you want, and you knew he meant that. “Jungkook, we can’t be doing thing again, as much as we want to-”
“fuck that and fuck no contact, we were doing good as fuck the last time we were friends. can we not be friends, baby?”
“that’s why! you keep calling me my favorites, you can’t do that to me..” you whined, you wanted to hide away as he giggled at how you whined. when the car slowly starts to come to a stop, you got reminded that the whole time you were talking to him, getting teased by him, he was driving. “Jungkook… where are we?”
“let me help you out and show you,” he smiled, and you just knew that you had to trust him, why? because he’s Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t you trust the love of your life?
when he open your door, hand already reaching for his as he helped you out of the car, the smell of salt hit your face in a whiff, making you smile at the moment you had at this beach with Jungkook. but why here? why did he want to talk here?
you didn’t trust your voice, watching his open his back door to grab a blanket and cigs, which you thought he quit, with a lighter and a flashlight. you didn’t say a word as you hugged onto his arm as he walked to a specific place, your guys place. the place where he gave you head for the very first time, you found sand up there for at least a day after that.
“do you trust me, sugar?” Jungkook asked you, tugging you to sit next to him on the blanket over the cold sand at the dark lonely beach. it’s like he knew what you were worried about, could you trust him again? it’s not like he broke your trust, it’s about you trusting yourself around him. if anything besides talking happens tonight, and you guys become exactly what you were afraid of becoming, you won’t know what to do with yourself.
it’s a bit selfish you thought, as his hand rested against your shoulder as you snuggled against his neck, breathing in only Jungkook and a little bit of salt. you loved this, but it couldn’t get any farther than this. just small, and slight, touches and sometimes kisses, only at certain times. the sound of the waves crashing tingled your ears, debating if you should listen to his heartbeat or not.
“do you know why i want you out here with me tonight, baby?” his voice vibrated your cheek as he spoke, his fingers gliding against the thin fabric of your long sleeved shirt. you hummed, you felt him swallow before you moved your head to face him.
“i wouldn’t have asked you that a million times in the car, Jungkook,” he smiles when your eyes finally reach his. he used to ask you, what did you see when you looked into his eyes? you usually just laughed it off or ignored the question, but now you think you know the questions answer. Home. in other words, Jungkook was your confort, the one you would go to, the one who makes you feel the safest, the one who keeps you feeling warm. Jungkook was your favorite.
Jungkook leans in, you can almost feel his breath against the wind, you almost forget where you are when you look deeply into his eyes. he leans so close to you that you could almost kiss him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer- and closer to him, until your hovering above him.
you looked down at him, his hand sliding down your waist and on to your thigh to swing your leg over his body. he’s got you now, almost spread wide for him as his eyes glazed your entire body, making your shiver.
“let’s that about why you were so wet when i caught you from eating shit in front of everyone today, huh? or maybe… why you’re so wet right now, was it from the car ride? you just couldn’t wait, hm? baby?” he smacked your thigh, and you almost whimper at his words, “sit down on me, love. you know you want to. i’ll do anything you want me to, just let me in this one or more times and you won’t regret it this time,”
oh boy, you were in for a ride. baby, princess, sugar, darling, bunny, love. hearing that one burned, deeply in two places. your poor heart as you feel his hands grip your sides, and your poor throbbing cunt that it about to get slammed onto his hard on resting below you. either or, you know you’re safe and whatever happens can be dealt with. why? because you’re with Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t it be fine?
a/n: holy shit, this took forever and i sincerely apologize!! i love how this episode turned out and i will give you guys a slight warning! spicy scenes are coming up and I’m not backing down from this. it will be the dirtiest, most greatest- yeah! anyways, thank you for your patience, i love you all🥹
taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @kaiparkerwifes @alextgef @nerdycheol @nightappple @nlr1606 @chl0buggy
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#hyukaslvr#writers on tumblr#kpop fyp#kpop writers#bts#bts fanfic#jungkook bts#bts x reader#bts smut#bts army#bts fic#bts x y/n#bts x you#bts x fem!reader#bts x army#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#i love jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jeon jungkoooook#kpop smut#kpop x reader
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right where you left me
part: 2
pairing: paige bueckers x oc
word count: 2.7k
c/w: mention of blood, language
a/n: hey guyssss here is part two enjoy it i love you ALL!! live reactions in my inbox => ALWAYS welcome!
I wait a beat, processing. “What… did you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “Us?” I demand. “Who is us?”
Paige moves her hands between the two of us exasperatedly. “Bro. You and me. Us.”
“We haven’t been an us in three years, Bueckers.”
“I know that. I know that. I just-” She lets out a huge sigh. “I miss you, bro.”
I truly can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Not that I try. But still.
“What is funny?” She demands.
I bend over, bracing my hands on my knees. And I cackle.
“You miss me?!” I howl, clutching my sides. “Oh, that’s good. Now you miss me, okay.”
“Good to know you’re still a crazy bitch.”
“Good to know you’re still fucking stupid,” I shoot back, wiping at my eyes. Her eyes widen and I can feel a retort on the tip of her tongue, because despite everything - I know her. I cut her off before she can say a word.
“What did you think was gonna happen, Paige? You were gonna come knock on my door in the middle of the night like a fucking Taylor Swift song, and tell me you miss me, and then what? Huh? I was gonna- what, kiss you under the stars? Tell you you’re the love of my life and of course I’ll take you back?” I sneer.
She clicks her tongue irritatedly, not unaccustomed to my rants. “It’s not even like that, dude.”
My eyebrows raise again. “Oh? What is it like, then, Paige? Do tell,” I snark, crossing my arms.
“I just miss… I don’t know, being around you? Like, I hate how awkward things are between us now.”
“That’s your own damn fault.”
“Yes! Okay! It’s my fault, I get it, and I’m sorry-”
“Which part are you sorry for, Paige?” I demand. “The part where you convinced me to not only cheat on my girlfriend, but also break up with her to be with you? Or maybe it’s the part where you swore we’d be together and we’d make long distance work because, really, Michigan and Connecticut aren’t that far. No, maybe it was the part where you dumped me after I came out to my family for you because you wanted to fuck other people?” My voice is rising, and I’m stepping closer to her. We’re nearly chest to chest when I finish speaking
She searches my eyes. I don’t miss the way her gaze lingers on my lips, and suddenly there’s goosebumps all down my arms and I’m conscious of the tank top I’m wearing. “All of it. Everything. I’m sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to,” she says quietly.
I search her eyes back, my lip curling. “Cop out. Fucking cop out. You’re a coward. You were a coward then, and you’re a coward now. Go home, Paige.” I turn to walk away from her, but her hand lands in the crook of my elbow.
My knees nearly buckle. It had always been like this. Her touch had always had the power to make me crumble, and it shudders through me even now.
“Maya-” she starts.
I shake her off. “I said fuck off.”
***************
“It’s Juilliard.”
“Well, open it.”
“I can’t”
Paige sighs, coming to crouch down next to me at my desk, lacing her fingers with mine. “Mai. I’m right here. No matter what happens, it will be fine.” I scoff at her. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’ve been committed to your dream school for almost a year.” Her face softens, blue eyes trained on mine. “You’re fucking incredible, dude. Any school who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you. No matter what happens when you open that letter, you’re still a badass. It’ll be okay.”
I squeeze her hand, nodding. “Yeah. You’re right. You’re right,” I say, mostly trying to convince myself. Paige places a kiss against our clasped hands and I ignore the shudder it sends through me. It’s too domestic, too intimate, and this is probably a moment I should be sharing with my actual girlfriend. “Come on. You can do it.”
I login to my admissions portal, click to view my decision and shut my eyes tight, waiting for it to load.
I hear Paige breathe next to sharply, and I open my eyes, blinking.
Dear Ms. Jacobs,
We regret to inform you…
I can’t read the rest of it. My eyes blur with tears, and sob claws its way up my throat.
I wasn’t good enough. All that work, the sweat, the tears, the hours spent in the studio - fuck all of it, because I wasn’t good enough.
“Maya,” Paige whispers. My bottom lip quivers, and the tears slip down my face. They land on the back of Paige’s hand in my lap. “Maya, baby,” she tries again, and I shake my head. My breath shudders out, and the tears are falling faster and faster now. I shake my head more indignantly, slamming my laptop shut.
A sob forces itself out of my mouth, and I bring a shaking hand to my mouth. Then the tears are really falling, streaming down my face, my whole body shaking with sobs, and I’m collapsing out of my chair into Paige’s arms. I sink into her on the floor, letting her strength support me, because God knows I have none. Her arms are firm around me, and I cry and cry and cry into her shirt, the blue of it darkening with my tears.
She presses her lips to my hairline, whispering words of reassurance against my forehead.
And though my whole world is crashing down around me, Paige is there. My Paige.
So, really - how bad could it be?
**********
“Mom!”
“Yes, honey?”
“What the hell is Paige doing here again?”
“Oh, she said she’d take Matthew to the park to play some basketball. You know how much he used to love watching her play-”
“Oh, my God!” I exclaim, stomping out of the kitchen and throwing my arms up. When the hell did she even manage to do that?
I storm out of the house, to where Paige is waiting near her car. “You better not be using my little brother to get to me, you asshole,” I warn menacingly, poking a finger into her chest. She narrows her eyes at me, and it startles me a-fucking-gain just how blue they are. She’s in a white cropped tank and mid-length blue shorts that hang off of her hips. Slowly, she pulls my finger down, wrapping her hand around it.
“Chill, Jacobs. Not everything is about you,” she says. I glare at the snark in her tone. “Ew, Maya, go change if you’re gonna come with us,” I hear my brother Matthew’s voice from behind me, a pair of Kyries hanging from his hand. I turn around to gape at him, and Paige guffaws. “Excuse you? I will take those shoes right to the store and return them-”
“Yap, yap, yap,” my brother complains, and my mouth drops open further, Paige’s laughter increasing in volume behind me.
I turn around and smack her on the stomach. “Shut up,” I hiss.
“Get in the car, kid!” Paige calls.
“Now, hang on. Where the fuck are you taking him?” I demand.
Matthew grins, running up to us. “I’m telling Mom you cussed,” he says slyly.
I make a face at him. “You’re such a little shit.”
Paige’s eyes trace over my face. “You’re sister’s a little brat, huh?” She notes, and Matthew groans in agreement. My eyes shoot to hers in shock. Brat?
She smirks at me. “You all ready?” She asks Matthew, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “You’re not taking my brother anywhere without me,” I blurt out stubbornly. What the hell? I don’t care that much. “And you’re not coming anywhere with me looking like that. Maya, you look ugly,” my brother says bluntly. “Matthew,” I warn. His attitude has really gotten worse since I’d gone to school.
“Go change,” he whines, and I look down at my old pajama pants and sleep tank, then back up to Paige. Her eyes trail up my body the same way, jaw tensing, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Yeah,” she intones hoarsely. “Go change.”
I hold her gaze for a few more seconds, the heat of it addicting. When she jerks her chin back towards my house, I listen. I run inside, up to my room, changing my clothes quickly.
I run back out in an all blue workout set, a pair of leggings and tank top that are the same royal blue as Paige and my high school colors. I fling open the door to Paige’s car, hopping in. I gather my hair to clip it up into a bun but she doesn’t move. “Hello? Go?” I say sarcastically, looking at her curiously. Her eyes are trained on me already, and it makes my chest warm.
“You’re wearing that?” She asks quietly, her knuckles white as her fingers grip the steering wheel. I crinkle my nose at her. “Sorry, did you wanna pick out my outfit?”
“Do you actually just exist to make my life difficult?” She snaps.
“Just drive,” I say, rolling my eyes.
The car is quiet for the first five seconds of the drive.
Then Matthew pipes up. “You guys fight a lot.”
Paige laughs drily. “You have no idea.”
We reached the park Paige and I had stumbled into each other at last week. Paige opens her trunk, resting her hand against the trunk door up in the air as she surveys her trunk. “You should clean your car,” I say matter-of-factly. “And you should mind your own business,” she quips back, but there’s no malice to her tone. She picks a pair of shoes out of the pile building in her car, slipping out of her driving slides to lace them up.
“Matt, you got the ball?!” She calls back to my brother. He yelps in response, already running to the court.
That’s the other thing that really pissed me off about all of it. He used to worship her. It’s not like he had a dad to teach him all the things he was supposed to know. But ever since we were kids, Paige had been there.
When he was four, he scraped his knee, and she cleaned the blood up that trailed down his leg because she knew it made me squeamish. She’d cleaned it with alcohol, holding his hand through the sting, and kissed the bandage she’d placed on top of it.
When he was six, he picked up a basketball for the first time. Paige was his hero. He wanted to be just like her, and she’d spent hours with him and Drew teaching them all the fundamentals. He dragged me to her high school games, starry-eyed at watching his idol run up and down the court.
When he was eight, my mom couldn’t make it to his 3rd grade talent show. She had an emergency shift at work, and I still only had my permit. Paige had sped through perhaps three different stop signs trying to get me there on time, and she’d taken us out for milkshakes afterwards.
My jaw clenches at the memories.
I watch them together, watch her let him blatantly foul her over and over again, purposefully missing layups while he laughs that she’s going easy on him. A tear tracks down my face, and I wipe at it stubbornly.
“Hey, you good?” Paige pants, running up to me, her brows furrowed. I hope she hasn’t seen me crying. “What? Yeah. So good.” Matthew is close behind her, his water bottle in hand. I blink. “Damn. Y’all already done?”
Matthew frowns. “Are you dumb? It’s been an hour and a half.” I open my mouth to spit a retort back at him, when Paige interjects. “Hey, take it easy on your sister,” she chides, clapping him on the back. “Thank you,” I sniff. She grins at him slyly. “She’s already shit at basketball, no need to make her feel worse,” Paige smirks. I roll my eyes.
Matthew howls with laughter, high fiving her. She takes his head in the crook of her arm, ruffling his hair. “Ah, I missed you, kid,” she laughs. “Now, hang on,” I splutter. “I’m not that bad.” Paige quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Play me then.” I scoff. “No!”
Paige backs up, dribbling the ball between her legs, and starts clucking like a chicken.
“Oh, that’s really mature,” I say loudly, crossing my arms. She doesn’t stop, and my stupid little brother joins in. “Play me!” She calls over his noises. I roll my eyes again, and she laughs. “They gon’ get stuck up there!”
“Okay, check up,” I snap finally.
I’m not awful - I played as a kid and in high school before committing to dance full time - but I’m no Paige Bueckers. I meet her at the 3-point line, gesturing for the ball. She grins, her eyebrows raised. “You sure?” I flick my wrist, gesturing for the ball again. “Don’t get all pussy on me now, Bueckers,” I tease.
It’s natural. Too natural, too instinctual, to be going back and forth with her like this.
Paige tosses me the ball, and I toss it back to her, before it lands in my hands again. I back up, dribble it out, then make a quick drive to the basket. I lay it in easily, catching it under the net, and turning to frown at her. “You’re taking it easy on purpose,” I complain, thudding the ball into her chest. She grasps onto the ball, staring down at me, her eyes searching mine. “How do you know that?” She murmurs.
I shake my head, biting back a smile. I can’t tell if the rapid beating of my heart is from the drive or from the fact that she’s this close to me, smelling clean and fresh and so Paige. “Cut the shit. Play for real,” I tell her, dropping my hands from the ball. Neither of us move, the ball the only thing between us. Then she breaks the thread connecting us, dribbling back to the perimeter.
On her drive, I grasp at her shirt, and she yelps, completing the play anyway, the ball falling deftly through the net. “Foul!” She yells at me. “You have like seven inches on me, how the fuck else am I supposed to defend you?!” I demand. Paige stares at me. Then she cracks her neck, tongue in her cheek.
When she blocks my next shot viciously, I know she’s playing for real.
As much as I hate to admit it, she’s incredibly attractive when she’s so competitive. Possession after possession, she absolutely dominates the game. It doesn’t help that my idiot brother is cheering for her the whole time, spurring her confidence on. She knocks me to the ground on the last play, yelling triumphantly in my face as she stands over me, feet on either side of my body. Her body glistens with sweat, but her smile is fucking blinding. She leans down, her chain dangling in my face. “Still not shit, huh, Jacobs?”
I grab her shirt, pulling her to the floor, and her knees land on the concrete on either side of my torso so that she’s almost straddling my body. She lurches forward with the momentum, her hands on either side of my head. Her ponytail falls down, brushing my nose. “Shut up, Bueckers,” I mumble, but I’m smiling, my eyes moving between her lips and her eyes, my hand still fisted in her shirt.
“Are you guys gonna kiss?!” Matthew calls, breaking me out of my trance. I shove her off of me and she squawks, falling to the side. “Shut up, Matthew,” I grumble, stalking past my brother and smacking him on the back of the head. Paige is on her feet now, dusting off her hands. “So sensitive,” she says mockingly, eliciting a withering look from me. She sighs, turning to my brother and holding her hands out helplessly. “Can’t take a joke,” he says, shaking his head. Paige laughs loudly, looping an arm around his shoulder and walking with him to her car.
“How do milkshakes sound?” I hear her ask him.
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