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#i too wish i could stop posting about alcohol
swiftispunk · 3 months
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good to me, part three | joel miller x f!reader
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joel masterlist | masterlist | kofi | follow @swiftispunkupdates for fic notifs
pairing: gynecologist!joel miller x female!reader rating: 18+ explicit word count: 5.4k
summary: after your first proper date with dr. miller, you make an unexpected stop at his usual practice. warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] doctor/patient shenanigans in the sense that they fuck in a doctor's office but also they go on a real date, smut, vaginal fingering, just a hint of oral (f receiving), medical kink, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, pet names, competency kink, praise kink (one "good girl"), so much squirting, multiple orgasms, glove kink, alcohol, food, reader is described as wearing a dress. no use of y/n. disclaimer: obviously i am not a gynecologist ya'll so i make no guarantees that the language used here will be one hundred per cent accurate. this is wish fulfillment, not medical school. anyway this is just supposed to be a bit of silly, horny fun so pls just take it for what it is or scroll on by if it's not your thing thank you love you bye
part one | part two
a/n: this is it for these two but thank you all so much for coming on this horny little journey with me. and, as ever, an extra thank you to @joelscruff for convincing me this was good enough to post.
You wait a perfectly reasonable five days before you call him. It's about as long as you can stand.
He picks up on the second ring, seemingly thrilled to hear from you. The sound of his voice on the other side of the phone gives you pause; there's something about hearing it beyond the white walls of an exam room that feels unnervingly material. Your anticipation brims, and suddenly the date he arranges for three days from now seems much too far away.
Part of you still thinks it might have all been a dream. His touch and his mouth and his fucking tongue; god, just the memory of how he'd made you feel is enough to make you throb. You're not sure you've stopped floating since he'd left you on that table.
It's not until you see him leaning against a streetlamp in front of the fancy restaurant he'd chosen, clad in a navy blue suit accessorized with a disarming smile, that you're forced to face the facts. That Dr. Miller is indeed a real man, a real man who'd made you come so hard that you're wet just at the sight of him, your body reacting even before he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of your knuckles.
It shouldn't come as a surprise, but talking with him is as easy as anything else, his impeccable bedside manners translating seamlessly to his real-world persona. You chat work and life and what's good here? I'll have that, then. He asks you questions and listens to your answers and you try not to focus too hard on the curve of his smile or the way his tongue darts out between his lips to occasionally lap a stray drop of cab sauv.
He tells you to call him Joel and you do, curiously trying it on like a brand new dress -
"Thank you for the wine, Joel."
"That's fascinating, Joel."
"Will you please take me home and fuck me so hard I can't think straight, Joel?"
You manage to keep that last one to yourself, though it's getting harder and harder with each passing minute to pretend you're not dying to get out of here so Dr. Miller can make good on his promise. He covers your hand with his on the table and you have to physically restrain yourself from dragging him into the bathroom just to feel his fingers elsewhere.
As it is, you cross your legs in search of friction as Dr. Miller generously pays for dinner and guides you out of the restaurant with a hand on the small of your back.
"What made you get into gynecology?" you ask while you stroll hand-in-hand along the sidewalk. He lives nearby, and for that, you're grateful.
Dr. Miller sighs.
"Always knew I wanted to get into medicine," he explains. "Like helpin' people. Heard too many horror stories 'bout folks hatin' their gynecologists...guess I thought this was the field I could do the most good."
At that, your heart swells and you resist the urge to pinch yourself. Handsome, chivalrous and good-hearted? It's like someone made him in a lab.
"That's very noble of you," you tell him truthfully.
Dr. Miller smiles down at you and for a moment you lose yourself in his sweet brown eyes until something over your shoulder catches his attention.
"S'my usual practice," he says, nodding to a innocuous looking two-storey walk-up behind you.
You turn to follow his eyeline and stop dead in your tracks.
A directory of names beside the building's door inexplicably makes your skin tingle, heat pooling along your spine when you see the words, Joel Miller, MD, Obstetrician-gynecologist listed among the building's other inhabitants.
"Y-your practice?" you stammer dumbly, tearing your eyes away from his name to find him grinning down at you.
"Mhm," he nods.
You blink between him and the directory while Dr. Miller watches you with bemusement.
You don't know what comes over you, or even what you're hoping for but you fucking need to see inside.
"Can we go in?" you find yourself asking. You press your face up against the glass door. There are no lights on, not a soul in sight.
Dr. Miller chuckles, glancing over his shoulder at the dark of night around him before checking the time on his watch. "It's after hours."
"And?" you press.
He assesses your expectant face, something devilish passing over his gaze. He laughs once, cocking his eyebrows as he begins to fish his keys out of his pocket.
His office is on the second floor, the very last door at the end of a long hallway. None of the neighbouring offices appear to show signs of life, and Dr. Miller's office is no exception. It feels like sneaking around, like breaking into your high school after midnight. And while you're sure there are no laws against a doctor popping into his own practice after hours, there is something that feels slightly dangerous about it all.
When you reach his office, you strain your eyes against the dark to see his name carved into a placard - a sight that makes you inexplicably warm - while Dr. Miller takes one last look over his shoulder, at last unlocking the door and guiding you inside.
He drops your hand to let you step into the room, locking the door behind him and flicking on the lights. You gaze in wonder at the cozy waiting room, smiling to yourself at how much it feels like him.
Everything about it is warm and inviting, a dark patterned carpet dotted with rustic furnishings; a few soft, cushioned chairs and a live edge wood coffee table. Beige walls adorned with naturalistic artwork, all browns and yellows and reds, illuminated under not fluorescent overhead lighting but warm, golden flood lights.
The space puts you immediately at ease and you're suddenly envious of every lucky patient who gets to call Dr. Joel Miller their OB-GYN.
Of course, that feeling dissipates when Dr. Miller is suddenly crowding up the space behind you to rest his massive palms over your hips.
"How 'bout a tour?" he suggests, leaning in close to press his chest into your back and kiss the shell of your ear.
You shiver. "Yes please."
He barely leaves any space between your bodies as he herds you past the receptionist's desk and down a narrow hallway.
"S'my office," he tells you, pinching your side and shrugging towards a locked door to your right.
You nod at it, feigning interest to the best of your ability. "Hm."
Dr. Miller chuckles, clearly unconvinced. "That's not what you wanna see, is it?"
"Mm-mm," you admit, not bothering to argue.
"Thought so," he hums. "C'mon."
He finally unravels himself from behind you to lead the way to another door, your feet carrying you forward after him as arousal begins to cloud every other thought in your mind.
Dr. Miller shoots you a wink and then ushers you into the room marked, Examination.
Your breath hitches the second he turns the lights on.
It's bigger than the exam room at your doctor's office, the bright white walls adorned with framed monuments to Dr. Miller's various academic achievements. Cabinets line the perimeters of the room along with a wide mahogany desk, and at the centre of it all, a sight that makes your pulse pound in your ears.
A single examination table, the end of which is accented by two wide, black stirrups.
You gawk at the setup, an ache spreading between your legs in an instant. A gentle hand on your chin turns your face to the side, and Dr. Miller leans in to press his lips to yours, effectively leaving you breathless even before he pulls away and quietly says,
"Why don't you go ahead and get on the bed for me."
Your heart leaps in your chest, a squeaked sound of obedience getting caught in your throat. Dr. Miller smiles.
You situate yourself in the middle of the bed while Dr. Miller removes his suit jacket and rolls the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows. You watch, awed and lustful, as he rummages in one of the cabinets, jolting where you sit when you hear the familiar elastic snap of latex hitting skin.
"Now," he says, turning to face you and clapping his gloved hands together. "What'd I say I was gonna do 'fore I left you last time?"
You swallow as he approaches the bed, eyes raking over your bare legs below the hem of your dress.
"You-you said you were gonna show me - "
"All the ways I can make you feel good," he finishes for you. He comes up beside you, placing one gloved palm over your sternum, trailing it downwards between your breasts. "Would you still like that?"
Already dazed, you wordlessly nod up at him with parted lips. 
"Good," he smirks. "Sit up for me."
You straighten your spine and Dr. Miller drops his hand from your chest.
"Arms up," he tells you.
You frown but do as he says.
But then you understand, as he curls his fingers beneath the edge of your dress and lifts it up over your head, letting it fall against the clean tiled floor below.
You're nearly bare now - save for the panties that conceal your already dripping cunt. Dr. Miller hums as he assesses your bare breasts.
"Gorgeous," he murmurs, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. "How we doin' so far?"
"Good, sir," you smile.
His lips twitch at that, carefully holding your stare as he traces his fingers over your collarbones, down your forearms, across your stomach until finally he ghosts them over your nipples. You gasp, eyebrows knitting together as he circles each pebbled nub with a feather light touch before at last cupping your breasts fully in his massive grasp.
"How's that feel?" he asks as he squeezes down lightly, eliciting a moan from you when he grazes his thumbs over the peaks of your tits, back and forth and back and forth. He's building you up, you realize, taking his time with your body.
"Feels good," you croak, voice already weak as he begins to roll your nipples between his fingers, stealing whatever breath you have left when he dives forward to flick his tongue over each one in turn.
You have to brace your hands on the table to stay upright as he kisses his way upwards then, his moustache dragging over the delicate skin of your chest and neck until his lips find your ear.
"The nipples and breasts are both erogenous zones, but you probably knew that," he hums into the hollow of your ear, his thumbs now working over your nipples in tight little circles, smoothed by the wet of his own saliva. "Do you know the other ones?"
"No," you gasp, or if you do, you can't remember any right now.
Dr. Miller chuckles.
"There's the ears," he hums, proving his point when he bites down gently on your lobe, causing you to gasp before he moves lower.
"Your neck," he continues, pressing his lips into your pulse point and sucking softly at the skin there before continuing his journey down, down, down.
He's focused, utterly intent on you. You, meanwhile, are putty in his hands, loose and pliant when he frees a breast from his grasp to raise one of your arms up over your head and graze his mouth over your underarm.
"Here," he whispers as he does so, slowly lowering your arm to hold you by the hand and trace his gloved thumb in a figure-eight pattern over the thin, oft-neglected skin at your inner wrist. "There."
Oh, fuck.
He catches your head with his other hand when it falls back behind you in response, forcing you to hold his gaze while his fingers scratch affectionately at the nape of your neck. You don't need to him tell you that's also a sensitive spot, you can fucking feel it.
"And right here," he concludes as he brings your hand up to his face and softly kisses your palm, making your head spin when he presses his lips to each of your fingertips before sucking one of the digits into his mouth.
"Oh my god," you whimper, the ache in your core reaching near-unbearable levels. Can you come from this? It feels like you could.
Dr. Miller chuckles, slowly repeating the action with each of your fingers before carefully placing your hand in your lap.
"Now I bet," he murmurs as caresses your cheekbones with the backs of his knuckles. "Those pretty panties of yours are good and soaked for me now, s'that right?"
You don't need to look to know. Sticky-wet and humid between your legs, you know all too well how worked up he's got you.
"Yes - please, Joel, please touch me."
"I am touchin' you, sweetheart," he winks, tugging lightly at your bottom lip with his gloved thumb, watching you in apparent wonder as it springs back into his place when he lets his hand fall.
"Touchin' you everywhere it feels good," he explains.
You groan in frustration but he's not wrong. It feels good everywhere, every touch more intoxicating and deliberate than the last.
He knows exactly what he's doing.
His fingers graze your bare thigh then, goosebumps rising on your skin as he inches patiently towards your waiting heat. He watches your face as he toys with the lace edge of your panties, his warm brown eyes all teasing and expectant.
"This where you want me?" he asks.
"Please." You're shocked it doesn't come out a scream.
You part your legs for him, giving him access to run his palm up your inner thigh before flattening it against your mound. You buck your hips up, moaning in desperation for more and for a moment, Dr. Miller obliges, dragging three fingers over your clothed cunt before retracting them altogether.
You throb at the friction, feel like weeping when it's gone and then Dr. Miller steps back. You reach after him in vain, but he's already rounding the bed, clutching at your ankles and encouraging you to scoot closer.
"Why don't we get these off, huh?" he suggests, fingers already hooking under the edge of your underwear, and this time, you don't wait for him to tell you, just eagerly lift your hips up off the bed and let him slide your panties down your legs.
Your cheeks warm at the way he whistles, his palms resting at the hinges of your knees, eyes trained on your exposed pussy.
"Oh, baby," he coos. "She's fuckin' drippin' for me."
He hardly sounds surprised. Again, you're too far gone to argue, just nod and bite your lip.
"C'mere," he smirks as he begins to carefully maneuver your legs into the stirrups, one at a time. It shouldn't excite you as much as it does, but you don't care. You don't fight him.
There's a beat as he sizes you up, hands gliding up the insides of your thighs, his hungry gaze feasting on your body before settling on your face.
"Relax," he whispers and even though every nerve ending in your body is threatening to explode, you obey. You let your fall back into the table and curl your hands into fists at your sides, ready to take whatever he gives you.
"There you go," Dr. Miller hums, making himself at home between your legs, fanning one gloved hand out over your mound while the other inches towards the apex of your thighs. "You just lie back and let me take care of you. Alright?"
"Mhm."
"Good girl."
You gasp when his fingers at last rake through the seam of your folds, one smooth upwards swipe from your hole to your clit. He spreads your arousal over your lips, sighing at the obscenely wet sound of it beneath his touch.
"You know how many erogenous zones there are here?" he muses as he continues to trace his fingers over your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit.
"Mm-mm," you admit.
"I like to start here," he explains, spreading two fingers over your lips and caressing them softly in slow, rhythmic circles.
You sigh, feeling a fresh wave of slick pool at your centre. Dr. Miller notices.
"Yeah? I know it feels good. Your labia get real sensitive when you're aroused. Lotta folks forget that."
You can barely make out what he's saying, too engrossed by the slow drag of his fingers against your lips, the way he's pinching and tugging lightly at the delicate skin, gauging every one of your responses as he does.
You're going to lose your mind.
"Joel - Dr. Miller, please."
You're whining, squirming under the palm he has on your lower belly.
"Shh," he soothes, now using one gloved finger to draw a line through your seam, dancing it over your entrance. "You're okay."
You will yourself to believe him, but you can't fight the impatient little mewls that continue to spill from you as he begins to circle your hole with the tip of his finger.
"Right here's another one," he tells you, applying more pressure around you opening, tracing the outline of it but never quite pushing in. "Breathe, baby."
You try, exhaling shakily while Dr. Miller repeats the motion with agonizing precision.
"Good," he praises you lowly. "Now, look at me, sweetheart."
You force your eyes open, audibly groaning at the sight of him towering over you between your legs. He holds your gaze as he notches the tip of his finger against your hole and then slowly eases it inside to the first knuckle.
"Oh, fuck," you whine, watching him watching you as he presses his digit deeper, curling it to tickle at your insides until your mouth falls open when he finds what he's looking for.
"Right there," he states plainly. His eyes darken then as he refocuses on your cunt, barely giving you a chance to catch your breath before he's sinking a second finger into you alongside the first.
He nudges at that fucking spot, hard enough to make your head spin, too light to properly take you over the edge. It occurs to you, as he works you up to the precipice of climax with just two patient, tender fingers that Dr. Miller is toying with you. Making a game out of your pleasure, indulging in it.
Something warm and wet twists deep in your core at the thought.
"Oh, Joel," you sob. "Joel, please."
His palm presses harder into your tummy at the same time his fingers beckon with more intent against your g-spot and all at once your vision blurs as some heady sensation takes hold of your lower half. You're going to come. He's barely even started and you're -
"Come on, baby, let go," he encourages you gently, but he's looking at your cunt. "Just like that. Just like that for me."
"Joel!"
It hits like a freight train at the moment the heel of his palm comes down on your clit. And you try to warn him, but you run out of time, your orgasm crashing over you in a white hot blaze. It's dizzying, too warm, too intense, too wet. A deep-seated pressure that had been building in your core erupts and a stream of liquid gushes over Dr. Miller's palm, splashing out on the tiled floor below.
"Oh, there you go," he murmurs gravelly, never ceasing the motions of his fingers inside you or slackening the press of his hand over your mound, coaxing out every drop from you he can.
The high seems to last forever, too spent when it ends to even flinch away from his touch when it begins to feel too much. Dr. Miller doesn't push it though, slowly retracting his fingers from the tight clench of your pussy the second you go slack against the table.
"Good job, darlin'," his voice calls out to you, one massive hand hooking behind your neck to pull you up into a kiss.
"Still with me?" he checks in after a moment.
"Yes," you tell him breathlessly, nodding up at him with hazy eyes. His lips twitch.
"Good. That was one."
"That was - ?"
But he silences you with another kiss, leaving you dizzy as he pulls away to retake his place at the foot of the bed. He takes a long look at your pussy, reverent and adoring, before hinging forward to lick one thick stipe through the wet seam of your folds.
You groan at the contact, still so sensitive, then watch with nervous anticipation as he backs off to loosen his belt buckle, his eyes still fixed on the wet mess between your legs. The front of his shirt is soaked, you notice, his cock visibly hard through the fabric of his trousers.
His cock. You're finally going to see his cock.
He pulls his drenched, latex gloves off and lets them fall to the floor before finally freeing his cock, pants and boxers pooling halfway down his tanned, muscled thighs.
"Oh, god," you whine at the sight of his impressive length, salivating as he strokes himself before you. "So big, Joel."
He grins, pumping himself with one hand while the other moves to rest right above your heat, making you shiver when he strums his thumb gently over your neglected clit.
It occurs to you it's the first time he's touched you there without gloves.
"Yeah? You want it inside you, sweetheart?"
"Please."
He continues stroking your clit, almost absent with it as he drops his hardened cock to reach into a drawer beneath the examination table. You frown until you see the tiny square packet he's retrieved, pinched between his fingers.
"Safety first," he winks as he brings the edge of the packet to his lips and swiftly tears it open with his teeth.
"Very - responsible," you gasp, struggling to get a breath in while he continues to work over your clit, barely batting an eye as he slips the condom on with one hand.
Is there anything he doesn't do with absolute ease?
You whine as he presses closer, notching the head of his cock against your soaking hole while his thumb maintains its tender ministrations on your clit. You can feel him prodding at your entrance, teasing you, applying more pressure with his thumb as it begins to circle.
You arch up off the bed, spreading your legs impossibly wider for him - a silent plea. Heat curls in your tummy, some combination of anticipation and his patient touch bringing you right back to the edge of climax. Slick pools around the head of his cock and only then does he slowly push inside you - just the tip. Still enough to make you cry out, still a stretch, still so much.
Joel, for his part, sighs raggedly, his upper lip curling like he's trying to hold himself back.
"So fuckin' tight, baby," he grits out, his voice still surprisingly even. "Look at you, huh? Fallin' apart for me and I ain't even all the way inside yet."
"Joel, I'm - "
Tension pulls taut in your core, a second climax building rapidly at just the ceaseless motions of his thumb on your clit and Joel's cock sunk barely an inch inside you.
"You can come again, sweetheart, go on," he coaxes you, so sure of himself as you moan and pant and sob until the tension bursts and you're coming again.
"Oh, fuck," Dr. Miller growls, sinking his length deeper into you as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy pulsing around him. Somewhere in the blinding haze of pleasure, you think maybe he'd orchestrated it this way, so you'd be coming undone at the exact moment he buries himself to the hilt in your constricting walls.
Because then he's slowly fucking you, the drag of his cock only making it last longer, a symphony of high-pitched sobs spilling from your throat while Dr. Miller sedulously fucks you through it. You're semi-conscious of the way you're soaking his length, wetness sticking to your inner thighs and gushing between your bodies.
And he's talking, that intoxicating low drawl cutting through the haze as you come back to yourself.
"Fuckin' gorgeous, honey, that's so goddamn good," he growls, and when you blink your eyes open, you see his hands are gripping both your sides now, his gaze once again trained on your cunt, brows furrowed in concentration. "That's what this pretty little pussy needed, huh? Someone to fill her up? God, you're fuckin' - soaking me, baby."
You whimper and he throws his head back with a moan, the first time you've witnessed any crack in his composure.
"Joel...more...please," you croak weakly. You don't care how over-sensitive you are - you want to feel him in your fucking stomach.
"Yeah?" he grunts, his grip on your waist tightening. "Think you can take it?"
Your gazes lock and you nod at him frantically, a somewhat menacing glint burning behind his eyes.
"Yesyeyes, please, Dr. Miller, please."
It seems to affect him, a guttural groan pouring from him as he grants your wishes and increases the pace and power of his thrusts. He doesn't take his eyes off you for a second, searching your face as he experimentally swirls his hips and hits somewhere deeper, somewhere that makes your fucking toes curl.
"Oh, fuck!" you cry when he hits it again on his next thrust. He notes the response, naturally.
"Fuck," he groans, suddenly stilling, buried deep in your walls. You all but scream in protest. "Where? Tell me where it feels good."
He pushes into that spot, like he's looking for confirmation, the drag of his cock teasing at the spongy, sensitive trigger deep inside you.
"There, there, please, right there!"
It's damn-near frantic, your fingers reaching between your bodies to claw listlessly at his chest. Dr. Miller, intent and controlled as ever, snaps his hips forward then, his face cracking into a grin at the primal groan it elicits from you.
"There?" he hums like he doesn't already know.
"Yes!" you tell him anyway, your voice cutting off into a broken sob as his thrusts pick up again, his cock now hitting right where you need it most on every precise stroke.
The back of your head hits the bed again while Dr. Miller's hands creep up your tummy to cup your breasts in his massive palms. You're floating, you think, caught somewhere between your last climax and your inevitable next one, stimulated past the point of words when his thumbs begin to dance over your nipples again.
"You're gonna give another one, baby, alright?" you hear him tell you. "You're gonna give me one more."
You can't find the will to respond beyond a hapless whimper that almost sounds like please, heat licking at your insides for the third time tonight. Then Dr. Miller is falling forward over you, caging you in under his broad chest as his lips meet your ear.
"Let go," he whispers, his low drawl mingling with the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you and the obscene smack of skin on skin. "Let go for me now. Come all over my cock, baby. I'm right here. I'm gonna take care of ya."
You choke out a strangled noise as he tweaks your nipples between his fingers at the same time his teeth close over your earlobe and then you're gone.
Stars burst behind your eyes as you gush around his girth - have you ever squirted this much in your life? Bubbling warmth seeps from your core and up your spine, overtaking everything else till you're just a shaking mess beneath him, gooey and spent.
You can hear him talking you through it - Oh, good job, baby, that's so fuckin' good - but all you can offer him in response is a syrupy refrain of, thank you thank you thank you.
He pulls back, giving you space to breathe. You stare up at him bleary-eyed, dazedly entranced as he brings a hand up to your face to tenderly cup your cheek, so jarringly soft considering the way he's still mercilessly fucking you.
"So pretty like this, baby," he coos, his thumb tracing your lower lip softly. "This perfect fuckin' pussy. Takin' this cock so well. S'what you needed, huh?"
You can only nod tiredly, humming a quiet sound of agreement as Dr. Miller's face suddenly screws up, his chest heaving above you. As much as you don't want it to end, you have to admit you're eager to watch him fall apart. To know what Dr. Miller looks like when he comes.
Your eyes flutter closed as you daringly suck his thumb between your lips and suck, tasting salt and latex and Joel.
"Holy shit," he groans, his thrusts coming faster, relentless, as he chases his high. "M'gonna fuckin' come, baby. You want me to come inside this tight little cunt?"
You'd love for him to do just that for real - but the illusion is more than enough for now. Your eyes snap open and find his at once, something wild and desperate swimming in his familiar browns.
"God, yes, please - please, Dr. Miller, please come for me."
Your slurred pleas are cut off when Dr. Miller lets out a raucous groan.
Then you're both moaning in unison as his jaw slackens and his hips stutter, his cock spasming deep inside you as he spills into the condom. He's vocal as his orgasm rips through him, his entire body shaking with the force of it. Fucking beautiful.
"Jesus - Christ - " he huffs between two final thrusts, crashing forward with his cock still buried in your cunt to lick into your open mouth. It's all panted breaths and tongues and gratitude, contented little tears spilling from your eyes before you can stop them.
"Hey, hey," he whispers when he notices, brushing the wetness away and tucking your dampened hair off your face. "Shh, you're okay. How we doin'?"
Always checking in. The fog of ecstasy lifts a bit, as you wrap your arms around his neck and shake your head with a breathy laugh.
"That was - "
But Dr. Miller cuts you off with another kiss, catching your gasp when he slowly pulls his cock free from your wasted hole.
"I know," he smirks. One more chaste press of his lips against yours and then he's hoisting himself off of you, carefully helping your legs out of the stirrups before tending to himself. Dr. Miller removes the condom - full with a deliciously heavy load, you note - and hides it in one of his discarded medical gloves, tying the end into a tight knot before tossing the evidence of your evening in the trash.
Your hips ache, burning dully from being splayed open for so long, all the more noticeable now as you finally bring your knees together.
When Dr. Miller turns back to you, he's already tucked himself back into his trousers, a sight that makes you feel a bit small, shrinking in on yourself, still so naked and exposed before him.
But Dr. Miller is smiling, and that puts you at ease. "Lie back," he says.
Your brows furrow till you note what he's holding in his hand, your eyes widening briefly before you cautiously obey.
You shudder as he cleans you up, wiping away sticky wet slick and come from your thighs and your folds. He's gentle and careful with it - just like he is with everything else - and when he's done, he bends forward to kiss your knees, finally extending a helpful hand out to you to help you sit up.
With your legs dangling off the edge of the table, you both glance downward at the splashes of wet that mark his tiled floors.
"Made such a pretty little mess, sweetheart," he remarks with an affectionate smile.
"You knew I would."
Shrugging innocently, he chuckles. "Arms up," he says for the second time this evening.
"I think you were holding back before," you tease him, unflinchingly lifting your arms up over your head to let him slip your dress back on over your shoulders, warming at the way he smooths out the sleeves and fans the skirt across your thighs.
You both ignore your ruined panties still strewn on the floor.
"Well," he smirks as he finishes, cupping the sides of your face in his massive grasp. "I was a guest. Woulda been rude of me to leave someone else's office in this kinda state."
"And what about your office?" you laugh as he helps you down off the table with a strong, steadying arm.
"I'll call the cleaners," he winks.
You let him guide you to the door on shaky legs, confusion setting in when he leads you into the hallway just to stand in the threshold.
"Bathroom's next door," he explains. Of course Dr. Joel Miller is going to make sure you pee after sex. "I'll just be a minute in here. Then f'you still wanna come back to my place - "
"Yes, please," you interrupt eagerly and his lips curl into that sweet half-smile.
Maybe he'll let you make a mess there too.
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needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post
synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.
warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it
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The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.
What a delightful feeling. 
What a human desire. 
“Touch me.” 
The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 
“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 
“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.
“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 
“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 
“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.
Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 
You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.
You don’t mind now.
“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 
He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”
His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.
The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 
With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?
“Hmm? Just what?” 
He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 
You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.
But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.
Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.
Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 
Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.
But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.
He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.
You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.
“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.
 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 
You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”
He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.
You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 
“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”
You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 
You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.
The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.
A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.
Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.
“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 
His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.
Perhaps…
“Kiss me.”
Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”
He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.
“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”
“You know we can’t. You-“
“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”
A losing fucking battle. 
Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 
All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.
 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.
He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 
It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 
He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 
Just like he told you to do.
He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 
You’d show him what real ascension felt like.
You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.
To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.
You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 
He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”
You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 
And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.
In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.
Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 
He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.
“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.
But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.
So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.
Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.
Like he wants you to.
He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”
Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 
Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 
He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.
And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.
He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.
He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.
For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.
But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.
Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.
But he stops you.
His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.
His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"
You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.
Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.
"I promise, I will."
And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.
Just you.
"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."
He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.
But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.
To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.
His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.
"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."
He always has been one for dramatics.
His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.
"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.
He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.
And he's crying. And he's beautiful.
More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.
"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"
You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 
"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.
“Satoru,” And he shakes.
“Satoru,” And he sobs.
“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.
“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.
Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.
Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.
Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.
Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.
"You love me right?"
You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.
But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.
"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.
"Do you love me?"
You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.
"I do love you Satoru."
And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.
But that doesn't matter.
Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.
"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.
You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.
And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.
“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”
“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”
You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”
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satorunigojaloo · 1 month
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Lonely together/valentines day
Roommates!Gojo Satoru x gn!reader
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Second story from my voting poll for Gojo x reader valentines fanfic
Genre: fluff, hurt&comfort, best friends to lovers, roommates
Warning: mention of alcohol, but barely enough to be considered a warning.
AN: I’m sorry, but I didn’t do any proofreading before posting. So excuse me for any errors!
wordcount: 1.8k
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When you and your best friend since childhood decided to become roommates, you had your doubts at first. Satoru was known to be a popular guy and you thought it meant he would constantly bring home girls with him.
He did, of course.
But not as often as you thought, and it was never the same girl. In the beginning the visitors were frequent and you actually got along with most of them.
However there were few of those nice girls, and for some reason those were the ones you never saw twice.
The worst part wasn’t that he brought these girls home with him or that you sometimes could hear them through the walls.
No.
It was the aftermath. The arguments. The almost cruel words those awful girls would utter to him. When Satoru didn’t fit the picture they had painted of him.
You would think that girls wanted a guy who’s not only handsome, tall, rich and cool — but also sweet, caring and kind.
Wrong again.
Today’s generation seems to only want hookups, no strings attached and someone who just looks good in their social media posts.
Which is where it went from for Satoru, because he genuinely wants to find someone to connect with on a deeper level. It could be his fault too, that maybe he too soon opened up about his intentions — scaring them away when they were barely getting to know each other.
Sometimes you wish he was what everyone thought him to be, then his eyes wouldn’t be all puffy and red so often. Or his posture wouldn’t be so slouched from the constant defeat.
It didn’t happen so often in the beginning, he had been excellent at appearing unfazed after yet another rejection. However, he’s just a human like everyone else — and the constant heartbreak would eventually tear down the strong facade he puts up.
Today’s Valentine’s Day, and as the hopeless romantic Satoru is — he’s skipping around your shared apartment, humming in a chirpy tune as he’s getting ready for his date.
"How about this outfit? Too much?" You’re sitting on your sofa watching a random romantic movie and turn to look over your shoulder at him. You eye him from top to bottom and up again.
"Yes. Drop the tie." With a nonchalant voice you turn back again to the TV-screen while scrolling on your phone.
You want nothing more than to match his energy, but you already know the outcome and to be honest — you want nothing more than to just end his misery before it begins and stop him from going.
But then again, it could end well. This date might actually be the one that gives him his happy ending. You listen to him walking back and forth between the living room and his bedroom, emerging yet again and wants you to give him your opinion.
"I guess that’s better, but isn’t it a little early to get ready for your date? It’s still a few hours left." You frown at him while your eyes scans his new outfit.
"I know, but I thought I could buy her some gifts beforehand. Care to join me? Or are you too busy with your romcoms?"
Rolling your eyes, you smirk at his teasing tone. Accepting his offer, you needed a few things yourself from the store.
"You’re such a hopeless romantic." Satoru grins at your comment and winks playfully. "At least I am out there trying, while you’re just staying at home like a loser."
You know he doesn’t think you are a loser, it’s just your normal banter.
-
Browsing the aisles of the store together, you observe as Satoru fills up the stroller with different kinds of romantic gifts — a bouquet of red roses, heart shaped chocolates and a bottle for champagne. The guy even bought a heart shaped balloon.
"Where are you meeting this girl?" You look up at him as you’re walking side by side down the streets, his smile wide and it looks like he would burst at any moment from happiness.
"At the park not far from here." He hums, but you notice the nervous fidgeting on the shopping back handle. You can feel yourself worry, knowing that if this doesn’t end well — he will be equally broken as he’s cheerful.
When he waves you goodbye and walks to sit down on the park bench, you throw him one last look before you go. His date hasn’t arrived yet, but he’s still a little early, so there’s some time.
You contemplated on if you should stay or not, but it’s cold and you want to get back to your apartment.
-
It has been a few hours since you came back and no sign of Satoru, which meant his date must’ve gone well. You hope their date is indoors — the rain falls heavy down outside.
The front door creaks open slowly, without turning around to see you welcome him home with a cheery voice.
No answer. Weird.
You can hear him shuffling off his shoes and taking off his jacket — the sound of something being dropped on the floor and then a heavy sigh.
Not good. You pause the movie and make your way to the hallway and what you find is breaking your heart.
Satoru is slumped down on the floor, his back against the front door and his head hung between his bent knees. You notice that is completely soaked and shivering.
"Satoru? Are you ok?" You walk to him and knee down next to him, your hand shaking his shoulder lightly to get his attention.
"Why…" he mumble with a shaky voice followed by a sniff. "why won’t anyone love me?" His voice breaks and his breath hitches as he let out a broken sob.
You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly — you don’t care that he’s wet and cold. Combing through his dripping white locks soothingly and lets him cry freely.
This isn’t the first time he has cried in your arms and every time you wish it’s the last.
When you feel his body ease up in your embrace and hugs you back — his arms wrapped around, you finally speak.
"I don’t know why those girls rejects you, but please don’t let them define your worth. They’re idiots." You coo in his hear softly.
He turns his head up and you feel his tear stained cheek resting against yours. It’s a little sticky, but you don’t care.
"What about you?" His warm breath tickles your ear, his question takes you aback. You pull away to look at him with questioning eyes.
"What about me?"
You had comforted him many times throughout the years, but this was the first time you felt something else tingle inside you when you look at him. He looks at your through wet lashes, they’re sticking together and falls heavy over his blue eyes. When he blinks they touch the apple of his cheeks.
"Would you… love me?"
The vulnerability in his voice cuts right through you and he can’t help when his hopeful blue eyes to stare at you.
You don’t know what to say to him, scared to cross that line with him — especially when he’s in this state. The shopping back on the floor catches your attention and you notice the empty bottle of champagne.
"Satoru… you’re drunk." You stroke your hand over his cheeks, wiping away the tears before running it through his hair.
"Not drunk enough. Now answer me." When he sensed your hesitation and that you didn’t pull away, a new courage fills his words.
This seems like a dream, there had been a time when you were head over heels for him. When you would jump in his arms if he ever asked you that question, but now you’re just scared.
Scared that he’s only saying these things to you because he’s scared to be alone and that you’re better than nothing. Scared that those are drunken words that he will regret tomorrow. Scared your friendship will be ruined if that line is crossed.
"I know what you’re thinking." His hand cups your chin and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. "I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t mean it. Our friendship is too important to me. It’s just that today… I realised something."
He pauses and swallows hard, averting his gaze for a moment before finding your eyes again.
"When that girl never came and I sat there by myself for an embarrassing long time, my mind drifted to you. When the girl finally came I felt a little disappointed because I was hoping it would be you who came."
His eyes search yours for anything and you must been an open book because he smiles gently and look down at your lips.
"I want you." He leans up, closing the gap further — his hand still holding your chin in place. You feel his mouth close to yours, his warm breath on your lips.
"Tell me to stop—" he whisper and softly brushes his lips over yours. When you don’t pull away he takes that as his sign. Capturing yours into a kiss, his hand cupping your chin moves to grab the back of your head to pull you closer.
You kiss him back. Passionately. With emotions you had stored behind a closed door for so long. You move to sit on your knees between his legs and grab his face between your hands.
His free hand move down your back and then on your hip, before it grabs the flesh of your ass. You slip your tongue in his mouth and feel him moan, then he swiftly return your action with his own.
The kiss is getting heated and as you passionately taste each others mouths with your tongues, playfully nibbling at each others bottoms lips — hands almost desperately roam over your bodies feeling every curve.
Satoru pulls away and leans his head against the door, closing his eyes and takes a deep breath. You look down at him, his cheeks still wet from tears, but the sad look on his face is gone. A smile tugs on his lips as he opens his eyes to look at you.
"I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. Searching so desperately for someone to love when it was always right in front of me."
Your heart pounds into your chest, it feels like a heavy weight dropped off your body and tears swells up into your eyes. His thumb wipes away the droplet that is about to fall and he pulls you into another kiss. This time the kiss is gentle and affectionate.
"You really are blind, but at least you finally figured it out."
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elsweetheart · 10 months
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crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au
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synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.
♪ every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪
cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?
an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡
You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.
You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.
Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.
You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.
‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’
You smile.
Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.
The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.
Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.
Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.
You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.
“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.
“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.
“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.
“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.
“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.
You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.
“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.
“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.
You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.
“Then you can sleep in the dark.”
You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?
“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”
You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.
“Atta girl.”
You clench your jaw.
The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.
Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.
She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.
You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.
“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”
She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”
You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.
She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”
“Uber.”
It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”
Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.
Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)
Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.
And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.
God, did you always dance like this when you went out?
She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.
After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.
She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.
“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.
“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.
She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.
“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”
Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.
“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.
“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.
“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.
Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.
“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.
“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.
She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.
You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.
“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.
“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.
“Headphones. Give them to me.”
“No.”
“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.
You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.
“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.
“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.
“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.
“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”
Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.
“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”
Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.
You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.
The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.
It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.
You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.
“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.
“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.
You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.
“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.
“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”
The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”
She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.
The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.
“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.
“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.
“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.
“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.
“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.
“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.
You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”
At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.
“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”
You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.
“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.
“I am not a brat.”
“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.
After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.
“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.
“And?”
“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”
You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”
She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”
“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.
“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.
“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”
She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers �� because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.
“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.
“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.
“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.
“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.
“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.
“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.
“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”
The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.
“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.
“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.
“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.
By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.
You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.
“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.
“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”
You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.
However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.
You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’
You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.
When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.
It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.
Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.
You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.
“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.
You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.
Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.
You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.
You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.
You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.
Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.
You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.
Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.
“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.
“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.
Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?
As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.
You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.
“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.
“Okay.”
“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.
“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.
“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.
“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”
You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.
She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.
“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.
“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.
“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.
You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.
“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.
“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.
“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”
“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.
“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”
“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.
“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”
You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.
“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.
You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”
“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.
You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”
She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”
You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.
She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”
The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”
She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.
“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.
“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.
“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.
You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.
You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.
“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.
“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”
She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.
“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a “‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.
It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”
You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”
“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.
“Then what?”
You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.
“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”
You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.
“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.
She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.
“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”
“Please show me.”
“Like that, good job.”
Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.
“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.
You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”
Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”
She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.
You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”
You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.
She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.
You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.
“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.
“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”
With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.
She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.
A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.
“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.
“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”
You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.
You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.
Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.
“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”
“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.
She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.
“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.
You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?
“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.
“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.
“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.
“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.
The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.
“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.
“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.
You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.
“So big.” You mewl.
“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.
“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.
“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.
“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.
“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.
“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.
“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.
She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”
“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.
“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.
You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.
“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.
“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.
“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.
“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?
She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.
The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.
Maybe you’d let her stick around.
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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months
Text
Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {1}
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Charles and Lando come to your apartment for the thank you dinner as promised. Warnings: 18+ only, sexual tension, alcohol, touching? WC: 2.4k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four
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Black smoke billowed out of the pan you thought you had turned off and you rushed to toss it in the sink before opening a window. The breeze was a moment too late to clear the air of the dark tendrils snaking higher and they soon reached the smoke detector, the piercing sound of its alarm filling your kitchen. 
“Shit,” you cursed as you tried to jump and hit the detector to shut it off but you were just too short. “Double shit.”
A knock sounded at your door and you threw it open, grabbing whoevers hand it was and dragging them inside. “Thank god, hit that fucking thing for me will you?” you asked, realising it was Charles who had arrived on time, unsurprisingly.
His nose wrinkled at the heavy stench of smoke and he rose onto his toes to reach up and turn off the alarm. “You look like you have been, um…creative.”
You smiled at the attempt of a compliment before laughing at the situation. In the cold pan on the stove were the chicken breasts that were meant to be frying and you slapped your forehead as you realised you had turned the wrong element on. “Looks like we are going out to dinner, which is probably safer. I don’t think I could have kept my promise not to give you food poisoning by the looks of it.”
“I’m not dressed to go out,” he said as he looked down at his polo and chinos.
“Are you kidding me? You look like a damn model.”
“Thanks. It’s not easy being this handsome,” Lando said as he walked in the front door that was still open, a bottle of wine in his hands. “I see your cooking skills are as good as mine.”
“Har-har,” you drawled as you reached into the cupboards and got three wine stems out. “Liquid dinner it is.”
“Haven’t you sworn off drinking?” Charles asked as he rummaged around your cutlery drawers, finding the corkscrew for Lando.
“Pfft, that was just for summer break to stop the PR team from riding my ass,” you said with a grin. “Plus, you two won’t let me get into trouble. At least not too much.”
The cork popped open and Charles took the bottle from Lando to read the label. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” he laughed as he handed the Prosecco back. 
“What?” Lando asked with a frown as he turned it around to see the label. “The lady at the shop said this was good.”
“Sure, for an afternoon at the beach, but it won’t get you drunk.”
You took the bottle from his hands and kissed his cheek to erase the pout on his face. “It is the perfect starter course, and my bar is fully stocked with the hard stuff.”
“No,” Charles sighed as he took the bottle and poured three drinks. “I’m sure there is something salvageable to eat. No drinking on an empty stomach.”
You raised your glass to him. “I wish you luck, my kitchen is cursed.”
He tapped his glass with yours and winked. “I’m a miracle worker, watch me.”
You sat with Lando at the kitchen table as he showed you some photos he had taken throughout the year that hadn’t been posted online, keeping you entertained with stories that would get him in trouble if they ever got out. Every now and then you would check on Charles who familiarised himself with your kitchen, opening and closing all the cupboards and drawers before sighing.
“Admit defeat yet?”
His green eyes narrowed at you from across the room. “Never. I just can’t find any- of nevermind. What is this monstrosity?” He pulled a large jar out of the fridge and grimaced at the sight. 
“Crushed garlic,” you said obviously but he grew even more offended by the jar as he held it at arms length away.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered as he opened the lid and sniffed it. “It will do, I suppose.”
“What are you cooking?” Lando asked as he saw the ingredients lined up on the bench.
“Chicken pesto pasta.” He didn’t even look up as he sliced some limes up, muttering that lemons would have been better. 
“See, this is what I was looking for,” you said to Lando as you rested your chin on your hand watching Charles navigate the kitchen comfortably. “He cooks for me, you did my laundry, you’re both good looking and funny. That’s what I need from a man, I need the love child of Charlando. I give up. It’s impossible. I’m never going to find that.”
“Okay, this definitely isn’t going to be enough,” Lando said as he took the almost empty glass from your hand and rose from the chair. You and Charles both watched him cross over to the wet bar and tap his fingers along his lips as he debated what spirits to choose. “We need to cheer you up, I’m thinking tequila sunrise or strawberry daiquiri?”
“And music,” Charles added as he diced an onion that had been hiding at the back of your refrigerator for who knows how long. “Not mine, because it’s all depressing.”
“So music and drinks…why don’t we just go out?”
Neither looked happy at your suggestion and they both shook their heads. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture from your brother,” Lando admitted.
Lando plugged his phone into your stereo and some soft pop song started to play in the background as Charles said, “And it's too loud to talk in a club. This is nice, no?”
“I guess the company is half decent,” you teased.
Charles chuckled and beckoned you over with a curl of his finger that had a dollop of creamy pesto sauce on the end. “Taste test.”
Your stomach clenched as you parted your lips for him and his eyes held yours, the moment too intimate to dare break. His lips parted with a silent sigh when your tongue rolled over the pad of his finger, and he took a harsh breath as your lips sealed around it and sucked it clean. 
“Hmmm,” you moaned as the flavours coated your tongue and you pulled back, licking your lips as you did. “Oh my god, Charles, that is delicious.”
You couldn’t help noticing how the green of his eyes had been swallowed by his blown pupils or the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed twice before he could muster a response. “Now that I’ve seen your cooking, I’m sure everything else tastes delicious.”
“It’s not that bad,” you said with a laugh as your attention was pulled away and a shot glass was placed into your hand. “I thought we were having cocktails?”
“We will, but,” Lando said as he reached past Charles to grab the salt before he sprinkled a line across his hand. “Tequila first, sunrise later.” He grabbed a wedge of lime next and pinched it between his teeth with a daring curl of his eyebrow. 
The food was forgotten as Charles watched you wrapped your fingers around Lando’s wrist before running your tongue across his skin. The grains of salt coated your tongue as you raised the glass to your lips and tipped the liquor back under their heated stares. You swallowed the liquor and inhaled the fiery burn that followed as you eyed up lime waiting between Lando’s lips. 
This moment balanced on a knife's edge and you could feel how influential it could be on making or breaking the friendship you had with both Lando and Charles. This was the line in the sand that once you crossed there could be no return.
No one dared to breathe. No one dared to move. 
They were waiting for you. 
You licked your lips of the salty spirit residue and stepped closer to him. Your fingers trailed up his neck to tease the short hairs on his nape as you pulled his head down to meet yours and you bit the lime, tearing it from his lips as the sour juice ran down your chin.
“You’re a bad influence,” you teased as you wiped away the excess and stepped back. 
The tension in the air evaporated with his proud grin and Charles chuckled as he turned back to the pan before it burned for a second time.
“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” he replied innocently.
He made his way back to the wet bar with a little dance that had you laughing again. “It’s working.”
The sunset made the perfect backdrop over Monte-Carlo as you stepped out onto the balcony with a plate in each hand and placed them on the small square table. The music drifted out from the french doors after Lando queued enough songs to last the night and joined you and Charles with the extra strong drinks he had made.
“We should do this more often,” you said as a calm settled within you and you watched the yachts dotting the sea beyond the marina.
“What should we toast to?” Lando asked as he placed your glass in front of you, the cocktail matching the orange skyline.
“Single life?” you offered, earning a snort from him as he dropped into the seat beside you, mirroring Charles on the other side.
“How about the hunt?” Charles joked and you groaned at the reminder. “Since we are all looking for love now.”
“Not me,” you surprised them. “I’ve deleted every dating app from my phone and given up. I might even get a cat to keep me company.”
“I thought ‘a girl had needs’?” Lando teased with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Nothing a little self love can’t take care of,” you muttered to your drink as you took a sip, making Charles choke on his. “What? It’s true. You can’t tell me that you don't use your hand out when you need it.”
“We definitely need to do this more often,” Lando chuckled as he spared a fork full of extremely overcooked pasta. 
Charles sent a grin across the table to Lando before their eyes turned to you, a mischievous glint reflecting in both pairs as Charles agreed with a nod. 
“Then let’s cheers to that,” you said as you raised your glass. 
“To the three of us,” Charles winked, clinking your glasses.
“The three of us.”
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The empty plates were neatly stacked and the last rays of light had long disappeared, but you weren’t ready for the night to be over. The air was growing cold and the fading solar lights dotted around the deck were starting to attract bugs, interrupting the peaceful lull in conversation. 
“Do you want to stay and watch a movie? You probably shouldn’t drive anyway.” You hoped your question didn’t sound too eager and tried to cover it up with the logical statement. It was needless though as they both perked up at the offer and started to clear the table.
“I’m up for a movie night,” Lando agreed as he took the glasses, leaving Charles to take the plates. “Another round?”
 “Yes, please. I’ll meet you on the couch.” 
You went to your room and changed out of the jeans and top you were wearing, opting for an oversized white AlphaTauri shirt you often slept in instead, before dragging the quilt off your bed. You switched the lights off around the apartment as you passed them and flopped down onto the couch between the two men who had been quietly chatting. Lando reached for the refilled glasses on the coffee table and handed you yours as you asked, “What are we watching?”
“Nothing sad or Charles will cry,” he said with a little laugh as he helped spread the blanket over everyone.
“And nothing with shooting or Lando will cry,” Charles shot back with his own teasing smirk.
“And nothing with romance or I will cry,” you added as you swiped up the remote and scrolled through the options on Netflix. “Guess that leaves horror. Paranormal Activity?”
You wanted to look away but you couldn’t as the crackling image on the screen only grew darker. You knew what was coming but it still didn’t stop the squeak that escaped your lips or the way your tense body startled at the jump scare.
The guys chuckled as if you hadn’t felt their legs knock yours at the sudden slam of a door and the blanket shifted until you felt a comforting hand on each thigh, resting just below the hem of the shirt. It took everything in you to keep still as their palms warmed your skin and the heat spread to your core and you felt Charles’ thumb start to draw soothing circles.
Under the guise of settling back into your skin after the fright, you laid back into the cushions and stretched your legs out. From the corner of your eye you could see Lando bite his lip as the shift left their hands even higher up your thighs, almost brushing the lace edge of your panties.
“Scared, chérie?” Charles asked, his voice a little deeper than usual.
It wasn’t the horror movie that was causing a fine tremor to work its way over your body, setting every nerve ending alight. And it certainly wasn’t the horror movie that was causing the goosebumps to tingle across your skin. 
It had been a long time since a man came so close to you that your core was turning to molten lava without even being touched and you lost the battle to remain still, your thighs clenching together in search of friction. You could feel a second heartbeat throbbing between the juncture and as the blanket slipped down your body your peaked nipples were easy to spot through the thin material. 
“Not exactly,” you uttered as Lando’s fingers squeezed your thigh, almost as if he were silently begging you to part them for him. 
“You’re shaking,” Lando murmured close to your ear. 
“I know,” you whispered as your throat clogged with the pleas for them to touch you, to slide their hands just another inch higher and sate the need your body craved. 
You felt the touch of Charles’ shaped beard along your jaw before his lips brushed your ear. “Breathe, chérie. We’ll take care of you.”
His thumb drew another circle and your chest expanded with the softest gasp as you felt the pad of his digit run along the seam of your underwear. 
Lando mirrored his friend, his breath hot on your neck where his lips set a trail of scorching fire to your ear. “Will you let us take care of you?”
Click here for part two.
Tagging: @destourtereaux @severerebelearthquake @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @secretlyangrymagazine
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xoxoladyaz · 10 months
Text
It Hits Different This Time, Part 2
Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington
TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse
QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry that the last entry was so angst heavy, I promise this one provides some comfort! Eddie needed to take a big step here and he really, really does. Also, much love to everyone who commented, I've tagged you at the bottom of the post - let me know if anyone else would like to be notified of the next entry!
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five
It was another five days before Steve heard from Eddie. Another five torturous days of radio silence, only this time, there wasn’t anything online. No new articles were popping up saying he’d been spotted somewhere, no new TikToks of him meeting fans on the street. The rest of the band was MIA too; Steve had thought about sending Jeff a text to check-in but ultimately decided to wait another couple days. Robin had been texting with Chrissy, after all, and if something bad had gone down, she would know.
When Eddie did finally call, it wasn’t from a number that Steve recognized.
“I’m getting a call from Malibu.”
“Holy shit!” Robin sat up on the other end of the couch and shot him a look. “Okay, just breathe dingus, okay? It’s going to be okay, I’ll be here the whole time.” She squeezed his ankle comfortingly. “You can do this.”
Steve accepted the call with shaky hands and brought his phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hey Steve.”
He shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “Eddie.”
He heard Eddie let out a watery laugh across the line. “Do you, uh, have a minute?”
“Mmmm hmmm,” Steve hummed. He physically couldn’t get an actual word out. 
This was it. Eddie was leaving, he’d cheated, it was over – 
“I’m in rehab.”
Steve’s eyes shot open. “You’re what?”
Robin started rocking back and forth. “Turn it up!” She hissed, and Steve obliged, turning up his volume so she could just barely hear what was being said. (Was this a private conversation? Yes. Did Eddie know he’d probably immediately tell Robin everything? Also yes. 
Was this news big enough to warrant having Robin eavesdrop?
Absolutely yes.)
“Yeah, I’m, uh, at the Promises Treatment Center in Malibu,” Eddie continued. “We got back about five days ago and when I saw your note, I – 
“Look, Steve,” Eddie continued, and his voice was choked up, like he himself couldn’t speak, “I fucked up. I’ve fucked everything up. You are – you said in that note that you didn’t want me to give up on my dreams, and you’re right, making it big and getting famous for my music was my dream for literal years. Because I kept thinking “once I get a record out there,” “once I go on tour,” “once I win a Grammy,” “once I get a million dollars,” then I’d finally be happy. 
“But it turns out the only thing being famous has done is make me pretty fucking miserable,” Eddie let out a harsh laugh. “But I was so goddamn convinced that this was it, you know, that I’d accomplished my dreams so I must be happy that I started taking whatever I could get my fucking hands on to make me feel that way. The thing is drugs and the alcohol and the parties never made it fucking last. It just made every other second that I was in the public eye that much worse.
“But I’d still made it, you know? I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel this fucking miserable. And everyone back home was so fucking proud and I didn’t want to let them down - ” Eddie paused for a few moments to clear his throat before continuing. “I didn’t want to let you down. Because Eddie “The Freak” Munson didn’t deserve you, but maybe Eddie “The Rock Star” could.”
Steve can feel his own throat closing up and he can barely see Robin’s face, his eyes are watering that bad. “Baby,” he sobbed. “I wish you’d told me.”
“Me too,” Eddie sniffled across the line. “I didn’t though, I just kept self-medicating and ignoring it, because that’s always worked,” he huffed sarcastically. “But then - ” Eddie cut off again, and Steve can hear that he’s trying so hard to hold back his own sobs, “then I came home last week and realized that I’d missed our goddamn anniversary because I was too fucking high and that you were gone and I just – I called Jeff and I told him to get me on a plane out here because you – you, Steve Harrington, you are the best thing in my goddamn life. And the only dream I want to chase now is the one where we get married and adopt some kids and grow old together.”
“Eddie,” Steve sobbed out again, and he heard Eddie start to cry too, and then suddenly they were crying together, even from hundreds of miles away.
“So I’m gonna be here for the next six weeks,” Eddie finally continued, his voice still full of tears. “I’m, uh, meeting with a therapist for a few hours every day and working through my shit. I wanna be a guy who deserves good things, baby. I wanna be a guy who deserves you.”
“What – what about the band?” Steve sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. A handful of Kleenex appeared in front of him. Robin must have gotten up to grab them at some point. He shot her a thankful nod and patted at his eyes; Robin nodded back and did the same, her face flushed that bright shade of red that accompanied her own tears.
“Murray wrote a provision into our contract where if one of us checks into rehab, then the band is instantly put on a two-year, non-negotiable hiatus.”
“But – what about your momentum, the label kept talking about it?”
“The label can go fuck themselves” Eddie practically growled over the phone. “Who do you think hosted the party where I first got my hands on the hardcore stuff anyways?”
“Babe - ”
“Murray said he was going to look into some sort of contract termination so we can sign somewhere else. And even if we didn’t have that thing written into our contract, we probably would have gone on hiatus anyways, or worse. That – the last leg was rough. Gareth was just as fucked up as I was and Jeff was fucking pissed. He kept having to pull Gareth out of orgies and shit while babysitting Phil and I too.”
“Did,” Steve swallowed harshly, “did - ”
“No, baby, never,” Eddie declared quickly. “Even when I couldn’t fucking see straight, you were the only one I wanted to be with. I honestly don’t even know who we were partying with at the end there, the label sent them for some PR shit, I don’t know. It’s just another reason why we want out.”
“Oh,” Steve murmured, “okay. Good. Or, well, not good. You know.”
“Yeah, baby, I do,” Eddie replied softly. 
They sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe. “I, uh,” Eddie started up again quietly, “I’m wearing the ring.”
“Yeah?” Steve found himself smiling despite the fresh tears welling up in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice was just as choked up as before. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Eddie - ”
“Look, I know, I know I hurt you so, so badly and I’m never going to fucking forgive myself for what I did, but I – you’re everything I want, baby. If I had to give up Corroded Coffin tomorrow for you, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I – I know I can’t expect for you to just, like, forgive me after the shit I pulled, but – will you be there, when I get out? Can I – I want to come home to you,” Eddie finished, and Steve could hear that he was crying again.
Steve looked over at Robin, who was wiping more tears out of her own eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments.
It might be crazy, but I think I want to say yes.
I don't blame you. I mean, this is one hell of an apology, especially from Mr. “I’ll Never Need to Go to Rehab Ever.”
Yeah. And I love him.
And you love him.
“I’ll be there,” Steve murmured reassuringly, and Eddie burst into a new wave of muffled sobs on the other end of the phone. “Just do what you need to do and come home when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting for home.”
“At home?” Eddie’s voice broke on a whimper.
“At home. I’ll even clean the bathrooms and everything,” Steve joked, and Eddie let out a loud laugh despite the quiet sobs Steve could still hear. 
“Really? You’ll be there?”
“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll be there. We can get through this.”
“Together.”
“Together. Because I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”
“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie let out an incredulous laugh again, “I love you so fucking much, baby. I’m going to marry the fuck out of you someday.”
“Save the sweet talk for when you get home, okay?” Steve could feel his heart settling in his chest, and whatever tears he’d had left to cry were all gone now. There was just the twinge of missing Eddie, but that would go away soon enough. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”
“Thanks, baby.” Eddie’s answer was soft now. “So I, uh, get a couple hours to call people every day from one of the site’s phones. Can I keep calling you?”
“Please,” Steve heard Eddie exhale in relief. “Every day sounds perfect.”
“Good, good. I’ll have to, uh, use some of my time to talk to Wayne, but the rest of it is yours, baby. And Gareth, Jeff threw him into a different center too. His check-in was much less voluntary though.”
“Shit,” Steve winced. “Is there anything Robin or I can do to help?”
“Take Jeff and Chrissy out to a nice dinner and use the Amex,” Eddie snorted, causing Steve to laugh.
“Consider it done.”
“Good." Steve heard the sound of another voice behind Eddie. Eddie replied something Steve couldn't understand, but it was in the affirmative. "Doc says my time is up for today. My, uh, talk with Wayne took up a lot of time,” Eddie returned, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “But I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll see you in six weeks.”
“Yes you will.” Steve shut his eyes and imagined Eddie was standing right in front of him. Eddie with his riotous curls and holey graphic tees and tight jeans. Eddie with his rings on his fingers, with Steve’s ring on his finger. Eddie, standing across from him and smiling at him with that twinkle in his eye that had first caught Steve’s attention all those years ago. 
“I love you, Eds.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the other side.”
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kinq-sleazee · 11 months
Text
ok ok , so i don’t want to write a full blown structured ficlet with all the bells and whistles so can we maybe just chat a bit about poly krbk tings?
E. Kirishima X K. Bakugo X Reader
TW! MDNI - Poly , Aged Up, poor writing, seggs
Imagine being best friends with KRBK and just inserting yourself into their lives as a sort of “platonic” third until it’s not really platonic anymore.
Like these two men love you and respect your friendship but the irrepressible attraction between the three of you is just getting too hard to ignore. Especially after a night out at the bar leads you back to their shared apartment.
And maybe the alcohol makes you a little bold and you make some silly little joke like , “let’s just fuck it out of our systems” but you soon quickly realize that you’re the only one laughing.
Between the two of them you never really stood a chance.
Katsuki holds your chin—thumb slowly pressing into your mouth while peering down at you with those fiery eyes. He looks bored almost. Only quirking a brow when you swallow around the digit and moan at the taste. Sweet. From his quirk , no doubt. He talks down to you. As if admonishing a pet. Calls you names. Whore. Slut. Claims that you’ve been planning this all along—secretly waiting for the day to choke on his cock. “That’s all you are. A hole”. At this point he’s pushed three fingers in your mouth. Slowly fucking into your throat while saliva runs down his arm. “I wish you could see yourself, cupcake. S’fucking pathetic how desperate you look”. You want him so bad right now. It’s embarrassing, so you can’t help the tear that falls. “Fuck— you cryin’ , cupcake? So damn cute. Want ya to cry sum more. Fuck that little kitty so hard… turn ya into a poundcake.
Eijiro is nicer than his lover, at least it seems that way at first. He holds you against his front, you can feel his erection pressing into your back. Kissing from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. Bite marks and bruises littering your skin. However, your focus is on the deft fingers skimming up your thighs , rising the fabric of your dress above your hips and running the pad of his finger over your clothed clit. You can feel him smile against your skin. He calls you beautiful. His angel. Perfection. All while fucking the fabric of your panties into your needy hole. “Think you were made for me, darling. Gonna feel so good wrapped around me. That’s what you want , yeah ? Wanna squeeze on daddy’s dick, baby girl ?”
It’s not nearly enough stimulation and you’re literally begging them for something. Anything. You need it at this point.
They oblige. Swiftly undressing you and positioning you in your hands and knees.
Eijiro rubs his meaty cockhead against your quivering hole. It’s big. Painfully so. You whine and attempt to move earning a sharp slap to your thigh. “Didn’t you ask for this, darling ? Why are you running ? Tryna disappoint me ?” And you’re overwhelmed. Chest heaving , eyes blurry and babbling apologies. The redhead hums in acknowledgment and pushes in fully with one powerful thrust.
Bakugo doesn’t really care to hear your cries so he shuts you up with his cock. With a hand buried in your hair he pistons in and out of your mouth, setting a brutal pace. He stops ever so often to let you breathe or spit in your mouth but then it’s right back to choking on his cock.
They use you for their pleasure this first time. Rutting into you carelessly, sloppily chasing their orgasms. Of course they make you cum— Eijiro rubbing your clit and Katsuki pinching your nipples — but it lacks finesse.
When the post-nut clarity settles their able to really tend to your needs. Katsuki settles between your legs, whispering sweet praises to your “pretty little pussy” then running the flat of his tongue through your cum coated folds. Eijiro joins him, drinking up his own spend while sucking on your pleasure point and massaging Bakugo’s tongue with his own.
You’re dead tired and sensitive when you cum again but much to your despair and pleasure these two are just getting started.
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golden1u5t · 5 months
Note
HIIIII love your page sm
is it possible for you to write one where y/n is at a night club with the team and Spencer and y/n are sitting down in a booth together and the rest of the team are either at the bar or dancing and its just Spencer and y/n in the booth together and they arent dating but they have heaps of sexual tension and y/n is drunk as and she reaches over to grab a shot but spencer grabs her wrist to stop her from drinking more and tells her to behave and stuff and then she gets up to go to the bar and she steps over Spencer but before she leaves he grabs her waist and pulls her to sit on his lap and he tells her to be a good girl and stay and she does and she moves on his lap and stuff making him hard and shes acting all innocent and then all of a suddne she gets a notif from one of her fbi friends and hes asking what shes doing but before she responds spencer grabs it away from her and messages him telling him shes busy and YEAH i literally just wrote a whole story explaining LOL oops ITS FINE IF YOU DONT WANT TO DUHHH BUT RHANKSSS
i’m glad you like my page!! i’m honestly surprised with how much interaction i get from you all!!! MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL
this post is 18+
The team, even Hotch, had went out for drinks after a rough case in Kansas. You all needed the break and luckily Hotch gave you all the next two days off to recuperate. Everyone took this opportunity to let loose, everyone threw back shots like it was just a glass of water. Well, everyone but Spencer and Aaron… they were being responsible and only having a few drinks.
You had been a few shots of tequila away from being “not being able to control what come out of my mouth” drunk.You weren’t usually a big drinker, you usually ending up being only a bit tipsy on nights out but not tonight, tonight you needed to erase all of the horrible things you had seen in the past week. This serial killer had probably been the worst you’ve seen since joining the team.
That was the case for everyone else too, which is why Spencer and Aaron were in charge of getting everyone home safely tonight. Especially you, you were probably the drunkest of them all. Eventually the booth got smaller and smaller until it was just you and Spencer sitting side by side.
You were sitting in silence as you watched the team dance and sing karaoke, a smile on both of your faces because you had never seen the team so carefree before and it was a sight you wished you could see more often. Spencer felt you shift around and his eyes immediately landing on you, you were reaching over the table to grab Emily’s neglected drink.
Spencer immediately grabbed your wrist and put in back in your lap, you looked at him with a pout and went to grab at the drink again but he stopped you.. again. “No more.”
You looked at him and scoffed, mumbling to yourself about how he wasn’t your daddy as you sunk back into your seat. Spencer gave you a teasing smile and leaned down to whisper in your ear so you could hear him over JJ’s horrible singing.
“Don’t be like that. I’m saving you from an even worse hangover tomorrow.”
A chill went down your spine and he definitely didn’t fail to notice how your body slightly shook with each word he spoke into your ear. He pulled back and let go of your wrist, dropping his hand onto your exposed thigh instead.
A few minutes passes JJ has finally got off of the stage. Spencer took his hand from your thigh so he could clap for her and you did the same. Emily and JJ stumbles over to the table and sat down while the rest of the team either continued dancing or ended up at the bar.
“Why don’t you guys join us? There’s this cute guy that’s been ogling you, Y/N.” Emily wiggled her eyebrows and quickly drunk the drink Spencer stopped you from taking.
“Oh yeah! He-He’s really cute! You should talk to him.” JJ added. She pointed over to where she last saw the guy, he stood there with a smirk on his face staring at you. Spencers eyes followed her pointing and he could feel his blood starting to boil at how the man was looking at you.
You gave the man a sly smile before turning back to the drunk women in front of you. “I think I will. I could use a wingwoman or two.”
JJ and Emily quickly slid out of the booth and headed towards the man’s direction. You looked back towards the man and took a good look over him. He wasn’t your type at all, no where close, but you wanted to have some fun tonight, it’s the whole reason you were there.
You started to slide out of the booth and that made Spencer slide to the edge along with you.
“I’m gonna go see if I can get a free drink, maybe get laid tonight too.” You hiccuped. Spencer caught your wrist in his hand and pulled you down and made you fall onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips.
“You’ve had enough to drink and i’m not letting you go home with a stranger.” His whispered in your ear so you could hear him over the loud music that started blaring through the bar. Spencer’s voice was stern and authoritative, it sent a shiver down your spine.
“Would you rather I go home with you instead?” You twisted your head to look at him, slightly “adjusting” yourself in his lap. “Hmm, Spence?”
His hands tightened on your hips and grounded you on his lap, forcing you to stop moving. Spencer brought his hand up and wrapped your hair around his fist, tugging it back harshly. “Stop it.”
“What if I don’t want to?” You replied, pushing yourself back. You could feel his cock stirring alive in his pants and his sanity was crumbling with each passing moment. Spencer wished you weren’t as drunk as you were, he would pull you out of the bar and take you right in his car if you weren’t.
You would let him either way but Spencer wants to make sure that you would remember it, remember everything he did to your body. He wants you to remember it all.
Spencer let your hair go and brought his glass of water to your lips, mumbling a small ‘drink’ as he held your jaw. You huffed in annoyance but still complied.
“Good girl.” He praised, setting the glass of water down on the table. Your body heated up at his praise and you quickly got off of his lap and pulled him out of the booth.
“Come on. I think i’m sober enough.”
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grandlinedreams · 5 months
Note
hiii i hope you’re having a great day/night!!
may i request a not really physically affectionate reader with zoro law or ace coming to them drunk being really excited and kissing&leaving lipstick marks all over their faces. it could be a hc type thing or whatever you like if you’re not comfortable w that!
also I absolutely love your writing ♥︎♥︎♥︎
hi there!! I hope that you're having a wonderful day/night too bb!! absolutely you can! This is my first attempt at a reaction type of post so I hope that this is to your liking!! and thank-you so much!!
[heads up!: mention of alcohol consumption, being drunk, tw for vomiting in Ace's]
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Zoro ㅡ Alcohol is his forte, not yours. It isn't that you're opposed entirely to the idea of drinking, just that you're not as accustomed to it as he is ㅡ and as such, your tolerance for it (especially the stronger stuff) is not the strongest.
"Having fun?" He asks, amused by the flush of pink that's spread across your cheeks and bridge of your nose, the glossy, unfocused quality of your gaze. It'd been a playful challenge from Usopp that even he has higher tolerance than you and now the sharp-shooter is sprawled out a few feet away, fast asleep.
You nod enthusiastically, giggling when Zoro reaches to stop the unsteady bob with his hand. "Man, you're absolutely trashed," he comments. "We need to get you some water before you end up regretting this. Come on."
He reaches for your hand to help you up, steadying the way you sway before leading you towards the kitchen. You're still giggling when he guides you into a seat and retrieves a glass of water for you, pushing it towards you.
"Just how much did you have to drink, anyways?" He asks, reaching to thumb at your cheek affectionately ㅡ and watches you lean into it rather than pulling away. Affection is also far from something you normally indulge in very often, and he can't deny that it's nice to see this side of you.
"Not much," you answer at last, foggy mind finally registering Zoro's question, studying him for a moment. "C'mere." You add the forward curl of your hand to emphasize your words, pouting when he laughs. "I said c'mere!"
"Will you drink that water if I do?" Your head bobbles in a clumsy nod again and he leans forward to comply with your wish, only to blink as you lurch forward to press your lips to his cheek. They're cool and a little sticky, smelling of whatever alcohol you've drank ㅡ but you're on a determined self-imposed mission of peppering his face with kisses. It's a little silly with the way you add a verbal "mwah!" at the end of each one, but it still makes Zoro's own cheeks flush all the same.
"All done," you report when you finally sit back, satisfied with the little marks you've left across his skin, and you reach for the glass of water to drink it, as you'd promised. Zoro is silent for several moments. You won't remember this, he's almost certain ㅡ but now all he can think about is how cute you are when you drink.
Law ㅡ "I think that's enough for tonight." Nimble fingers pluck the half-finished glass of alcohol from your grip, ignoring your pout as he hands it off to Clione, who gladly downs it.
"Spoil-sport," you huff, and Law raises an eyebrow. It's not every day that he gets to witness you acting more like a child than adult, and he'll admit that the way you sulk is amusing.
"You'll thank me in the morning." He reaches for your wrist and gently tugs you up, relying on the fact that the others are in varying stages of inebriation to cover for him being so forward with you in front of the others.
He's already had a drink or two, though he stopped when Ikkaku pointed out that you'd been roped into a drinking game with some of the others. Guiding you to the bathroom, he leans in the doorway to watch you sway as you reluctantly ready yourself for bed, studying your own reddened cheeks in the mirror.
"I could've finished my drink," you tell him petulantly, and he watches you struggle to climb into bed. Another reason he's grateful that no one else will remember much about this evening ㅡ he doesn't need them knowing that it's been months since you last slept in the crew bunkhouse.
"I'm sure you could've, but I'm doing myself a favor when I'm the one who's going to have to look after you when you end up with a hangover." Hat tossed gently to the side, he moves to slip into bed beside you and frowns warily when he finds you eyeing him. "What is it? You're not going to throw up right now, are you?"
You shake your head and lean up, your lips on his cheek before he can ask what you're up to. Slow and a little clumsy, each kiss you press is intentional ㅡ his jaw, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead ㅡ and you giggle when you pull away to admire your handiwork. "Now you can't be grumpy," you tell him.
Your own perchance for physical affection is usually on par with his, but it's clear that however many drinks you've had have pushed aside your own personal boundaries.
"Aww, you're blushing!" You crow, and he scowls at the fit of giggles that follows. You're lucky that he loves you, and you're lucky that you're cute.
"Whatever," he grouses, reaching to cover your eyes with a hand. "Go to sleep. And don't puke in my bed, got it?"
Ace ㅡ "See? I told you this was a bad idea."
"Shut up," you groan, venom absent from your tone for the way you're forced to stop walking in order to halt the vicious spin of your head. "I don't drink much, you know that."
"I do," Ace agrees, "which is why I'm telling you it was a bad idea." He pauses, head tilting in thought. "Not gonna lie, it was hot to watch you drink them under the table, though. Who knew you had it in you, huh?"
He waits for you to answer and when you don't, he turns to find you half-way into an alley, emptying the contents of your stomach as quietly as you can. That kind of thing doesn't disgust Ace, however, and he hurries to rub your back until the shuddering heave of your body has stopped. "Feel better?"
"Much," you rasp, fumbling for the strap of your canteen and chugging from it greedily. Ace waits until you're satisfied that you've rinsed your mouth clean before he loops his arm around your waist and continues guiding you back towards the Moby Dick. "Still think I'm hot?"
"Absolutely, babe." Ace's answer is swift and as honest as it always is, which makes your heart do something funny as you turn to look at his side-profile. It doesn't take long for him to notice, his expression somewhere between confusion and concern as you come to a stop. "What is it? Gonna get sick again?"
You shake your head. "No, I just really want to kiss you right now." There's the answering spark of fire from Ace's fingers in response, though you take advantage of his momentary fluster to cup his face between your hands and promptly pepper his face with kisses.
Clustered over his freckles, the tip of his nose, eyebrows and even his eyelids, it's several long moments before you pull away. "There," you say, and Ace wonders if you're sober enough to realize his face has gone roughly the temperature of the sun from your burst of affection. "Come on, I wanna go to bed."
Ace lets you pull him along, still dazed by the lingering warmth of your lips on his skin. He goes to bed without washing his face, eager to soak in this side of you that's far less reserved with your affection ㅡ and when the men of his division point out in the morning that he has your lipstick dotted across his face, all he does is grin.
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viviswtings · 1 year
Text
Alcohol wet.
So I've just been drawing Neteyam like the simp I am, and it's going great. He's inspiring me so much I got to write a whole thing for him.
Words: 2627.
Warnings: suggestive fluff? Is that a thing? Also not proof-read. Just finished and posted. English isn't my first language and there are words I'm iffy about all over. Tell me if something doesn't make sense.
The characters are aged up. Like, in their twenties sort of aged up. Don't come after me. Or do. Idk.
“Shit, you’re beautiful “
He exhaled against her face, his breath smelling of the sweet, fruity liquor he had been sipping all night.
Up until this point he had been slurring his words, letting them fall off his purple stained lips, all buttery and soft- his speech, that is- without seemingly any care for if she could understand them or not.
But this. This he said clearly. Like a cloudless day, after a particularly dark eclipse. She understood every single word, and she was exhilarated when she did.
How sweet his voice came out, how his plushy, swollen lips had caressed every word like he knew exactly what place in her heart they were meant to fit into. Taking that little space she had once made for him and making it bigger and bigger, so all her feelings may fit within her chest.
He was staring at her from up close, his nose almost touching hers. Those big, golden eyes that let her see her own reflection in the dilated pupil. She hoped he meant it, that, in his eyes, she truly was beautiful.
But alcohol did its thing as the warrior pursed hisr lips and got closer. She turned her head as quickly as she realized, for she had reacted too slowly, having been immersed in his gaze and almost gotten lost in it.
The peck on her cheek was wet, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the distressed sound off Neteyam’s chest once he figured he had failed his attempt. Leaning back to look at him, it was impossible not to smile.
His face was turned towards the ground, while his stare remained on her, brow furrowed and lips pouted. His ears, now flushing almost pink, laid tense flat against his braided hair, all the muscles in his body were tense as his tail flicked from side to side behind him. It was comical. The great, mighty warrior Neteyam te Suli was butthurt. Because she had denied him a kiss.
Maybe it was right at this very moment that a part of her mind, in the furthest back off it, has come to understand she had some power over him. But perhaps she didn’t, and it was all the liquor’s fault, for it had made her delusional.
Seconds in silence had passed, which, given the previous circumstances, was unusual. The young warrior had started bragging about all his feats as soon as the alcohol had settled in. Talking nonsense about how his father barely had to teach him anything, how he was a natural, fishing when he was still using a children’s bow, being the youngest hunter to make his first kill and finishing his ikniyama at the ripe age of just thirteen years old. He almost made her ears fall off, but she did have a special soft spot for him and his slurred, rhythmic and almost-purr like nonsense. So, she had listened attentively all the same.
“Do you not want me?” Was the first thing that left his lips after his failed strategy. She did not expect the look of doubt carved into his features. Like his worst nightmare had become true, like he was… afraid.
Her heart skipped various beats that made her throat close, so no words could come out. She couldn’t flat out reject him just because he was drunk, but saying she did-and oh, she did want him- would risk him not remembering the next morning. Even worse, he could regret it, stop talking to her altogether and leave her with the hope of finally fulfilling her one wish.
It could also escalate and she was not about to take advantage of a drunken man twice her size.
“Nete” Her voice came out as an exhale, like she had been holding her breath all along. “You… ask me tomorrow” Was her final answer, hushed, but with a bit more confidence. If he didn’t ask, she could just presume he didn’t remember and not risk her own heart being shattered.
His ears twitched, his tail stopped, and he got closer again, to which she retreated, trying to avert his eyes. What would happen if she even dared to look back at him? It scared her, so she didn’t.
Then the rough skin of his fingertips came in contact with her forearms, making the hairs on the back of her head rise up and her body tense even more.
“I will” He pressed another kiss to her cheek, a little bit further away from the corner of her mouth, much softer and velvety and leaving no trace of wetness. At least, not on her cheek.
“Alright” She muttered, barely above a whisper, much too afraid of the people around them finding out the oloe’ytakan talking in such an intimate way with her. Both of his hands on her, caressing the skin of her knuckles with his thumb while he kept hold of her forearm, as if to keep her close, to not let her distance herself too much.
He had been resting his chin on her shoulder, face almost cradled in the hollow of her neck, when he was rudely interrupted by a deep, guttural grunt he knew all too well. It would’ve had him standing straight and knocking the air off him in any other situation. But Neteyam was way too comfortable, skin all warm, hands busy and mind fuzzy with the sweetest smell.
Then he felt a hand around his neck, the woman almost under him getting impossibly straight and tense when she pulled her arms away from him. Breath tickled his ear, making him uncomfortable. “Up, boy. Don’t make me repeat myself”.
So he did. All his body screamed against it, but Neteyam got up, not looking down, unable to see the flustered girl he had left on the ground, fidgeting with her tail and head low in shame. He would’ve sobered up in a second if he had. Or so he’d most likely want to believe.
But the older man did see her. As a matter of fact, he always saw her, he did see all of the members of the clan, old or young, gatherer or warrior, it was his duty. He took pride in it. He loved his people.
But that girl, ever since she arrived, she had his eldest running around like a headless chicken. He wasn’t blind, nor a fool, the kid was sweet and very pretty indeed. That, and he knew better than to meddle with young passions, given his own record. His son had crossed a line, though. As he himself had witnessed his son make a fool of himself all night.
“C’mere, sweetheart” He offered his hand to the girl, smiling her way when she looked up at him. “How about we walk you home and I’ll take care of this one for the night”.
She smiled back, taking the five-fingered hand with her own, to which Jake pulled her up, ready in case he had to help her with her balance. But she did just fine, maybe a bit wobbly on her feet, but not a major inconvenience.
The walk to her hut was almost silent, with Neteyam’s head hanging low, too immersed in his own thoughts to even mind his step. If he didn’t know the paths of High Camp like the back of his hand, he might have found it really difficult to find his footing.
Jake only ever broke the silence with politeness, asking how they were doing- to which his son only grumbled-, and making small talk with the girl. He knew her just enough to know what to ask and keep the light smile with jokes as long as the small walk lasted. If he could make his girls laugh, this one shouldn’t have been too much different. Thankfully, he was right.
Once they got to their destination, he stepped back, leaving way for his son so he may have his privacy.
Neteyam knew he should thank his father for the chance, but forgot all about it once he had to put two words together.
“I will ask” He repeated, lowering his eyes to meet her own. He had thought about what he should say all the way there, yet he found himself dumbfounded, incapable of remembering a single thing.
“Alright” She answered back, just as she did before, hands clasping in front of her, knuckles a yellowish shade of green as she gripped onto her own fingers, her nails drawing recent shapes on her palm.
“You will accept” He sounded far more confident than his beating heart would’ve ever let her know. But this surge of confidence lasted long enough for him to hold her hands in his, so she wouldn’t hurt herself anymore. “Then I’ll have you, as you have me”.
She was choking on thin air. The way he was staring her down, brow stern and lips sealed tightly into a line, while making those statements as if he already knew. As if he was laying his head against her chest and hearing her breath catch and her heart beating furiously against her ribs. Like it was the only possible, reasonable outcome.
She had him? Never in her life had she dared to bluff such nonsense. While every young woman almost paraded around him: the nicest singers, the prettiest dancers, the most skilled healers… Every single woman with the least bit of status within High Camp took the slightest chance to be near him. She simply existed, not particularly away from him, but afraid to get so close it would end up hurting her.
Why wouldn’t they? She may laugh at her “mighty warrior” comments, but she knew they were true. He was mighty, and as tall as he was slim, agile and strong. His hair was thick and his hands looked almost heavenly when he put it up for hunting parties, his long neck and the line of his shoulders in display while the muscles in his back flexed, almost knocking the air out of her lungs.
Just as he did now. Luminous freckles making a soft path around his features, down his nose and over his cupid’s bow. He felt so soft pressed to her skin it made her tail move behind her nervously and her loins burn.
“Can I kiss you?”
He had gotten closer to her face once against, big eyes open in question, as he now held her by her arms, pulling her just a tad bit closer as he waited for an answer. If his father had heard him, he didn’t show. He cut her short before she could attempt to answer. “Not your lips”. The remark caught her off guard, but she didn’t know how to mind while he kept his beautiful, gleaming irises on her, like an expecting child asking to go play.
So, she nodded, in fear her words would fail her. Pushing far the thought of the man’s father being mere feet away. How could she deny him? Was she even supposed to? She did want him to kiss her, even though it felt wrong, knowing he was under the effects of the drink he had been having. A kiss it’s just a kiss, isn’t it? It only has the meaning you want to grant it.
All her facade fell precariously as Neteyam’s hands caressed her arms, heavy and warm, up to her shoulders, making her shiver as they made their home on her neck and held her jaw with his thumbs. Keeping her right where he wanted.
He kissed her left cheek, slowly, without making a noise, and she felt his eyelashes against her burning skin. When he went to the other cheek, she saw his eyes closing softly, as he pulled her closer by her neck. She let herself go, closing her own while his lips kissed her. As he looked at her again, she found her own hands clasping around his arms and a smile on his face. He kissed the bridge of her nose, letting out an amused huff.
His fingers made way into her hair, massaging her scalp, when she felt them lightly touch the base of her queue. Her whole body arched involuntarily into his, making her eyes close with her lips parted as he kissed her one last time in the middle of her forehead.
She looked delectable and Neteyam felt famished. Like a starved man, just torturing himself with the meal he could not have, as it wasn’t his for the taking.
He hadn’t meant to hold her like that, but the hazy look on her face had him in a chokehold and he couldn’t help himself. By the time he felt her queue against his fingers he knew he was utterly fucked. The way she molded against him, throwing her head back while she held onto him like a lifeline, her tail caressing his thigh absent-mindedly, just letting herself go in his arms like that. How was he to keep himself away from her, his father here or not. It was only her word holding him back from devouring her whole, just as she was right now.
He knew better than to approach a woman when she had drunk, but he also knew better than to drink himself stupid and there he was. If it wasn’t because he was holding onto her as much as she was onto him, he’d probably be face first on the dirt.
“Neteyam.” What a damn beautiful sound she had just made. He opened his eyes, pulling himself with all his might so he could look at her. “You should head home”. Home? Where was that place again? He’d rather not remember the way back and stay the night. But she wouldn’t have him, not then. “Your father is waiting”.
“Damn him.”  He thought out loud. “He can wait”.
She let out the giddiest of laughs and his heart could explode for all he cared.
“We can talk tomorrow”. He already knew. But right in that moment he felt nauseous at the thought of parting. Might as well hold onto her like a child so she’d coo him to sleep and calm all his worries.
“We will.” He remarked, kissing her forehead again.
“I know”. She ushered. “So go and sleep, so tomorrow may come sooner.”
Neteyam looked at her, like he had done so many times. At her pleasing features and her dimpled smile that reached her eyes. The Great Mother had made her all for him, he had no doubt. She couldn’t have made the most precious creature just to rip it away from him. She’d accept him, take him for herself and he’d be the happiest man.
But, of course, he couldn’t drag the whole affair forever. His father was, indeed, waiting for him and his patience was running thin. “Kid, c’mon. You need a nap.”
So, he hugged her, tightly, so close to him she would feel his heart against hers. He needed a home for it inside her, he reasoned, that’s why it yearned for her so much.
When he let go, she felt shaky. Her pupils inspected his face, but she let go rather easily. Her parted mouth was screaming for him, but he couldn’t drag the affair any longer, so he let her go. His hands fell on his sides in fists and he turned around, with a willpower only years under his father’s stern stare could accomplish.
He felt the man’s hand on his back, cold and somehow soothing against the burning skin of his shoulders. Like a kid, he let his father’s presence reassure him, he’d be fine. Even if it meant another night tossing and turning thinking of her, and now the very real prospect of her skin against his and her lips on his, her legs around his waist…
“Let’s get you home, kid”.
He definitely had to get home.
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sof1shticated · 5 months
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our deal | las vegas | part six [ln4]
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a/n: sorry for the wait my friends, got busy but here is part six!! now this is more my speed in terms of what i used to write (angst!!). the vibe is very "wondering if i dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life" soooo yeah, please let me know what you think!! :) taglist: @spideylovin , @lanando4 , @mindflay3r , @jazzy722 , @mcmuppet , @2bormaybenot , @wcnorris , @chonkybonky , @thatoneembarrasingmoment , @casuallyeating , @thomaslefteyebrow , @harrysdimple05 - if you'd like to join the taglist let me know!! words: 3.7k Our Deal Series Masterlist: HERE Formula One Masterlist: HERE Warnings: angst oop, honestly just anxiety of not being good enough, the usual stuff, alludes to sex but doesn't have anything explicit, swearing/cussing, it's angst ahhhhh !!!!
“That’s P3! P3 (Y/n)! Your first F1 podium!”
  “HOLY SHIT! OH MY FUCK! YES! YES! YES, YES, YES, YES! THANK YOU, FUCK! Wow! Shit!” 
In hindsight, (Y/n) wished she’d had a bit more of an Oscar Piastri reaction to her first podium, but that simply wasn’t the way she was wired. The profanity was all from mild disbelief that this was happening. It was a perfect day, the car was great for once and she felt amazing. She couldn’t believe she was in this position. She couldn't fathom she was given this opportunity to prove she belonged there. To get the chance and pull it off in her rookie year. She had done it.
She jumped out of the car, running to the team and her family waiting for her. She let the tears fill her eyes while she still had her helmet on as media protection while she hugged her parents. The cheering and chatter never ended and she felt like she could float with how high she felt in that very moment.
Somehow the rest of the following hour was both a blur and something she would remember for the rest of her life.
She barely registered what she said during the post-race on-track interview. The cooldown room was spent watching the race highlights excitedly - Her, Max and Lewis gasping at the big crash that took out Checo, Carlos and Pierre on the first lap. 
She looked down at the crowd while her name was announced as she stood on the podium. Her first podium. She didn’t think she could stop smiling if she tried. She kept her eyes on her real family and her motor family at Williams who beamed at her from below. She blinked the tears out of her eyes this time, knowing people would ask about it but not wanting the emotions to take too much from it. 
She couldn’t take her eyes off her trophy. Her smile somehow grew as she lifted it, and the crowd roared. History. They had just seen history. She was the current face of women in Motorsports, and she had proved to everyone that they belonged here. Glass ceiling shattered.   
The champagne was cold on her warm face. She hadn't thought about how cold it would be. The others were definitely targeting her. Max and Lewis, while they finished ahead of her, knew this was a moment she and everyone would savour for the rest of their lives. She rubbed her eyes to get the stinging alcohol out of them, but even that wouldn't wipe the permanent smile off her face. 
She lost track of the people she hugged or shook hands with. Before the podium, in the cooldown room, she ran into a lot of people congratulating her during media. 
In the blur, while she had a moment to herself waiting for interviews in the pen, she heard a familiar voice calling her. Two familiar drivers in papaya stood a little off to the side waiting for their turn as well.
She made her way over to them and saw the pride in their faces from farther back. Without thinking she jogged the last few steps and crashed into both of them in a hug. Lando and Oscar laughed after a moment of surprise and enveloped her at the same time. 
“Hell of a race,” Oscar congratulated her in his usual monotone, but he had a wide grin on his face. She smiled back and shook her head.
"If this is how it feels, I'm getting back here every week so help me god," She joked and then turned to nod over at Lando, “You two scared me back there.” 
He finished close behind Charles, who finished close behind her in fourth. Lando's lips curved up in his famous grin, and her heart did an involuntary flip. 
“Well, we couldn’t make it easy on you,” Lando chuckled. She almost believed the laugh was genuine. 
He seemed alright. He seemed normal. Like nothing had happened between them two weeks ago.
Since she knew what happened two weeks ago, she could see less of the usual sparkle in his blue-grey eyes. 
She felt her smile falter for the first time, just by an inch, but the feeling went away as all three were called into separate interviews, and the joy of a podium was back in full swing as she got to talk about how much it meant to her and the team. 
And it never really left her the entire rest of the night. She did interview after interview and spoke with Sky and F1TV despite the exhaustion of the insane weekend they just had. She celebrated with the team, and that’s when the waterworks really came out. That wonderful team gave her a chance and helped her get to where she is today. 
She had time with her family, whom she was lucky enough to have in Vegas, watching their daughter and sister get her first podium. She called her important family who couldn't make it but watched at home, and they tearfully expressed how proud they were of her too. It was a perfect day. 
But now she was back in her hotel room. Alone, sitting in silence she had begun to hate. 
After all the emotions from today, the feeling of champagne on her skin, the smell of it still in her hair even though she showered. She could taste it on her lips. After it all, there was this dull buzz in her that didn't feel like it would go away anytime soon.
All of her feelings had come to a peak, and she was about to crash down with them. She heard her phone go off next to her. She’d turned off most notifications. Instagram, Twitter, and even Facebook. Tonight was not a night for scrolling, because while most would be congratulatory, there would still be the ones that stung. They didn’t care what she’d been able to do today and would still call for her removal from the grid. And while she'd just proved it to them and herself, they would still ring in her head, despite it all. She had stopped answering most texts, for now, she’d answer them in the morning. But still, every time one came through she glanced at her phone and like usual waited - hoped - for his familiar name. 
LANDO ✨ : congrats again (y/n/n), happy for you.
The lack of a room number sent a small twist through her heart. Such a simple missing piece of information, but she knew what it meant. It meant it really was over, the deal really was off. 
A part of her wanted to text him back her room number. Get to feel him, let him taste the champagne in her mouth this time. But she couldn’t do it. All she could do was imagine his face in Brazil. 
[Brazil - Two Weeks Ago]
Lando had come to her room this time. There was no reason, sometimes she just sent the text quicker than he did. Most times they met in his room, mainly because she trusted her sneaking a bit more than his, but this time, she sent the text first, and this time he left her bed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt back on while she was lying on her back watching.
  “Are you looking forward to the weekend off?” She asked, filling the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, the odd thing about Lando was that despite him being a talkative person, the silences were never awkward. They were just relaxed, and easy.
“Yeah, honestly, still be working, but I’m ready to sleep in my own bed,” Lando replied and after a moment’s pause continued, “I’ll miss this though for the week.”
(Y/n) felt her stomach flip. It was a bold statement from him she wasn't used to. Three race weekends in a row meant three weekends in a row with Lando. She wasn’t complaining about their consistent time together. She didn't admit it out loud, but she'd probably miss him over the weekend too.
“Well, you’ll just have to wait until Las Vegas, baby!” She lifted and shook her wiggled her fingers in jazz hands. 
“Oh yeah? Got a surprise?” He asked, a smirk growing on his lips. His back was mostly to her, but he turned his head around to face her.
“Yeah, you’ll be eating my fucking dirty air,” She grinned, and Lando let out a laugh. 
“Been there, done that,” He joked with a wink, and she knew he wasn’t talking about on track like she was. She picked up the pillow he had left behind and threw it at him with a laugh of her own. 
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Lando said. He stood up, leaning against the bedside table and fingering with his bracelets with one hand.
“Uh oh, that’s dangerous,” She teased, and Lando let out another small chuckle.
“Seriously though,” He continued, and (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. She felt her heart quicken with curiosity and nerves.
“Alright, spit it out then,” She urged. 
“I was wondering if you want to go on a date… with me?”
“What?” 
“A date?” He repeated as if she didn’t hear him. She did. She heard him, and now she felt her ears filling up with cotton as she panicked. She heard him, she just couldn’t believe the processing part of her brain, “I want to take you out on a date.” 
“What?” She repeated stupidly again, and this time Lando let out a laugh. 
“A date, (Y/n). You and me, maybe dinner, or a movie, or whatever you want, but I’m asking if you want to go on a date with me.”
She was stunned, the more he repeated it the faster her heart beat. She tried to stall for time by sitting up cross-legged on the bed, but every movement felt too fast in the time stop they apparently were in.
Say yes.
Something inside her screamed.
Say yes because you know you want to. You know you like him.
Instead, she stayed silent for a few more moments, which felt longer than the months they had been sleeping together. All of it was happening at once, all of the memories. She’d been shoving down that part for months. After that night in Miami, when it felt like it would be all just fun, the inkling of something more began. It spread and spread, each time without her knowledge, and to protect herself she built a barricade, a dam of her emotions for Lando Norris. The dam that protected her dream, her job, her life. The dam that would stay up even tonight as she looked into his bright, questioning eyes. 
“Lando, that’s not a part of our deal,” She finally squeaked out when she felt brave enough to talk.
“Fuck the deal,” He said quickly after, so fast she could barely take a breath, “I think we could both use a date, a real date. And I’d really like to take you out.”
“That’s not- Where is this coming from?” She shook her head quickly, trying to shake the voice that kept telling her to go against all of her instincts, all of her protections.
“You don’t want to?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
  “I-“ She paused, “Lando, I just want to know where this is coming from? Why?”
“Because there’s obviously something between us. Something fucking great. I like spending time with you, and I’d like to spend more time with you. And maybe Alex was right.” 
Of course, this would all come back to what Alex said. 
It wasn’t that what he had said hadn’t echoed in her head. She should’ve known Lando would've been thinking about it too. Lando who thinks constantly, who couldn’t shut off his brain if he tried. Alex’s words would have bounced around his head as much as hers.
“It’s stupid because you both clearly like each other but don’t want to admit it.”
  “This is just going to end with you both breaking each other's hearts... if it keeps going like this.”
She thought about his words almost every night before bed.
“Alex was just being stubborn and trying to convince himself he was right,” She retorted weakly. She didn’t want to admit he was right. The now that they were in was good. It would be good for the future. The now was supposed to be good forever. 
“So you have no feelings for me?” Lando asked seriously, his eyes bore into hers, and she wanted to crawl back into bed so she could pretend like they weren’t having this conversation. 
Say yes. Say you do.
“This is good, Lando, what we have right now,” (Y/n) deflected again, “This is amazing and fun and simple and good.”
“I don’t think it’s good for me anymore,” He said quietly with a small shake of his head. For the first time, his eyes slid to the ground away from hers. She looked down too, unable to see him with his head down like that. 
Alex was right. He was right about it all. This was going to end with both of them breaking their hearts. It was happening before her very eyes.
“Okay,” She whispered, fearing her own heartbeat would drown out the quiet word. 
“Okay?” He repeated and looked back up at her.
“Okay, if it’s not good for you anymore then…” She took a deep breath, “then we can stop.”
“That’s not-“ 
“Lando, please don’t do this.” 
She couldn’t hear him say he was falling in love with her. That she saw the little moments when there was more than just friendship or just lust. She felt them too. She couldn’t listen to him say it and tell him no. Because that’s what she would have to say. She couldn’t do it. She was so scared.
“Okay,” He said quietly. Each time that word was said it left a worse taste in her mouth. 
“I’m-“ She started to say, but he shook his head harder this time. 
“Don’t worry about it,” He rubbed his lips together and looked to the door as though realizing he was the one who had to leave this time. 
“Lando-“
“I’m going to go,” He said finally and started making his way to the door. After a moment’s shock at what was happening, (Y/n) scurried out of the bed, still in her bra and underwear, and scrambled to pick up her baggy shirt lying on the ground. 
“Lando,” It came out muffled as her shirt went over her head.
He didn’t say anything and only kept walking. She barely caught up to him before his hand was on the doorknob. 
“Lando,” She repeated desperately, lunging forward and grabbing his hand before he could leave. He turned around, and her heart twisted again. She was so mad at herself when she thought she saw hope in his eyes.
“We can’t be outwardly different, in media or anything, people will talk,” She sighed sadly. It wasn't what she wanted to say, but what she had to say. His eyes showed it wasn’t what he wanted to hear and she knew she'd have that face etched into her head for months.
Lando looked away, and this time it felt like her heart cracked in her chest.
“Nothing will be different between us, it’ll be like all this never happened,” He said matter-of-factly. 
No hint of sarcasm, not a hint of a joke. Just pure logic, the logic she was forcing on him to try and accept. In a gentle movement, he pulled his hand away and then opened the door. He walked out without another word. Leaving her to realize the weight of what she’d just done. She wanted to cry. 
The dam broke the moment the door shut. All of the emotions she’d kept inside for him came rushing down like a tsunami. He didn’t even slam it, he just walked out sadly, like he knew this could've been the outcome and didn't want to believe it. She stood watching the closed door for minutes, unsure of what to do, breathing deeply, willing the pitiful tears not to come. 
In her head, she followed him out the door. She yelled after him even though he wasn’t far. He would turn around, and she would jump into his arms. They would kiss for the first time outside of a hotel room, not caring who saw. The consequences could be dealt with at another time. 
They would go on a date. Probably for dinner at a fancy restaurant they both could afford. People would take pictures, and she would be nervous, but he would squeeze her hand, and it would feel better. They would go back to his place, or hers, whichever country they happened to be in, and they’d do what they always did, but this time with a different mindset. Or maybe not entirely different if they were both being honest with each other. That mindset had burrowed its way in secret a long time ago.
But instead, she stayed staring at the closed door. She even heard the elevator ding from that far away in the silence of her room. She knew he got in it and went back to his room alone as she was right now.
[Las Vegas - Now]
Until her podium, she hadn’t heard from him since that night. No random texts, no funny videos sent over, nothing.
She didn’t know if he was avoiding her because she tried to dodge him for most of the weekend. She got lucky she didn’t have a press conference and he did, there was enough to do in Vegas that not seeing him wasn’t hard between all the craziest media they’d ever had. She waved her hello at Oscar and sped off with some other excuse when Lando came up behind him. She spoke with Lance and Esteban while waiting for the driver's parade, watching Lando talk to Carlos out of the corner of her eye but never really looking.
Lando kept his promise because of course, he did. She saw his tweets saying congratulations, and read his comments before she shut off those notifications. Actually, the real reason she did shut off those notifications was because every time she opened one of the apps she found herself rereading his words. She looked for a sign of his being upset, but there were none. People would never believe they weren’t actually speaking much anymore. 
She reread his text now. Upset they weren’t together as they had been the last sixteen weekends. She wondered if he was sitting staring at his phone, unsure of what to do with himself on a lonely post-race too. Maybe he just sent the text out of pity for someone who could only be as heartless as her, or just to get their real friendship back on track. He could be over it by now for all she knew. He could be with someone else already.
The thought made her open the text box, and she typed quickly. She wouldn’t invite him over. She couldn’t be alone with him again so soon after everything that happened. She hated she was nervous to send even this perfectly normal text, but the eggshells that they walked on to preserve anything at all felt like daggers.
(Y/N) 🥂:  thanks, lan. really appreciate it! Great race by you too! :)
She put her phone back on the bedside table, trying not to throw it like it was a hot potato, and crawled deeper into her covers. She didn’t know if she would sleep yet, but maybe the motion would convince her to. Apart of her wondered if she would sleep at all with everything that happened today.
It was the best day of her life so far. She was happy, she really was, but there was a small pit in her stomach that said she wished she could celebrate it more with someone special, with Lando.
Lando Norris snuck up on people. He had a way about him that made him more likeable the more you spent time around him. You first met handsome Lando. Lando who was easy on the eyes and quick with a big smile. Then you realized he was funny, sarcastic, and goofy. And as layer and layer peeled back he became more himself, and you don’t realize that maybe you’re falling in love a little bit. He was charismatic, kind-hearted and endearing. And suddenly like a Venus fly trap, you’re stuck.
She was stuck. She hadn’t been tricked into falling in love with him. She’d fallen like a summer rain. It wasn’t instant, it was slow and gradual and warm on her skin, but it felt like a crash into the wall when she realized it was happening. 
Months and months of shoving down feelings, equating them to lust and friendship, when they were exactly what she should’ve called them. She liked him. She loved him really. 
She kept going back to what Alex said. Not the fact that they both liked each other or would break each other’s hearts, though he was clearly right. 
Now she thought of when they were alone in the hallway. When he was saying he didn’t think it would be a big deal if something were to go on between her and Lando. Something public and real. Something more than just the sex they’d been having. Something they’d both been feeling apparently, but (Y/n) shoved it down while Lando had tried to embrace it.
Alex didn’t think it would ruin anything. That the fans and the media would get over it. That contracts could get around the secrets between Williams and McLaren, not that either of them would give the other an advantage anyway. All it would do would make both of them happy. 
She would call James Vowles in the morning. She would call to see if she was being crazy about it all. To see if anything could work out. At least she’d know one way or another if she’d just hurt one of the most important people to her for no reason. 
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heesbaby · 8 months
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YES YES pls do hee when jealous would love that !
i had another request for this too so here we go! jealous heeseung <3 my second fav genre of heeseung after loser hee,,,, he's lowkey a little toxic in this sorry and so is yn tbh
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heeseung was a very jealous man. he liked to pretend that he wasn't, but it was impossible when it seemed like everyone was always out to irritate him.
take today for example, you had been out with your friends for the evening, going for dinner then drinks at a bar. heeseung trusted you wouldn't do anything, he knew you wouldn't, but seeing posts of you on your friends instagram stories surrounded by random people dancing at the bar was sparking something in him.
all you were doing was dancing innocently, and he knew ultimately at the end of the night you would be coming back to him, but he hated the fact that other people were dancing with you as if you were single.
to calm his mind, he scrolled through your texts together, seeing the pictures you'd sent him as you were getting ready and the texts outlining how you would text him when you wanted him to pick you up so you could stay the night. he tried to stop himself from bothering you, but his fingers were writing a text before he could even think.
hee: missing you baby, you having fun?
he couldn't deny the satisfied feeling he had when your reply came just seconds later. he could imagine you stepping away from the people you were dancing with just to answer his message, you would drop anything for him.
y/n: miss you too hee, would be so much better with you here
y/n: what are you doing without me there?
and if there was anything that the two of you had in common, it was that you were both incredibly obsessed with each other. he always wanted to know what you were doing, but in response you kept tabs on him too.
hee: just been thinking about you, saw you dancing on your friends posts
hee: you look incredible baby, those others better be keeping their hands to themselves
at this point you'd stepped away from your friends, leaning against the bar as you grinned down at your phone. you'd done it on purpose, asking your friends to make sure they got videos of you with other people since you knew heeseung would be watching them. you were just as bad as each other, you wanted to make him jealous.
y/n: they're nothing compared to you
y/n: wish you were here hee, miss kissing you, want you to show all these others who I belong to
now he couldn't help the smile that spread across his own lips, all his jealousy disappearing at your words. it was as if you knew exactly how to calm him down, your boyfriend typing out a text response.
hee: want me to come pick you up?
y/n: why don't you join me instead? could dance a little, maybe make out in front of all the guys who have asked for my number tonight
heeseung looked at his outfit, he was wearing jeans and a plain t shirt, nothing club worthy. but hearing how guys were flirting with you had his jealousy flaring up again.
hee: be there in 5 baby
and soon enough he was there, arms wrapping around you waist from behind as he tugged you into his chest. you had been chatting with a couple people you'd met that night, a half empty glass in your hand with a non-alcoholic drink in it.
"hey pretty," heeseung mumbled, kissing the side of your neck gently. "these people bothering you?"
he looked up at the few guys who had suddenly taken a few steps back once heeseung had joined, not looking to start any fights that night. you knew your boyfriend had no problem fighting when it came to you.
"no, it's ok," you teased, turning in his arms to wrap your free hand around his neck. you offered your drink to him, letting him have a sip before you finished it yourself.
"mind if I steal her away for a bit?" he asked the group, not waiting for an answer and not really caring for it as he tugged you away from them and onto the dance floor.
it didn't take long before he was pulling you close to him, lips smothering yours in a hot kiss as his hands grabbed at your ass and thighs to grind against you. he had no shame acting like this in public, he wanted everyone to know who you belonged to.
"you look so good baby," he groaned against your lips, hands slipping under your skirt to dance across the skin of your inner thighs. "can't wait to get you out of these clothes, going to fuck you so good tonight pretty girl."
"what are you waiting for?" you said, hands slipping down his shoulders to his arms, squeezing tight. that's all it took for heeseung to take your hands, dragging you out of the bar without so much as a goodbye to your confused friends.
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j-0ne25 · 4 months
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SCREAM — CHAPTER [13] of RED LIGHTS [18+!]
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“You’re insane,” is all you can let out.
“Insanely attracted to you.”
You scoff, “Stop messing around.”
“Oh, I was just about to start, doll.”
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← previous part | next part →
💻 Four months ago: When you end up running into your ex boyfriend at a house party, you decide to search for the vodka your best friend hides in his storage room. But instead you find your enemy there who is very destined to make you forget about your past lover.
❗️You, Y/N, are part of this year’s season of Red Lights, starring as the main character, surrounded by eight very different men that you have all met before. In order to decide how the story unfolds and what happens in following episodes, select an option for the poll after reading a chapter.
🛷 CONTENT INFO: skz ot8 x afab reader [not at the same time], pls refer to masterlist for more info, reality/dating show AU, minors do not interact since it includes topics only suitable for adults, content warning under the cut
📕 WORD COUNT: 3.4K
🎸 SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
🥀 CONTENT WARNING: explicit sexual content [includes oral (f receiving), semi-public encounters, degradation, squirting, reader gets called doll, baby and slut], alcohol consumption, mention of breakup
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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You’re convinced by now he must have done it on purpose. Jisung’s greatest birthday wish must have been to humiliate you and he achieved exactly that.
Big brown eyes stare at her. You think she’s one of the birthday boy’s colleagues and you couldn’t care less if she wasn’t currently all over your ex boyfriend.
Yes, someone—most definitely Jisung himself—must have invited Minho to the party. As far as you know they have talked maybe twice in their life which is why you don’t get what your ex is doing here. Therefore, Jisung must have brought him here with the intention of hurting you.
“Are you okay, Y/N? You’ve been sipping on this gin tonic for an hour now.”
It’s funny that your best friend worries about you when you’re not drinking—although it would be a good idea to drown your sorrows in alcohol. However, you don’t want to do anything that could end very embarrassing for you. The night is already too much of a disaster while you’re sober.
“Why… why is he here, Chan?”
Your best friend is sipping on some lemonade. Despite him living here together with Jisung in the shared apartment, he has offered the guests to drive them home—the gentlemen he is. Well, he’s also doing a new workout program which requires him to stay sober at all times.
“I believe it’s because Jisung is celebrating his birthday together with Jooyeon and apparently Minho and him are friends,” Chan explains. “ They have known each other for years since their families are close or something. Jisung told him that it isn’t a good idea but Jooyeon couldn’t be convinced.”
Oh. So—it wasn’t your enemies evil plan after all? Or is Chan just trying to calm you down? No. Your best friend would never lie to you and despite that, you can tell whenever he’s not telling the truth.
In addition to that, your worst nightmare—also known as Han Jisung—has also tried to convince his friend to not invite Minho? Maybe because of… you? When your ex and you were still a couple, Jisung had always been pretty neutral, almost distant around him so you would have expected him to not really care if Minho attends his party or not.
“Ji– Jisung tried to convince him not to come?”
And here you were thinking that he was the one to invite him on purpose. Well—can you blame yourself? Jisung and you have never gotten along since you first met even though Chan has been his roommate and other best friend. Your hatred towards him is mostly caused because of him dating your close friend Sooji in the first year of college and dumping her for no reason. He just ghosted her out of the blue and talked shit about her.
It’s part of your ‘girl’s support girls code’ to automatically hate him too, right? On top of that, he’s never made a move to come clear with you either. By now he must reciprocate those feelings—you can tell since he takes every chance to make fun of you when you’re together in your shared friend group.
“Yes. He told me,” Chan replies.
“Wow, you could almost think that he has a heart,” you chuckle.
Your best friend rolls his eyes, “Y/N… I know you don’t like him but he’s not evil.”
Raising one eyebrow, you look at Chan. “That’s what he makes you believe…”
You turn around, gaze hovering towards your ex boyfriend, who’s currently whispering something to the girl in front of him. Minho’s fingers are placed on her lower arm, pulling her closer.
“Hey, look at me,” Chan interrupts your zoned out state.
“Hm?”
“If you want to go home, I can drive you at any time,” he informs you. “I’m staying sober anyway. But how about you just make the best out of it?”
Wow. Chan makes it sound so fucking easy. You’ve come so far these past nine months. You’ve almost got over your stupid asshole of an ex boyfriend just for him to show up at a party which you didn’t want to attend in the first place.
“How am I supposed to make the best out of seeing my ex nine months after him breaking up with me without giving me a reason?”
Chan looks at you with apologetic eyes, a hand coming to your shoulder to softly stroke it, “Baby…”
“No, don’t ‘baby’ me, Christopher,” you tell him, taking a step back.
“Then let’s at least try to make the best of it. You can’t avoid your fears forever,” he suggests.
Well—what else are you supposed to do, anyway? Maybe getting a little bit of alcohol should be fine. Just enough for you to not care about Minho’s presence anymore. You could look around and search for Hyunjin. That introvert is probably hiding in some corner, maybe sketching the scene of the party. Annoying your roommate sounds like a good idea, if you’re honest.
“Yeah… maybe you’re right. But I think I need something stronger than this,” you say, looking at your cup filled with gin and tonic. Chan always mixes drinks that are not strong at all. Unfortunately, Seungmin couldn’t make it to the party tonight—with his bartender skills you would have already been wasted by now.
Just when you’re about to go to the kitchen, Chan gets greeted by someone. Of course. That guy has friends all over the globe.
“If you need anything, let me know, yeah?”
You nod and let him engage in the conversation with his acquaintance, before you head to the room of your destination. Jisung and Chan’s apartment is cramped which makes it even less spacious now with so many guests inside. You can hardly tell where you’re going but somehow you make it to the kitchen.
Passing some couples that are making out in the corners and on top of the counters you get reminded that you’re glad about the fact that Hyunjin and you are too introverted to ever have an obscene party like this. Rummaging around in the shelves where you know your best friend and his annoying roommate store their alcohol, you search for something specific, before you plan to look around for Hyunjin.
However, the vodka is nowhere to be found and since you’re a recurring guest and Chan has never had anything against you helping yourself when it comes to his stocks of alcohol, you decide to head towards where the beverages should be.
So, you exit the kitchen again—needing more time than you would have liked—and walk a straight line to the apartment’s storage room.
Fuck. The vodka has to be somewhere here—you know exactly that Chan hides it in one of those dusty boxes–
“Y/N.”
Oh, no.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Anyone but him.
“Jisung,” you say his name before getting up.
He walks inside the room now, turning on another lamp before closing the door behind him.
“Looking for something specific?”
“None of your business,” you hiss.
Shit. Where on earth is that stupid vodka?
“Oh, this is for sure my business because last time I checked you are in my apartment at my birthday party,” he tells you, clicking his tongue.
When you look at him for the first time you fear your heart might stop—his hair has gotten a lot longer, dark curls decorating his pretty face. He’s dressed in a black leather jacket and baggy jeans, navy nail polish highlighting his style.
Yes. That’s the biggest issue with Han Jisung. He isn’t only your so-called enemy but unfortunately also a very attractive one. You can’t deny it, after all you have eyes. It feels so toxic to admit it but on top of his beauty, the way he's always teasing you adds to it.
But you hate him. Absolutely. After all he’s done to Sooji, you will never like him. However, this doesn’t hold you back from sometimes having unholy thoughts about him that you shouldn’t have.
The worst of all this is—and you’re not even aware of it—if you gave Jisung a chance, you’d get along quite well. You’re pretty similar personality wise and share a lot of interests. There’s more than meets the eye to that dilemma with your friend some years ago but Jisung is too much of a coward to tell you the truth for two reasons.
First, he doesn’t want to be the deliverer of the message that your friend absolutely lied to you and that she was the one to talk shit about him. Because, second, Jisung didn’t dump her because he’s some fuckboy but she found out that he developed a crush on you which made her break things off with him and start a rumour out of jealousy. He had never been toxic to Sooji at any time given but his kindness was taken for granted.
“Hm, I am here,” you continue. “Just like Minho who you’ve decided to invite.”
Jisung looks at you dumbfounded. Minho is the last guy he wants to see here. After all, the potential of you and him even talking is enough to let jealousy bubble up in his body.
“What? I didn’t invite him. What makes you think I did?”
Why would Jisung want Minho here in the first place? He’s always hated that the guy even dated you for so long. Sure, he’s not relieved about the fact that he broke your heart but quite glad that you’re not a couple anymore.
You, on the other side, are just angry. Angry at Minho. Angry at Jisung. Angry at the world. Sometimes you’re just like that—fury gaining power over your body, annoyance spreading through your veins that makes you say provocative shit that you for sure will regret later.
“You… you just destroy everything… the same with Sooji back then–“
“What did she tell you?” Jisung immediately intervenes.
It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment for years now. You’ve never up until this day talked about the incident between him and your friend. Although, he could always tell that you’re distant because of it—on top of that, Chan couldn’t shut up for too long. So, this is why he immediately blurts out the question he’s been dying to ask.
“That you dumped her, duh,” you tell him. Why’s he even asking? Sooji let everyone on campus know what a fuckboy Jisung is. You totally understand her.
“Hm, I see,” Jisung won’t tell you the real reason the thing between them ended. He won’t give this triumph to you, not yet. “Of course she told you that. I’m not surprised.”
“Yes and I believe her,” you say. What a pity. But then again—as mentioned before—Jisung won’t reveal the secret Sooji has been hiding from you. That’s a thing between you and your friend and even if he was gonna share it you wouldn’t believe him anyway.
However, it doesn’t hold him back from shamelessly flirting with you—after all he’s noticed quite well how you’ve been ogling him for the past five minutes. You’re so obvious it’s almost adorable.
“I could make you feel good, you know… so when you walk out this little room, I promise you that Minho will know you’ve just gotten your brains fucked out,” Jisung suggests with a smirk.
Fuck. He speaks exactly like he’s done in all those fantasies you’ve had about him. Your enemy has to stop messing with your head.
Ignoring the sensation building up in your lower belly, you allow him to get closer to you, staying right where you are.
“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you?” you hiss back.
“I don’t just think so, I am speaking the truth,” he replies, clicking his tongue. “Let’s call Sooji right now and ask her how many times I’ve made her cum in a row just with my tongue and fingers.”
Jealousy erupts in your stomach by the idea of Jisung and Sooji together although it’s been a couple of years since they dated.
“You’re insane,” is all you can let out.
“Insanely attracted to you,” he answers, cocking his head before he takes a few steps further until he cages you between the shelf behind you and his body.
You’re afraid he might hear how fast and loud your heart is beating at that moment. God. You need to calm down. You can’t let him win. But then again—both your heart and unfortunately your pussy are trying to convince you of the exact opposite of what your brain is saying right now.
You scoff, “Stop messing around.”
Your gaze flies somewhere else, desperately trying to avoid him so he doesn’t see how flustered you are.
“Oh, I was just about to start, doll.”
One hand lands on the furniture behind you as your head snaps up at him.
“Are you for real?”
If he’s just saying this to make fun of you your dignity will basically be dead. You can’t risk getting humiliated by Han Jisung—unless it’s in a way you’ve thought about before, alone at night in your bed, two fingers inside your cunt, wishing they were his.
“Absolutely,” he says with a serious voice now.
Oh. He’s not joking. Fuck. This can’t be real. But it is. His eyes are burning with lust, while you feel your panties dripping from arousal. No one has ever had this effect on you. Maybe agreeing to this offer will both help you get rid of the confusion about Minho and Jisung?
What’s wrong about getting your brains fucked out by your enemy, right?
For a second you think about what Sooji would say and if you’re betraying her if you let Jisung touch you. But then you look back at him again and see how eager he is, basically drooling at the idea to pleasure you.
Speaking of, why is he even offering that? Hopefully not in some way to humiliate either you or Sooji more.
“What’s in it for you?”
He raises one eyebrow, “I don’t need anything. I just really enjoy eating pussy, you know?”
And with the seriousness in his voice you believe him. Jisung leaves out the crush that he still has on you that has a huge influence on this proposition as well.
“Okay. Only this. No sex,” you say with a stern voice.
“Sure,” he replies, nodding. He won’t say no to that. It feels like winning the lottery that you allow him to touch you, he won’t be the one complaining.
“Then… go on…”
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, serious again.
“Uhm… yeah, why not?”
Jisung closes the gap between you, his mouth lying against yours and for a second you believe that earth stopped moving. You part your lips for him, inviting his tongue in, as the kiss grows in passion and heat. Your enemy lets out a grunt, already overwhelmed despite nothing much happening so far.
His hands wander to your waist, pulling you closer, before they travel further south. You spread your legs, allowing him space between your thighs while he starts playing with the hem of your dress. Fuck. When you first stepped into his apartment today, wearing that pathetic excuse of a skirt, he was afraid to get a boner right there in public.
These past years you’ve never bothered dressing up at his parties but something in the back of your mind convinced you to provoke him a little today.
Jisung brings two fingers to your drenched underwear. He chuckles, when he realises how absolutely soaked you are—you have to admit that you’ve never in your life been so wet before, it’s almost embarrassing.
He disconnects his lips from yours again, looking at you to search for any second guesses but all you do is hastily nod while heavy breaths and lustful whimpers spill from your lips. So, Jisung pushes the ruined fabric aside, not bothering to take it off.
He immediately finds your clit, as he starts drawing beautiful circles on it. You almost hit the back of your head on the shelf, unable to hold back the reaction he forces out of you—Jisung is fast to place his other hand between you and the furniture, saving you from actually hurting yourself. There’s something about this little gesture that makes your knees go weak—both in an arousing and emotional way.
But the thoughts don’t stay in your head any longer, when Jisung continues rubbing your sensitive bud, using his thumb now to keep two fingers busy at your entrance.
“Look at how wet this pussy is,” he says with a low voice and you let out an unapologetic moan.
It feels so fucking filthy to be here—inside a cramped storage room where anyone could walk in on you, seeing you begging your enemy to finally push his fingers into your cunt.
As if he’s able to read your mind, Jisung does exactly this, feeling you immediately clench around him. It’s so adorable how you don’t even seem to fight it—he would have expected you to be a tease, an absolute brat but maybe he prefers this version of you, so obediently allowing him to do whatever he wants.
“You look so fucking pretty with my fingers inside your cunt,” he tells you and you can’t help but giggle.
You feel your brain turn into mush, mouth slightly agape and legs parting further to give him more access to thrust his digits deeper into you. Jisung positions one of your heels on the shelf so that he can brush over that sweet spot inside you.
“Didn’t expect you to get so wet that fast… shit, you’re easy…”
Your enemy drops to his knees then, hovering your skirt upwards, as he’s on eye level with your pussy now. You swear you can see him salivating at the view—he’s dreamt about this for years after all.
“I-I’m not– e-easy,” you fight back between moans, not quite convincing.
Jisung spreads your pussy lips apart, taking in every moment of this astonishing sight in front of his eyes.
“So, you’re only like this with me, huh?”
You can’t reply this time. Your dignity is definitely dead by now but you can’t manage to let a single rational thought appear in your head, when Jisung is flicking his tongue over your clit for the first time, the thrusts of his fingers continuing.
“Cute little thing, can’t get enough of my tongue, hm?” he hums against your wetness.
Your hand finds his head, twirling the curls around while you cry out his name as if you’ve forgotten about every other word you’ve ever learnt.
“Shit– doll, yeah, just like that, scream my name, baby.”
Hastily nodding, you let out a giggle, nonsense leaving your mouth, as you grind yourself on his tongue.
“Pathetic little slut… didn’t expect you to go dumb just from my tongue…”
Fuck. The rough language just adds to it and you can’t do anything else than to agree with him. This is insane. Jisung is absolutely insane—ruining your pussy and you’d let him do it again and again.
He’s driving you close to the verge of cumming. Dangeroulsy close. Whenever he moans against your heat. Whenever he circles his tongue around your clit. Whenever he curls the by now three fingers inside your aching hole.
“Ji– fuck, right there, yeah, right there– oh–“ you manage to let out.
Stars are filling your vision, when you tip over the edge—for a second it feels as if you entered a new dimension, utmost pleasure taking over you. Your thighs are shaking, your throat burns from screaming Jisung’s name, when you squirt all over his face—a feeling you’ve never experienced before. The man between your legs doesn’t stop—he helps you ride out your high, by now absolutely pussy drunk because of you.
“You’re so fucking cute, I swear,” he says.
Once you’ve somewhat come down, he gets up from the floor and cleans some of your juices with his fingers, for the rest he uses some tissues he finds. He does the same with you, taking care of your fragile body.
Shit. This was it?
You can feel the tent inside his pants, when he leans closer—his crotch is pretty much covered by his long shirt, hiding the evidence of his arousal.
But you need more. You fucking need more of him.
“Jisung– please– I need– need your cock,” you beg him with awaiting eyes.
“Nah, we agreed on something else, doll,” he says before helping you adjust your dress.
A soft kiss gets placed on your cheek next, before he takes a step away and exits the room.
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Results of poll 12 from WRAP ME IN PLASTIC [previous chapter]:
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[Choosing autumn led to Jisung's backstory being revealed since it happened in September]
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❤️‍🔥 AUTHOR’S NOTE: You made it! You chose my fave backstory of them all hahaha finally my man Jisung gets some screen time too even though it was just a flashback chapter :) Thank you so much for reading and all the love you keep on giving. I appreciate you guys a lot. Make sure to leave a comment, ask and/or reblog. Have a nice day and take care ❤️
© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
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neosero · 5 months
Text
[ 01:15pm ]
and sometimes you have to remind yourself they’re gods
word count | 7.5k total
noteworthy warnings | gn!reader; excessive use of the word ‘you’ sorry lol; rushed fiction; dark themes [ ? ]; violent/gory descriptions [ ? ] ( venti ); false descriptions of the archon war, implied kidnapping ( zhongli ); false post-cataclysm descriptions; inazuma spoilers for new players ( ei ); implied sag!au ( nahida ); version 3.2 spoilers and beyond ( special mention o.o );
if you find any of these warnings uncomfortable scroll away. viewer discretion is advised.
THE ANEMO ARCHON Lord Barbatos | wc. 1.5k+
Venti had always been known to chug down one too many kegs of wine when given the chance.
Although he slurs about the price going to his tab, it is always you who has to fix up every mess. Whether it be ending fist fights, pleading with angry bartenders or paying half his tabs in compensation, the guy really knows how to ruin someone’s night.
“It wasn’t my fault this time.” Venti’s whining starts right off the bat, not caring that you have barely made it any distance from the bar. It's clear with the way he stumbles that he has long since past his limit. Your arm securely holds him by the shoulder opposite of you, an attempt to steady his wobbly footing although the sigh from his lips tells you he believes the touch is something else. 
“I don’t need your excuses, Barbatos.” Your words are hushed but still harsh. His body deflates at the sound of his name used in such a tone, however he still refuses to relent.
“I promise you it wasn’t me who started it. The guy was…mouthing about everyone in there; he started saying nasty stuff about Brook’s drinks, called my music terrible and he then started…” saying things about you.
Well the guy attempted to until Venti stood from his stool, the force of the movement - or so he explained - must have tipped the drink over and spilled all over the poor guy’s clothes. Of course he got angry, who wouldn’t but when he started shouting about payment that’s when things took a turn. When Venti declined and left to grab another bottle the guy rushed him. It wasn’t his fault the guy was so drunk he missed the swing and stumbled off so badly he tripped and broke his nose. But it wasn’t like you were gonna believe a word coming from his mouth, he’s played the intoxicated card too much for it to have just been an accident this time around.
“I know you pushed him.” He opens his mouth to retort, “I know you pushed him because candles just don’t blow out within a closed bar with no windows, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because that man explained it felt like he was being shoved into the ground when he fell, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because this has been the same story with you for the last three weeks! By the gods, what has gotten into you?”
You’ve both gotten far enough from Springvale to talk freely, but hearing your voice carry in the winds of the quiet forest hurts a lot more than being scolded in front of the dozen or so citizens. You come across an abandoned supply wagon and take this as a moment to stop. By helping Venti up the back of the wagon to sit on its edge, you take the time to look him over. It is always surprising how he comes back unscathed from every encounter; not a single hair out of place, nor smudge of cheap alcohol anywhere on his clothes or lingering scent of said alcohol anywhere in the air - only noticeable when close enough to his lips. Venti sways in his seat, head hung low like a child who's been told off by their parents and sometimes it feels like just that. You sigh.
“I’m not upset with you.” The change in your tone makes his head raise and a noticeable color return to his face.
Yeah, just like a child.
“I just wish you’d fix whatever you have going on with you right now. I have a lot on my plate as is with the Knights of Favonius and getting everything I can with that Snezhnayain diplomat. I had to leave a meeting that could have been a pivotal breakthrough with them today because of you!”
You don’t see it with how you fix the legs of your armored plating, but Venti rolls his eyes. He knows about the plans of the Cryo Archon. He knows a lot more than what he lets on to the traveler or anyone else who inquiries about the matter; there's a reason he normally steers clear of the Adventures Guild’s Katherine. Still the more he relays the information to you, warnings upon warnings of caution, you don’t listen. It is demeaning knowing what little trust you have for your own god, let alone having to continue this conversation every night.
“...and you might not take this seriously, Venti, but it's really disappointing.”
“You're more disappointed that I ruined date night.” Venti had tried to hold it in, he really did but hearing you praise that woman Signora over giving praise to your own archon would make any one of Celestia’s chosen snap. He stands then, the most sober movement he has had all night and you scoff.
“Oh may Celestia take me now! This again? For the last and final time I am simply working with the women. It’s my job and whatever I do shouldn’t matter to you.”
“And why is that?” 
“Because you are a god!” The winds pick up, there is a clear green gleam in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “People offer prayers to you daily. They work and celebrate all in your name. You used to split mountains, Barbatos…What I do should be insignificant to the eyes of someone like you: our supposedly high and mighty deity.”
“It's high time you act like it.”
There is a heavy thudding in the distance, you turn around missing the clear shake in Venti’s hands. The wind rages on stirring the clouds above but you don’t care as you catch sight of a Mitachurl barreling in your direction. Clearly your shouting stirred it somehow and with how fast it's charging there is no room to run.
You draw your sword and stand in front of Venti as protection, “Damn. We’ll continue this later.” He’s gone quiet and when you dare to look away from the charging beast to see your archon, your skin runs cold. He’s bleeding in his right hand, fist balled so tight he shakes as he breaks skin and it runs down to evaporate before it hits the ground. His lyre rests in his left but it's different; the strings, once a vibrant glow of green, run a deep dark red almost the same color as the blood on his skin.
“Vent-” you begin to call out but the words are cut off by the heavy shout before you. You turn your neck quickly to see the Mitachurl with its ax raised high, about to strike. When had it gotten so close? You brace yourself ready to hold off the blunt force as best you can, turning again to shout for Venti to move.
But he strums his first note.
This sound is far different then what you’re used to. What was once a gentle, harmonic strumming of a lyre blessed in the winds, now feels dissonant. The sound is a deep vibration one that could only be described when hitting the wrong keys at the end of a piano in quick concession. A sound you feel breach into the roots of your lungs and pry out all the air you have stored.
You can’t breathe.
The sword falls from your hands as you frantically clutch your chest. Your legs wobble and your head is hammering, the need to breath is overwhelming but with every harsh breath you take in it all seems to be sucked out.
“Barbat-”
“You want a god. I’ll show you god.”
Barbatos strums his second note. 
This sound has a higher pitch, the noise most quickly catches you as that of a violin when you bring it’s bow down with a little too much pressure against the wrong chord. There’s a force to this note, one you must assume was the same the guy at the bar felt as you are shoved into the wagon. The force of the blow leaves you more winded then you were before. All your strength feels drained from your body and your knees give out. There is no time to recover though…
Not when Lord Barbatos pulls at his third and final string.
You don’t register this one, the ringing in your ears and overall loss of oxygen leaving you closer and closer to the brink of unconsciousness. Even so you watch him toy with the string. The wind has picked up and now you notice the Mitachurl raised in the air, it struggles with its head thrashing about. Venti turns to you, a smile crazed and eyes dim.
Then he lets the string go.
It's hard to watch. Wind isn’t a visible thing, but in this very moment you pinpoint just where the breeze shifts and changes as it tears through the beast limb from limb. Arms and legs twist and bend, its chest constricts slowly and its head rotates like an owl with a chorus of loud cracks of bones; if it wasn’t for how close you feel to the brink of death yourself you know the sounds of the snapping and screams would have killed you alone. Barbatos stares still. 
It doesn’t last long, the sheer horror of it all ends quickly as the Mitachurl is compressed into the origin of the tornado it's caught in until it blows in a rain of blood. The loss of oxygen finally gets to you as your eyes drift but not before seeing the finale of your oh so mighty deity. 
He stands unmoving as the blood pours down in a shower along his face, eyes now closed, “disappointed in your god now?”
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THE GEO ARCHON Rex Lapis | wc. 1.6k+
Six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.
A long and painful four-thousand years of battle over a couple seats at the throne that was already predetermined. Four-thousand years wasted away killing friends and family and loved ones for power they themselves now wish to throw away. A lot of gods didn’t want to be a part of this…holy massacre - or whatever these scholars wish to paint it as - and you were one of them. You were given many names for your time: Theia, Anthos, Gia. The only thing that remains certain within all books of history is your ability to create elemental stones.
Ascension silver, within today’s terms, was a skill none could manage; for being a god who could bond to a multitude of elements at once was beyond even the original seven of Celestia. The gems you produced offered various needs opposed to the power of visions; pyro silver for warmth, hydro silver to be shattered and give rain, geo crystals for fortitude in times of terrible weather, dendro crystals to fertilize plants, cryo silver to cool in the warmer weathers and electro silver to strengthen weapons for combat. It all could be found in the midst of your domain.
Your domain resided in the Huaguang Stone Forest, within the underbelly of Mt. Aocang. It was just a large hollowed cave filled with crystals and home to a small community of humans. They traded off the crystals you produced, for food and supplies, holding festivals and village gatherings under your name. When they needed protection, your crystal walls provided and the Vishaps, organic creatures of your creation, helped protect those from outside.
All was good, all was at peace. 
Until six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.
Tremors grew in both number and extremity over time. Your people starved and scared as trade drew to a halt and more and more outsiders flocked for your domain for protection. The energy of fellow gods and people you once thought would grow old together die out like the stars one by one. However, within your domain all was good, all was at peace, all was protected.
Or so you thought until you met Rex Lapis, the self proclaimed God of Geo, four-thousand years ago during the Archon War.
He requests your assistance, he speaks of monsters and demons emerging from the earth of Guili Plains and that without you they would consume the earth and all within it. You were hesitant to believe him, not when he stormed in covered in the blood of gods and an army of yaksha armed tooth and nail to your fortress of peace. When you speak of the wellbeing of your people he promises to ensure their safety with a few of his yaksha, but when you question him further its General Musatas who warns you to watch your tongue when speaking to one of the chosen seven. Thinking back about it now that should have been the first sign of danger; putting your trust in a god fighting to be apart of the corrupt Celestia. But your people needed more help than what you could provide alone, and you still young and naive wanted to believe that the word of the god of gods was absolute.
So you leave and for a thousand years you fight for a cause you thought to be pointless. You watch gods die, your crystal shields only doing so much in the onslaught of war. Whenever you came close to being wounded it was Morax who protected you from harm time and time again. Taking the blunt force of claws and the heavy pummeling from Osial, all to keep you from harm's way. You had thought it was admirable…if only that same persistence was there for Guizhong.
When she perished on the battlefield you all were pushed back. In a last stand against the enemy you took hold at Mt. Tianheng, and it was there we prospered. Rex Lapis’ sheer power and battle strategy in command of the adeptus and five general yaksha pushed through for the victory and settlement of Liyue. It was then the god of contracts requested a binding: all remaining adeptus would stand to protect Liyue if danger ever stirred once again.
And once again you were a fool to trust the words of the god of gods. 
For the others were allowed to roam as they pleased until called upon and you were to remain within Liyue Harbor forever at the side of your god Rex Lapis. He claimed it was for protection, your powers being the strongest he’s seen for a lifetime, however you could only recall being of no help to protect the ones you hold dear on the battle field. 
You fight, complain and wrestle against his iron grip but the contract holds still. As the Harbor prospered and grew over the years, it left you with the stronger desire to see your people once again. A request with the yaksha would fall on deaf ears as they were still to handle the aftermath within the Plains, but when talk of corruption and madness spread among the masses you had feared the worst. Against your better judgment you left, you thought the wellbeing of your people is more important than the loyalty you have in some god.
When you return to the Stone Forest, you’re enveloped with a sense of home. You spot Cloud Retainer at the top of the peak, but she is gone before you can offer a wave. When you finally reach the door to your domain your heart drops. The Geovishaps who stand guard are nowhere to be found and the energy of your barrier left so long ago has run dry. Even with the clear signs, you still push forward and believe in the word of Morax.
Still so young and naive.
The domain is bathed in dried blood. There are bodies upon bodies of your people scattered along the floor, their blood painted over your crystals and the bodies of yakshas having killed everyone else looked to have turned against each other. Tears of pure silver fall from your eyes as you make way through your temple, a last ditch effort for hope of any survival…for anything.
Everything lays in shambles - crystal decoration of your own design shattered across the floor, Vishaps of all ages lifeless and unmoving just like the images of the gods all those years ago. What breaks you is what sits at your throne: the remaining villagers all curled together encased in a crystal prison. It was a skill you taught your strongest Vishaps just before your departure, never considering that they would need to use it you had no way of reversing its effects. You fall into a sob, pillars of crystals sprouting just where your tears meet the bloody ground. All hope is lost from you until you feel the looming presence of Rex Lapis.
At first, you're overjoyed.
He could somehow fix this. Given his ability to cleanse gods and shape islands with minimal effort, this could be done by the snap of a finger. You stand with some difficulty, the gems having crystalized at the bottom hem of your garments almost keeping you weighted to the floor as a warning. You pay no mind.
Then, all at once, you’re afraid.
When you reach him, smiling and happy for once to be in his presence, the weight around you feels heavy. The glare of Rex Lapis is stone cold, gold irises like slits of the dragon you witnessed decapitate so many of your old friends. The general Alatus to his left stands armed and ready, and to his right Cloud Retainer - one normally so proud and boastful, hangs her head low behind the god before her. 
“You left.” His voice is calm, a stark contrast to the way he is looking at you. Glaring at you like the enemy. “Well yes.” You begin, a stutter to your voice, “the war has long since reached its close…and with n-no more danger I thought it would be alright to-”
“Danger is always upon us. You went against our agreement.” There's a bass in his voice that rocks a tremor through your body as well as the cave you reside in, its strength leaves Alatus to stumble his footing and Cloud Retainer to dip her gaze that much lower. You, however press on, “I had no plans to be gone long a-and with no word from my home I feared the worst. So I had to-”
His hand envelops your throat in an instant. Rough, scaled fingers grip tightly around you and when you make an effort to speak he squeezes harder. “You had to remain within the harbor. We had an agreement. You swore an oath to me, an oath that was never to be broken.” Frantic fingers grip at his hand, you try to pry him off of you but your body feels like it's being pulled by an unknown force that leaves you weak and him unmoving. He watches you struggle, and somehow in those eyes you see him pleased with the way you whither in his grasp.
“Should I take care of them, Master?” General Alatus’ mask envelopes his face, karmic energy flowing from his body. You shutter as his blade is brought to your sides. Rex Lapis turns his head swiftly, the first he’s looked away from you since he’s got here, and glares harder. In seconds the general is brought to the floor in a shout of pain. In the position he kneels, Alatus clutches the floor in a grip so tight you’d think he was trying to push against the heavy pull of the world’s gravity. “You will hold your tongue until I see fit for your suggestions, General.”
Alatus nods as best he can, body struggling just as much as yours to try and fight against the power of the god of geo. The glow of his scales dims, and the yaksha begins to breathe as he stands on wobbly legs. It is then the archon drops you. You swallow oxygen in desperately and cough it back out heavily as you gaze up at the man before you. When he reaches for you again, you scurry away but not far enough. This time he grasps your arm dragging you away breathless and reaching for what’s left of your home.
He scoffs at your sorry state, “your offense to me isn’t great, but you still will be punished for your disobedience.” You’re helpless to it all, too weak to challenge one of the chosen seven of Celestia. He snaps his fingers and just like all those years ago he takes you from your home.
Back then it was for a cause, an unspoken oath you had no idea would chain you to a man you don’t believe in; but now it's as a prisoner, a powerless god who watches their domain crumble right before your eyes.
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THE ELECTRO ARCHON Raiden Shogun | wc. 1.1k+
“Leave us.”
For a moment, you think she sounds disappointed. The guards release you from your binds and you're quick to snatch your wrists away to rub the tender skin. They give stiff bows and with stiff, sharp pointed turns make way for the doors of the Shogunate’s chambers. When they leave the room, Baal and the kitsune Saiguu emerge from the panels behind the back of the throne. Baal is as calm as ever; she sits eyes closed, knees folded below her and her wagasa twirling in her slender fingers as if pondering something. Saiguu seems more openly displeased; her tail rests rigid behind her when she sits beside her own Shogun, she looks concerned as she scans your body and you notice she has left her cigarette holder behind.
You are in real trouble now.
Beelzebul had descended her throne before the guards even walked through the door. She paces in between you and her sister, her strides come to match the tempo of the thunder that increases in volume over the heavy rain from the outside world. When a particularly loud clash resonates through the skies, Baal stops her twirling. “Ei, you’re beginning to cause a stir amongst the people.”
She stops her pacing and so too does the thunder if only for a little. Beelzebul looks you over and it seems that fans her flame even more when her eyes rack over your body. Her gaze doesn’t match that of Saiguu’s though. “You’re wounded.” She finally speaks, it's more at you than to you. The wound is nothing serious, a small scratch to the arm that has left your garments a little bloody but it's really nothing that won't heal by the morning. She moves quickly for bandages, trying and failing to distract herself from imploding, but when she gets close with the adhesive you dodge around her touch.
The first clash of lightning strikes the seas.
Beelzebul sighs and stands, you watch the bandage begin to buzz and spark in her grasp. “Bleed out for all I care.” In an instant, the cloth blows and dissolves in a small show of flames. You flinch.
“Ei-” Baal begins again, her hair glows at the tips and you know she is fighting to calm the storm of emotion that continues to rage outside.
“What did you hope to gain by seeing her again at such a time? We are in the middle of a war of gods and you see it fit to chase a traitor.” 
“Chiyo is no traitor!” You don’t mean to yell, but the way she spits the word ‘traitor’ has your blood boiling. Baal makes no effort to calm you down. “She had been trapped inside the belly of that beast for so long; months fighting her way from the inside out. That could turn anyone to madness…and when she finally emerges scared and confused you try to kill her.”
“She’s become crazed with madness. Something in that beast left with her and a blight like that can’t be cleansed. Saiguu knew the moment she saw her.” You break your gaze to look at the goddess.
Saiguu nods at you even without looking your way, “Not even a cleansing from the Sacred Sakura would have helped. Even being that close I could tell that blight ran deeper than her soul. I’m so sorry.”
You shake your head vigorously. There had to be something you could do, even if that meant caging her within the temple for an eternity anything would have been better than more death. “There was something we could have done. I know it. Rukkhadevata would know something; she knows everything. Let me go to Sumera and-”
A dry chuckle bursts from Beelzebul, “It seems you might have been tainted by whatever she had. If you think you are in the right to start making requests now I can assure you it won’t happen. Have you forgotten the current situation: we are at war, not just us but all the gods. You were only lucky enough to get to the forests before I had to save you from that beast.” The air around you feels static. The hairs on your body raise and the wound on your arm feels like it’s being pinched every so often. “Why are you so adamant on leaving my protection?”
“Protection?! Your protection! You keep me imprisoned. I cannot see anyone but who you allow me too. I am followed constantly and whenever I so much as breathe in the direction of the outside world I’m dragged away. You keep me here shielded like some precious doll while everyone else fights.” Baal’s gaze meets yours behind her sister almost there to push you on. “I am a soldier to this nation before anything else and would rather take my chance out there than to live knowing I sat sheltered and protected like a coward with you here.”
Ei’s stunned. A storm ripples through her gaze and for a second you think those purple hues of clouds show shines of rain. 
Instead lightning clashes before you.
The blunt end of her blade is brought to the heart of your chest in a flash. The feeling of its energy pulsing so close makes the tales of its power in battle sound underplaying, stray bolts of lightning bounce off it and reach in to rub under your clothed skin. You jolt. Saiguu makes an effort to stand but Makato raises her hand to halt her advance.
“If you wish to die so eagerly, I will strike you down here myself.”
It's clear she means it; having already slain and severely injured two of her closest friends there would be no hesitation if you had to be next. Makoto finally decides it's time to intervene, her fingers curl along her sister’s shoulder and although Ei doesn’t break away the energy pressing into your chest does decline in pressure if only for a second. “Pain doesn’t last an eternity.”
They don’t even look at each other when she speaks, she just holds her there. You think it has to be something only they could feel as twin gods and hope Makoto wins the internal battle. The sword dissolves in her grasp and you let go of the breath you had thought to be your last. “You're both hurting and you might fight it but it's for the same reason. Chiyo was dear to all of us, so were Sasayori and the others but we cannot let their deaths bring about our own. What would they have fought for? Have died for?” Ei brushes the hand from her shoulder and walks towards the balcony in long strides. 
Makoto does nothing to stop her, choosing it best to let her storm settle on its own then to try and guide its course. She does turn to you, pleading you to understand — her sister only cares for the best of you. You don’t respond, staying glued to the floor while your mind tries to catch up to your heart. Ei pushes into the storm outside that leaves the doors rattling and a chill to the room. Tearing your gaze from the ground you look to your god, she now stands on the ledge head turned up towards the heavy rainfall. She looks almost strangely content with the chaos outside, you could still make out the rotting corpse of the great serpent in the distance. There is a pain bubbling from your gut as your heart still hammers in your chest. Is this the weight you must bear under the care of a god?
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THE DENDRO ARHCON Lesser Lord Kusanali | wc. 1.5k+
“Tell me: what do you think shapes a dream?”
You should have known something was wrong the moment Nahida had requested to see you personally. This wouldn’t be the first time one of the archons has requested something like this from you, however Nahida’s tone of voice somehow puts you on edge. The way it echoes in the hollow room she had led you in racks a chill down your spine.
“A dream is made solely by your emotions.” You recall this from your psychology class, the professor was so invested in the topic it was kinda hard to forget. “Whatever fuels that of your wishes, memories and abstract thoughts all tie into what can shape a dream when you fall asleep.” You’ve recited that line so many times before that final exam and still remember being so pissed it was never even mentioned within the test. “However, the worries that rest in the back of your mind might also shift the course of a dream as well.”
“Hmm. I had never thought of it that way.” Nahida curls her hand under her chin thinking, “would that be the same case for a nightmare?” 
“I would assume so…yes.” There is a piece you’re missing in the puzzle of questions. Her curiosity is hiding something else, something that you can’t picture right out but you do feel it with every passing second. “But why would someone try to sleep with negative emotions moving through their head?”
If it weren’t for the fact that you knew this is a virtual world you would have been fooled to see Nahida as the child that she is. Her small frame looks up at you expectantly; being the only person in her world to ever know more than that of her vast case of knowledge, she treats you much more like a new toy to play around with than as the high god everyone else believes you to be. 
That in and of itself is both a blessing and a curse.
“Sometimes it can’t be helped.” You try to not think about it but you tell yourself this everyday now. “It’s something we can’t fight…the negative emotions, they are always with us because we never know what the future will hold.” 
“It's all a random chance of time. One day, you could find yourself on the receiving end of a terrible storm, you could walk straight into dog poop with brand new shoes or you could even walk into a meeting with all your clothes inside out…One day you could lose a loved one, you could walk into a store and see your house in flames on the news, you could even-”
“Be trapped with no way home.” Your eyes widen. Nahida’s head is tilted ever so slightly, eyes squinted and you realize she is studying your reaction, “y-yeah you could.”
“Fascinating.”
You don’t even realize it but your voice waivers, “What is?”
Nahida looks away from you to her holo-screen behind her. With delicate fingers she swipes through files and documents you can’t catch sight of until her little fingers stop on one. You can make out the screen and it looks like a video. She taps it.
A screen materializes before you and the video plays. Image looks like the holding cells of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, but the person within the cell looks like no character you have seen in game at all. It isn’t like you remember every npc within this world, however, each character has similar features that make it obvious in telling who is who. Could this be a new character? There is no knowledge of them in recent patch notes.
Nahida’s voice startles you. 
“Oh…you must be curious? This is user 804897112. Although the name he chose at the start was Starlord, his real name is Chris.”
What?
“It took him four weeks before he slipped up. They hadn’t noticed him as the Creator of that server yet but when he went around sprouting drunk nonsense about the Archon War at Angel Share things took a turn.” You haven’t been watching the screen, too caught up on understanding what Nahida had just said but the scream catches you off guard.
That person. That real life person, Chris, is chained and on his knees before Jean, Rosaria, Kaeya, Diluc and Venti. Kaeya’s sword is jabbed into Chris’ shoulder, Rosaria looks to be trying to get him to cough up any information he knows but you can’t hear anything. Did Nahida only want you to hear that screams? There is a troubled look on Jean’s face like she’s reluctant to continue this, but Venti says something that rouses everyone in the room and pales Chris’ skin. He’s crying now, snotty and nasty as Diluc beelines to him with his heavy blade.
Diluc’s greatsword raises and you gasped in horror as its brought down on Chris’ head. Out of sheer fear you clutch your own neck. Blood seeps out in a sparkle of gold and they all stand as stunned as you, the poor boy’s head tumbling over in the pool of it blood. The video ends there.
It’s hard to breathe and you're given no time to recover yourself as another plays. “This is user 119876532, Diana. She asked questions about Scaramouche’s true origins to the Shogunate. Knowledge no one should possess and again before the establishment of her identity as Creator.” This one carries no build and is from a farther angle atop a tree, like from the perch in the eyes of a bird, but it's all so vividly clear. The girl is tied to her knees before the shogun, spilling out words too quickly for you read and understand. There is no need to though, Ei is as calm as ever. She listen to Diana’s rambling, and for a second you think she might believe whatever she’s saying. Five seconds later, you watch Diana die in the same flash of lightning as La Signora.
You can’t stand now, legs given out in the horror of it all. The videos continue like this until you can’t bear to look at the screen anymore.
User 908765342 crushed by meteorite hurled by Zhongli. User 743828950 — Sam, found dismembered by a pack of hilichurls. Robert gets mauled by a geovishap. Lee can’t take it anymore and…
“Why?” The tears fall from your eyes in heavy waves. “Why show me all this? Why tell me about all these people? I don’t-”
It all connects in seconds: they found out about you.
You move to stand hurriedly and make a beeline for the exit but your feet stay planted to the floor with the sight before you. The Doctor stands grinning from ear to ear. He clasps his hands together with a sigh of glee. “You ask why and it’s simple: you survived.”
He’s on you in an instant, tightly holding your wrists in his hands and preventing your escape no matter how hard you thrash. He breathes into your neck harshly and you sob. He whispers breathlessly into your ear how he has never been this fascinated, this drawn to a specimen before and promises to be gentle in your dissection. Nahida watches you with wide interested eyes as you struggle in hope of saving yourself. You cry out to them, to your guards, to Lumine or Dehya or Thoma. To anyone who would hear you even though no one can. But still…
You scream.
Cyno breaks down your door, his gaze looking over the room hastily to find the culprit to dare stir the peaceful slumber of the Creator.
It was a dream? It was a dream and yet your wrists burn, the images of all those people looked so real.
Was this a sign? Would that happen to you if any of them ever found out? Have they already started to suspect something? What if you don’t ever get out of here? What if-
“Your grace?” Cyno’s hand brings you back to reality, hard. His fingers feel almost frozen over against the skin of shoulder and you flinch away in such a haste it brings crease to his brows. You almost question why he runs so cold but with him looking at you with so much concern you don’t think it's him that is the problem. “Do I need to go get Tighnari? I will only be a couple hours but I could stop by our Archons domain just so-”
“No!” Your voice is filled with fright, but it’s obvious that the sheer volume of your scream is what stuns him the most. You can feel the sweat run down your temple and the pound of your heart so aggressively in your ears. It takes you far too long to compose yourself but you are grateful that Cyno listens and just stands by your side.
“There is no need for all of that. I’m just a little shaken.” He doesn’t seem to take your word for it but when you explain that it was only a dream and not some illness that caused this he is partially relieved. “The doctor won’t be needed for this and it isn’t like this is something of his expertise.” 
Cyno offers a quick nod before he settles in a chair at your desk. He shuffles closer to your bedside with a cross to his arms and a tense raise of his shoulders. You can’t blame him for staying alert; dreams are a new phenomenon within Sumeru and with the few months you have known him, you know Cyno doesn’t do well with handling business he cannot comprehend for himself.
It takes too long for you to finally get calm within the safety of your own bed, but it does help that Cyno — as loyal to you as he once was to the akademiya — stays by your side the whole night. 
It gets hard trying to keep your mind from blurring the line between your life outside and the one within this game. Watching Cyno sleep next to you, the steady rise and fall of his chest is far too detailed for your sensitive mind to keep considering these people aren’t real people. A Sumeru rose, a gift handed to you by a child of the city, loses a petal and you watch the leaf fall then blow in a spark of pixels. You’ve been here too long. 
You need to get out . . . and soon.
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THE EVERLASTING GOD OF ARCANE WISDOM : Scaramouche | wc. 1.2k+
You should have known this could have been another one of the Doctor’s tricks.
You are privy to his experiments and know just about everything there is to know about his latest desires as a man of knowledge…but it seems you have gotten too relaxed within his presence to suspect that you were the next pawn to be sacrificed within this long orchestrated game.
Being left to go through with the final reports on the Balladeer’s status without his supervision should have been the first and only sign needed to show you something else was at play here. The Doctor was always to see everything himself, deeming everyone else — even you — inferior to his intellect and prone to time consuming slip ups. Why you would ever trust an order like this for its face value you will never know. But now you can tell it was a mistake.
The laboratory has been cleared on the orders of the Doctor, and yet you feel like you have been being watched ever since you have entered the building.
Since you entered Sumeru for the matter.
Pushing away the chills, you check the sixth harbinger’s vitals. Everything looks to be in order but that is to be as expected; the Doctor had said this could be close to being his greatest creation and that would obviously show in his work. You hum triumphantly and quickly move on to the next task. The body of the Prodigal is kept in a separate room, with how massive the final product came to be it was bound to happen. It is still mesmerizing to know how much raw power is stored within a gnosis on its own. Crazy how an item so small is able to create mass destruction in the world.
Everything seems in perfect shape when you finally reach the test sight. The distant hum of the overhanging lights do little to add any glory to the giant machine before you. Even without eyes its looming figure looks down upon you as if it can tell the significant power difference between you two. Dottore had told you it was nonsense; the Balladeer would be in a state of hypostasis until his body finally converges with the power of the electro gnosis. He couldn’t possibly be able to tell a slime from a hilichurl let alone know when anyone enters the room. 
You find it — much like everything else that comes with interacting with the Doctor —  demeaning. He undermines everyone and if it weren’t for his rank you'd have thought he was just too full of himself. His genius could be on a par with the dendro archon but that's something you’ll never admit even to the nicest of his segments. 
Data shows that Scaramouche is still stable. The gnosis too somehow remains with a constant flow of energy as it diverts power to the main systems. It still eludes you how someone like Scaramouche can handle power as strong as this for as long as he has. Though you do not know the criteria of the ranking amongst harbingers, his order in the hierarchy holds true.
So caught up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed how close you had gotten to the body. If that presence was intimidating at a distance it pales in comparison to being up close. It towers above like the clock-house in Snezhnaya, arms and hands long and big enough to crush you whole. You shake your head from the thought. 
Your hand reaches to touch the machine. The metal is cold to the touch but there is a sensation of static that travels along your arm the longer you linger there. By the time you move your hand away ready to depart to report back to Dottore, a sudden shock sparks from your hand. You pull it back with a wince. This must be an unforeseen side effect to the gnosis. 
All at once your head throbs with white noise. It starts off faint but then rises to ring above all else. At first you believe it to be a faulty pipeline and look around for any signs of damage but yet again you see the perfectly unharmed lab. The sound is overwhelming and you can feel something pressing into the back of your mind. Memories not of your own flash before your eyes.
The sensations are too much to bear and you collapse when it's all too much at once. The moment you come too it feels different. The buzzing in your arm has spread throughout your body, and the noise that filled your mind is now gone, replaced by knowledge that leaves you weighted to the ground trying to understand it all.
The Balladeer…Scaramouche is…
“Was a puppet.” The voice is familiar and you cannot believe that its real. “A puppet that now wields a greater power than that of the god who chose to abandon him all those years ago.” He has ascended and so soon. Dottore’s notes were foolproof, everything down to the last decimal was precise so how could his hypothesis be false?
Scaramouche offers a snarl, and it's only now that you can register that he is inside your head with his reply, “because Dottore is a buffoon. He will always underestimate someone who he believes he could outsmart at any game, under any circumstance and do so without question. It’s that pride that will be his undoing in due time.” He walks around you, there are long pauses between every sentence and he speaks as if you will be overwhelmed by him just looking in your direction. You don’t know why you feel so grateful for it.
“Enough about him though.” He stops to kneel down to where you lay on the ground. His hand ever so delicately lifts your chin to meet his gaze and he gives you opportunity to look away. You don’t. “Let me see into you.”
Words filter through your head without him even needing to open his mouth. You’ve been connected to him by the soul, a pact between your compatible life force and his new godly abilities that were enforced the moment you touched him through the machine. You’ve been chosen as his first and whatever that entitles you don’t know but you do feel the tears roll down your eyes. Your mind cannot decipher if they are tears of joy or resentment of this new god.
Why are you calling him that?
Scaramouche wipes them away with a wicked smile. “No need for sorrow my chosen. For as your new god I will craft a world for you that leaves no room for those emotions to ever cross your features again. The Everlasting God of Arcane Wisdom will pave a way for your salvation and my glory to rise. So long as you put your faith in me and me alone.”
His hands fall from your face as he stands, but they still remain outstretched to you. The invitation hangs in the air and yet his smile never waivers like he knows what you will choose him over anything else. Like you will choose him over life itself. 
And for a moment you think you will.
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a/n: this is very dark of me and really shouldn’t be my comeback post but rewatching nahida’s introduction really had me in the mood to bring our archons back into the light. also yes i am formally back to writing so do expect more posts soon to come.
p/s: furina version will be up as soon as i catch up enough with her character.
276 notes · View notes
drunk-on-dk · 1 year
Text
With Somebody Else | Kim Mingyu (m)
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✦pairing: fwb!Mingyu x fem!reader
✦genre: SMUT (minors DNI) fluff? angst? fwb feels yenno
✦wc: ~3.0 and some change
✦summary: No longer being able to go back and forth with Mingyu, you decide to seek out somebody else.
NSFW warnings under the cut, minors do not read, 18+ only
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✦warnings: no specific pronouns used, but reader has female anatomy; pet names (baby); switch?Mingyu; switch?reader; unprotected sex (safety first pls); gyu has a big dick; grinding; mingyu loves praise; a bit of tears; mentions of alcohol
✦a/n: this was a quick lil thing i wrote up because somebody else by the 1975 has resurfaced in my life and that song is what led me to this. I hope you all enjoy! I tried a lil bit of a different writing style, so I'm hoping it still paces ok. As always I appreciate all feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs <3
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Mingyu should have been relieved when he found out you were seeing somebody else for the first time. In fact, he thought it was a lie when Seungcheol filled him in on the details that you’ve been dating someone for the past couple of weeks. However, something ached deep down in Mingyu’s chest upon hearing the news, a fake smile falling onto his features and watching the amber liquid swirl around half-melted ice cubes.
Seungcheol’s knowing gaze was enough to break down Mingyu’s walls. “I just can’t picture Y/N with somebody else.”
Meanwhile, you were desperate to break the string that tied you to Mingyu like a tetherball. Unfortunately, it was like a slow tear, with you fraying away at the other end of the string, and finally cutting yourself loose. It was too complicated, Mingyu didn’t want to pursue dating for fear that it would ruin the dynamic of the friend group, but you honestly couldn’t handle anything less than dating at this point. Mingyu was a kind, loving guy, but his lack of commitment frightened you, thus leading you to finally cut your ties as friends with benefits.
It was difficult, at least to say, as you were stuck with Mingyu regardless of how hard you tried to distance yourself. You saw him at Seungcheol’s pre-games, heard about how he made the final kill shot on the video game Seokmin was playing, scrolled past his recent Instagram post, and he just generally clouded your mind, remembering sweet things he’s done for you all these years as a friend.
You knew what you had to do, you had to start seeing other people, and you could no longer go to Mingyu with wishful thinking that you both were something more than just friends with benefits.
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Mingyu didn’t believe you when you declared that you couldn’t see him like this again for the first time. He didn’t believe you when you said you two could only be friends. Not when he had you like this, legs wrapped tightly around his waist and cock nuzzled deep inside you.
He refused to believe you, not at all, continuing to thrust slowly into you and nibbling on your tender skin. “You don’t mean that one bit, baby. I know you love this cock.”
You weren’t sure you believed your words either, but Mingyu’s words hit you right where it hurts. You did love his cock, but you weren’t sure that was just it. Suddenly, friends with benefits became way too complicated and overwhelming for you. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, Mingyu being sure to kiss them away as he repeatedly hit that one spot deep inside of you that had you clenching tightly around him.
“Fuck, I do love your cock,” you moan out, admitting the very least for now, and trying to make the best of what you assume will be the last.
Mingyu’s lips capture yours, tasting slightly salty from the way he picked up your tears with gentle kisses. Mingyu groans into you as your nails dig into his skin, losing himself in the way your walls throb around him as he picks up his pace. He can’t stop kissing you, relentlessly fucking into you as your walls suck him in deeper, loving the way you whimper and moan into his mouth.
He knows you’re close, he knows your body better than anyone else does or ever will, and he’s confident of that. This is exactly why he doesn’t believe you, not believing that you two could ever go back to just being friends. Not when you both make each other feel this good.
Mingyu is calculated, a large hand running down your body until it finds its way to your clit and his rough thumb rubbing at your swollen clit. He knows you’ll finish like this, pulling away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure, taking note of your slightly raw cheeks from your crying. You're still so beautiful, even when you're a mess beneath him.
He’s correct that you were nearing your finish, watching you come undone underneath him as he follows suit, releasing his hot cum inside of you as you both moan and groan in ecstasy.
You both fell asleep in each other’s arms that night, but Mingyu didn’t wake up with you beside him in the morning like he normally does. Maybe there was some truth in your words, but Mingyu didn’t believe you had it in you to hold out for long. Mingyu knew you’d come back to him eventually.
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It was annoying – infuriating actually – how you hadn’t looked up once from your phone, Mingyu wanted to wipe that stupid, cute smile off your face. He wondered if it annoyed your friends as well, how immersed you were with your phone that you couldn’t even enjoy the conversations taking place around you.
He realized it didn’t bother anyone except him, especially when Seokmin cooed upon noticing how flustered you seemed from a text message, “Looks like Y/N has the hots for someone finally.”
Mingyu had to suppress the jealously that bubbled up from deep down inside of him, hating the way his heart stammered at the adorable blush and shy smile that adorned your features.
Why couldn’t he do that? Why didn’t he make you that flustered? Why were you sticking to your words? Why were you seeing other people? And why is he just a friend to you again? Was it that simple for you?
Mingyu found himself kicking you gently underneath the table, yearning to touch you somehow as he has been missing it for quite some time now. You looked up from your phone for the first time in a while, your sparkling eyes catching his with a small smile that slowly became a scowl.
“What do you want, Gyu?” You mouthed from across the table, stubbornly taking a sip of your drink to avoid his gaze and knowing that you need to avoid him at all costs.
“Come get some air outside with me,” he’s pouting, and you can’t help but oblige. Even though you’re weak for him, you can’t ignore him since he is still technically one of your best friends.
You should have known that following him outside would have been a bad idea. The second Mingyu had you pressed up against the cool brick wall, whispering sweet nothings with his gentle tone should have had you running back inside the bar to your friends.
“Mingyu,” you pant out, his hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps down your neck and his hands begin to gently roam your waist. “We can’t do this, I told you we can’t be anything more than friends.”
“You know that’s not true,” he breathes out after pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me as bad as I want you.”
He’s right, you can’t deny the way your hips keen into his, but you also can’t deny that your date is supposed to be picking you up from this bar any minute now. “Mingyu, I can’t, the person I’ve been seeing is on their way to come to get me, and you just have to respect my choices.”
Mingyu is like a kicked puppy, pulling away from you instantly with a look of betrayal, “You’re seriously seeing somebody else?”
“Yes, Gyu,” you sigh out, running a hand through your hair, not feeling prepared at all to have another conversation about lacking the commitment you need from him. “You know exactly why I’m seeing someone else.”
Those words stung Mingyu for the rest of the night. He did know why; he hated that he couldn’t give you what you wanted in the first place and hated that he couldn’t give you the sense of security that you needed. Mingyu didn’t understand why he couldn’t in the first place, he’d love to date you and would love to treat you the way you deserve. Nothing stung more than your words than watching you leave the bar after bidding everyone goodbye, giddy to be picked up by your date. Mingyu couldn’t help the way his hand lingered on your waist a little too long, and you yourself seemed a bit hesitant to leave Mingyu’s grasp as you left.
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Mingyu absolutely disliked seeing you around with your new fling. He hated when you’d bring them with to game nights or when you’d simply post a story at a café with them.
He absolutely despised when he had to sit around you two, listening to your melodious giggles and watching you lean in to whisper in their ear. Mingyu just wished he could tell you to never bring them around again because seriously, in comparison to him, he could 100% treat you better and he’d prove it if he could now.
Mingyu would attempt to sneak you away, his charm always winning you over, and he was usually successful in his attempts. He didn’t care if he looked like a dick to your date, he only cared about having you alone and being the one who made you smile.
Sometimes things would feel like they were back to normal, and you two would end up shamelessly flirting, which was always in the background of your friendship even before you two started hooking up. He’d find himself leaning into you, and he could swear that you’d lean towards him too, your lips almost like magnets as you’re pulled towards one another.
However, that moment would be ruined when you’d be swept away by your date once again. All Mingyu could do was watch you disappear into the crowd, feeling like he’s lost all chances at ever truly having you.
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Mingyu wasn’t sure what he was expecting when you showed up at his door late one night, storming right past him and welcoming yourself into his apartment before he could even question why you were there.
He couldn’t even get a word out, your hands had already grabbed the sides of his face and you wasted no time pulling him into a hungry kiss, full of passion and desire that you’d been suppressing for God knows how long.
No one fucked you the way Mingyu could. No one knew you the way Mingyu could. No one treated you the way Mingyu could.
Mingyu melted into you, arms wrapping greedily around you as if he never wanted to let you go ever again. In all honesty, he had started losing hope, truly starting to believe that you would stay true to your word of staying just friends.
However, tonight proved him none the wiser, you seemed desperate for him, pushing his tall frame that towered over you all the way to his bedroom. Frantically undressing yourself, Mingyu followed along and pulled off his own clothing as you stripped down to the bare minimum.
Mingyu released a sigh at seeing you in your full glory again, hands reaching out to caress your curves, but pouting when you shove his hands away.
“You’re going to take what I give you,” you command, pinning down his hands and straddling his thighs on his bed, “and you’re not going to complain once, or I’ll take my ass to someone else.”
Mingyu nods desperately, hips grinding up so that his erection can rub against your hot cunt. He almost lets out a whine, immediately noticing how wet you are already, and needing to feel the inside of you as soon as possible, or else he might burst. Tsking at him, you rise slightly as if to warn him, but you quickly drop back down on him, running his length through your folds and letting out a moan from the pleasure of having him this close to you again.
“God, Gyu,” you coo, holding his hands above his head and feeling dizzy at the way he bites down on his lip, your slick gliding against him as you grind down on his length, jumping slightly as the tip of his head brushes your clit. “You were right, I fucking love your cock, and I need it so bad.”
“You can have it, baby,” Mingyu groans, muscles tensing as you restrain him and needily grind against him. He could easily overpower you, but he loves when you lead like this. “Use me, make yourself cum on my cock.”
Your body shivers on top of him, and Mingyu can’t restrain himself from latching his lips on your pebbled nipples, basking in the way you writhe above him, and how your wetness makes you glide so easily over him.
You can’t wait any longer, one hand reaching down as another hand travels to his chest to balance yourself. You guide his length into your folds, your walls taking in his familiar length, even though he’s still too big to take in one go.
Mingyu lets you take your time, his hands tightly grip your hips, loving the way the plump flesh ripples from how harshly his fingers dig into your skin.  Simultaneously, you both let out a moan when you take him in completely, the tip of his head nuzzled deep inside of you as your walls pulse around him.
He attempts to buck up into you, but you hold him down, reminding him what you said earlier, “you’ll take what I give you, Gyu.”
Mingyu obeys, even when you begin to tease him with your hands running up his chest, cheeky fingers pinching at his nipples, and your tongue leaving a hot trail up to his neck. You do all this while rolling your hips against him, letting your walls adjust to his size as you nip and kiss at his skin until your lips finally reattach to his.
Mingyu can no longer keep his hands to himself, taking fistfuls of your ass, squeezing the muscle, and guiding you as you ride him. As much as you’d like to stay in control, you love the slight twinge of pain from his tight grip on you, and the pleasure that comes along with the friction of his length moving in and out of your tight pussy.
The kiss is messy as you continue to ride him, his teeth biting at your bottom lip and moaning when he grazes that spot inside of you that only he can reach. “Fuck, only you can fuck me like this, love everything about you.”
It’s a slight confession that you’ll regret in hindsight, but you don’t miss the way he matches your movements as you ride him, starry eyes staring up at you as you begin to lean back. Mingyu is convinced he’s in love himself, but he couldn’t admit that just now. In the meantime, he soaks in the way you lean back, chest on display for him as you hold onto his knees and continue to ride him expertly.
He swears you’re beautiful just like this (even though you’re beautiful all the time, admittedly). He would have never imagined that his best friend could take him so well, fuck him so well, and make his stomach flutter and head rush like how you do.
Mingyu almost loses it when you pull his body up to yours, the push of your chest against his and the feeling of your skin making him impossibly harder inside of you. You use his shoulders as support, bouncing up and down on his cock and letting his lips work at your skin.
You can tell he’s close, from the bead of sweat that runs down his chest, from the way he throbs inside of you, and from the pathetic whiney moan that escapes his lips. His hands become desperate, palming at your skin wherever he can grab and make you moan. You continue to breathe out praises to him, letting him know that you couldn’t ever get enough of his cock, that it’s perfect for you, and that he’s such a good toy.
Mingyu cums inside of you from all the praise, unable to hold back the hot ropes that fill you as your walls clench impossibly tighter around him. Watching and hearing him lose himself so pathetically beneath you has you finishing with him, your body shaking with his as he fills you deep inside. You both shiver upon lifting from him, watching the cum drip from your folds as you hold yourself above him, Mingyu dropping a finger down to your core to collect himself and pump it back in between your swollen folds.
Mingyu doesn’t let you go that night, hands roaming your body and lips constantly reconnecting with yours until you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.
That next morning Mingyu was relieved to find you next to him. Mingyu couldn’t hide the smirk on his face when you rolled over to cuddle closer to him, knowing that you couldn’t ever hold out from him no matter what.
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Seungcheol had kept a close eye on you two these past couple of months, knowing exactly when you and Mingyu had started hooking up, knowing exactly when things got weird (hence the dating), and exactly when you two were back at it. He was sick of you two skirting around everyone, eyeing you both suspiciously as Mingyu shyly flirted with you at the bar.
Seungcheol almost felt bad for the poor guy, knowing he just needed the push to ask you out for real, and knowing that Mingyu was helplessly head over heels for you. Mingyu was alarmed when Seungcheol firmly placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from you for the first time that night.
Leaning toward Mingyu, Seungcheol whispered a warning in his ear, “I swear to god, if you don’t ask Y/N out by next weekend, I’ll beat your ass for making it weird for all of us here.”
Mingyu couldn’t stop the toothy smile that took over his features, sending a wink Seungcheol’s way, “believe me, I’m working on it. There will be no more ‘somebody else’ by next weekend.”
Making sure to stick to his word, Mingyu no longer let anybody else into your heart other than him.
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harryslittlefreakk · 3 months
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to build a home
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Summary: buzz cut!rry and y/n spend their first new year’s together after splitting up and they look back on happier times. inspired by the song!
Warnings: sad!rry 🥲 fluff, smut
A/n: a little new year’s drabble !! wishing everybody happiness and love for the year ahead 💖
you can join my general taglist here!
and find the rest of my writing here 🫶🏼 enjoy!
Harry had been here countless times before, though this was one of his first times as a guest. He reached inside his pocket for his keys instinctively, muscle memory from all the times he’d slumped through the door after a long day at work, all the times he’d stumbled inside with one hand wandering all over your body. But now he was standing on the doorstep, cold and nervous with one hand gripping onto a key ring that no longer held a key to your home.
He could hear the bustle of a party inside, the low beat of music echoing from the sound system he’d chosen. Every inch of the house, even from the outside, had traces of both you and him written into the walls. The only thing that was all you was the ‘for sale’ sign posted at the end of the driveway.
He remembered the day you’d spotted the house, the slim building covered in climbing wisteria, squealing from across the road as you pointed out the ‘for sale’ sign. You’d been walking back to the car after viewing a different house, desperately trying to find somewhere to make a home together. He’d called to enquire about the house as you stood there pinned to his side, imagining what you could do with all the different rooms. You’d moved in only a few months later, renovating the house together through the lonely months of the pandemic, spending your days covered in dust and paint but never feeling happier.
Harry bit the bullet and rang your doorbell, fingers clenched tightly around the neck of the bottle you bought. He watched for movement through the frosted door, shifting awkwardly as he ran a hand through what was left of his hair. He’d shaved it on a whim, too many rom-coms telling him you needed to do something drastic after a breakup, and since he already had tattoos, a haircut was the only possible solution.
“Hey, Harry,” you smiled, cheeks already stained pink from the alcohol. He knew you well enough to know you liked a few glasses while cooking, a final one as you finished setting up the drinks and nibbles, and a bottle or two as you danced with friends. You looked beautiful, one of his old band t-shirts tucked into a sparkly silver skirt, waved hair draped around your shoulders. Harry leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek, holding out the champagne bottle in his hand with an awkward smile. “S’for you,” he told you, shuffling into the doorway. He kicked off his shoes, eyes glued to the floor as he followed you into the living room. Too uncomfortable to acknowledge that he knew this house like the back of his hand, somewhat too proud to remember all the times you’d snuggled together on the sofa his friends were now sitting on. You stopped suddenly, swivelling to look back at him with parted lips. “Your hair,” you gasped, instinctively reaching out a hand to touch it. It snapped back to your side, your heart in your throat as you apologised. “Sorry, I-”
“Just fancied a change,” Harry told you, rubbing his hand across the top. You plastered a grin back onto your face, turning back on your heel wordlessly as your friends stood to greet him. You’d decided to stay civil for them, for the sake of keeping the peace within the group you’d grown close to together throughout your years as a couple. You hadn’t ended on bad terms, merely a result of wanting different things from your life. Harry’s priority had always been his music, and as much as he loved you, you both knew he couldn’t resist the offer of a new tour or new shows halfway across the world. You wanted a family, your uninterrupted time together during the pandemic leaving you wanting more. He wanted a family too, but you knew the majority of the parenting would fall on you while he was out doing what he loved, and somewhat selfishly, that wasn’t the life you wanted. These were all things you’d known when your relationship became serious, but you’d foolishly believed he’d change. You never wanted to change him, never wanted to take away his love of performing, but you needed him to be more present. Sleeping on a tour bus and following your love around the world was fun, but it wasn’t a lifestyle you could keep up forever.
Harry gazed around the room as he spoke with Mitch and Sarah, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hands. It hadn’t changed at all since the morning he’d moved out, framed pictures of the two of you still littered across the shelves. His awards still sat on the bookcase, shiny and void of dust as if they were your prized possessions. It sent a chill through him, to be sat here smiling in the house he’d bought for you, unchanged except for the lack of him. He was heartbroken and yet relieved when you told him you wanted to sell the house, the idea of different men one day sleeping in his bed too much to bear. He stood up suddenly, excusing himself from the conversation and padded over towards the back door, fingers tracing across the edge of the dining table as he walked through. You watched him go, slipping away to follow him as your guests continued to talk and dance.
Harry was perched on the steps of your patio, eyes wandering across the dark night sky. He glanced over at you as you plopped down next to him, scooting over slightly to give you more space. “How did we get here?” he murmured, swilling the liquor around the walls of his glass - something, anything to distract from the tears forming in his eyes. You sighed, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. “I’m a guest in my own house.”
“Harry-” you started, eyes trailing across his face. “I was meant to be enough for you, I wanted to be enough for you.” He turned to face you, green eyes glistening in the moonlight. “You’re everything, H. I just needed a little more,” you told him, resting your head against his shoulder.
“If I was everything I wouldn’t be living in a rented apartment on the other side of the city.”
“I know, I know,” you whispered, choking back the start of tears. “I miss you every day Harry,” you confessed, words barely coherent between sobs. He wrapped an arm around you, his owns tears spilling out from heavy-lidded eyes. “I love you,” he told you, thumb rubbing delicately across your back. You stayed that way for a while, drinking in the silence around you both, hurt lingering in the air.
“It’s nearly midnight,” Sarah called out from the door, bringing you back to reality. Youd been sat there in dead silence for over half an hour, an unspoken conversation echoing around your minds. Harry tapped his hand against your back, sniffing away the last of any long-dried tears as he stood up. You turned to watch him slip past Sarah’s petite frame as she padded over to pull you to your feet, draping an arm over your shoulder as you walked back through the house. “Ok?” she asked, slipping a glass of prosecco into your hands as you rejoined the group. You’d set up the projector earlier ready to display the new year’s countdown and fireworks. You clicked it on just before the huge ‘10’ flashed across the living rooms bare wall, purposely left that way for when you and Harry wanted to cuddle and watch films in the late evenings.
Your friends shouted every number excitedly, party poppers and kazoos ready to blow as the clock struck midnight. Everyone shifted around to cuddle up in their couples, arms wrapped around each other ready for their new year’s kiss, leaving only you and Harry stood on your own, feet away from each other where usually you’d be pressing drunken kisses to each other’s mouths before the countdown even finished. Your heart was pounding in your chest as the numbers got lower. 2024 would be the first year you started without Harry in half a decade.
3
He yanked on your hand, pulling you into his side
2
He smiled down at you, wrapping an arm around your waist
1
He cupped your cheek with his cold hand, leaving you staring up at him with parted lips
Happy New Year
Echoed around the room as he dove towards you, lips crashing against your mouth. It was hard but gentle, soft yet deep, his mouth immediately melding with yours in a heartbreakingly familiar way.
“For old times sake,” he whispered, eyes glinting as he pulled away. You were speechless still, his kiss saying so much and yet not enough. “Harry,” you whispered, tugging him closer to you. Here, buried into his chest, feeling the same old little butterflies flit in your stomach, you were happier than you’d been in months.
Harry lingered in the kitchen as the last of your friends filtered out, scrubbing at dishes in the kitchen sink, nervous hands needing to find something to do. He heard the front door click shut, followed by the sound of your bare feet padding across the wooden floors, stopping behind him. He turned around to see you leaned up against the dining table, watching him. “You don’t need to do that, H,” you murmured, rim of a wine glass pressed against your mouth. “Wanted to,” he smiled, placing the last plate onto the drying rack and drying his hands on his trousers. He stalked towards you, grazing the back of his hand over your blushed cheek. “Stay here tonight,” you told him, the alcohol adding an over-confident edge to your nervousness.
He picked you up, just high enough to sit you down on the edge of the table, green eyes trailing over your face as you stared back at him, eyes wide and cheeks warm. His gaze was dark, caught somewhere between pain and lust. They dragged across your face, again and again, searching for any sign hesitance or doubt. When you didn’t flinch under his stare, his lips found yours again. Soft at first, tongue nudging delicately at your teeth for permission to lick into your mouth, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair. You chuckled against his lips as you felt nothing to grab onto, hand instead splayed across the tickle of his stubbly head.
He pulled back for a second, leaning behind you to clear a space at the end of the table before guiding your torso back until your back was flush with the wood. His hands shoved your skirt up around your waist, mouth peppering gentle kisses up and down your thighs. His touch felt so foreign, yet so much like home. He was so gentle with you now, not able to throw you around like he used to. Every move was tentative, careful not to push you too far, as if he ever could.
Harry hooked a finger under the band your pants, the tip of him grazing over your folds. He held them to the side with one hand, head lazing against your thigh as he looked over your pussy, groaning at the sight he’d longed for every day you’d been apart. He’d always craved you, just needing a little touch or taste to get through the day, or celebrate the end of a long one. He pressed a kiss into your entrance, true affection coursing through his bones. His tongue darted out, almost involuntarily, licking a stripe along your centre, then pausing to see how you’d react. When your hips bucked into him, impatient and starved of his touch for too long, he began to lick and lap at you, murmuring contently as he tasted your sweet juices on his tongue. He moved slow but with purpose, savouring the moment rather than chasing after your high as he used to. You’d never think having someone’s head between your thighs could be romantic, but this was about as romantic and loving as it could be. He was licking into you with care and attention, smirking against your folds as you writhed around, constantly trying to grab at his non-existent hair. The stubble was tickling your inner thighs as he moved, something you were used to from his chin but it felt better now. He was different, changed since you last saw him, and yet still the same perfect man.
He slipped a digit inside of you, pulling the thoughts from your mind as he began pushing into your sweet spot, tongue fucking into you simultaneously. He’d usually be spilling out obscenity by now, rasping against your folds in the way he knew you loved. But like this, silent except for the tiny moans and groans emitted from you both, you felt reborn. Approaching everything differently, vulnerable to each other’s wants and needs. His lips wrapped around your clit, feeling your legs beginning to shake beneath him and knowing you needed that one final push. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, back arching off the table as your juices ran down his hand. It was so simple, so easy and still perfect. “Happy new year,” he whispered, pressing a kiss onto your mound as he finally came up for air.
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