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ellemj · 5 months

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Insufferable: 12 Days of Smut #2

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You and Bucky get separated from Sam and Sharon during a mission in Madripoor and are stranded in a motel room until you can get in touch with them again. How do two sworn enemies pass the time?

Warnings: profanity, teasing, fingering, possessive!Bucky, oral sex (male receiving), slight face fucking, female masturbation, unprotected sex, praise, some use of y/n, hate sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I feel like this one is better than yesterday's but idk. @littlemiss-yeehaw helped me make some executive dialogue decisions and helped keep Bucky as the hot little shit that we all know him to be.

Power Broker is watching. You’ve read the spray-painted words on the wall a million times now as you stand in the dark alleyway, telling yourself over and over again that picking a fight with Bucky isn’t going to make your current situation any better. Even if it is his fault that you’re miles from where you should be, being chased by god knows how many bounty hunters, and so far from Sharon and Sam that your comms aren’t even working at this point. Fuck it, you’ll pick a fight.

“Is this how you wanted to spend Christmas Eve?” You spit out the question with as much malice as you can, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the brick wall of some shuttered, probably illegal business. Bucky’s face contorts in annoyance as he lifts his right hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s getting so tired of you tonight. First, you stupidly thought it would be fine for you and Sharon to partner up and head out into Madripoor on your own. Sam and Bucky were quick to snuff out that idea, even though Sharon was fully on board with you. Nobody gives a shit if Sharon used to be the power broker here or if you have more kills under your belt than most other trained assassins on record. Madripoor is lawless, crawling with criminals who will never pay for their sins, and it’s no place for two attractive women to be running around alone. Even if you can both take care of yourselves, why invite conflict by walking around town without either Sam or Bucky as a deterrent? The fact that you didn’t want to walk around with the damn Winter Soldier right behind you was almost insulting. Did you question Bucky’s reputation? Do you not understand how notorious he is in a place like this?

“With you? No.” Bucky answers with just as much malice as you threw at him.

“Then you should’ve listened to me and let me and Sharon take the lead.” You scoff. Bucky shoots you an indignant look, but you stare right back at him with your own expression of disdain.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“That’s exactly why we’re in the situation we’re in now.” You mumble the words out just loud enough that he can hear them. He stands a few feet away from you and you watch him as his pulls his phone from a pocket of his tactical pants and begins typing away on it. You imagine he’s texting Sam a message that says something like if you don’t find us in the next two minutes I’m going to kill this girl. What he’s actually doing is searching up the nearest place that rents rooms to lowlifes without asking any questions. He wants the two of you off the street as fast as possible so he can try to get in contact with Torres and find out how to get your comms working again. Until comms are working, you’re basically doing everything blind, and that won’t work for Bucky. Not when he has to worry about three other lives besides his own.

The cloud of anger swirling around you isn’t quite thick enough to stop you from appreciating the way Bucky looks tonight. He’s dressed in his usual full tactical gear that he wears for most missions, with one unusual change: his vibranium arm is on full display. He picked a top that is conveniently missing the entire left sleeve. You understand why he chose it, knowing how his name and even his arm precedes him. One look at him tonight, at the colorful lights of Madripoor nightlife reflecting off of his dark metal arm, keeps even the most aggressive men here at bay. No one would dare mess with the Winter Soldier, especially not when he’s radiating as much anger as he is right now. Well, no one besides you.

“I’m not going to keep waiting around here for you to come up with a new plan.” You announce, pushing away from the brick wall and tossing your hair over your shoulder. Bucky looks up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at you. “We know where Sam and Sharon were headed, we can just meet them there.” You start heading for the street at the end of the alley, but just as you brush past Bucky, he grabs your arm roughly and stops you.

“No, we’re going to get somewhere safe and wait for Torres to fix comms before we do anything.” Bucky’s holding your arm tightly, keeping you just a couple of inches away from him as he looks down at you with a harsh gaze. You shake his grip off but don’t move away from him.

“What makes you think you get to decide on the new plan?” You ask, leaning in a little closer as the question leaves your lips. You almost let out a laugh when Bucky’s eyes flit down to your where your lips are mere inches from his own. You’ve done this dance with him before. You’ve been in plenty of these tense situations with him, moments in the field where you’re so against each other that you can’t decide if you want to fight him or fuck him. Of course, you’ve always simply fought him in the past. Fucking him was never actually an option, but hell, it sure is satisfying when he does something that lets you know he thinks about it as much as you do.

“I’ve already decided on the new plan. You can either go along with it or go out and get yourself killed. I’m starting to not really give a shit about what you do.” Bucky retorts. He looks down at his phone again, breaking the intense eye contact that you were sort of enjoying. “There’s a motel two blocks over. I say we go there and wait for Torres to figure out what the hell is wrong with comms.”

As much as you want to continue defying Bucky, you know it’d be a hell of a trek from here to wherever Sam and Sharon are right now. There’s also no guarantee that they made it to their destination, they could’ve run into any kind of trouble in a city like this. They might be acting out their own backup plan, just like you and Bucky. Bucky turns around and starts heading for the street, not even looking back to see if you’re following. When you let out a soft sigh and he hears your small footsteps echoing off of the brick walls, he knows he’s won this fight. He doesn’t even try to hide the smug look that’s spreading across his face. Winning an argument with you is something he can be proud of, because it doesn’t happen very often.

---

Christmas Eve in Madripoor. Has anything ever sounded sadder than that? Christmas Eve, surrounded by a community of people who have done enough horrendous things to rival the entire population of Guantanamo Bay. Bucky sinks into the only chair in the dingy little motel room, checking his phone once again to see if Torres has called him back yet. Still nothing. Nothing from Sam or Sharon either, though he didn’t expect anything from them since the area they were headed into is known to utilize various types of phone and device jammers, transmitting radio waves that block phones from connecting to cell towers.

You study Bucky from your place on the foot of the bed. He’s leaned back in the small armchair, clearly attempting to get comfortable but failing because he’s way too big for such a little seat. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest back, giving you a chance to really look at him. He’s let his stubble grow out a little more than usual this month, neglecting to really shave it with all of the back-to-back missions you’ve both been sent out on. It suits him. Someone as cold and calloused as Bucky shouldn’t have a smooth baby face. Your eyes coast further down, focusing on where you can just barely see his pulse on the side of his neck. You wonder how many times you’ve made his pulse quicken with anger in this last week alone. Probably enough to give the guy high blood pressure. Your gaze is just settling on his broad shoulders when his eyes blink open and he catches you staring.

“Are you going to sit there and stare at me until we get out of here?”

“Maybe. It’s what you do to everyone else, why can’t I try it out?” You ask. There’s a reason Sam likes to call him the bionic staring machine.

“Try it out?” Bucky laughs, lifting his head from the back of the chair now. “You stare all the time.”

“I do not.” You’re almost offended at his accusation. You? Staring all the time? At him? No fucking way. Maybe sometimes, but you thought you were covert enough about it that he never noticed. You just can’t help it sometimes. You’re intrigued by him every bit as much as you hate him. He’s over a hundred years old, yet he looks like he’s only a few years older than you. His taste in music is that of an elderly man, while his taste in clothes is perfectly in style with the current era. You hate the way he’s constantly berating you and attempting to order you around in the field, but you like the way he looks at you when you give in and take an order once in a blue moon. So, sometimes, you stare.

“You’ve been staring at my arm for half of the night.”

“Because it’s the only thing I like about you.”

“Right, the only thing.” Bucky repeats your words slowly, as if he’s tasting them. You maintain eye contact with him as he licks his bottom lip. Against your better judgement, your gaze darts down to his mouth, to his mouth that always seems to say things that drive you mad and turn you on simultaneously. “You know, I thought you might be nicer around Christmastime.” A genuine laugh breezes past your lips at the absolutely insane thought he’s just shared with you.

“It’s a little hard to be nice when we’re stuck on skull island on Christmas Eve, Bucky.”

“Be honest, you wouldn’t have been any nicer if we were back home.” He tilts his head to the side as he analyzes your body language. You’re sitting on the foot of the bed with your legs dangling over the edge. Your weight is resting back on the palms of your hands and you seem perfectly at ease. Bucky’s finding it a little surprising that you haven’t gotten up and made a dramatic exit yet. He’s surprised that you’re still going along with his plan at all honestly. He has to wonder why you’re so oddly content sitting here bantering back and forth with him while Torres takes his sweet time figuring things out.

“Wouldn’t you have been off to Sarah’s for Christmas if we were back home?” Bucky raises an eyebrow at your question. He didn’t know that you knew he was close with Sam’s family. Though, he probably should’ve assumed since you knew Sam long before he did. You’ve probably even met Sarah before.

“Maybe. Spending Christmas in the tower doesn’t sound very memorable.”

“It’s not.” You say softly, thinking back to the last three years. It’s not that you didn’t have anywhere to go for Christmas. In the past, Sam has invited you to go see Sarah and the kids the week of Christmas, even Clint extends an open invitation for you to spend every Christmas with his family. But something about being around happy families on the biggest holiday of the year makes you feel the same way you do when you’re third-wheeling Wanda and Vision. You like to be around the Christmas cheer and festivities but you feel like you don’t fully belong. You’ve spent the last three Christmases in the tower on your own and it’s not that bad. A little lonely and not your favorite time of year like it used to be, but still, not that bad. Bucky picks up on your slightly sullen tone and the way you seem a little more distant suddenly.

“You’re welcome then.” Bucky says, a smug smile taking over his features. You shoot him a slightly confused look.

“For what?”

“For giving you a memorable Christmas.” He says it like he’s just given you an actual Christmas gift. You laugh lightly just as his phone is lighting up with a message.

“You say that like I’d actually thank you for sabotaging our mission tonight and getting us stranded in the shittiest place on Earth.” Bucky’s smug smile remains plastered across his face, even as he glances down and reads the text from Torres.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while longer. Sam and Sharon got through to Torres and said they’re holed up somewhere across town, just like we are. Fury doesn’t want anyone making any more moves tonight without working comms and surveillance.” Bucky’s words bring your bad mood right back to the surface in an instant. You fall back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“How long is a while longer?” You’re dying to know.

“Could be a few hours, could be all night.” Bucky says nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world that the two of you are stuck here together. It’s infuriating. You push yourself off of the bed and start for the door, but Bucky’s quick to rise from his chair and cross the small motel room in a mere four steps, reaching you just as your fingertips are brushing the door handle. He plants his flesh palm firmly against the wooden door, effectively stopping you from being able to open it. Fuck his super soldier strength.

“I’m not staying here all night. There are things we could be doing besides sitting here waiting around.” You say impatiently, wrapping your hand around the door handle but not pulling yet. With the way the two of you are standing, Bucky’s chest is brushing against your back and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why the hell he’s so close.

“What else could we be doing out there? You walk out that door and into the street and every bounty hunter in the city will be on you within five minutes. I’ve been hunted here before, Y/n, it’s not a game you want to play.” The energy between the two of you is so tense, so electrified, you wonder how your hand hasn’t sparked against the metal door handle.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t give a shit about what I do.” You throw his words from earlier right back in his face. As Bucky’s hand against the door curls into a fist, you stand there waiting for him to back off. If he really doesn’t give a shit, he’ll let you walk out of here right now. But of course, Bucky gives a shit. Bucky gives so much of a shit that the mere thought of you waltzing out into the city at this hour, opening yourself up to unlimited danger, has him ready to burn the whole place down. You swallow as your grip on the door handle tightens, listening to Bucky’s even breathing right behind you.

He doesn’t even know what’s come over him when he finds himself moving impossibly closer to you, letting his chest fully press against your back now. He leans down a couple of inches until his lips are grazing over the shell of your left ear, with his right hand still braced against the door over your right shoulder. He’s trapping you there with his body.

“You are so fucking insufferable.” He whispers the insult against your ear, but it somehow it doesn’t even feel like an insult. It almost feels like he’s just whispered a little sweet nothing in your ear. Your grip on the door handle falters and Bucky notices, so he keeps going. He’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay here, to stop you from walking out into Madripoor and getting yourself killed tonight. If this is what it takes, so be it. “You wanted me to stop you, didn’t you? You wanted me to force you to stay.”

“N-no.” You lie, hating the way you stutter through the simplest two-letter word known to man. It’s so hard to think with him this close to you.

“Insufferable and a liar.” Bucky tsks, just as your hand is fully falling away from the door handle. He can’t help but smile at how easily this is working on you. If he’d known he only needed to be a little more authoritative and stand a little closer to you to make you listen to him, he would’ve tried it a long time ago. You watch, with goosebumps spreading across your skin beneath your tactical suit, as Bucky’s right hand skims down the flat surface of the door slowly. He continues on until his hand reaches the deadbolt just above the door handle. Click. The sound of the lock clicking sets off a chain reaction. A wave of confidence spreads through you like a wildfire and you turn around in the small space that Bucky has you trapped in. You thought he might step back once you were face to face, but no. He maintains his position, but now with his chest nearly touching yours and his breath fanning across your face. Though you feel confident and sure of yourself in this moment, when you look up at him like this you feel small. You feel like he could push you against the door and have his way with you if he wanted, and you couldn’t do a thing about it except enjoy it. The thought actually turns you on way more than it should, considering how independent and stubborn you are.

“Insufferable and yet you’re trapping me in here. Who’s the liar?” You taunt, tilting your chin up and looking into his blue eyes. His normally cold, steely gaze has a different look now. There’s something bright behind his eyes, something exciting. Your eyes dart down to his mouth, lingering on his bottom lip a little longer than they should have, before you meet his gaze once more.

“Don’t look at me like that unless you’re going to kiss me.” His tone is harsh but his eyes are daring. He wants you to kiss him. He’s daring you to do it. Unfortunately, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare. Even the stupidest of dares. So, you commit to it. You look at him the exact same way you just did, letting your eyes coast down his face and soak in the sight of his full lips. When you meet his gaze one last time, there’s only one little thought in his mind.

That’s it, good girl.

You have to raise up on your toes to reach his lips, because of course Bucky Barnes would stand there refusing to make it any easier for you. He wants to see you struggle to get what you want from him. After making his working life a living hell for months, he’s going to have you exactly how he wants you, or not at all. So, as you stand a little taller on your toes, Bucky acts like he couldn’t care less that you’re about to give him something he’s fucking dreamt about every night since he first started hating you. When your lips press against his, his bottom lip finds its place between the two of yours and he almost scoffs at how timid you’re being. It’s like you’re testing the waters, and he’s not having any of that. He’s quick to fist his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and walk you back one step so your ass hits the door. He breaks the kiss before it’s even been a second, giving you an annoyed look as he holds you in place between his body and the door.

“Let’s try that again.” Bucky says the words right against your lips, as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and then slots his thigh between yours. As he bends his knee, his hands travel down your sides to grab onto your hips. He angles your hips down just slightly, as he brings his leg up an inch, and you look down right as your clothed cunt makes contact with his thigh. You inhale sharply at the unexpected move, but you don’t move at all. You stay right where he wants you, and he waits patiently for you to look up at him again. When you finally do, a switch inside of you flips and you know you’re about to sabotage tonight’s mission even more. You pull Bucky down to your mouth, kissing him with so much heat and intensity that his hands briefly loosen on your hips, like he wasn’t expecting this from you. After two seconds, his hands start sliding right back up your waist until you feel them both tangle in your hair, which he uses to pull you even harder against his mouth. You don’t think the kiss can get any more intense, until you feel his tongue dancing across your bottom lip. You part your lips without hesitation, letting him dominate the kiss in an instant.

You taste so fucking good. So. Fucking. Good. So good that Bucky doesn’t notice the first time you grind your pussy against his thigh, he’s too focused on exploring every bit of your mouth with his tongue and savoring the taste of you. But the second time? Fuck. The second time you grind down on his thigh you moan into the kiss and Bucky has to stop. He pulls back while keeping one hand in the hair at the nape of your neck. The look on your face is pure lust. It’s longing. It’s making Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and making it really hard to decide what to do with you first. God. That one kiss opened up the floodgates.

“Let me hear that sound again.” Bucky encourages you while using his hold on your hips to guide you to grind down a third time. He watches between the two of you as you drag your cunt along his thigh. The moan that leaves your lips this time is too much. He’s had enough. He quickly pulls away from you, taking two steps back and running a hand through his hair. He eyes you as you stand with your back against the door, catching your breath and staring right back at him.

“I want a memorable Christmas.” You speak so softly that Bucky has to rewind it in his head to really catch onto what you’ve just said. You want a memorable Christmas. You’re asking him to give you a memorable Christmas. He looks you over slowly, carefully, taking in every detail of the way you look right now. Your skin, though still covered by your tactical suit, heats up to an uncomfortable degree under his watchful gaze.

“Say please.”

---

He’s going to hate fuck you. There’s nothing else you could possibly call it, and honestly nothing else you’d want to call it. You’re standing in front of the bathroom sink, locking eyes with Bucky in the reflection of the mirror. You really thought he was going to take you to bed, but no. As soon as you gave in and said please like he wanted you to, he pulled you away from the motel room door and pushed you into the bathroom. He wants to take you from behind but he wants a clear view of how much you’re enjoying it the whole fucking time. If he’s about to fuck away the obscene amount of tension that’s been between the two of you for the last few months, he’s going to memorize every damn face you make, every sound that leaves your lips, and every inch of your body. He’s going to ruin you, so that every time you think about how much you hate him, you can’t help but think about how much you loved being fucked by him.

You’re both quiet, except for heavy breaths and a few soft moans and groans, as Bucky starts taking off his clothes behind you. He juts his chin out slightly after dropping his shirt on the floor, gesturing for you to take your clothes off too. You follow his moves exactly, dropping your shirt on top of his. He takes a few seconds to admire the way your breasts sit so perfectly in your bra, but then he finds himself growing annoyed at even that little bit of fabric obstructing his view. He undoes it for you, with only one hand, while his free hand begins undoing his belt. Of course this fucking man can undo his belt with just one hand. After a few more agonizingly slow seconds of the two of you undressing, you’re both completely naked. Bucky takes a deep breath in, and when he breathes it back out it warms the back of your neck.

Just like earlier, Bucky nudges your legs to spread a little wider, using his knee. Your body obeys his silent command like it’s routine for you. He loves the way you respond to him so willingly. He’s never had you like this, not even a little bit, and it’s giving him such a high. It’s the first time he’s ever had you listening to him without a single word of rebuttal, without any stubbornness or refusal. He should’ve fucked you so long ago.

Bucky’s vibranium index finger traces over your spine, from the very top to the bottom, sending a chill all throughout your body. It only cools you off for a second, before he uses that same hand to push you forward until you’re slightly bent over the sink. His flesh hand dances across your ass, deftly dipping between your legs and making contact with your wet folds. He drags two fingertips back and forth there, collecting your wetness before focusing his touch on your clit. As soon as he applies pressure, your back arches and your ass presses back against him. That’s when you feel his hard cock, standing fully erect, nearly between your ass cheeks. He’s big. So big that for a second you fear there’s no way he’ll fit inside of you, but something tells you that you were made for his cock. It’ll fit. He’ll make it fit.

“You can’t stand to be around me, but you’re nearly dripping for me.” Bucky says lowly, rubbing slow circles against your clit. A string of moans slips past your lips and he smiles as he watches your eyes close in the mirror. “That’s it, you like that, don’t you?”

“You talk too much.” You snap, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze in the mirror. His smile darkens and he pulls his hand away from your clit. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Suddenly, his ring and middle fingers plunge so deep inside of you that you see stars. He curls them, dragging his fingertips against the walls of your pussy over and over. He didn’t start out slow by any stretch of the imagination, no. He begins fucking those two fingers in and out of you at such a perfect pace that your legs begin feeling weak far too soon. You grip the edge of the bathroom sink so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“You don’t even have to answer me, baby. I can tell you like it.” Bucky punctuates his words with another hard thrust of his fingers, and then curls them again, in a way that makes that familiar knot in your lower stomach tighten more and more with each passing second. You try to drown out his voice, focusing instead on how fucking skilled he is with his hand. Bucky’s mesmerized as he watches you draw closer and closer to your orgasm. He almost wants to let you have it. He considers finger fucking you straight through it, and then giving you another on his cock, but he isn’t going to be that nice to you. If he only gets one orgasm here tonight, then so do you.

The whine that leaves your lips when Bucky pulls his fingers out of you should embarrass you. You should absolutely hate how needy you are for him, but you feel his cock twitch against your ass when he hears the sound and you love it.

“You like that, don’t you?” You tease. You love using his words against him. You do it often in arguments and he hates it. His jaw clenches, but he says nothing in response. Instead, he wraps his flesh hand around his cock and gives it a few quick strokes before lining it up with your entrance. He looks down between the two of you, letting his eyes roam down your arched back, straight to where his cock is poised and ready to slide in. He knows he’s big. He knows his cock is above average, both in thickness and in length. He knows the nice thing to do would be to warm you up a little more, build up to using three fingers on you before finally fucking you slowly until you adjust to his size. But the two of you aren’t ever nice to each other.

So, Bucky begins pushing the head of cock inside you, letting his head fall back and his fingertips leave bruises on your hips and waist as he holds you firmly in place. He’s only an inch in and you’re already feeling the sting. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had. He hasn’t even let you get a look at his cock yet, but as he forces it into you, you’re thankful he didn’t let you see it first. You might’ve chickened out. Bucky isn’t even halfway in before you’re moaning and trying to pull off a little, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Stop fucking moving.” He seethes, his head snapping forward so he can look at you in the mirror again. “You’re going to take all of it.”

Everything was a blur when he finally bottomed out inside you. He didn’t even pause once he was fully inside you, he immediately began dragging his cock back out and then pushing it in again. After the third thrust, you started to feel pleasure.

Bucky alternates between watching the way you’re falling apart for him in the mirror and looking down to watch his cock repeatedly disappear into the most perfect cunt he’s ever fucked. He truly can’t decide which view he likes more. The first time you moan his name sends him into a tailspin. He has no control over the way he fists your hair in his right hand and yanks you back against his chest, keeping your back arched and your face perfectly visible in the mirror. He fucks his cock into you so relentlessly, repeatedly hitting just the right spot inside of you, that you’re sure your previous thought was right. You were made for his cock. There isn’t a doubt in your mind.

When you start pushing your ass back against him, meeting each of his thrusts, Bucky bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. When he started this, he had every intention of finishing inside of you. He wanted to do it without anything between the two of you, he wanted to cum inside of you so deeply that you’d feel his spend dripping out of you for the rest of the mission. But suddenly all he wants to do is cum in your mouth. He wants you to know what he tastes like. He wants to see what you look like on your knees for him. The harder he fucks you, the more he thinks about it, until he’s positive he won’t be able to finish this any other way.

So, not even a moment later, Bucky is pulling his cock out of you and pushing your shoulder downward. You instantly understand that he wants you on your knees, and you oblige him without giving it a second thought. When your mouth opens without even a second of a pause, Bucky slides his length past your lips. His head falls back and a sinful groan graces your ears as he revels in the feeling of your tongue gliding along his shaft.

“Good girl.” He groans. Good girl. Fuck. The praise has you snaking your own hand between your legs, chasing your own release as Bucky uses your mouth like he owns it. In his mind right now, he does own it. After a few seconds, he looks down at you once again and notices what you’re doing with your hand. You moan around his cock as you rub circles over your clit and the vibration from the sound sends Bucky right to the edge. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You look up at him, your eyes giving him clear permission to let go. You want him to cum in your mouth. Another groan is ripped from his chest, and you hear your name fall from his lips just as you taste his cum. Your own orgasm comes crashing down right as he’s finishing in your mouth, and he watches you closely as you carry yourself through it.

Bucky wraps his hand around the base of his cock and pulls it out of your mouth slowly, the two of you maintaining eye contact like it would be a sin to look away. Seeing your mouth full of his cum gives him an unfamiliar feeling deep in his chest. He feels possessive. He wants you to know that you belong to him now.

As you swallow everything that he gave you, there’s only one way to describe how you’re feeling. While you still hate this man with every fiber of your being, you feel like you belong to him now. Your body isn’t your own anymore.

You belong to the man you hate most, and you kind of like it.

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hyunsvngs · 9 months

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𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 - lee minho x gn!afab reader

wc: 6.1k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: alcohol, normalisation of getting very wasted, smut (specific smut warnings under the cut, again minors please do not interact!)

synopsis: the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.

a/n: part one of the fratboy series. fratboy lee minho has now taken over my entire brain, my heart, and also my life, so i hope you all enjoy. PLEASE feel free to stop by our askbox to chat to me abt him because truly, i am obsessed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, dirty talk, sexy mean minho, no seriously he’s mean, thigh riding, nipple play, begging, dumbification, degradation, penetration with a finger & dick simultaneously, talks about sex slaves (maybe only slightly serious), lovely aftercare

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When the opening notes of Half Moon by Dean met your ears, you couldn’t help but groan. You loved the song, but it signalled an incoming call that you’d been expecting all day. You flipped your phone over, confirming your suspicions; Jisung’s squishy cheeks flashed on your screen as his contact icon showed up.

“What do you want?” you asked as you answered the call, despite knowing very well what he wanted.

At the beginning of the semester, your best friends had joined a fraternity, Sigma Kappa Zeta. It was an absolute dream - on paper at least. You didn’t have to commit to the endless fraternity obligations, which are often ridiculous and sometimes downright dangerous; although you still had regular invites to the blowout parties, owing to your connections to Felix and Jisung. You’d attended a few of these parties and enjoyed them thoroughly. Being pretty meant you got free booze, and what could be better than getting wasted for free, with two of your favourite people? While ogling their endless hoard of stupidly attractive friends, of course.

Your taste in men could be summarised as… unfortunate. You had an affinity for frat boys, the bigger and stupider the better. Muscular guys, with stupid goofy grins and sleeveless tees, bulging biceps and empty heads. Something about them really got you going, and it frustrated you to no end. But you loved to indulge yourself, and Felix and Jisung knew this all too well. And so, they were left baffled when you very quickly stopped attending these parties. Baffled, disappointed, and worst of all, persistent.

“Hey, angel,” Felix’s voice rang out from your speaker.

“You aren’t Jisung,” you stated.

“Very observant,” he responded, leading you to roll your eyes. You didn't even bother to question why he was calling you from Jisung’s phone. “Anyways, I assume you’ll be in attendance tonight?”

You snorted. “Obviously not.”

“Y/N!” Felix’s deep voice gave way to a drawn-out whine. “Why not?”

“Cause I don’t want to spend time in your disgusting frat house,” you huffed.

“Not even for me?” he pleaded with you.

“This isn’t working. You can’t guilt-trip me when I can’t actually see your stupid adorable face,” you pointed out.

“Fine, I’ll turn my camera on-”

“No. Look, why don’t you and Ji come drink with me in my dorm? Like the good ol’ days?” you suggested. Good ol’ days referring to a few months ago, before they’d joined the fraternity.

Felix paused for a few moments. “Fine. Maybe. Only because we miss you!”

“Come over then. See you soon!” You hung up before he could argue any more - you all knew you’d won.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Just moments after Jisung and Felix showed up at your door, you began to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t win after all.

“Y/N!” Jisung cried, before proceeding to push past you and collapse onto your bed. “Why do you never hang out with us any more?!”

You turned to Felix. “What have you brought to my doorstep?”

Felix shrugged. “He chugged like, three beers before we even left.”

"I guess we'd better catch up then."

It wasn't long before you were all feeling merry, though it would be amiss to say you'd caught up with Jisung, given that he often seemed intoxicated even when he was sober.

"I miss you guys, too!" you insisted, hushing the boys' griping. And you really did miss them. Since classes had ended, and people had limited obligations, the frat seemed like a 24/7 party house at the moment, which meant you hardly ever saw them. "I just… these frat parties, it's not really my scene."

The look Felix sent you told you that he didn't buy it, not one bit. The look Jisung sent you, on the other hand, told you that he was currently so drunk that he had a very tenuous grasp on reality, and was just happy to be involved.

"I've seen you eye up at least three guys at the frat. Not your scene? Nothing has ever been more your scene," Felix said, his tone accusatory. "I know it's nothing to do with us. So spill. Why are you avoiding the frat?"

Jisung had wandered off to the other side of your room, where he seemed to be making a concoction of different beverages. He didn't seem to be making a mess, so you thought it best to leave him while he was quiet.

You huffed. "Fine. One of your stupid little frat bro's is driving me insane. But I won't say who!" you added hastily.

Felix's eyes glinted. "Driving you insane? In what way? Like, someone's pissed you off? Or they're making you insanely horny and you don't know how to handle it."

You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "You know me too well, Lix."

Felix laughed gleefully. "Changbin?"

"Don't start guessing! I'm not gonna tell you!"

"Chan?"

"No!"

Felix paused, thinking hard. "It's Minho."

"It’s not Minho!"

He cackled. "You're an open book, it's Minho! You're horny for Minho!"

You let out a weak whimper in protest. "I just… God, nobody's ever affected me like this before, Lix! I don't even wanna be around him 'cause I know I'll say something stupid. Or maybe just start drooling on him."

Felix shrugged. "I guess I can't blame you. He is a gorgeous guy."

"Understatement of the century," you scoffed. "If I had to choose between solving world hunger and sucking his dick, I'd choose his dick. A thousand times."

Felix, in that beautiful drunken phase where everything was utterly hilarious, was clutching his stomach, in complete stitches on your floor.

"I'm not even joking, Lix! I'd devote the rest of my life to being his sex slave. He wouldn't even need to feed me, I'll survive off his cum if I have to!"

Felix wiped a tear from his eye. "Stop, stop. You're killing me." He turned to Jisung, who was still apparently playing potions with various different drinks.

"And that," Jisung said to no one in particular, "Is how you make a Hanji Supreme."

"What the fuck are you doing, Ji? Are you vlogging over there? Get your ass over here and listen to what Y/N has to say about Lee Minho."

"Okay, bye!" Jisung said, still seemingly speaking to thin air. He turned to you, eyebrows raised. "Minho? Y/N has the hots for Minho?"

"Unfortunately," you confirmed.

"We could probably set you up with him," Jisung proposed, a dastardly grin on his face.

"No," you quickly denied. "Never. Under no circumstances do you ever mention my name in Minho's presence. Got it?"

Jisung pouted. "But then your dreams are never gonna come true!"

You chewed on your lip. "I feel like a stuttering mess whenever I even think about him. I can't imagine what'd happen if I actually spoke to him."

"Wait, you've never spoken to him?" Felix clarified, and you shook your head. He smirked. "You were saying some pretty vulgar stuff, considering he's practically a stranger."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a creep and a perv. That's why he can never find out about this. Seriously," you said sternly, directing this last part at Jisung. He wasn't exactly known for keeping secrets.

Felix looked him up and down. "I don't think he's even going to remember this tomorrow, if I'm being honest."

"Yeah," you agreed. "He seems like he's done for the night." The boy was lying flat on his back, the brim of his beanie pulled over his eyes. His phone was buzzing away on his chest, notification tone pinging every few seconds.

Felix sighed. "I just hope he doesn't get one of those second winds."

“Jisung, honey, is someone trying to get hold of you?” you asked, the chiming of his phone growing irritating. You figured he’d texted one of his many booty calls and then instantly forgotten about it.

“Huh?” he asked, clearly not really listening.

Felix’s phone began to buzz on the floor. “Someone’s trying to get hold of me.” He brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, what’s up? He's - he's what?" Felix covered his other ear. "It's really loud over there, did you say he's on the table? Christ - okay, okay, we'll be right over."

"What was that?" you asked. "Is everything okay?"

Felix sighed. "Hyunjin's partying a little too hard. Seungmin can't deal with him alone. C'mon, we gotta go wrangle him."

"We just went over this - I'm not stepping foot in Minho's territory, not even for a second," you said adamantly.

"Relax, he's partying with Theta Chi Theta tonight," Jisung slurred happily, sitting upright and fixing his beanie. "C'mon, Y/N, come party with us!"

Felix looked to you pleadingly. "I can't deal with drunk Jisung and drunk Hyunjin without you. Please."

Fuck. Felix knew you could never say no to his puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine."

Even with the knowledge that Minho was preoccupied somewhere else, you still felt a little wary as you stepped into the house. It did occur to you that you could be a little too terrified of this man, but you knew all too well that both your horniness and your stupidity were utterly limitless, which was always a recipe for disaster.

You heard Hyunjin before you saw him - "Why can't I get naked, though? It's so hot in here!"

You snickered. He was still on the table, although he looked a little wobbly so you doubted it'd be too long until he came tumbling down. Jisung wandered off, probably up to no good, whilst you and Felix hurried over.

Seungmin breathed a visible sigh of relief when he saw you. "So glad you're here. Okay, I'm off duty. Good luck." He had vanished within seconds.

Hyunjin waved excitedly when he caught sight of you both. "Hi Lix! Hi Lix's pretty friend!"

You laughed at his drunken boldness. "It's Y/N," you corrected him.

"I know." He grinned down at you from the table, eyes disappearing into crescents. "You're brave, too," he crooned.

"Brave?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"If I was you, I probably wouldn't show my face around here until the end of the semester, at least," he went on.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin stared at Felix for a moment. Then switched his gaze to you. Then back to Felix. Before erupting into a fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, please sit down before you fall and crack your damn skull," Felix pleaded with the boy.

"Yeah, and more importantly, explain yourself," you added.

Hyunjin sat obediently, pulling out his phone and handing it to Felix.

"Oh fuck," Felix breathed. "I have the group chat muted right now."

"The group chat?" you enquired anxiously. "Please tell me what's going on." Your paranoia was getting the best of you, and while you stood waiting for someone to fucking explain, you were slowly convincing yourself that you'd stolen Felix's phone and confessed your attraction to Minho in the most crass and unrefined terms.

This wasn't too far from the truth.

Felix opened up a video, skipping towards the end. You noticed Jisung, sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm room, chattering away about various beverages. More prominently, however, you heard your own voice, from the other side of the room.

“I’ll survive off his cum if I have to!”

Your heart plummets to the ground as the memory comes rushing back. Fuck.

You grab Felix’s arm, holding on for dear life. “Tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me Jisung only sent that to Hyunjin and no one else.”

Felix handed the phone back to Hyunjin and placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. “Look, it’s going to be okay. People say stupid shit like this all the time-”

“Oh look, Minho’s read the messages!” Hyunjin calls out.

You put a hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“He’s typing!”

“No!” you wailed.

Hyunjin turned his phone around once more. You peered at the screen in turmoil as three dastardly little letters popped up.

lol

"Oh, Y/N, you're so lucky he's not here tonight," Felix said, sounding relieved. Distantly, you felt a shred of relief too, although that was nothing compared to the complete and utter dread you were experiencing. Oh, the consequences of your own drunken, horny actions. Was there anything worse?

"Oh," Felix murmured, pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket. "Oh."

"What?" you asked.

"He's calling me."

You called out "Don't answer it!" just as Hyunjin yelled "Answer it!"

Felix accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Oh my god, I'm scared. Hold my hand." You scrambled for Hyunjin, who grasped your hand in his before giggling.

"Your hands are soft," he commented, apparently having forgotten the Minho debacle already. You swiftly hushed him.

Felix also raised a finger to his lips in a shh motion, before putting the call on speakerphone.

"Are you at the house? Is Y/N with you?" Minho’s voice came through the speaker.

Felix paused, looking at you with wide eyes. You shook your head furiously.

"Uh, yeah," he answered, the traitor. You fought hard not to scream.

"Can you pass a message across?" you heard Minho ask.

"Sure."

"I'm on my way." The line clicked dead.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. “LEE FELIX WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL HIM I'M HERE?"

"I DON'T KNOW, I PANICKED!" he shrieked back, sounding equally as alarmed as you.

“This is crazy,” Hyunjin commented with a dazed grin.

“You are far too drunk to understand the absolute catastrophe I’m in right now!” you accused him. “Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I need to go - immediately.”

“Not so fast.”

You spun around in complete and utter horror, terrified that Minho had somehow materialised from his other party right back to the frat. Only to find Seungmin standing before you - just slightly less threatening.

“Jisung is far too drunk, and he’s begging for you,” he explained.

“God, what is in the air tonight?” you observed. “Do you guys need to do a fraternity-wide detox?”

Seungmin snorted. “Like that’s ever gonna happen. Go on, Jisung’s in his room.”

God fucking damn it, why were you such a good friend? You tore up the stairs, bee-lining for Jisung’s room, fully intending on hiding in his bedroom for the rest of the night. Minho wouldn’t find you in there if you locked the door, right? You were even willing to put up with your best friend’s snoring.

"Hey, Sungie," you said gently as you walked into his room. You found him curled on his bed, still dressed in his hoodie, cargos and beanie.

"Y/N… You're finally here…" he mumbled.

"You sound sleepy. Is it bedtime?" you asked, sitting down on the bed beside him. You tugged the beanie off his head, and ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

"Bedtime? Hmm… No… It's still party time for now." His words were slurred, and you knew he was just minutes from dozing off - seconds, maybe.

"Sure," you said, as it was typically better to just agree with him. "You wanna get your pyjamas on? We can have a pyjama party."

"No. I'm comfy like this." You seriously doubted it, but didn't have it in you to battle him right now.

Sure enough, he was snoring less than thirty seconds later. You wondered if it was worth shoving him a bit, to climb in bed beside him, or whether it'd be best to just run home. But you didn't know how far away Minho was, and the thought of bumping into him was too much to bear.

You deliberated for a few moments, but Jisung's snoring was driving you insane, and you quickly realised that you weren't equipped to deal with it tonight.

You pulled out your phone, opening Felix's contact.

[10:44pm] You: lixie do u have minho's location?

[10:44pm] You: lix please please please

[10:44pm] You: felix pls i need to know how far he is

You sat on the edge of Jisung's bed, leg bouncing with nerves. Why was Felix always muting his damn notifications?

[10:48pm] Lix: idk sorry :( i think his party was nearby though

[10:48pm] Lix: look, just run to my room

[10:49pm] Lix: you'll be safe there

You weighed up your options.

Option one: stay here with Jisung, awake all night owing to his snoring and his complete domineering of 90% of the bed space, stressing about Lee fucking Minho.

Option two: run out of the frat house, and all the way home to safety, but risk bumping into Minho on your way out.

Option three: run down the hall to Felix's room, where you can vent to him all night and then eventually fall asleep with his sunshine cuddles.

It could only be option three.

His room was just down the hall, you reasoned. You would yank open the door, tear down the hallway, and land safely in Felix's bedroom. It would be easy.

You took a deep breath, before pulling open the door and preparing to run.

“Ah. Look who it is.”

Shit.

Minho stood in the hall with an unreadable expression. His eyes scanned your whole frame, and he took his time with his scalding gaze. His eyes crawled all the way up your legs, lingering up your thighs. Slowly moving from your hips, to your waist, to your chest. Before landing on your eyes - that’s where his inspection burned the most. You couldn’t even breathe.

“All bark and no bite, hm?”

“I… I just…” you stammered weakly.

He continued to stare at you, waiting for you to finish. “You just?”

“I’m sorry!” you managed, your voice barely above a squeak.

He folded his arms across his chest, looking amused. “What, pray tell, are you sorry for? For blabbing about my dick to anyone who’ll listen? Manners mean everything, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked me nicely. There was no reason to bring everyone into our business, now, was there?”

You simply blinked at him. You weren’t capable of anything more. He was clearly waiting for a response, though, smirking over at you expectantly. “W-What?” you managed eventually.

“Or are you apologising for your dirty mouth? Honestly, I didn’t expect that from you. You look so sweet, who knew you could be so… improper.”

You felt dizzy. “Improper?”

He pouted at you, and it was dripping with condescension. “Can you speak, darling? Or are you so cock-hungry you can’t manage more than a one-word answer?”

“I-I just don’t know what to say, is all,” you whispered.

“Just give me a yes or a no,” he invited you, holding his hand out for you to take.

You gave him a slow nod, placing your hand in his shakily. He smiled as if to say ‘right answer,’ before opening the door right next to Jisung's, and leading you into his bedroom. The room was remarkably neat and tidy, and you would’ve been impressed if you could even begin to process it. All of your mental energy was focused on not combusting - or coming on the spot.

He allowed you to step into the room before closing the door behind you. You were then quickly pushed up against it, Minho pinning you against the wood with his hips. Had that squeal really just come from your mouth?

His eyes were transfixed on your lips. You waited, heart hammering in your chest, while he had you trapped there. Until this point, you really hadn't been sure whether he was angry at you for saying such explicit things about him. The look in his eyes revealed everything - he wanted you just as badly.

He leaned in slowly. Torturously slowly - evidently, he was going to take his time with you. His lips met yours in a gentle peck, which he repeated, again and again. You sighed against his lips, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling him closer, but he merely smirked against your pout.

"Please," you breathed.

"You're so desperate," he said with a low laugh. "I could give you what you want, Y/N, but I know you wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I can take it," you protested, your voice sounding much whinier than you wanted it to.

"You can?" he asked, cocking his head and looking down at you condescendingly. You nodded insistently. "Okay."

Minho picked up the pace. His lips were soft but they bit at yours harshly. His tongue entered your mouth and you savoured his taste, sucking on his tongue gently.

Your hands went to the button of his jeans, swiftly unbuttoning it. Minho pulled away, stepping back and leaving you pouting once more. He laughed, that awful patronising sound yet again, that made your palms sweat and your thighs sticky.

"What, you think you're gonna get my dick that easily?" he asked, cocking his head at you. "No, honey."

"Please?" you asked. It sounded pitiful, even to you.

You watched as he went to his neatly made bed, tugging off jeans and laying back. "Come here," he instructed, lounging back against the wall. "Take your clothes off for me."

"T-Take my clothes off?" you asked meekly. It sounded pitiful even to your ears.

The look he gave you was scathing, although he did seem rather amused by the pathetic show of stupid desperation you were unfortunately displaying. "Well you can't expect to stay fully clothed if I'm gonna fuck you, right?"

You nodded, standing in front of him and looking down at your feet. "I… I feel shy all of a sudden."

"You feel shy? I don't know if you'd make such a good sex slave after all." He laughed before growing serious. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'll look after you, if we do, but the choice is yours."

His kinder tone set you at ease, and made you realise that you really wanted this, you were ready for this. It also brought about the realisation that you much preferred it when he was mean. You didn't want to dwell on what that meant, though.

You gathered your courage and slowly pulled your clothes off, standing before him in nothing but your underwear. Minho said nothing, but you felt as though you were on fire under his gaze.

He wasn't the only one who was enjoying the view. Your eyes traversed his toned thighs, mouth watering as you thought about how it'd feel if he were to press one between your legs. He wore plain white briefs, and you couldn't help but stare at the prominent bulge inside them. Even semi-hard it looked huge. You noticed it twitch ever so slightly, as he looked over your exposed body.

Minho spread his legs slightly, before tapping his left thigh. "Come on, darling. I know what you want."

Was he a mind reader? You wasted no time, climbing onto the bed, straddling his thigh and beginning to slowly grind. He tensed it, so firm and strong beneath you. The perfect platform for you to drag your clit across.

Minho's hands went to your waist, holding you gently, guiding you as you rolled your hips.

"That's it, baby, there you go," he encouraged you. The friction was enough to make you sweat, the pleasure overwhelming you. He was right - maybe you couldn't handle this. You couldn't even imagine how overwhelming it would be to actually feel his hands on you, feel his dick inside you.

His dick.

You could see it growing harder in his briefs, a small damp circle near the head where precum had leaked. You couldn't resist the temptation any longer; your hand reached out almost involuntarily, cupping his bulge gently. It was firm, and warm, and growing bigger seemingly by the second.

Minho took your hand, instantly re-directing it. "No, no, don't touch. Not until I say you can."

"But I can see how hard you're getting," you said. "You want it, Minho!"

"Unlike you, I know how to restrain myself." He patted your waist gently. "Keep riding."

You gave a frustrated huff, but did as he said.

Minho brought a slender finger down to your crotch, hooking it around the fabric of your underwear and moving it out of the way. "Let me see that pretty pussy," he murmured.

The new exposure made you moan aloud, hands gripping Minho's shoulders firmly as you rode him.

"Please," you whispered. "Please, Minho."

"Please, what? Use your words."

"Please fuck me," you asked.

He pretended to consider it for a moment. "Hmm… No. Not yet."

You groaned. "I need it, though!"

Minho snickered. "Don't be such a brat. I want to take my time with you, okay?"

"You can take your time next time! Just - please - fuck, please, I need it."

He raised an eyebrow with you. "Oh, so there's gonna be a next time, is there?"

You ignored his quip. If you couldn't get in his pants just yet, you'd focus your attention elsewhere. You lifted his shirt slowly, revealing his stomach, where you found lightly toned abs that only made you more desperate to feel him. Miraculously, he humoured you, pulling his shirt over his head.

You gasped, running your hands down his chest. He was beautiful, tight pecs and perfect little nipples that stood to attention in the open air of his bedroom. You ghosted a finger over one of them, entranced.

"I thought that'd shut you up," Minho commented under his breath.

"Beautiful tits," you muttered unintentionally as you admired his pecs.

Minho smiled. "I could say the same thing about you, angel." He placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer and bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He wasn't gentle about it, sucking and biting without holding back. You cried out, your hips pausing their grinding motions, your system completely overloaded by his harsh actions on your sensitive nipple.

"Keep riding," he mumbled, not even taking your nipple out of his mouth as he spoke.

You dragged your clit across his muscular thigh, whimpering loudly as you went. "Oh god, please, Minho! I need you inside me."

"Then beg for it."

You wasted no time. "Please, Minho, please, please! I need your cock, I've never needed anything this bad. I know I'm just a filthy little slut but please give me what I need, fuck, I'll die if you don't!"

"You really are a filthy slut," he agreed, lifting you from his thigh and laying you on his bed.

"Yes, yes, please Minho!" you babbled.

He pulled your underwear down, leaving you completely naked before him, before tugging his own briefs off.

Holy fucking shit, you thought.

His dick was beautiful. That was the only way to describe it - fucking beautiful. It was long, with a vein running along the underside, and the girth was decent too. The head was thick, and red, and if you weren't so desperate to be fucked you would've sucked on it for hours.

"I know you want it," Minho said. "But do you deserve it?" He stroked his dick slowly, and you watched as the head disappeared into his fist, emerging again as his hand ran along his shaft.

"I don't know, but I need it," you insisted. "I'll do anything."

Minho shook his head, but he looked smug. "Alright, baby. If you need it that badly."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chattered, intoxicated by a dick that you hadn't even felt yet.

He pushed your knees up to your chest, and you hooked your arms around them, holding them in position and peering down to watch his motions. "Such a perfect pussy." He rubbed the head of his dick across your clit, and you whined loudly. Distantly, you wondered if the sounds of the frat party below would even be enough to drown out your incessant noises of pleasure. It was irrelevant, though; you didn't care enough to stop.

He dragged his dick through your folds, over your hole, back up to your clit. Minutes ago, you would've killed a man to have Minho touch your pussy, but already you wanted more. He made you so greedy. It felt good but your thirst for more was unbearable, intolerable.

"Alright, baby, are you ready?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

Slowly, he sunk the tip of his dick inside you - just the tip. Thick as it was, it slid in with hardly any protest. He sighed as it went in, clearly needing the sensation more than he let on.

"More," you pleaded.

"You'll take what I give you, when I'm ready to give you it." Minho saw you roll your eyes at this, but said nothing.

He pushed the head in and out of your hole, never putting more than two inches inside.

"Please give me the whole thing, Minho!"

He simply shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to handle it. Dumb baby."

"I can handle it!" you insisted. "I swear I can!"

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow that told you he was unconvinced. "You can?" You nodded. "You're gonna cry like a little baby."

"Just give me your stupid dick right now!"

Minho laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, baby. Here comes my stupid dick."

He held your legs down against your chest, and slammed his whole length inside you. You saw stars. He thrusted, hard and fast, and you were somewhat aware that you were moaning probably louder than you ever had before, but all you could truly focus on was his cock filling you up. He was hitting your g-spot on every single thrust, grunting as he fucked you.

"God, you're tight," he groaned. He re-positioned his hips, and somehow managed to hit deeper. You felt him against your cervix, and cried out in pain.

"Too much," you weakly protested as your eyes filled with tears.

"I thought you could handle it?" he said, his voice lacking any sympathy. "Fucking pathetic, begging for a cock you couldn't even take."

"I-I can, just not so deep."

Minho smirked down at you. "It's not my fault my dick's so big," he said, but adjusted his thrusts slightly anyway.

"I can take it," you promised. "I-I can take anything you give me, Minho."

"That's right, baby. My filthy little whore." His voice was calm, but his eyebrows were furrowed and sweat was dripping down his forehead - the pleasure was overwhelming him just as much as it was destroying you.

Minho leaned down, connecting his mouth to yours as he fucked you. You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help but moan. His dick fucking your pussy, his tongue fucking your mouth. This was heaven, you were sure of it.

He pulled away. "You think you could take some more?"

"More?" you asked, eyes wide.

"Just a little more. For me?"

You nodded hesitantly.

Minho paused his thrusts, but before you could whine in protest, you felt his finger rubbing at your opening. Slowly, he pushed his index finger inside, along with his dick. The painful stretch was incredible, and you whimpered at the feeling.

"There you go, babe," he said, beginning to thrust once more. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation. "Fuck, this is nice and tight."

You were barely even lucid at this point. You babbled incoherently, unaware of what you were even trying to say. You were completely and utterly spellbound by his dick, by the sweet burning stretch.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," Minho directed you.

"F-Fuck- I don't know if I can-"

"I thought you wanted to be my sex slave, hm? Pretty little slaves do as they're told."

You whined, but obeyed his command. "M-Minho… I'm gonna cum if I keep going."

Minho barked out a laugh. "Cum then. I don't care. But don't take your fingers off that pussy, not even for a second."

You were beginning to think that maybe you weren't cut out for this. You hadn't even reached your climax yet, and already the overstimulation was too much. Your stretched out pussy was throbbing, and you jolted each time Minho's dick pounded your g-spot. You were drenched, covered in your own sweat as well as Minho's, which was dripping onto you from his hair, his forehead, his neck. The air in the room was thick, and smelled entirely of Minho - you were covered in him. He looked like a god above you, fucking into you like it was his life's mission.

It was too much for you to handle, without a doubt. And yet, you'd be happy to spend the rest of your life underneath him. Or on top of him. Or in any position which meant his dick could be inside you.

"Minho… Minho!" you whimpered.

"C'mon, baby," he encouraged you, his voice strained. From the sounds of it, he wasn't far from finishing either - although you got the sense he could keep going all night if he willed himself to. "Cum around my cock like the dirty little whore you are."

That was all the prompting you needed.

Your ears started ringing. You let the almost unbearable feeling of ecstasy wash over you, flooding Minho’s cock. You knew you were crying out maybe a bit too loudly - but you didn’t care, thrashing in Minho’s hold and grasping the bedsheets for dear life as he fucked you through it. He didn’t slow his pace, riding out your intense orgasm caused by the man of your dreams and making you feel as if you’d been set on fire.

"Does that feel good, baby?" Minho crooned, continuing to fuck you as he went after his own orgasm. You could only manage a high-pitched whine in response. "Just a little longer, baby, you can do it. Just lie there and let me use your tight little pussy, that's it." His voice was hoarse, and the veins on his neck were prominent. You knew he was going to cum soon, but you didn't know if you could hold on. You were over-sensitive to the point of pain, hands gripping Minho's bed sheets.

"Cum - give me your cum," you urged Minho. "Now, please."

His eyes widened. Your command had seemed to catch him off guard a bit. He pulled out of you, and you watched as thick ribbons of pearly white cum oozed onto your abdomen. You gasped gently as you watched. It was perhaps the most beautifully erotic thing you'd ever seen. His dick was definitely a contender for the prettiest one you'd ever fucked, and his cum was thick and heavy, dripping from the tip like a waterfall.

"Thank you," you whispered. He leaned in, kissing you deeply. He tasted like sweat, hot and sticky, and you moaned.

He pulled away, before planting one more kiss on your forehead. "You're welcome."

Minho stood, going to the other side of his room. You tried to follow him with your eyes, but you felt so weak and tired that they slipped shut immediately. He returned seconds later, and you lay still, sighing as he cleaned you up. His touch was so gentle, so soothing, so different than it had been just minutes before.

"That better?" he asked, discarding the towel.

You nodded. "You want me to go crash with Felix?" you asked, unsure of what exactly this arrangement was.

"Nah, you reek of sex. Felix wouldn't want you." He helped you climb under the covers. "Plus, I wouldn't mind some company tonight." He slid into bed beside you, and you rolled over, laying your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt incredibly safe secure, especially considering just how utterly terrified you'd been of this man a few hours ago.

You giggled softly, so tired and fucked out that you felt a little delirious. "Can't believe you fucked me, Minho."

Minho gave a short laugh. "Can't believe you convinced me to fuck you so easily. You're a little minx. I really wanted to play with you some more."

You nestled into his chest. "I guess there'll have to be a next time then, huh?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "If you're lucky."

"You wanna fuck me again, Minho, I know you do," you mumbled. "I saw the look in your eyes when you came. You need my pussy."

Minho was silent for a few seconds. "You're awfully bold for someone who was crying on my cock ten minutes ago."

"...Yeah."

"Get some sleep, sweetheart." No more than ten seconds later, you were sleeping in his arms.

You slipped into the land of dreams, where you went on to fantasise about Minho - his thighs, his neck, his tummy, his hands. His kisses, his touches, his dick in your throat, in your holes. Minho everywhere. Were you completely insatiable? Maybe. But it seemed very likely that he'd give it to you again. In your sleep, you smiled.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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fashion-runways · 6 months

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okay it's been over a year and i keep saying i'm going to make a new post and it's too exhausting to even think about the whole thing so i keep pushing it-- here's the link to the old post if you want a more detailed thing i wrote back then.

anyway, a year ago, out of the blue, our apartment got raided by the police, they broke our front door, they broke a bunch of shit inside, they took a bunch of our stuff, they barely gave us answers or an explanation, they took my dad and made it seem like he would have to sign some stuff and answer some questions and come back, but it's been over a year (since june 2022) and he hasn't come back, and his case is still up in the air. they're barely working on it. they didn't pay for all the shit they broke, they haven't returned all the shit they took, we had to spend a lot of money on that, i had to take a loan to buy a new computer so i could keep working and studying, on top of spending even more money on basic needs for my dad in jail and lawyers, plus blood pressure and anxiety medications, plus he's old and he was scheduled an eye surgery that he obviously couldn't go to so he's like, practically blind in one eye now, also new clothes for him to wear there (there's a bunch of rules for that), honestly i already lost track of how many things we had to pay for. it's been incredibly stressful and it still is even now that we've gotten used to it. he's been detained for a year for something that they still don't even know if he did and the case is barely moving, i don't know if they're like... i don't know, waiting for the man to die in there since he's already old so they don't have to admit they don't have enough proof for all the mess they made? i don't know. like i said back then, please don't ask me for details on the case or show up in my inbox trying to play tiktok true crime and guess what he did/didn't do. it happened a few times and it's extremely triggering, please don't. please.

this blog is basically my job. it's my primary source of income, i don't have anything else, no matter how many interviews i go to, in the country/city i live and in the state our economy is, if you don't have contacts it's impossible to get a job. i'm always signing up to free programs to learn new things while i don't have a job, try to make my cv bigger, but it doesn't matter. if you don't have someone saying “please hire my friend/family member” or you don't have 500 years of experience, they won't. so like i said, donations people make to this blog are how me and my mom (and my pets) stay afloat. it's what we use to pay for food, general groceries, transportation, electricity, wifi, water, gas, health insurance, stuff for my dad in jail, meds for my mom who has diabetes, food and meds for my pets. i don't go out much, i haven't gotten a haircut in a year, i barely spend money in anything that makes me happy except once in a blue moon when i stop feeling guilty lmao i had a redbubble account also that helped a little too, but last week it got suspended without an explanation as i was uploading new designs, so i don't even have that now. i made a new account on teepublic, but all my designs in high quality are locked behind redbubble and i can't even log into because of the suspension. it's... complicated, and it's a lot, but it is what it is.

i'm always keeping an eye out on new collections, new designers, new cool things. like i said, i love fashion, i studied fashion, and i know a lot of you use this blog as inspiration whether it's for yourselves or for your art, so i don't want to post all similar stuff all the time, i want to post all kinds of styles and brands as much as i can. which is why when i say if you like this blog, if you want to support me, sending even the smallest amount of money helps me keep going. living in latin america, the exchange rate is kind of insane, so truly any amount of money donated helps. unfortunately, i never stop needing money to survive and help keep my family afloat, but in the past year more than ever.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my (new) teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. if my redbubble account gets reinstated, i'll add that link eventually too. and as always, thanks for loving this blog and for loving fashion like i love fashion, even when i post crazy looking stuff, and thanks for helping. you have no idea how much your support helps, but it really does, i don't even know if i'd be alive right now if it wasn't for this blog.

#text posts #long post.

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moon-rivr · 12 days

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i bet on losing dogs

part two of congratulations series masterlist

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: more angst (to nobody’s surprise), clothed grinding, and masturbation (f)

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: hi guys 😋 (with the intention you don’t hate me after this part)

word count: 6.4k

I always want you when I'm finally fine

Miguel had you placed in his lap, his lips ghosting on your neck in only a way that he was familiar with. His fingers gripped on your hips, moving you against his clothed crotch. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. The touch of him was consuming you completely, but the fact was that you wanted nothing more but to be completely absorbed by him.

You were fueled by the desperation of almost losing him, your body practically melting as his hands travelled over your body. It felt like he was exploring you for the first time, his fingers ghosting across every expanse and curve of your body. "You were always so beautiful," the sudden whisper by your ear had goosebumps forming all over your arms. He had a smile plastered on his face, the type of smile that allowed you to see the slight imperfection in his teeth. The one that you loved so much.

"I missed you," you didn't recognize your own voice, you were breathless. So affected by so little. "Yeah, what'd you miss about me?" his tone carried a teasing tone, his lips on your collarbone to leave a couple marks on there. Marks that conveyed that you still, undoubtedly, were his. You placed your hands on his shoulders, using that as leverage as you rubbed your aching cunt onto his thigh. "I missed everything about you. Your besitos, your back rubs, and the way you fuck me," you managed to get out, finding it difficult to form any actual sentences now.

"That's it, use me however you need to," he whispered against your skin, his tongue licking a stripe down your neck. The contact had you shivering, your cunt brushing up against the tent in his pants. Your hips swiveled as you moved against him, the friction stimulating your clit. "You're gonna cum from just my lap, hermosa? ¿Me extra��astes tanto?" his voice took on a taunting tone as he saw you squirm in his lap, getting close to your orgasm. All you could do was nod to his question, biting your lip to stifle any moans that were threatening to come out.

(you missed me that much?)

"You know I'll always wait for you, right?"

Now that part had gotten too unrealistic for your own sake. You opened your eyes, a discarded pizza box in the middle of your hotel bed and a vintage science fiction movie from the 20's playing on the television. If only you could've convinced yourself to stay in that dream for just a little bit longer. At least so you wouldn't have to deal with the insistent throbbing in between your legs.

Strings of slick connected your cunt to your panties when you slid them down, your walls clenching around thin air for some kind of friction. Maybe a cold shower would help? You weren't exactly responsible for your water consumption if it ended taking too long. You stripped off your pajamas, getting in the shower and closing the glass door behind you.

Your hand ghosted down to your vagina, your fingers running against your folds before you stuck one inside. Damn it. Despite the fact that you knew what made your body tick, you just couldn't find relief. Not when the dream was in the forefront of your mind. Not when you could practically feel his touch on your skin, leaving you all too desperate as you tried to imagine that your hands were his instead. You brought up your free hand to your hardened nipple, pinching it between your pointer and middle finger.

It was almost comical the way that your fingers left you feeling much more empty than when you started this whole ordeal. Another reminder that Miguel wasn't here. You shortly established a rhythm, pushing your fingers in and out on your cunt to get off. Your bottom lip was captured in between your teeth as you resisted the urge to moan, like people hadn't done more obscene things in these hotels. The cold water hit your clit, the swollen nub throbbing for some kind of stimulation as you worked yourself open.

You applied some pressure to your neglected clit, ranging from rubbing it in small circles to pinching it in between your fingers. Anything that would make this end. You chased the all too familiar feeling, the coil inside you tightening up before snapping in half. Your slick coated your fingers as you came, the cold water a stark contrast to how ignited your body felt right now. As much as you tried to convince yourself on the walk over to this hotel that you needed to get over him, you didn't know how you would even begin to start with that process.

You hated feeling this way, unable to get over Miguel. But in a way, how could you when everything just felt so unfinished between the two of you? Even before you left for California, the time between the two of you had been too short.

You leaned your body against the cold shower tiles, closing your eyes as the after effects of your orgasm washed out. Despite the fact that the throbbing between your legs was gone, you couldn't ignore the way your heart clenched at just the memory of tonight. 'Fiancée' kept running through your mind, how the man who seemingly had no intention of settling down was now about to become somebody's husband. Maybe you should've just gone back to sleep.

You truly hated Miguel O'Hara.

You hated his stupid crooked teeth. The way that his cheeks curved up when he was actually amused by something. His stupid geneticist jokes. The way that he seemed to know your body better than yourself, working you like an instrument with every single encounter. How his eyes only seemed to be reserved for you in every event, like you were the only one worthy of being looked at by him.

But most of all, you hated the way that your stupid, bleeding broken heart only seemed to beat for him.

"You could've told her the truth instead of letting her mope around the place like a kicked puppy," Tempest told Miguel as the two of them stepped into their shared apartment. He didn't need much more specification on who she was talking about, not when most of his attention had been on you for most of the night. The way that your emotions were so clear to see despite the smile that you forced on your face. How he wanted to kiss that little frown off your face.

Tell you that's it's always just been you.

He undid the buttons of his shirt, sitting down on the couch to take off his shoes. "Her and I were never anything serious, I don't have any reason to explain things to her," was the same excuse that he gave himself over and over to justify why he kept this a secret for so long. Tempest let out a scoff, but she didn't add much more to that as she slid her heels off. He itched to go and help her, but he knew he'd probably get a heel thrown at his head if he did.

Tempest went over to her own bedroom, making a beeline to switch out of the clothes that she'd chosen for the night before going back over to the living room. "Take it from the dying person. There's nothing selfish about wanting your own happiness," she told him, walking past his bedroom to head into the living room once more. Now there was food for thought. Prioritizing his own happiness instead of trying to fix the things around him. A thought that he didn't want to entertain right now.

He headed out of his room after changing out of his clothes, rubbing his eyes as he headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "You would've been a decent poet," he steers the conversation into safe territory, conversation that didn't involve how he was feeling. "Not really. I was gonna pursue something in sports, maybe in sports medicine," she responded, walking over to the kitchen where he was standing. Tempest was fairly decent at discerning when he wanted to drop a subject, so she decided on doing just that.

"Goodnight, Miguel," Tempest spoke up after a while, her body exhausted from the events of the day. She'd skipped out on her daily nap to go to the party with him, her body facing the consequences now. Not that she'd ever voice any concern though, not when she was getting free food and a free place to stay. As well as access to low cost healthcare.

"Good night. Let me know if you need anything," Miguel told her, passing her a bottle of water so she'd be able to take her night pills. Tempest looked over at her pill box reluctantly, taking out the small capsules before gulping them down. No matter how many times she swallowed the pills, the process of keeping them down never got any easier. Tempest gave him a small thumbs up, heading over to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. Not that he'd miss any movement that she made with the thin wall separating them anyways.

Miguel laid down in bed with one hand behind his head, his gaze directed at the ceiling like it would reveal some kind of magical answer to him. He had no actual responsibility to stay loyal to you, yet he knew that if the roles would've been reversed that he would've lost his shit. That he would've gotten down on his knees and begged you to reconsider, reconsider the happy moments that the two of you had together. Albeit, most of them short and temporary but still sweet.

He was doing this to help out Tempest. Yet, she showed more interest in having him be with you than he did. She probably felt guilty for being stuck in such a predicament with him, the thought backed up by the one time she'd asked him what he got out of this. He wasn't completely sure what he got out of this arrangement, really, but he knew was that some part of him felt inclined to.

One of the things that he did know was that he needed to see this through after what he’d promised her.

"Ay mierda," he muttered to himself, trying to shake the remaining salt out of the container. A couple specks fell onto the chicken he was cooking, barely enough to cover a millimeter of it. He turned down the heat on the stove, going over to his cupboard to rummage for some extra salt. He had everything in there, an assortment of oregano, paprika, cumin and yet, no extra containers of salt. He looked over at the electronic clock on his wall, trying to discern if he had enough time to go to the grocery store before realizing he had work in an hour.

The idea of potentially bothering his neighbor was almost enough to get him to turn around but he decided to stick it out. What was the worst that could happen, anyways? That they turned out to be a serial killer and his knock on the door was the last thing that they needed to snap? Fat chance. "Just ask for some salt. It can't be that bad, right?" he muttered to himself, looking over at the door as he brought his hand to knock. He swallowed back some of his nervousness, forcing himself to bring his hand over to the wood.

Miguel knocked on his neighbor's door, tapping his foot as he waited for an answer. Sounds of scuffling could be heard inside but the door remained closed. He knocked once more, hoping that this one would warrant some type of answer. "It's not a marketer or something, just your neighbor! I just need some salt!" he called out, realizing afterwards that he probably looked like a maniac shouting in front of a door. The thought of someone passing by and seeing him like this immediately made him press his lips together and wait in silence.

Miguel accepted defeat after waiting for an answer for a couple more seconds, heading back to his apartment. He didn't have enough time to rush out to get more salt without risking being late for work, deciding instead to just go ahead and make himself a microwave dinner. "Wait, sorry," he heard behind him, turning around to see his neighbor poking her head out through the door. Well, at least she didn't look like a serial killer. Still, he wouldn't let his guard down just yet.

"I have a bit of extra salt. You can come inside while I go get it," his neighbor continued, opening the door a bit wider just to let him in. The space was much more different to his own, much more full of ambiance and personality. While he used his apartment as just a place to sleep in whenever he came back home from Alchemax, he could tell that his neighbor had spent the time in making sure that this apartment was well loved.

His eyes darted down to the multiple bills scattered around in her kitchen table, his curiosity getting the better of him. Cancer treatment bills. None of them which lowered from the thousands. Tempest came back with the container of salt in hand, rushing to scoop up the papers before he saw too much. A couple of them flailed past her grip, slowly swaying from side to side before falling on the floor. Not that it helped, he already got the basic idea. Most of those were past their due date.

"Your insurance doesn't cover for some of it?" He knew he should've kept his mouth shut by the way Tempest immediately shot him a glare, but he just couldn't help himself. A part of him couldn't help but worry about the type of cancer treatment she was receiving, if any at all. Tempest let out a small huff, her arms folded across her chest. She was trying to put on a tough persona, but Miguel was able to look past that.

"I don't have insurance after I had to quit my job. I'm not exactly eligible for any services either so it's been purely out of pocket. Hence the whole bills on the table thing," Tempest finally spoke after she realized that her glare wasn't affecting Miguel the way she intended.

"Well.. my work offers insurance to those couples who live together and married couples. The guarantee for it working when you're married is much higher," he spoke up after a while, leaning behind one of her kitchen seats. To think he came over for a bit of salt and now he was making a whole wedding proposal. "Should've left you outside to get your own salt," Tempest muttered, almost laughing at how insane the situation sounded. Getting married just to get the treatment she desperately needed.

"You know, people technically get married out of love. Out of convenience, maybe. But just for insurance purposes?" Tempest brought up the topic, her arms folded as her gaze scrutinized him. As hard as she tried, she couldn't figure out why he was doing this. For a stranger, of all things. A part of her felt that this wasn't just from the kindness of his heart.

"You're acting like that isn't a marriage of convenience."

"Nobody's gonna believe that we suddenly just want to get married."

"Nobody else matters."

Tempest continued to throw out a couple of excuses to try to scare away Miguel from the prospect, getting met with rather simple solutions to her concerns. Damn it, as much as she hated to admit it, he was pretty decent at convincing her of this idea.

While you were in the shower last night, you'd gotten a message from Gabriel asking if you wanted to come over to his place. To which you agreed to eagerly. You were planning on watching romance movies for the day while shitting on them for the unrealistic expectations they set, maybe ordering a bottle of wine and pizza if you were feeling up to it.

"You couldn't have told me that you were planning on staying in Nueva York from now on?" his voice called out from the kitchen, Romeo Santos' 'Imitadora' playing in the background. He lowered the volume on his speaker when he listened to your footsteps approach, setting down the knife he had in hand. He was in a much better state than you'd expected, you were expecting to find him in a bathrobe with sunglasses on after the copious amounts of tequila he'd had last night.

"And you couldn't have told me Miguel was engaged? I almost made a fool out of myself," you countered, leaning against the counter as the different spices filled your nose. A mixture of adobo and garlic sizzling on a piece of meat he had on the stove. "You always make a fool out of yourself, though. Remember that one time you fell at the pool during my 21st birthday?" he retorted, leaning against the kitchen counter with an amused smirk on his face.

How could you not. You'd gotten more drunk than Gabriel that night, mixing up all different types of alcohol in an adventurous pursuit. You'd drunkenly called Miguel to pick you up after the night was over, stumbling over your feet when you walked over to his car. The two of you drove around most of Nueva York, though all the buildings blurred together in your inebriated state. One of the best memories that you had despite the throbbing headache that followed the next day.

The two of you ended up at a greasy burger spot on the skirts of town, though that burger had tasted like a slice of heaven the minute that it touched your tongue. You didn't remember that much about the event itself, but you could remember the overwhelming amount of safety that you felt with him. How comfortable he made you feel in his presence. How he entertained every single of your stupid remarks without much resistance, even adding onto it at times.

He'd taken off your heels and changed your clothes into something more comfortable, showing no reluctance to do so. "Shh, it's okay sweet girl. You just drank too much," he whispered in your ear, his hand rubbing small circles as you were leaned over the toilet throwing up. "I'm never touching another glass of tequila again," you groaned, a lie to both yourself and Miguel. He continued to rub your back throughout the ordeal, staying by your side through it all. "Yeah, I'm sure you won't," he remarked, handing you a napkin once you were done.

Every memory that you had in Nueva York was tainted in some way by Miguel O'Hara.

"I didn't think the two of you had anything serious going on anymore, I'm sorry. I would've said something otherwise," Gabriel finally said, adding in the tomato that he'd cut along with the onion slices. Fair point. You didn't really have a reason to expect anything, not when you and Miguel were just sleeping around with no semblance of commitment. "Nah, it's fine. I shouldn't have expected that he'd just be here waiting for me," you responded, glancing over at the stove as he cooked.

You looked down at your phone, a notification ping bringing your attention to it. You weren't expecting to see a message from Miguel, surprised at the fact that he still even had your number. Your eyebrows practically shot up to your forehead upon reading the contents of the message, an invitation to his engagement party with Tempest. You debated on not going but you looked over at Gabriel and asked,

"Hey, how do you feel about going to Miguel's engagement party as my plus one?"

Tell your baby that I'm your baby

You weren't sure who was the bigger idiot in this situation. Miguel for inviting you to his engagement party or you for actually accepting it. As much as you were willing yourself to be mature throughout this situation, you didn't have this much maturity in you. His apartment was adorned in a mix of gold and yellow, a couple streamers hanging off the walls and a couple balloons bouncing around. "Maybe we should go. Get some food at the bodega," you suggested, looking over at Gabriel.

"No way, you dragged me out here now we're gonna stick it out," Gabriel's words came out muffled as he stuck a hors-d'oeuvre into his mouth that a butler was passing around. Miguel had really gone out for his engagement party. "I'll get you food from another place?" you tried another approach, hoping that maybe he would ease up this way. He pointed with his mouth over to the wide array of plates set up at a table, the good looking much more inviting than any bodega you had in mind. You really didn't have any proper reason to leave.

Gabriel left your side upon getting approached by a couple of family members, some third/fourth cousins that had been dying to see him again. You looked out from a distance to see him dancing around with them, anything that would be a nice distraction from looking around for Miguel. Your eyes always managed to find him in whatever room you were in. Not that it was too hard of a task, though. You stepped outside to catch some air, to convince yourself that you could last at least another hour at this event.

You didn't fit either of their lives anymore. As much as you desperately wished you did. The thought had come to you while you were in the balcony, looking out at the night sky. Everyone had someone else to converse with, someway of knowing each other. The thought stung more than you could've imagined, that you were still stuck on memories and a fling from the past while Miguel had been perfectly capable of moving on. The champagne that you had in your hand went down easier than the realization of the bitter truth.

"Hey," you didn't need to look behind you to recognize who'd just stood next to you, the scent of his cologne practically gave it away before he even got the chance to approach. "Hey," you returned the greeting, keeping your attention out on the night sky. "Is the party not up to your liking? You don't have to be outside, y'know," he told you, stepping just an inch closer to you. A scoff escaped from your lips before you got the chance to stop it, an incredulous look on your face when you turned to face Miguel.

"Are you seriously asking me that? You invited me to this engagement party knowing damn well about our previous history together. You didn't even bother to tell me you were engaged. If we weren't dating, then we were at the least friends."

"I wasn't sure how you were going to react to it. You and I didn't exactly have anything all that serious," Miguel realized it was the wrong thing to say upon seeing your expression, the way your face scrunched up in disbelief. The excuse had worked pretty well to get Tempest to leave it alone, so he figured that it would've worked on you too. Never had he regretted saying something so fast.

"Seriously? You think that I hooked up with you throughout these years just because you were a decent lay?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? It's not like we did a lot of talking when you came over those past couple times."

"It was because I loved you, you idiot! If it was just about the sex aspect, I would've hooked up with someone back in California!"

"I was gonna tell you at the party that I intended to stay in Nueva York this time around. So I guess we'll be seeing more of each other," the words ran through Miguel like a cold bucket of water, the meaning of your words not at all lost to him. You had wanted to try again. Miguel wanted to pull you back into his arms, tell you that you were the one he envisioned having a future with. But... he didn't. He let you run off, looking at the back of your head before you eventually disappeared.

He stood at the balcony, letting himself ponder about a different alternative to this one. One where Tempest wasn't sick and didn't require his help. One where you'd never left for California, where you stayed by his side. Where the two of you would clean dishes, a cumbia playing in the background as the two of you basked in each other's presence. Where that would just be enough. Where this engagement party was for the both of you, an engagement ring on your finger. A thought that he entertained more and more often.

"Oyé, Tempest doesn't look too good," Gabriel's voice took him out of the fantasy he was in, immediately turning around and scanning inside of the apartment to see if he could find her. She looked winded, despite the fact he knew that she hadn't done much dancing tonight. "Alright, thanks," he cleared his throat, opening the glass door leading back to his apartment before going over to her. "Try to stand up for me, can you do that?" he spoke just low enough for her to hear, putting one hand on her arm.

She'd been sick for a couple weeks now, he knew that much. But he'd never seen her get this bad. The thought was enough to scare him into shooing all the guests away, rushing Tempest to the nearest hospital that he could find. "Come on, stay with me," his voice wavered, seeing the way that Tempest struggled to stay awake. Damn it, he'd never forgive himself for not taking her earlier to the hospital if she didn't get better. He put her favorite song on the radio to see if that made a difference. It didn't.

He rushed with her into the emergency room, beckoning for a nurse to come over after getting Tempest seated down on a wheelchair. She was still conscious, but she was unresponsive to everything going on around her. Her breathing sounded strangled, like the action itself was causing her pain. He found himself with his head buried between her hands, praying for the first time in a couple years. The action was strange to him, but he needed to have someone to depend on in this situation.

If only he'd come when these symptoms started to present themselves.

Tempest wobbled over her feet as she made her way down the small stage that the wedding boutique had set up. Miguel let her lean her body against him, her hand tightly pressed against his chest for some kind of support. "You okay?" he'd seen her get worse these past couple of days, but he decided it'd be better not to push her too much. "Yeah, it's fine," she sounded like she'd just ran a marathon, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to regain control of her breathing.

It'd be better not to make a scene out in public.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" Miguel prodded as the two stepped into the apartment, helping Tempest sit down on the couch despite her protests. She did hate when she got treated like she was weak. Tempest shook his hands off, taking a sip from the water bottle that he'd brought over. He could tell she was just itching to tell him that she was fine, not that the lie would do either of them any good though. "The treatment's just taking more out of me than I expected. The one today just left me feeling particularly weak is all."

"The doctor said it should be expected, Miggy," though the nickname annoyed him to no end, he knew better than to deny a dying person this small thing. Though the excuse didn't sound too coherent to him, he decided he would handle this the way that Tempest wanted to. Instead of him reassuring her, she was doing the task instead. Miguel really needed to do a better job at being a fake fiancé. He let out a small sigh, sitting down by her side and looking over at her with concern etched across all over his features.

"Just tell me if it ever gets too serious, okay? If you ever start to feel too sick or too fatigued. I'll take you to the hospital and I'll get you the best shocking cancer treatment there is, okay?" He told her, taking the water bottle once she was done with it. "I know and I appreciate that, more than you know. But I'm fine, I'll get used to the treatment plan eventually," she responded, the two of them getting into a conversation about what they wanted to order. He always ended up getting what she wanted to regardless.

He thought she was doing better after that, but maybe she'd just done a better job at hiding her sickness away from him. He'd seen her smiling and tending to her plants, even going as far as humming to them. An activity that distracted her from the fact that she couldn't be outside for too long. Little did he know that while the flowers bloomed and thrived under her care, she was decaying with each passing day.

I'm losing by their side

The doctor's words were starting to blur into the background, something about how the treatment plan had been too aggressive. That her body couldn't take it. It all sounded the same to him, really. Just pure gibberish that was meant to rationalize the loss. "If you knew she couldn't take it then why'd you force her into such an aggressive plan?" Miguel kept his distance as he spoke, every word coming out like venom as he looked at the doctor. His hands balled up into fists but he remained in the seat where he was.

Last thing he needed was to deal with both a funeral and a bail hearing tonight.

"We thought that it was the best approach. She never complained about it," the doctor told him, keeping an even tone as he spoke. Miguel's stare was full of disgust, disgust at the way that he somehow made it sound like it was Tempest's fault. He should've gone to someone better, should've done a number of things differently. He really should've been less desperate when trying to help her. His brother's words ran through his head, so many should'ves and not enough doing. And now Tempest was no longer in his life.

The treatment plan wasn't something that was meant to heal her completely, but it was something that was meant to slow down the rate that the cancer was advancing. Instead, it'd only shortened the time that she'd been given. He blamed himself for not listening to her when she'd expressed that the medication and the levels of chemotherapy were starting to become too much, each session leaving her weaker and weaker. He blamed himself for not being able to save her even if the task was practically impossible.

He played with the engagement band that had once been on his finger, waiting absentmindedly for the doctor to come. He was still processing the fact that he wasn't going home with Tempest tonight, that he'd eventually have to go back home to an empty apartment. Nothing ran through his mind as the doctor gave him the full report of what happened, his gaze empty as he looked at the blank wall. No amount of details would change the fact that he wasn't able to save her. As hard as he tried to, he'd failed not only her, but also himself.

He couldn't bear going back home now, getting welcomed to an apartment that smelled like Tempest all around. From the cookie batter that she'd been making earlier to the scent of her perfume permeated on the couch cushions. It was all too much. Having all these little reminders with the knowledge that they'd soon fade away with time. So he found himself driving over to your place without much thought. Your presence was a calming one, one that would anchor him down to earth before he did something stupid.

Headlights flashed in a flurry of colors, the brightness on some of them almost hurting his eyes as he sped down the streets of Nueva York. "What the shock are you doing, man?!" He heard an angry driver scream behind him, a loud honk following after. He should've been more cautious, he really should've. Cars were swerving to get out of his way on the road, a train of honking following him with every red light that he disregarded. But his brain was on autopilot. His only mission was to get to you.

A distraught Miguel was not what you were expecting to see on your doorstep at two in the morning, but yet here he was. His eyes were brimmed red, tears leaking out of him like a faucet as they combined with the rainfall. His grey Alchemax hoodie had turned into a darker shade, his body shaking in front of you. He hadn't even registered that you'd opened the door, his attention on a speck of dirt that laid on your doorstep.

His body clung onto you when the door swung open, holding you the same way a child would hold a teddy bear for comfort. "I couldn't save her," he babbled, his throat raw as he spoke. After the initial shock fizzled out of your body, you rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. "I tried, te lo juro que trate," he repeated as he held you close to his body, needing something to stay stagnant for now.

You stayed quiet, providing him the comfort of your presence and your touch. His shoulders shook with each sob that escaped his body, his chest heaving as his lungs struggled to catch up to him. "I know you tried, Miguel," your words fell on deaf ears as he continued to sob, his grip on you tightening. Something to tether him to reality. "I did, I really did," he whispered, sniffling before more tears began to roll down his cheeks. You'd never seen him cry this much before. Never seen him cry ever, actually.

You set the cup of tea down, his hands shaking as he reached over to grab it. A couple drops fell onto the floor when he tried to get a good grasp on it. "I'm sorry, I know I'm making a mess out of your apartment," he'd made a wet spot on your couch after taking a seat, not that it was your first concern at the moment. "Hey, no. You've got nothing to apologize for," you assured him, taking a seat next to him.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it as he took a sip from the chamomile tea that you'd brought over. His throat bobbed as he struggled to keep it down. A part of him was convinced that he didn't deserve to be treated this way, with such care and delicacy. After he'd treated you like something disposable, as something that didn't matter. But he couldn't help and be selfish, enjoy the feeling of having your concern directed towards him. Of having you still care about him.

"Thank you," his voice was hoarse, his cheeks completely tear-streaked as he looked up from the floor over to you. He got up from the couch, taking off the wet hoodie that was practically pasted onto his body by now. "I have some clothes that you can borrow," you told him, seeing the hesitation in his face as he debated on taking off the rest of his moist clothing.

You took out a black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that he'd let you borrow one time after staying at his place a couple years back. A pair of clothes that you told yourself you'd throw away time and time again, only to let them reside in the back of your cabinet. You were thankful that your reluctance to move on really paid off in this moment. You made your way over to the living room, not feeling comfortable with leaving him alone for too long while he was feeling like this.

You passed him the dry set of clothes, picking up the wet pieces from the floor before leaving to the kitchen to give him some time to change. You set the dry clothes in the dryer, starting up the first round before walking back over to the living room. Miguel's movements seemed delayed as he struggled to put his shirt on, like his brain wasn't communicating properly with his body at the moment. "Here, I got you," you instinctively found yourself needing to help him, pulling the shirt down to cover him up.

He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing right on your floor.

You'd grabbed a blanket over from a closet, placing it down on the couch cushion next to him as well as a plush pillow. "Try to get some rest, okay?" you told him, shutting off the light before starting to make your way back into your bedroom. "Do you mind staying here with me tonight?" his voice was unnaturally quiet. You were sure you would've missed it had you not been paying attention. You weren't sure what the protocol was for sleeping with somewhat of an ex but you decided to oblige.

His arm snaked around your waist in an attempt to hold you close, his body heat practically radiating onto your own body. His body shook behind you but he made no noise, an occasional sniffle here and there. It pained you to see him this upset, without being able to do much other than just offer him your comfort. You wanted to be able to take away his pain despite how upset he'd made you these past couple months. It pained you to see him so helpless, so willing to blame himself despite not having any actual fault in it.

You weren't sure how much time had passed when Miguel's body finally fell slack, snores the sound of lawnmower escaping from his lips. Every time that you tried to adjust his body, the grip he had around you tightened in an attempt to keep you in place. He couldn't bare to lose you too. Even if it was just for a couple seconds. You shut you eyes, trying to will yourself into falling asleep. After a while, you just stopped trying and let yourself get consumed into sleep.

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bystarlightlore · 8 months

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first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.

i die.

moving on...

sweet alex, he’s all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be.

it’s integral to watch our sunshine boy in this scene.

the book & film are both from alex’s perspective, but there’s one thing that we’re afforded between the pages that doesn’t fully make it on screen — his emotional & cognitive layers. & that’s not anybody’s fault & it doesn’t make the film any less incredible, that’s just how adaptations occur sometimes. you can’t translate everything on screen & honestly, that’s the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.

tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alex’s movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i can’t imagine anyone else being our alex. i can’t get over how perfectly he was casted.

all this to reiterate, it’s so key to watch alex here.

we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere — “i’ve never felt this way about anyone” — & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.

“it’s like there’s a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.”

there’s never been a moment in his life where can’t share exactly how he feels. he’s always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question about if he’d tell henry, the question was what he’d tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when.

his mom asked if he felt ‘forever’ about henry & he didn’t consciously know at the time. (i’m a firm believer in the fact that they’ve been in love all along but that’s not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & that’s where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours.

“& it feels so right”

all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.

i don’t see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.

he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time — running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henry’s wrist & back. i think he needs it here just as much as he wants it.

the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when he’s skin-to-skin with the man he loves.

this moment cannot be any different.

—- “what i mean to say is, henry, i—“

i’d give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun — someplace as bright & warm as he is.

alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.

the same cannot be said for our prince.

our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.

he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.

distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)

in our prince’s head, it doesn’t matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesn’t matter if he’s loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart — their hearts — are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything that’s passed between them in the past year — the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love — henry does the one thing he’s always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new year’s eve.

alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. he’s kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.

our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.

the progress isn’t lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.

& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of england’s hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because there’s too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you can’t be overjoyed — because you’re terrified.

grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #prince henry rwrb #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #firstprince

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vax-merstappen · 3 months

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feelings (ln4)

my fist lando fic! lmk if you enjoy!

summary: in which lando clearly has feelings for you but will not confess, no matter how many plans you and your friends come up with.

warning: some swearing, lando being an idiot

Ever since you had been invited to join Quadrant by your best friend Ria, you had become increasingly close with the rest of the group. Niran was the first one you got close to, him welcoming you into the group with open arms and listening to all your content ideas. Soon after, you got close to Max, Aarav, and Steve, the boys always making sure you felt like a part of the group. Lando, with his busy schedule, took longer for you to get to know and have in your life.

But when you and Lando finally hit it off, you couldn't imagine what your life had been like before him. You found yourself watching Formula 1 races more often and wearing various pieces of merch sent to you by Lando himself. Occasionally, you would find yourself with a text from him, asking how your day had been or wondering if you would be free to grab dinner while he was in town for a few days.

But soon the tone began to change. You spent many late nights at his apartment, laughing over inside jokes. The random gifts from countries around the world kept appearing more often. Your phone calls got longer and longer until neither of you wanted to hang up.

It seemed like Lando Norris was into you.

You decided to ask Ria about it one day. After all, she had known the man longer than you.

"Hey, do you think Lando is into me?"

Ria gave you a shocked look. "Did you only now just pick up on it?"

"Yeah...?"

"He thought you were hot before you even joined Quadrant. He was avoiding getting to know you because he was intimidated by you at the start. But clearly that has changed."

"Yeah, now he's made it obvious."

"Has he confessed to liking you?"

"Not yet. But i really don't feel like he will any time soon. I mean, there have been so many opportunities when I've been alone with him at his house. And when we've gotten dinner. Or when he's driven me home."

Ria smiled. "Then we'll have to make him confess. Give him an opportunity he can't pass up."

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

---

You had asked Lando to a fancy restaurant in London and reserved a private table with help from Ria, whose family knew the owners. Lando had picked you up in his McLaren, dressed up in a suit. If you hadn't found him attractive before, this would have done the trick.

Dinner was delicious and you enjoyed the flavors while having casual conversation. You laughed over stories from his previous race weekend while you caught him up on the antics going on with the Quadrant group.

"This sure is a nice restaurant, what made you want to dine somewhere special tonight?" he asked.

You could have told him, but you wanted him to confess first.

"Oh, you know. To celebrate someone very special to me being home for once."

"Am I special to you?"

"Yes, Lando. You mean a lot to me."

You held eye contact in the awkward silence that followed. "Stop getting all sentimental on me!" he exclaimed. "You gonna start crying?"

"I might if I have to put up with you for too much longer, let's get the check," you replied, rolling your eyes before laughing.

It seemed like this plan wasn't going to work.

---

Niran sighed dramatically. "So you told him he meant a lot to you and he told you to stop being sentimental? That man is an idiot!"

"I know, right? Any ideas on how we can get him to confess?"

"Easy. Quadrant truth or drink hot sauce video. We ask him point blank if he likes you and he has to answer."

You agreed to Niran's idea and you both got to work writing the questions. A few days later, when Lando was available for the shoot, you had set up in the studio with you three and Ria. The questions started simple.

"So do you watch all of Lando's races?" Ria asked you.

"Of course I do! Wouldn't want to miss one."

You saw Lando smile at your response out of the corner of your eye. Just more evidence the man had fallen for you. You looked at your next question for Niran.

"Have you ever ghosted someone?"

"I have. She wasn't too happy about that one," Niran said.

Niran looked at you for a few seconds as he picked up the next question card. You gave a barely perceptible smile and nod to indicate that you wanted to go along with the plan.

"Lando, do you like y/n?"

Lando's gaze flicked to you before he burst out into laughter. "What kind of question is that? Of course I like y/n! They are a great friend."

Clearly, the question hadn't been worded correctly. Or Lando was finding a way out of admitting his feelings. When you watched the video back before it went out to the internet, you noticed that Lando blushed when Niran asked the question. He fidgeted with his shirt sleeve while he answered, unlike in any of the other questions. He knew the implications and what Niran was getting at. Clearly you would have to try something else.

---

"So you think he does like me?"

Max Fewtrell turned in his chair to face you. "I don't think he likes you. I know he likes you. The man has been down bad ever since he met you. I've never seen him look at anybody else the way he looks at you, like you're the only person he can see."

"But how do I get him to say so?"

Max sat there in silence for a few seconds.

"We're going to make you into Lando Norris' dream girl. He won't be able to resist you."

"What exactly does that entail?"

Apparently, it entailed a full day of spending time with Lando. The day would start with you taking him on a trip to Top Golf, where you would show off that you knew how to hit a golf ball. Next was inviting Lando over to your house for dinner. It would be a home cooked meal of microwave chicken nuggets and mac and cheese, two foods Lando adored but did not eat often. For dessert, it would be ice cream sundaes, a notorious favorite of Lando's. Activities for the night included Mario Kart and sitting together on the couch and watch episodes of Money Heist, one of his favorite shows.

Max said that if he didn't confess his feelings by the end of this night, the man truly was beyond hope.

It was a long day full of activities Lando loved, but surely this would do the trick that nothing else had. You started by going to Top Golf as planned. Little did Lando know, but you had practiced a bit before the trip so that your golfing skills would be attractive to Lando.

"Woah, you can really hit a golf ball!" Lando exclaimed, watching as you swung.

"What, you thought I would be bad?"

"Of course not, I just hoped I might be able to impress you."

You smiled, sensing that you were one step closer to getting Lando to ask you out. Even though golfing may not have been your favorite thing in the world, it was having the intended effect.

Next of course was the dinner. You drove Lando back to your place and led him inside. Of course he had been over a few times before, but this time felt different somehow.

"So what's for dinner?" he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"I thought we could do something easy, like chicken nuggets and mac and cheese."

"Oh my god! Are you a picky eater too? I never noticed before."

You nodded. "Yeah, I mean I like a lot of foods but there are many I don't like as well."

"How were we not friends sooner?"

You tried not to let any emotions show that he had again called you his friend, but the night was not beyond saving yet. There were still four more stages to the grand plan Max had made.

When you brought out the ice cream sundaes, you could sense his heart starting to melt just like the treat in the bowls. The looks he gave you were different now, like he couldn't take his gaze away from you. And to be fair, you couldn't stop looking at his freckles and his blueish eyes.

"Want to play Mario Kart?" you asked nonchalantly, as if the night hadn't been planned from the start.

"You know I love beating you at video games."

You rolled your eyes. "You say that like I didn't win 5-0 last time we played."

"Oh you're in for it now!"

The competition was close, you winning the first two rounds and Lando winning the next two. In a close battle for victory, you got a red shell that sent Lando spinning and you passing him to claim first place.

"So who's beating who at video games now?" you asked tauntingly.

"It wasn't fair, I got distracted," he whined.

"By what?"

"You."

You couldn't help but blush. "What did I do to distract you?"

"You were shouting at me the whole race, how could I tune that out?" he laughed. A slight wave of disappointment passed through you.

"Want to watch TV?" you asked.

"What show?"

"Money heist? I've been watching that lately."

"Oh my god that's one of my favorite shows! How did you not tell me that you were watching it?"

"I guess it slipped my mind."

You sat next to each other on your small couch, legs pressed up against each other due to how close together you were sitting. It seemed like the night was a waste. You had done all of Lando's favorite things and still he couldn't bring himself to tell you his feelings. Maybe he just wasn't into you? Even though his friends had all reassured you that the signs were there, doubt started to creep in.

You were three episodes in and all of your hope was gone.

"I think I'm going to head home after this one," Lando said. "But thanks for having me over, I had a real good time."

"I did too, Lando."

The credits rolled and you turned off the TV. Lando got up from the couch and you felt cold where the physical contact with him had disappeared. The opportunity was closing fast.

"Lando, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"I...do yo...have you..."

"Just spit it out."

"Do you have feelings for me? Like more than friends kind of feelings?"

Lando was silent for a moment. "Yeah. I have for a long time and I just didn't know how to let you know. Didn't want to ruin our friendship."

You sighed dramatically. "Are you fucking kidding me, Lando Norris? I took you on a date at a fancy restaurant?"

"Oh my god, that's what that was all about?"

"And then I had Niran ask you if you liked me? And you called me a great friend?"

"Well I couldn't just say it to Niran could I?"

"I was right there! And then this whole night I've been waiting for you to ask me out. You were just going to leave!"

"Ok maybe that one is my fault."

"Lando Norris you are completely oblivious!"

"I know I'm so sorry I didn't-"

You silence him with a kiss on his lips. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I love you. Even if you can be oblivious."

Lando looked at you before pulling you in for another kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow. Let me take you on a proper date for once, one that I'll actually realize is a date."

"I can't wait."

---

"So you had to confess to him?" Max asked incredulously. "That man is worse than I ever thought."

"Yeah, he was just going to leave without saying anything."

"Jesus Christ."

You laughed. "But at least it's over now, you don't have to watch us pine for each other anymore."

Max rolled his eyes. "But now I have to deal with you being all sappy together. I don't know what's worse."

"Well I can tell you which option I prefer."

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic

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nisckes · 1 year

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░ ⁞ 🎄 ⁽ 12-DAYS TILL X-MAS ⁾ ∶ 1500 points or 15 USD

this is an advent calendar, meaning each day of december up until christmas eve, you can open the corresponding folder and see what present you got! that’s the main idea of this whole project, but if you want to open them right away, it’s totally fine!

this a special package includes a bunch of premade psds, some templates and even psds that i haven’t get released to the public. there are 12 folders in total, and some even have more than one gifts inside.

it will only be available during the holiday season but whether you want to get it any time during the time-lapse, it’s up to you.

this whole package is worth double the price i’m offering it for, i’d say it’s a hell of a deal.

don’t sell. don’t share without consent. don’t claim as your own.

please credit, it helps promote!

#if you have any question #feel free to contact me #and i'll clarify whichever doubt you may have #holiday resources #holiday discounts #deviantart link on source

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mrsstarkey1 · 1 year

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found you - rafe cameron

this gif makes me FERAL

SUMMARY: you help rafe one night. he was in a bad position, you helped him out of it. you thought that was the end of the story. does rafe think the same thing?

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: none

A/N: check out my most recent rafe fic

You sat on the couch on John B’s porch, legs rested on Pope’s lap. JJ and Kie sat together sharing a cigarette, and John B was sitting on the high edge of the porch.

“So, where were you last night y/n? you said you were gonna stay here,” JJ asked you as he got up to get himself a beer.

You put the book that you were reading on your lap, shrugging your shoulders, “just out. You guys know I have other friends right?”

They all gave you a ‘really?’ look, and you avoided all of their eyes. You were obviously lying, but no one pressed it any further.

You started to read your book again as the rest of them engaged in separate conversations. Your eyes moved across an entire page just for you to reach the bottom and not remember a thing you just read. Your mind was clearly elsewhere. It kept going back to the events of last night.

you were sitting on the beach, enjoying the dark sky and the fresh air. the time was nearing midnight, so there was no one on the beach but you and your thoughts.

you sat for about 20 minutes, sipping a beer very slowly. and you were just about to stand up and walk back to your car when you heard footsteps on the steps leading to the beach, and then a small thud followed by a groan.

you ran toward the source of the sound, finding a man laying in the sand, curled up, looking very much in pain. you dropped to your knees next to him, turning him around so you could see his face. “rafe?” you said softly, not even to him, but to yourself.

you hadn’t spoken to rafe cameron in a very long time. not since your freshman year of highschool. even then, you weren’t friends, just acquaintances.

he had a small cut on his forehead, and he reeked of alcohol. “rafe? can you hear me?” he was breathing, but his eyes were shut.

rafe let out a soft moan, giving you his answer. you helped him stand up after a couple minutes of staring at him. “ouch,” rafe held his side, and scrunched his nose up in pain.

“come on, let’s get you to my car. i can take you home, okay?”

rafes eyes widened and he shook his head violently, trying to break free of the hold you had on his hand, “no- no, i don’t want to go home. please, i cant go home. y/n please i-”

“hey, hey it’s okay. you don’t have to go home. i’ll take you back to my place,” you said softly. you were confused by the outburst, but you weren’t going to press him for information, especially in the state he was in.

he let out a breath and his hand relaxed in yours. you led him to your car, and opened the front door for him. he sat down and leaned his head back against the seat, and put his hands over his face. when he stretched back, he winced, hissing from pain.

you leaned into the car, putting your hand on the hem of his shirt, “can i?” he nodded.

you pulled the shirt up to reveal a giant cut right on his stomach, “oh my god.”

“i must have landed on a rock when i fell,” he said, obviously in pain. the numbing of the amount of alcohol hes had was wearing off, and he was feeling all the pain.

“i can stitch it at my house,” you said, closing the door and getting in the drivers seat. you had a first aid kit for all the times you had to stitch up jj.

you drove to your house in silence, though you had so many questions for him.

once you got to your house, you opened rafes door for him and wrapped your arms around his waist, helping him walk, careful to not make contact with his cut. he seemed like he’d gotten 10 times more tired in the short time you’d been in the car.

you led him to your bedroom, and had him sit down on the bed. he was sitting up, but his eyes were closed tightly. “i’m going to take your shirt off, okay?”

he simply nodded and you pulled the shirt off over his head, taking a better look at the cut. “this is going to sting,” you poured alcohol over the open wound.

he winced a little, but took it like a champ. you stitched the wound shut, and helped him put his shirt back on. you moved the covers, so that he would have a place to get under them.

“i can sleep on the floor,” he said quietly when he realized what you were doing.

you shook your head, “no no, it’s okay. please, sleep on the bed. you look like you could use a good nights sleep.”

he gave you a soft smile, “thank you.”

he slipped his shoes off and moved to the other end of the bed, getting under the blankets. you grabbed a pillow and a blanket from your closet and began to put it on the floor. “y/n?” rafes small voice caused you to stop.

“yeah?”

“can you lay with me?” he asked, so quietly you could barely hear him.

the pure sadness and what you could only think of as fear in his voice broke your heart. “sure, rafe.”

you turned the lights out and slid under the the blanket, next to rafe.

“what were you doing on the beach so late?” he asked you, and you felt his breath on your shoulder. you hadn’t noticed how close you were.

“i was just thinking. it’s so quiet and peaceful at night. i don’t get much of that anymore,” you said turning to look at him, “what about you?”

he closed his eyes, like he was thinking hard about something. “honestly, i don’t remember. i was so wasted, i think i was just walking without even being aware of it. i dont even remember falling. but thank god you were there, y/n. i don’t know what would have happened if you werent,” he said, and you noticed the glossiness of his eyes.

you put your hand on his arm, “i’m just glad that you’re okay.”

rafe hesitantly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and resting his head on your shoulder, “thank you.”

you just nodded your head a little, and traced circles on rafes back until his breathing steadied, and he drifted off to sleep.

when you woke up in the morning, rafe was gone, and there was a note in his place.

thank you for everything

The sound of a motorcycle pulling up next to the chateau brought you back to present day. You squinted your eyes to see who was under the helmet.

JJ and John B shot up from their seats when they realized who it was, and you did the same.

“Cameron, what the hell are you doing here?” JJ yelled, practically running down the steps and straight toward him.

Rafe held up his hands, “I’m not here to fight, I swear to god, I-”

“Yeah right, like we’re supposed to believe that,” JJ got in Rafe’s face, just as you made it to where they were standing. You held your arm out and made contact with JJ’s chest, motioning for him to stop.

“Hey, chill out JJ. Let him talk,” you said calmly, not wanting to witness a fight.

“I’m here to see y/n,” Rafe said in a calm voice, making eye contact with you. He looked different from last night, probably because he wasn’t drunk this time.

Everyone’s eyes snapped to you, giving you looks of confusion. You didn’t want to begin to explain this to the group.“It’s okay guys, just go inside. I’m going to talk to Rafe.”

After a couple minutes of protesting, they all went back inside, probably still watching from the window. “Are you alright?” you asked, not knowing why else he would be coming to see you.

He shifted on his feet a little, “yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted to see you. I had to go to the country club with Topper and Kelce this morning, that’s why I left. but I- I wanted to stay,” he said quietly, not meeting your eyes.

Your lips twitched into a small smile, “do you want to go for a drive?”

He let out a small sigh of relief at your offer, nodding with a smile. You led him to your car. You already knew what everyone inside was thinking, so you sent a quick text to your friends.

i’m getting in this car willingly, don’t worry about me

You switched off your phone and got into the drivers seat. “Where do you want to go?” you asked, turning to look at him.

He thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on the car door, “I’m kind of hungry,” he said with an asking smile.

“Me too. I know a good place about a half hour from here, if you don’t mind the drive.”

He shook his head, “I don’t mind.”

You figured that you would spend the ride in silence, but Rafe was feeling especially talkative. He asked you about a thousand questions about yourself, and the only question you could think to ask him was, “why do you want to know so much about me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I just want to get to know you,” he said nonchalantly, and you smiled a little.

You answered all of his questions until you pulled into the parking lot of the little diner. You spent the rest of the afternoon in the diner, just talking. Talking to Rafe somehow felt so normal, so easy.

After you finished eating, you were prepared to end the day you’d spent with rafe, which was admittedly one of the best days you’d had in a long time. You savored the ride home, as you thought it might be the last time you were with him.

You had just made it back to obx when Rafe suggested going back to your house to watch a movie. “Not sick of me yet, Cameron?” you said jokingly, with a hint of seriousness. You really weren’t sure why rafe wanted to keep hanging out with you, but you wouldn't be caught complaining.

You handed him a blanket and a bowl of popcorn before sitting down on the other side of the couch. Rafe frowned at your preferred seating, “can’t you sit over here?” he patted the fabric of the couch directly next to him.

Rafe’s undeniable need for physical touch at all times became very clear in the last two days. Of course, you didn’t mind. You really were the same way. You sat down next to him, your legs touching. His arm snaked around your waist, and his head rested on your shoulder.

You pressed play on the movie, but you found it hard to focus on the film and not the man practically on top of you. “Rafe?” you whispered, and he turned his head a little to look at you.

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Why are you here with me right now?” he gave you a confused look, “I mean, why aren’t you with your friends. You’d barely even spoken to me until yesterday. Do you feel like you.. owe me? Or something?”

“No, no that’s not it at all,” he said quickly, changing his position on the couch shifted so he was sitting up more. He took a breath, clearing his throat, “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s just, after last night... I couldn’t get you out of my head. I mean you helped me more than anyone ever has, even though you know what kind of person I am. I mean I mess with your friends all the time, which I do plan to stop doing. I don’t know, but there’s just something magnetic about you, y/n,” he spoke the whole monologue in a soft voice, not meeting your eyes. He gave you the impression that he didn’t express his feelings much, which made you feel warm inside, knowing he expressed them to you.

“That was deep, Rafe Cameron,” you said softly with a small smile. He let out a breathy laugh with a small shake of his head. You became more serious, “of course I helped you, Rafe. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, everyone deserves redemption. And surely no one deserves to bleed out drunk on a beach.”

Rafe stayed silent, only looking at you with a look of admiration that he didn’t believe he’d ever given anyone before. You grabbed his hand in yours, rubbing circles with your thumb on his soft skin and gave him a soft smile. You put your head on his shoulder, and he hesitantly placed a kiss to the side of your head.

“I was really glad when you showed up at John B’s today,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “And I’m really glad JJ didn’t start swinging. I wouldn’t want to have to stitch you up again so soon.”

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