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#(also mr x is RIGHT THERE and he’s from the same series)
gimmeurtmi · 6 months
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kinktober day five — hyunjin
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pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
tags: friends to lovers (kinda), kinktober series, smut!!!🔞
warnings: swearing, nude drawings, fingering, masturbation, use of “pretty”, lmk if i forgot anything!
inspo: uni student hyunjin but make it art
kink: exhibitionism
{ wc: 2522 }
It was a strange thing to be offered, but it was also flattering to be seen as a suitable candidate. The art department had reached out to a number of students to act as models for their sketch class—and you were one of them. It probably helped that your best friend, Hyunjin, was taking that class and you were sure he was the one to mention your name first.
He had asked you a few times to model for him and the only time you said yes was when you found a thrilling show to watch while you modelled; it was easier to stay still with your mind so occupied.
So you said yes.
And only then did the teacher tell you there was a catch.
“Nude?” You all but screamed.
“I know you and Mr. Hwang are close so I can pair you two together—but if you’re more comfortable modelling for a female student that’s fine too. Either way, you won’t be able to participate until you sign the forms.”
You looked at the consent forms in your hand, mulling it over for a few moments still. Modelling for a girl would be more comfortable, but you didn’t know anyone that took Art and being naked in front of a stranger was far more nerve wracking to you.
You called Hyunjin right away. He assured you he’d make sure you’re comfortable and that you didn’t have to agree at all and that he would buy you lunch for a week. He needed a good score on this assignment and he, too, didn’t feel all that comfortable sketching a stranger under those circumstances.
So you signed the forms.
*
You decided to use your room for the assignment, for privacy reasons and to help you feel more at ease. Nothing could be too scary with your supportive plushies in the same room as you.
Hyunjin walked in with his iced Americano (a second one for you, too) and started setting up his station.
He put all his pens and pencils in order, three huge erasers, two sharpeners, and his giant sketchbook. It was so big you guessed the sketch would end up being life sized.
As he set everything up, you fiddled nervously with the string of your robe. It was just your bathrobe, nothing too special, but the whole situation made your heart race and there was sweat gathering on your forehead.
You weren’t so sure if you could do this after all.
“Hyune,” you start, “does it have to be completely nude?”
He looked up at you from where he was straightening his pencils, eyes boring into you. You swallowed.
“Those are the requirements,” he caught his bottom lip between his teeth before he adds, “do you wanna put on some underwear as a warm-up?”
“Do you need sketches of me in my underwear?” You purse your lips.
“Not really,” he says, bashfully, “but if it’ll be an easier start for you?”
You inhale deeply. Untie your bathrobe. Exhale.
You let the fabric fall off your shoulders, pooling at your feet, before you settle on your bed.
Hyunjin nods at you with a small smile, encouraging.
“You got this,” he tries, putting a fist up in the air in solidarity.
“Can I put on a podcast so I don’t get bored?” You say, conscious to not move your legs too far apart.
“Sure, it’ll probably take me a while,” he chuckles, “I need to do like five.”
“Oh, dear god,” you roll your eyes and Hyunjin laughs at you. The nerves you were feeling have all disappeared already—it actually isn’t too weird being naked in front of him.
He’s your closest friend, has seen you being sick after drinking too much, has seen all your embarrassing childhood photos, has seen you with bed head and delirious from no sleep. He’s seen it all—so it shouldn’t be too weird for him to see your tits, too.
Hyunjin directs your poses, the first one casual as you lay on your back. He’s only sketching your upper body, he says, from the neck to your bellybutton, so he lets you cover up your bottom half with a blanket so you aren’t too cold. The first pose is fun since you don’t have to do anything too strenuous.
Once he flips the page on his sketchbook to a new one he changes your pose. This time your profile is facing him, the leg closer to him bent to hide most of your body. You don’t get the privilege of warmth this time, and your butt starts hurting after ten minutes in this position. But you focus on the podcast that’s still playing in the background instead, trying to be a good model for Hyunjin.
For the third pose he gets up and moves the table to the very edge of your bed. You look at him questioningly as he does so, before you let out a small, “why?”
“It’s just that, well, I need a close up,” he whispered the last part, eyes focused on rearranging his pencils neatly.
“Of….?” You think you know the answer.
“Of you,” he says, pointedly, and so you understand.
You can’t help but think he was going too easy on you until now, that this was the real assignment and he didn’t want to scare you away. And perhaps it worked, because the thought of Hyunjin staring at your pussy with that amount of concentration doesn’t scare you as much as it would’ve twenty minutes ago.
It actually… excites you. You feel a tingle all around your stomach, and your heartbeat feels louder all of a sudden.
It was one thing to just be naked in front of Hyunjin, but having him look right at you, with his face frowned in concentration made your core flutter.
You nod timidly at Hyunjin’s questioning look before he smiles. He sits back down on his chair, grabbing his pencil, and getting to the task at hand.
You feel yourself getting wet at the amount of attention he’s giving your body—even if it’s just with his eyes—and you hope he doesn’t notice it. But you do, and with your legs spread the way he asked them to be, you can even smell your own arousal. You hope he isn’t close enough to notice it as well, but you have a feeling that hope is futile. He can definitely tell.
“I read a lot about this once we were given the assignment,” he starts, focusing solely on his sketchbook as he talks, “and sometimes models feel.. you know. So don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m…” you wanted to defend yourself, because you weren’t even that embarrassed. Just surprisingly turned on. “Okay.”
“It would be more embarrassing for you if you were a guy, guys can’t hide it,” he says, as if to make you feel better.
“I don’t think I can hide anything from you right now,” you scoff at him. Hyunjin giggles in response.
He lets another five minutes or so go by before he takes a look at his drawing. You can’t be too sure because you’ve never seen yourself so close before but it looks like a good sketch. A really good one. You’re flattered at the attention to detail and it doesn’t make you feel shy anymore. You’re almost proud.
“When I was reading,” he coughs, “there was someone who said it’s nicer to sketch those body parts after.. a.. well,”
“You’ve just stared at my vagina for twenty minutes straight, Hyune, surely you can get some words out.”
He looks up at you, eyes round and glossy. His plush bottom lip is slightly red from where he’s been sucking on it as he draws.
“Female genitalia is a beautiful subject to draw after the model has experienced sexual gratification.”
You burst out laughing. “Who talks like that?”
“That’s a direct quote from the article!” He defends.
“So you want me to sexually gratify myself?”
He blushes deeply at that, shaking his hands quickly. “Not if that’s weird! Just if you wanted to. I have enough to probably pass I was just curious if she was right about it and—“
The words die on his tongue when you bring your hand between your legs. Your actions are fuelled by a strange bravery you aren’t familiar with, and the insane amount of arousel that’s coursing through you.
He quickly gets up, turning his eyes away from you.
“Wait, I can leave and you can call me back in when you’re d—“
“—don’t,” you say, running your fingers up and down your wetness, “maybe you can draw the process, too?”
His eyes go wide, so wide he almost looks like a cartoon, before he’s fumbling around to find the chair again. He sits down, quickly grabbing his pencils but they all fall onto the floor in his clumsy urge to get drawing right away.
He recovers them quickly, setting them aside but not at all bothering to arrange them in his neat order like before.
“Yeah, good idea,” he finally says, trying his best to look and draw and breathe at the same time.
He doesn’t have time to draw you teasing yourself before you slip two of your fingers inside you.
The sight is so pretty, so beautiful, and Hyunjin freezes for a moment. He blinks once then twice before he quickly starts putting pencil to paper and sketching out the sight before him.
He knows he won’t be able to do any of it justice but he has to try.
“Can you, move a little less?” He asks after a moment or two.
“I won’t reach sexual gratification if I don’t move,” you explain with a chuckle. If you’re honest, having Hyunjin watching you touch yourself might be enough to get you to cum without much movement at all—but you aren’t sure he should know about all that.
“Yeah, but it’s fucking beautiful and I want to get the details right,” he says.
You exhale lightly at that, trying not to react too much to what he just said. You aren’t sure if he can see you clench around your own fingers or not, but you nod in agreement.
“Pull them out a little bit, just so I can see better,” he directs, so simply, as if he isn’t talking about your fingers deep inside your cunt.
You follow his directions dutifully, as you’ve done all afternoon.
It’s just half of your fingers now, which isn’t much, but you can still feel the stretch. Still, with no friction available to you it makes you needy. So needy.
You want to move your fingers more, you want Hyunjin to watch you do more.
“Hyune,” you say, softly.
“Yeah?” He asks, still concentrating on his task.
“Wanna move now,”
“Just a few final details, okay?” He adds in a whisper, “you’re so beautiful,”
“Hyunjin, please,” you let out, because his compliment isn’t helping your patience at all.
“Would it help if you moved for a bit and then went back to the same pose?” He offers, eyes swimming in sympathy.
“It would, yes,” you nod quickly.
“Go on, then, just for a bit,” he smiles, supportive, before his gaze goes back to his sketch. He takes an eraser, fixing up a few details in an attempt to give you some privacy. But you don’t want that at all.
“Hyunie,” you whine out, and his head snaps up in a second. “It’s no fun if you look away.”
“I, I’m trying not to,” his eyes jump between your face and your exposed pussy, then back to the page. “You should have some privacy.”
“Don’t want it,” you say quickly, fingers moving slowly in and out as he gives you a bit more attention, “want you to see this.”
“I wanna see it too,” he says quietly, “it’s so beautiful.”
“Then look at me,” your fingers move quicker now, your palm resting against your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, “watch me fuck myself.”
“Fuck,” Hyunjin all but moans, head falling backwards before he quickly zeros in on your cunt.
You let your eyes scan down to his crotch, see the bulge he’s so clearly been trying to hide.
“Come here,” you ask him, patting the space next to you, “want you to really see me.”
Hyunjin almost flips the table over and runs to you, but instead he just trips over one of the legs, letting all the pencils fall again, before he’s climbing onto the bed.
He settles right in front of you, his knee touching your ankle, and lets himself fully gape at the sight in front of him.
“I looked through a lot of portraits you know,” he starts softly, his voice lower than usual, “and I think your pussy is the prettiest one.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the artist,” you smirk at him, mostly to try and hide how much you like him complimenting you.
“Not my sketch,” he’s quick to correct you, “the one here.”
As he says it, he brings his big hand on top of yours, pushing against your hand until your fingers go as deep as they can.
You moan loudly at that, jaw hanging open.
“That’s what you wanted, deep,” he confirmed to himself, looking at your knuckles disappearing into you. “Looks so nice like this, too.”
He grabs your wrist, lifting and pushing your hand in an impossible pace. Your fingers are sore from it after only a few seconds, but Hyunjin’s beautiful face is looking right at you and so you don’t do anything but moan.
“So pretty like this, too,” he says, slightly strained.
You grip his bicep, needing something to ground you as the pleasure starts building and building. It’s much more solid than he lets on, his arms big and strong and his grip on your hand tightening as your whines grow higher and higher until— “I’m gonna…”
“Want me to see it? Should I watch as you cum all over your fingers, pretty?”
And that’s all it takes for it to hit you at full force, your eyes shutting tightly as the pleasure takes over.
Hyunjin giggles at you, small dimples appearing by his cheeks as he averts his gaze away from you. He’s so beautiful even with his head turned away, looking for something.
He quickly finds it and grabs the tissues by your bed to hand you one. You quickly clean off your fingers as you giggle.
“Should you get back to drawing now?” You ask, breathless.
“Yes,” he nods, getting up with a very obvious tent in his pants. He adjusts himself as discreetly as he can, but a sense of pride takes over you knowing you’ve made him hard in the first place.
He gathers the pencils off the floor.
“Next I think I wanna draw your face when you cum, it’s really fucking gorgeous,” he says offhanded as he sketched out the outline of your cunt.
“I’ll have to cum again, no?” You mumble.
“That can be arranged,” he doesn’t even look up.
Your breathe catches in your throat.
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maplesyrupsainz · 25 days
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˖⁺。˚⋆˙MY girl | LN4˖⁺。˚⋆˙
pairing: lando norris x celeb interviewer!reader y/n (she/her)
genre: social media au, established relationship
warnings: a couple of innuendos/sexual references but mainly fluff
summary: in which your job has your boyfriend acting up every other week
a/n: this is kind of short but didnt think it was necessary to make it any longer!?! hope u luv it (i love jealous lando omg my heart cant take itttt)
request!!!: Lando’s gf is a celebrity interviewer like Amelia from chicken shop date and Lando is supportive but also playfully jealous?
my masterlist
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instagram ->
yourusername 📍 london
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liked by aitch, landonorris, and 1,718,293 others
yourusername spent a day in london with my fav british rapper @.aitch !! episode out now hope u enjoy 👀
tagged: aitch
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user1 OMG he was flirting with her so bad
user2 no fr she got a man
user3 yea and her man is LANDO NORRIS likeeee
user4 why are they lowkey cute together.....
user5 i love everything y/n does
user6 does anyone else only watch the series just for y/n idec about the celebrity guests 💀
user7 no coz this is actually so valid
user8 omg i've been waiting for this one
user9 queue lando marking his territory soon
user10 can u blame him
f1wags
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f1wags new episode of y/n y/l/n's celeb interview series with british rapper aitch out now 🫶 for anyone who doesn't know, y/n (wag of lando norris) is a celebrity interviewer for events & tv as well as having her own series online in which she “dates” someone for the day, usually in a random city of their choice, and interviews them at the same time in a comedic way !!! the series is super popular, who would you like to see her interview?
view all 5,174 comments
user11 we love her
user12 her interviews r sooo funny and unserious
user13 i want her to interview f1 drivers 😭
user14 omg rightttt imagine lando on there
user15 i want oscar or charles 😂
user16 i didnt even know she was a wag
user17 she's more relevant that her bf HE's the wag
user18 justice for my guy lando
aitch
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aitch watch me on y/n y/l/n's series for real like that's my girl
tagged: yourusername
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user19 damn
user20 his girl?!
user21 y/n looks so hot
user22 look like a couple fr
yourusername had the best time, thanks for coming on the show!!!
aitch anything 4 u
user23 🤭🤭🤭
user24 CUTIESSS
user25 one of my fav episodes so far
twitter ->
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instagram ->
landonorris posted a story
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liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 822,182 others
user30 omg i screamed
user31 SHE'S SOOO HOTTTT
carlossainz55 somebody's jealous
landonorris of what?
carlossainz55 😂
user32 lando norris you are one lucky man
yourusername omg hello mr protective
landonorris my girl
yourusername you are freaking sexy
landonorris where are you right now
yourusername 👀
landonorris
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liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,021,843 others
landonorris hey
view all 33,826 comments
user33 "HEY"????
user34 omg
user35 HOTTTTTT
carlossainz55 still not jealous?
landonorris not sure what you're talking about!
user36 you caused this @.aitch
aitch nah
landonorris no
yourusername 🙂
user37 posting this with this caption is criminal
user38 hahaha our jealous boy
user39 little lando norris is jealoussss
yourusername hahah i love you and only you
yourusername posted a story
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 713,028 others
landonorris yup. that's MY girl
THE END 🧡
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ahundredtimesover · 2 months
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I Want You to Stay (04) | JJK
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Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 11.4k
Series Masterlist
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Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
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A/N: Hiii I'm getting slower with editing and writing so please bear with me moving forward! Also pls remember, this is a slow burn haha. But anyway, been loving your replies (I see you) and messages, thank you. I hope you enjoy this one!
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
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The events of last weekend remain in your mind, as you approach Jungkook’s apartment the next Monday and feel like your heart will leap out of your chest. 
You remind yourself that he wasn’t angry at you; he’d even tried to apologize and didn’t make a fuss when you left the restaurant last Saturday. But still, the whole incident would make anyone feel agitated, and you know his capacity to feel and express that. He was inconvenienced and put on the spot, after all. 
You enter, and shortly after, Jungkook exits the gym then greets you with a nod when he sees you. He looks more tired than anything. He doesn’t have a hint of frustration in his eyes, and you could only hope that he’d forgotten about what happened or, like how he is when it comes to personal matters, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it. 
You bow in return, sneaking a glance as he walks towards his bedroom, with your throat drying up when he removes his shirt, briefly gracing you with a view of his glistening toned back right before disappearing inside. You wait half a minute before you follow him to prepare his clothes, giving yourself time to breathe before you have to face him again. You return to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast, looking up when you hear him walk in.
You approach him to do an act that’s become a routine for you, and for him as well, as he stands straight and unmoving while you tighten his tie and make sure he looks fine. Even when your fingers only graze his clothed chest, the memory from last Saturday becomes vivid, as you recall wiping his wine-soaked top, feeling the taut body underneath. 
You shake your head at the thought, realizing that there are more things about that night that you should not acknowledge at all, including the heat you felt at seeing him in the washroom, a little exposed and definitely sweaty. There was that tension and the dropping of formalities that felt too foreign and quite disorienting. You don’t know him as anything other than the ‘Mr. Jeon’ you assist; seeing him as just ‘Jungkook’ was different. But you suppose that that’s the man you help everyday, and you wonder how much of himself he leaves behind in the office and how much of him now is just… him. 
As you go about your routine during breakfast, you’re reminded that for Jungkook, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. How he is at work is the same as how he is elsewhere - serious, quiet, and detached. Except maybe when he’s with those women he meets at clubs, though. Perhaps the thrill and pleasure inject a bit of emotion and passion in him. You wouldn’t know, but at least it’s a way for him to take a break from the responsibilities he carries. 
You scold yourself internally again. You’re not supposed to be curious; you’re not supposed to care. So you shake all of them away and remind yourself of who you are and your own distance that you should observe.
You get to your senses and proceed accordingly. You go about as usual in the morning with his meetings, and then he shuts his office so he could focus in the afternoon. You see his furrowed brows from the window, as he works on what seems to be the Arts Center again, given his requests for financial and marketing reports of the company's non-residential projects from the last five years.  
You’re busy with organizing his Singapore trip and coordinating with the CEO’s office about the upcoming Appointment Dinner to formally introduce the new appointees, when he exits his room and looks through the folders lined on the shelf behind you.
“Where are the portfolios of our collaboration projects from 2017?” He asks. 
“They’re in the archive room,” you answer, standing up to head there. 
But he does it first, beating you to the corner area just off the hallway to the left. Your steps are obviously not at pace with his, and he’s tiptoeing to reach for a large folder by the time you get there. He’s able to retrieve it, laying it on the ledge as he goes through some pages. 
“I could’ve gotten that,” you say softly, and Jungkook turns to you and wishes he hadn’t, as your pout makes his insides melt. 
There’s something about your disappointment that you didn’t get to help him that makes his heart race a little, and while he knows it has everything to do with you thinking that he’d think you’re not doing your job properly, he still likes to keep the thought that you’d wanted to help him in the first place.
“It was heavy,” he explains. 
“I’ve carried and pulled and pushed things way heavier than that folder,” you scoff. 
“Really?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, trying not to show amusement on his face. “My cousin let you do all those things, huh?”
You frown at his attempt to catch you slipping. “I do many things in the background during events, Mr. Jeon, things that get everything functioning properly while Mr. Jung engages with the guests.”
Jungkook can only imagine how much work you put into getting those events hosted by the VP’s office running. Perhaps retrieving heavy folders is no big deal for you. But still, he doesn’t want to come across as a jerk for making you do something he can do on his own. He already was, he reminds himself, and you also definitely think he is;  he doesn’t want to add to that any more, not after everything that’s happened. 
So he just nods. “It’s a simple task I can do.”
Jungkook looks at the labeled boxes and folders. He’s got materials and design points to finalize by tonight. There are some more past projects he wants to go through to take inspiration from, and he finds another one he wants to look at, underestimating its weight, which is why he jerks in surprise when he feels how heavy it really is.
You’re there on cue, as if you knew it was gonna be too much. And if he’d asked you, you probably would’ve told him so. 
You’re standing much closer to him, your fingers grazing against his as you hold onto the folder. It’s almost familiar, only because you stood this close to him that night at the restaurant, too - when you cleaned him up, and then when you handed him his clothes in the washroom. You actually stand this close to him everyday when you fix his tie. Perhaps after all that, it’s only dawning on you just how little space between you two there are sometimes, and you’re suddenly hyper aware - of the distance, of his scent, of the way he’s looking back at you when you turn to look at him. 
“It was heavy,” he admits. 
And for some reason, you laugh. Maybe it’s the slightly embarrassed look on his face or it’s just your defense mechanism when you feel tense but you let out an amused sound, with it fading as the time goes by and you realize you’re actually laughing at your boss. 
“Making fun of me, Ms. Cho?”
“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you stammer, stepping away. 
You’re about to mentally curse yourself until you see his slight smirk, and the thought of him making fun at you by scaring you like that makes you feel better. He may have some sense of humor after all. 
Still, you bow in apology, and there’s a moment when you meet his eyes, with something not anger or frustration in them, that you both linger, as if there are things both of you feel that need to be said; you just don’t know what they are.
“Did the dry cleaners get to remove the wine stains?” You manage to get some words out, turning away now as you bring up last Saturday night. 
“Uh, yeah,” he responds. There’s a pause before he continues. “Did… did you get home okay?”
You’re too stunned to be able to answer right away but you eventually do. “Uh, yeah. Jimin, Soomin, and I just bought food and then went to my apartment. And you?”
“I did,” he nods.
“Did… did Hajoon bother you again after we left?”
“No. Well, he just kept giving me the death stare but he didn’t do anything else,” he says. 
“I really don’t know what got him so worked up,” you sigh, feeling bolder at having to share this much. “He’s not usually confrontational and he knows I hate it. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“People have their reasons for getting angry. They’re not always valid, though, and definitely not always warranted,” Jungkook replies, briefly looking away. “Whatever it is, at least he didn’t throw a punch.”
“Oh, if he did, that is it for me,” you chuckle, feeling unfamiliar with being able to talk to Jungkook so casually like this. “Goodbye, job; goodbye, Seoul. I will probably just work as a librarian somewhere.”
Jungkook wants to say he wouldn’t accept your resignation for that reason, that he doesn’t want you to go anywhere, actually. But that’s too much and probably inappropriate to say given the circumstances. So he just hums and turns back to the folder and looks through them. 
“I’ll need these back in my room,” he says, carrying one while you take the other. 
You appreciate the topic change, knowing you won’t know how to handle more if the conversation deepens. You both walk back quietly, as it dawns on you that the casual nature you both talked to each other is a little disorienting. 
You’re not used to him sounding concerned.
He’s not used to you being honest and open. 
Perhaps seeing a different side of him isn’t all that bad, you think. 
Jungkook wants to believe it’s your way of forgiving him, too, even if he hasn’t actually apologized for anything. 
The minute it takes to return to your respective desks ends, and Jungkook is back to focusing on his designs while you get back to making reservations. You peek inside his room every once in a while to check if he’s okay, if there’s anything else he needs, if there’s anything you can do for him. 
The frustrated look on his face isn’t new, but the fact that it isn’t directed at you, is. So is the worried feeling you have for him. You’re a mix of emotions from everything that’s happened this past month, so you can’t deny that the way he’s been acting towards you has left you confused, maybe even doubtful. You have to be cautious, you think, and not fall into a comfortable dynamic with him so easily. 
The next day, he’s back to being serious once again, as you sit to his right in the restaurant that will be catering the upcoming VP event. Jungkook decided for both of you to have the food tasting for lunch, and so a spread has been prepared for him to make the final decision on the menu. 
You’d like to think that you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate, all thanks to the numerous events that Hoseok asked you to organize in your three years working under him. With this upcoming dinner party a sort of introduction of Jungkook and the project to the art world, he wants to make sure that he serves only the best to the guests, which is why he carefully tastes each dish, trying to determine the best combination that’s both delicious and creative. 
You give your comments, some of which he acknowledges, and you feel like you’re both making headway in terms of the menu, as well as with his disposition for the day, given that he’s looking more comfortable and relaxed than he was half an hour ago.
That is, until he sips his wine for the first time, and clears his throat.
“I believe I specifically said that lunch today is a work matter, Ms. Cho,” he says sternly. “You’re on the clock and this isn’t a break.”
“Y—yes, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, curious as to the reason for his statement.
“Then why is your boyfriend waiting outside the restaurant, trying to catch your attention?”
“What?” You exclaim, turning around and spotting Hajoon standing by the lamppost, his sullen eyes getting a bit of light in them once they meet yours. “I… I don’t know,” you respond. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”
“How did he know you’re here, then?”
“His restaurant is just up the street,” you sigh. “He must’ve seen me when he was walking there. This area is his usual route. Please just ignore him.”
“I can’t when he’s in my peripheral vision. He’s still the man who got in my face the other night. He clearly wants to speak to you and I don’t think he’ll go away,” Jungkook reasons. 
You look at him, waiting for his instructions. 
Jungkook doesn’t like that Hajoon is there and he also doesn’t want you to speak with him during work hours, especially if it’s going to affect you for the rest of the day. But the man seems desperate and persistent; he really doesn’t seem like he’ll just let this moment of seeing you pass.
“You have five minutes,” Jungkook says. 
You don’t exactly want to go out there; there’s a reason why you haven’t returned Hajoon’s texts or calls these past days. But you can imagine that it’s a worse look for him to be staying around; a distraction during this work matter that you know Jungkook would not appreciate one bit. So you stand up and tell him that you’ll be back shortly.
Jungkook returns to the dish in front of him, noting that the Japanese mushroom risotto is a good addition to the set menu. The event his office is planning includes a sit down dinner and then an offering of canapés and champagne while guests walk around the venue to see the presentation of the Arts Center in large boards and on screens. It will be a good way for him to socialize - something he’s incredibly nervous about because it’s not his strongest suit, nor is it something he enjoys, unlike his cousin. The primary goal, though, is to introduce the project. Jungkook needs important people on board so they can be involved in the launch and the succeeding special activities.
He tries to think about that night and how he wants to design the place. He tries to think of other things, too, like the music and decor, even if he’d said that’s for both of you to plan next week. He’s even thinking of a follow up already, even if his management support team is in charge of that and would be dependent on how this first one is gonna go. 
Jungkook tries to think of anything, really, just so he won’t constantly be glancing at you in his periphery, as you talk to the man from the other night and possibly make up. You did leave him at the restaurant last Saturday; you also did clarify that you’re not together. You just said you haven’t spoken since then, so it’s safe to say that both of you aren’t in good terms. 
Jungkook can only assume, though. He doesn’t know the story, nor would he ever; he reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking about it in the first place. He was never one to be privy to his staff’s personal lives; he spent most of his time with Lucas but didn’t know more than his family's composition. Jungkook doesn’t even recall knowing if Lucas had a partner, or if his then-assistant even mentioned it. 
But clearly, Hoseok knows more about you than Jungkook would’ve expected. Perhaps it’s just how his cousin is, or maybe the time spent together just created that environment where it’s natural or normal. Maybe it’s the culture that his father encouraged; his old man is quite close with Mr. Ri - his former chauffeur and bodyguard - and Mrs. Myung - his executive assistant, after all. 
But it’s not what Jungkook is used to; it’s not how he spent his few years in the Singapore office because like always, all he did was work and party. His mentor in graduate school also advised him that professional lines are ones he shouldn’t cross. Though Jungkook never really knew what exactly those were, he just dared not get close to anyone or be remotely interested at all, and that never caused him any problem. He’s always been safe where he was, guarded and unbothered.
But ever since you walked through those doors at Hoseok’s office that first Friday, Jungkook has been finding himself skirting near the boundaries far too often, and it’s only been a month. It began with making sure you’re eating well and that you’re safe on the way to work; he convinces himself that’s human decency, although he never really bothered much before. 
And between wanting you to get proper rest before your trip to your hometown, to seeing you with that man from last weekend and being so bothered by it that it caused a scene, Jungkook’s internal alarm bells are ringing, telling him that he’s getting too interested, too close. It doesn’t help that he finds you attractive, something he doesn’t have control over. What he does have a say in is how he responds to it, and that has been incredibly tough, especially given the weekend he’s had. 
He’d spent the rest of it trying to keep his mind off you - the way you looked in that outfit, the way your touch sent shivers down his spine, the way you’d looked at him worriedly… And when you walked out of that restaurant, he wondered what you were thinking, how you were feeling, how you’d be spending the rest of the night, and if you were gonna be home okay. He hasn’t really stopped since.
Even now, as he stays in his seat and tightly grips his glass of wine at the scene unfolding outside. 
You’re standing with your arms crossed - setting the boundaries, and perhaps signaling your detachment, though he can’t see your face. The man, on the other hand, seems emotional, the tinge of sadness evident on his face. But there’s a mix of frustration and anger, too, as his arms flail around. He points at you, then at himself. His voice seems raised; Jungkook swears he can see the veins from the man’s neck popping out while you… you’ve got your head turned to the side, your body not eliciting much of the emotion the way the man’s is. 
Jungkook stops himself from making an excuse for you to come back inside, just so he can pull you away from a conversation that you don’t seem to be wanting to have. But he knows it’s not his place, and the man might make a scene again if Jungkook decides to step in. You know how to stand up for yourself; you’d done it to him, he reminds himself. You’ll do what you need to do, whatever it is.
The man heaves, as whatever monologue he was giving ends. He reaches out to you, perhaps making a final plea, but you step back, widening the distance. It’s what prompts him to bow his head and turn around, leaving you by the lamppost on your own. 
Jungkook sighs in relief now and he waits for you to return, but he’s surprised when you stay rooted in your spot, your arms wrapping around yourself despite the heat outside. He worries when you enter, your head bowed down and unable to look at him. 
He wants to ask how you are, but he’s unsure if he’s ready for your answer, knowing that there isn’t much he can do anyway. So he goes with what he knows - detachment. 
“I’ve chosen the last two dishes,” he says. “They’re serving the desserts soon.”
You turn to him immediately, your misty eyes painted with worry meeting his own.
“I didn’t think I was away that long,” you state, worried about the time you left your boss waiting while dealing with a personal matter that for the first time made you wish you were stuck with Jungkook instead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.”
He didn’t expect you to look so upset. He’s terrible at comforting people, but even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’d manage to comfort you. So he just shrugs and says that they were straightforward dishes. 
You both try the desserts then the canapés, exchanging thoughts about all the options before shortlisting your chosen dishes. By the time the food tasting is over, you’re stuffed and set for the rest of the day. 
You try not to look at Jungkook. You don’t know if he’d seen how your conversation went with Hajoon, but if he had, he could probably tell what was going on even if he couldn’t hear anything. 
He’s had his moments, but you’ve never seen Hajoon look that upset and emotional, and you stood there, afraid to face all his feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, all those words that you didn’t know how to take. You’re usually one who’s able to let negative things said to you just go over your head, but something about what he’d said today hit you; you know it’ll take you until tomorrow to get over them.
But you try to get through the rest of the day the way you usually do - going through reports, organizing schedules, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation, and then working on the revised interdepartmental guidelines that Jungkook tasked you to do. 
There are draft letters you send to him, thinking that you’ll work on some administrative matters while he reviews them, but you’re surprised when he calls for you 10 minutes later, saying the letters are approved and you can send them in the morning. You’re left wondering, given that anything you submit to him usually goes through intense scrutiny. Perhaps you’re not used to this easy pass, but you try not to overthink it, given the day you’ve had.
“You can go home, Ms. Cho,” he says as he types away. 
It’s 5:30 PM. Usually this time, he’s still handing you things to review or instructing you on what else to do. 
He seems to pick up on your silence, as without looking at you, he clarifies. “I don’t need you to do things you can do tomorrow. We’ll have meetings all day so I understand if you want to stay behind but you don’t have to.”
He doesn’t seem like he’ll be finishing soon, and you’re really not in the best mood so you nod and bid him goodbye.
The conversation with Hajoon stays in your mind all night and lasts until the next day. You’re in Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning, preparing his breakfast while he takes a shower. 
With your phone snug under your neck, you relay to Soomin what happened yesterday. She was too busy last night for a call and she’s been bugging you since you got in the car - that you continue to ride as per your boss’ instructions - so you finally picked up, knowing how long it usually takes for Jungkook to finish.
“It started with him apologizing, then wondering why I haven’t been picking up his calls, then justifying his actions from last Saturday as him, standing up for me,” you narrate. “Obviously, I didn’t take those too kindly.  But he said he wanted to be with me, like, have an actual relationship. And I said I didn’t want to then he just… he kinda just said everything he’s been keeping in.”
“Which is what?” Soomin asks.
“That I’m selfish, that I don’t think about what my actions may mean to others, which is silly since I was clear from the start about what I wanted from him,” you sigh. “He said that I act independent but that’s just a front, that deep down I’m a lonely woman who’ll probably push away every person who’s shown me they care until I have no one left and that’s why I’ll be alone forever, which he says is a deep fear that I have because I apparently told him that when I was drunk. And even after all that, he said he still cares about me, that he wants to try to be something for real this time, that if I just let him, he’ll love me right and make me happy and I just backed away, like, why would you—”
The clearing of the throat cuts you off, and you nearly drop the expensive plate due to panic once you look up and see Jungkook standing by the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry for taking a personal call, Mr. Jeon,” you say immediately, putting away your phone. “It won’t happen again.”
You bow your head down in apology, which is why you don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes soften as he looks at you. Words like that hurt, and he can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for you hearing them. Still, you went about yesterday with your accomplished tasks and completed deliverables like it didn’t happen, displaying a kind of strength that he could only hope to have.
“Yesterday was a tough, I suppose,” he states, choosing to ignore your apology. 
“It was a normal one,” you brush off, walking towards him to fix his tie, not meeting his gaze. 
Jungkook doesn’t reply, knowing you don’t want to acknowledge that he’d overheard your conversation, which he didn’t mean to walk in on. It did bother him, too; he suddenly wishes he’d fought back if that man was just going to speak to you that way. 
There’s a sadness in your eyes that he tries not to mind and which you try to trivialize. Perhaps the man matters that much to you for you to be feeling this bad; Jungkook doesn’t really know what to do with that thought. So he tries to brush it off, too, telling you instead to be ready for today’s meeting with his father. 
You ask if he’s checked the presentation you worked on, as you added things from the last time. He nods and says he only added minimal details that he came up with last night, and you check to find that he indeed just made minute changes, another thing that you’re thankful for yet wary of, especially given how critical he was about your work in the beginning. 
You continue with your morning routine of debriefing about yesterday’s meetings, then you finalize the Arts Center event’s menu in the car. When you arrive at the office, you wait patiently as he goes through some reports that you’ve checked, then he reviews some memos that he asked you to work on. 
The last one finishes faster than you expected. It seems now that his comments are what you look for, only because it reminds you that he hasn’t changed; somehow that seems like a better thought to have than him suddenly being lenient or lowering his standards for you for some unknown reason. He’s definitely witnessed some of your low moments; you don’t want to think those have anything to do with how he’s been lately.
The meeting with the management support team ends before lunch time, and you work on the minutes and the other things Jungkook had asked of you during the time that he meets with Yoongi in his office. That takes another half hour, and by the time they’re done, you’re done with your tasks, too, so you send those documents to Jungkook for checking in the afternoon.
Another one off the list, you think to yourself. At this point, you’re just going over all your deliverables with a focused mindset and waiting for the day’s end so you can spend time for yourself, just on the couch watching variety shows and movies until the weekend comes when you can do that for longer hours. 
Having your friends over or traveling to Daegu are the only other things you look forward to. You used to look forward to spending the night at Hajoon’s, too; you could at least feel something pleasurable - the closest you could get to any form of intimacy that didn’t require you to bare yourself other than your body. But that’s a thing of the past now - there’s that amazing life-changing toy that Soomin got you last Sunday that’s got you thinking that you’ll be fine being alone for the rest of your life.
“Long day, huh?” 
You look up and see Yoongi, his curious eyes scanning your desk full of papers, folders, and half-eaten biscuits.   
“It has been,” you sigh.
“I see. It’s also only just 12 noon,” he points out.
“What a shocking revelation, Min Yoongi,” you grunt. “I don’t need to be reminded that I have another six hours here.”
“Hmm, just like me. So, what are you looking forward to when you clock out?”
“My leftover stir-fry for dinner that I’m going to add beef to,” you respond. “And The Zone. I missed it last Monday.”
“You and your variety shows,” he chuckles.
“What other reason do I have to laugh, hmm?”
“I’d say me, but you don’t find me funny.”
“You aren’t, sorry,” you smile, your first of the day, and Yoongi smiles back, knowing you haven’t been doing it the past few weeks.
“So–”
“Ms. Cho,” Jungkook’s voice cuts Yoongi off, as your boss stands by his open door with curious eyes that flit from you to the man in front of you. He recovers though, as he instructs, “the minutes are fine. Send it to the team now so they can work on their tasks.”
“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.
“Are you asking me if I’ve read the file that I just approved and instructed you to disseminate?”
Yoongi purses his lips to hold off a laugh, and you glare at him because his teasing isn’t really what you need right now. 
“I meant, uh, you’ve reviewed it already, sir? I… thought… you were going to prepare for the lunch meeting instead,” you reason, which isn’t even a lie. 
“I have. Father hasn’t called me up so I just reviewed the minutes while waiting.”
You look at the file and see that nothing has been added. “And? That’s it?”
“Ms. Cho, are you questioning my ability to review?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to look displeased, although they seem harmless compared to his frustrated expressions from the past. 
“No, Mr. Jeon, I apologize,” you say. “I was wondering if you didn’t have anything more to add, that’s all.”
“There’s none,” he clarifies. “Just send it to the team and uh… get ready for the meeting.”
He glances at Yoongi before closing the door.
“Questioning your boss’ ability to review now, huh?” Yoongi teases.
“Shut up. He’s just been weird,” you pout.
“That’s new. How so?”
“He hasn’t been an asshole for a few days.”
“Well, that’s quite the standard but I get you, I guess,” Yoongi hums. “In what way has he been out of character?”
“He just… hasn’t been pointing things out and correcting my submissions or asking a lot of questions about the reports I review,” you say. “Or just… you know, he hasn’t been him. He makes Mr. Ri pick me up every morning, he doesn’t email on the weekend, I get to leave on time, I get to eat properly…”
“In short, he’s been a decent boss recently?”
“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”
“Realized he hasn’t been good to you and doesn’t want you to go through the horror of another Mrs. Byun,” Yoongi interjects. 
Your curious eyes prompt him to continue. “We had a meeting the other day and I saw a folder on his desk with her name on it. Formal complaints are only available in physical copies; other personnel files are stored in the server, so the only documents he’d have of her are the ones of her investigation. And he’d only be interested in that because of you. Those include your written statements.”
“As do you yours,” you point out.
“Yes, he’d totally be interested in how his design lead witnessed a manager’s abuse of power three years ago,” Yoongi sarcastically says.
You sigh to yourself. You’ve never told Jungkook about your experience with Mrs. Byun, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok or even Yoongi has mentioned it to him. It’s an experience you don’t like to think about; you were a young woman who had everything to prove, who had a lot to lose, and conceding to someone taking advantage of you seemed like the only way to survive. Not once did you put your foot down, and not once did you stand up for yourself. You experienced all those then went home to an empty house and found comfort in your own warmth and your own breathing. 
You don’t want that experience to determine how others would treat you after. Hoseok was all things gentle and warm and you know that whatever you went through wouldn’t have determined how he treated you. 
But Jungkook… Jungkook is different. This isn’t his default state. This isn’t how he normally is. This isn’t how you started. The last thing you want is for him to feel pity for all that you went through - in the past and recently - and then treat you differently because of it. He’s been less critical, less judgmental, and less doubtful of your capabilities. You only wish it isn’t for anything that he’d read or seen you experience. 
“I doubt it,” you shake your head. “A man that perpetually displeased doesn’t just decide one day that he’d give the bare minimum of decency to his assistant.”
“Look, ___. Jungkook is a lot of things. He has a lot of feelings that he doesn’t want to deal with, and a lot of emotions he doesn’t know how to express,” Yoongi tries to explain. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if I didn’t believe there’s an ounce of goodness in him. And there is. Maybe him showing it just isn't good timing. He’s terrible at that, too. In fact, he’s terrible at a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. It doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of kindness.”
“Kindness,” you huff. That’s quite a reach, but Yoongi’s always been a good judge of character. You do want to believe what he says about Jungkook; it’s just not an easy switch to flip. “I’m just trying not to care much at this point,” you sigh. “I come to work, focus on my tasks, do whatever I’m asked, go back home, rinse and repeat.”
“Is it satisfying, though?” 
“When was work ever satisfying, Yoongi?” You laugh bitterly. 
“Well, I could at least recall seeing you enjoy organizing those events for Hoseok and even joining him in some,” Yoongi points out. “I… I saw you smile a lot. There was a bit of satisfaction there, yeah?”
“Somehow, I guess. But I just had to make do. Hoseok was great, but this is also my job, really the only thing going for me.”
“What are you working towards, then?”
“I don’t really know. Maybe at 30 I should know but I really don’t.”
“Then why are you still here?” He asks, softly, desperately. “Why do you stay?”
“And find out who I am outside of all this?” You wonder out loud. “What if I don’t like her? What if she isn’t good?”
“Then this place hasn’t been good for you if you doubt who you are outside of what you’ve done here,” Yoongi says. “You’re just 30; there’s a whole world out there where you can learn who you are and be someone you actually like. I don’t know what’s stopping you.”
A lot of things, you think to yourself. But when you find comfort in discomfort, when you find security in chaos, and when you find companionship in loneliness, it’s not that easy to leave all this behind, even if deep down, you know it’s what you have to do.
“I don’t know, too,” you lie. “Maybe I’ll find a good enough reason one day and that would be it; I’ll be out of here and then I can find out if I like myself outside of everything I know.”
“I think you would.”
I did, Yoongi thinks to himself. He knows you’d laugh and agree; he’s moved on from you and things can’t be any better than how your friendship is right now, but he also knows you’re not the best at feelings, a similarity he realizes you have with the person you supposedly dislike. 
“I won’t know until then, I guess. So I just gotta bear with who I am now,” you say.
There’s so much of you that Yoongi doesn’t know. It’s why he wanted to, why he asked you out for coffee and why he felt a bit of a heartbreak when you turned him down. But there are parts of you that he does know, that you let him see, and sometimes he finds himself wishing you’d find someone you’d feel safe enough with to share everything else you keep to yourself. 
He keeps these things to himself, too. He’s learned that the only way to keep you close is to keep his distance; you’ll reach out if you need to, even if it’s something you rarely do. But what’s important is that he’ll be there just in case; what matters is you know that there’s a hand available when you need it. 
So he just nods and takes your word for it. You’ll find yourself somehow, in whatever way you will. And you’ll find a reason to leave, whenever that is. He could only hope it’s a decision you’d make on your own, one that you won’t regret, and one that’ll lead you to find whatever it is that you’re looking for.
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“So what, they want to put a stop to the Arts Center? They’re not the ones working hard for it. And quite frankly, I don’t need their help in any way to make it happen.”
Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, anger manifesting in the way he clenches his jaw and groans repeatedly. It’s a sight you’re familiar with by now, and for the first time, you feel for him. It feels as if with this project, he doesn’t seem to have anyone on his side, aside from Hoseok, who’s been encouraging and helpful in many ways. 
“They don’t want to stop it, son,” CEO Jeon says. “They’re merely questioning some of your decisions about the prices you’ve set out.”
“In short, they’re undermining me,” Jungkook groans. “This is my project. We’ve done the necessary research. If they read the report, they’d know. But clearly, they just want reasons to doubt all this, to doubt me.”
“It’s just the first project of its kind,” his father reasons. “The arts institution from 2017 was a collaboration and it wasn’t this big. The Arts Center just isn’t the usual commercial establishment that the VP office undertakes. The Board just wants to be clear about the profits because it’s not as straightforward as the others. They want to know how the property will earn.”
“Exhibition entrance tickets, bookings, rent,” Jungkook replies. “What’s not straightforward about that? Might as well say they don’t understand or even value arts and culture because that makes money, and if done right and respectfully, it can make a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”
“It’s not like I didn’t make those points, son. It’s your first big project. I think they just—”
“Don’t believe I can manage it on my own.”
“They don’t think you can make the necessary connections on your own,” CEO Jeon finally says. “We all know how important that is. They doubt you’d be able to forge good relationships with professionals in an industry we don’t really have strong connections to. And with a project this big, it’s the company’s resources and reputation on the line.”
There’s silence in the room, as Jungkook seems to process the core issue that the Board has with him. You can tell it’s affecting him so much, as the anger in his eyes slowly turns into resignation. 
It’s no secret that Jungkook’s way of engaging with others leaves a lot to be desired. From what you can see, he’s used to thinking more, envisioning, planning - the concepts and designs are amazing in his head and there are others tasked to sell that idea, to make it connect with people, to express why it matters, and to make sure it earns. That’s what Hoseok is good at; Jungkook never seemed like the type who enjoys that aspect of the work. 
“You should’ve thought about my outstanding interpersonal skills before appointing me as Vice President, then,” he says bitterly. “Clearly that’s what the Board and everyone else value more than anything.”
“Hey, Kook. We know you’re good for this role,” Hoseok comforts. “And we believe in your project, we really do. Just focus on that. Make sure you’re constantly adjusting and refining the plans, and remind the Board that your ideas are even better when they’ve come to life. You’ve done it with your other projects before. Eventually you’ll be able to show them that you’re more than capable of forging relationships, too. That’ll come naturally. But in the meantime, you just have to give them something to make them believe it’ll be good for the company and our image in the long-run. Make them envision it.”
“I have,” Jungkook argues. “And I’ll keep doing that. I just need father to be on my side. I just need him to back me up, to trust me and every single one of my decisions.”
You’ve never heard desperation in Jungkook’s voice until today and you’re surprised with how much it’s affecting you, not just because you know how much effort he’s put into conceptualizing the place but because you’ve come to believe in it, too.
“Ms. Cho.”
CEO Jeon’s voice pulls you away from Jungkook, and you turn to the older man and ask if there’s anything he needs.
“Your thoughts,” he responds. “What would the Arts Center mean for the company? Do you think it will yield profits?”
They’re not questions that are new to you. Hoseok would often ask you these things about the smaller projects that go through him. CEO Jeon has asked you the same things in informal situations before, not so much to gain new insight - although he claims that your thoughts are interesting to him - but to gauge your belief in the project. He has a good read on people; you’ve observed him ask questions and pick apart not what they said but how they said it. You suppose that’s what he’s doing now, too.
“You’ve mentioned a few times that you want to expand the company’s market, Mr. Jeon,” you start. “And if I remember correctly, the Board agreed. Efforts to cater to expats and the middle class have been successful, but perhaps another type of expansion is in engaging the field of the arts and culture and its creators and consumers. More people from all walks of life and all over the world are gaining interest in Korean art and culture in all forms and the company has the resources to create a space for it. Like what the Vice President said, there’s an opportunity to earn from it while, of course, respecting it.”
You see CEO Jeon and Hoseok nod, a sight you’ve seen before as well. But Jungkook looks at you with curiosity, with a look of anticipation, as if he’s hanging onto every word you’re saying. 
“The Arts Center was conceptualized and designed to be a hub for all things creative,” you continue. “Making general admission free makes the arts accessible to people, and once that appreciation grows, they’ll pay to see it, to experience it. Just go to any online forum and you’ll see that the public wants to experience art, not just observe it. They’d travel for it. The Center has spaces for that. I think that’s the ultimate goal - for anyone to be immersed in it. And that can happen through art pieces in a gallery or in a garden, through books, music, or spoken poetry, or even a photoshoot. Patrons can book rooms for private events, they can buy from the gift shop, they can do art themselves. It’s like a canvas and they can take part in creating meaning for the space. That’s what we’re selling. And that’s something people are willing to buy.”
“I see your point, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says, nodding satisfyingly at you. “And it’s a good one.”
“It’s what Mr. Jeon has been saying all this time,” you counter. “It’s easy to understand and to buy into the idea… if only the Board would listen to him. If only they’d open their mind to what he envisions.”
“Well, that’s one way to get through to them, then,” Hoseok voices out. “Invite them to the arts event, treat them like creators and consumers, not as Board members.”
“That’s a good idea,” CEO Jeon says. “Maybe then they can see how you engage with the guests, which I hope you’re working on. And while you’re at it, work on your relationship with them, too. That means initiating conversations, seeking them out… It's part of the job, son. The Board are our stakeholders, too, you know this.”
“Aren’t some of them based in Japan and Singapore?” You wonder aloud, hinting at another suggestion that you want would come from Jungkook himself, given his scheduled plans to fly there.  
“Yeah. Maybe I can meet them the next time I go,” he says, picking up on your thoughts.
Jungkook isn’t really fond of engaging with them. He always just left the socializing part to his uncle who used to head the Southeast Asian office. When Jungkook would be in Seoul, he let his father, Hoseok, and Ji-woo deal with them, with nothing but an acknowledgment on his end. He tends to stay at the bar on his own just to drown out the sounds. Yoongi sometimes joins him but most times, Jungkook finds himself alone even during such events; being with a lot of people is tiring, lonesome, isolating. With this new role, he’s started to accept that he has to do more. It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it though. 
“I’ll have that arranged for you,” you tell him. 
“Well then, that’s one way to revamp your image,” the older man smiles. “You just have to keep that up moving forward. That’s why Ms. Cho is there. She’s used to these events and these engagements with them. You’ll be fine.” 
You give a reassuring smile to Jungkook - a genuine one, as you see it’s what he needs, given all that you learned from today’s meeting. He merely nods, and you think that should be enough of an acknowledgment from his end.
Hoseok wraps it up, going through a few policy-related items and then reminding the other men about upcoming social gatherings that they all need to attend. He asks to briefly speak with Jungkook, whom he pulls aside, while the elder Mr. Jeon approaches you.
“Thank you for standing by Jungkook, Ms. Cho, especially since I haven’t been able to show my support the way I want to,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”
“It hasn’t, but he made me believe in his vision for the Center,” you respond. “I’m starting to see what he sees. And it’s quite beautiful.”
Jungkook overhears the exchange, as he zoned out on Hoseok once he heard his father address you. 
It’s something that his cousin picks up, as he repeats what he just said, totally unbothered by it. 
Hoseok, of all people, knows how important it is that you have Jungkook’s back. He also knows how difficult that must be for you, given how the man has been towards you all these weeks. 
But you’re unwavering. You’re able to withstand the challenges, and while Hoseok knows that you do have a tendency to also allow yourself to suffer through it, he also knows you’ve learned, and you’ll stand your ground if you need to; he’ll back you up, and he can only hope you know that.
You all exit the private room of the restaurant and head back to the office across the street. It’s 4PM by the time you return to your desk, given that Jungkook called for a meeting with the management support team after what transpired during lunch. 
You immediately work on the minutes and action points, finishing two hours later and then deciding that you’ll work on your next deliverable tomorrow. 
Jungkook exits his room, informing you that he’ll be leaving for an early dinner with Hoseok at a nearby restaurant, and that Mr. Ri can drop you off at your place. You’ve contested the service that was offered to you, and you and Jungkook settled on a compromise that you can go home on your own except for late nights.
“Mr. Ri will just be waiting for me anyway. No harm in driving you home tonight,” Jungkook says, knowing you were about to turn down the offer.
“Okay, sir,” you reply.
You do last minute things and pack up immediately to go home, taking this chance to get proper rest because you know the last two days of the week are going to be tiring. 
The next day, Jungkook does conference calls and closed-door meetings, leaving you to do summary reports and other administrative backlogs that have your eyebrows scrunched the entire day. If it wasn’t for Do-hyun reminding you about lunch that you promised to have with her, you would’ve totally forgotten. 
You’re in the zone as you go through the afternoon - two meetings straight that have Jungkook rubbing his temples constantly and you doing the same. But you pop in some aspirin and ginseng jelly next to his cup of tea, feeling satisfied when he takes them.
You go home on time, not wanting to be offered a ride for a consecutive night, and you get proper rest to face the final day of the week. 
It’s all going well, as you find a rhythm early on as you work on your deliverables while Jungkook remains focused on his own tasks. You’re the one who reminds him now to eat his lunch, and seeing the blueprints sprawled on his desk, you offer to buy him one yourself. 
He nods in appreciation as you state his usual order for confirmation, and you eat your sandwich while waiting for his curry rice bowl in the food hall. You get back to your tasks, thankful for the unusually quiet and uneventful Friday. 
You see now how hyper focused Jungkook could get. He’s got his blinds closed but you can tell that he’s immersed in his designs and proposals and plans. He’s not allowing calls or visitors, and he only rings you to ask for coffee, which you’ve given him four times so far. Towards the end of the day, you’re the one who asks to go in, informing him that the Board meeting has been moved to a week earlier than scheduled; it’s two Fridays from now, which means his team has to finalize everything soon.
It’s his first one since becoming Vice President, and given how he used to question you, you’re surprised when he asks your proposed timeline to prepare for the meeting. 
“Manager Lee is already consolidating all the departmental reports,” you respond. “You can instruct him to finalize the VP report with all those by Wednesday; the presentation can be due on Friday so you can go through all of them. We can submit the report for CEO review the Monday after that and then you can prepare for your run through until the meeting.”
“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll send them an email with the instructions shortly.”
“Noted, sir,” you say. “I’ve also submitted the minutes of the past two days’ meetings as well as the policy guidelines you asked for.”
“Oh, right,” he says, taking his iPad. “I’ve looked through them. The minutes are good; you can disseminate them accordingly. I’ve highlighted the parts for the condensed version you’ll send to the CEO and the President. I also have minimal corrections and remarks on the policy guidelines and I’ve edited them directly on the file. Just proofread again and then affix my signature once you’ve finished.”
“Y—you’re done?” You ask. You hope he doesn’t pick up the shock in your voice.
“Yes, and I’ve read them. Thoroughly,” he answers.
You smile in embarrassment after the other day. 
“Does that bother you?” He follows up. 
“N-no, sir,” you say, knowing he’s waiting for an answer. “I guess I was expecting you to take longer because, you know, more comments. And you’ve been busy all day, too.”
“More comments… Is that what you’re expecting?”
“Sort of,” you admit. “I mean… you made a lot of them before.”
You pout in reflex as you realize how you sound. You’re basically pointing out how critical he used to be, and if you’re being honest, you do wish he still was. At least that tells you that he’s still the same, that no knowledge of your past experience with your former boss has made him change his disposition towards you. 
Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest. 
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” you clarify.
Liar, you think to yourself.
“Well, if I used to do it a lot and I still do that after a month in, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on you and me if you still haven’t learned from all that?” He asks.
You think about it and eventually nod. He does have a point.
“You’ve adapted. I’d be worried if you continued to do things the way you used to,” he adds. 
You nod again, taking in all his words. Much as you appreciate them, there’s another thought still bugging you. 
“May I be honest, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, your heart beating fast now as he looks at you curiously. 
He nods anyway and asks you to continue. 
“I don’t think you’d lower your standards or anything when it comes to my work,” you start. “So I don’t want to believe that you pity me just because you know what I experienced in the past.”
He looks at you questioningly, as if to ask what you’re talking about.
“I spotted Mrs. Byun’s files on your table,” you lie. “I assume you’ve read about how she treated me. And I… I don’t want to be pitied, Mr. Jeon. If it’s that, please don’t. Please don’t let it affect how you’d treat me. It wasn’t even that bad—”
“It was,” he interjects. “This company doesn’t tolerate people who abuse their power. I only knew about your case because I’m thorough with my work. And that includes looking into my staff and their past. I did it for everyone,” he lies as well. 
Hoseok and Yoongi had mentioned something about a past experience and Jungkook did dig deep. It was so he could help you professionally, he convinced himself.
“You should also know that I don’t make compromises when it comes to the quality of work of my staff and that means I don’t pity people if they fail to meet my standards. But I suppose you think that I do because of how I was in the beginning,” he continues, surprising you. “I admit I was being too critical. And I don’t have an excuse, just that I absolutely hate change. I’m not good at managing it and I reacted in a way that I’m used to, which is not a good way at all. I know now that I was not fair to you.”
The apology doesn’t come, but you know that the admission means enough already. It’s definitely taken a huge burden off of you. You didn’t dream up all those incidents and it wasn’t entirely on you. That itself gives you relief. 
“My father and cousin were right. You’re a fast learner. You pick up on the comments, work on them immediately, and adjust accordingly. It’s a good trait to have, Ms. Cho.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Jeon.”
“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.
You nod, anticipating what he’d say, knowing he’s never been this quiet nor looked this nervous in all these weeks you’ve known him.
“What you said to my father about the Arts Center the other day, I appreciate that, too,” he says. “I guess you could’ve said something general or basic but you didn’t.”
“Your father wouldn’t have minded what I said,” you reply. “What mattered was how I said it. I guess as the person who’s privy to a lot of things about the project, he sincerely wanted to know what I thought about it, if I genuinely believed in it.”
“Well, it was a good way to convince him. And it seemed like he believed you.”
“I’m not a good actor, Mr. Jeon,” you chuckle. “He believed it because I meant it. And he saw that I was on your side. As I should. I still meant it, though.”
“That’s… encouraging,” he huffs. “At least one person is.”
“I’m sure he does, too.”
“It’s ironic that people like Mr. Ri think that my father and I are so alike, yet we don’t see eye to eye most of the time.”
“It’s because you are alike. You both think you’re right all the time,” you joke, teetering on the edge and sighing in relief when he laughs, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard. 
“You make a good point,” he smiles a tiny bit, something you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. “But I’m still adjusting to working directly with him, and in a bigger role, too. We'll probably butt heads a lot.”
“You will. I already know it. In fact, I can already see it,” you laugh again. 
It’s a moment you share with him that you didn’t imagine you ever would. He’s being honest about his concerns and you’re giving comfort in the way you know how and neither of you seems to mind. 
“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, Ms. Cho,” he says so softly, his eyes turning away from you. “I’m gonna need your assistance. Not just in seeing the Arts Center through but in everything - navigating this role, dealing with my father, dealing with people. I… I know what I’m good at. So I don’t really focus on the things I don’t do well in but this position forces me to confront those and I… I’ll need help.” 
For someone who doesn’t seem to like being vulnerable in front of others, seeing this side of Jungkook makes you sympathetic. The soft tone of his voice, the lack of eye contact, the crossed arms… they’re familiar because it’s how you are, and you know it’s difficult to be this honest with another person, especially when it’s about what you need. 
More than wanting to help him because it’s your job, you find yourself wanting to see him succeed, too, to see him manage it all. That way, when you do eventually leave the company and search whatever it is you’re looking for, you can rest easy knowing that he’ll be okay, that the team will be okay, that the Arts Center will be all that he imagined it to be. 
“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I’ll do my best to provide you with the assistance you need.”
“Thank you,” he mutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say those words with such sincerity to you, too.
You bow in acknowledgement and head out, leaving Jungkook in a haze, as he realizes that in your presence, he’d done what he's been trying to avoid ever since you walked in his life - be honest. He’d told you his concerns, his needs, and it seems that his honesty is something you appreciated as well. There was that acceptance that he wouldn’t have expected from you, not because you aren’t the type to give it but because he hasn’t given you a reason to. But you gave it regardless; you let him feel that it was okay. 
It’s another half hour before he’s packing up to head home. It’s been a tiring week and he just wants to have a long bath, watch sports, and drink a cold beer over grilled meat. He’ll probably get some work done but maybe he’ll drive to some resort out of town, have a good workout, get in a sauna, and have a massage. He’ll have a nice meal with his friends and then go to a club. Or maybe he’ll just stay in. There’s something about being honest that makes him want to keep to himself for a while. He’ll start with that tonight, as he turns down Taehyung’s invite to another one of his client’s party.
Jungkook walks out and sees your desk empty, but he does hear your voice coming from the management support team’s room, telling them about your weekend plans as well.
“I’m going to the film festival in Incheon,” you say. “And probably just stay at a hostel.”
“Are you going by yourself?” Do-hyun asks.
“Uh, yeah,” you reply. 
Hajoon was supposed to go with you. He invited himself, actually, and you should’ve read into the fact that he’d wanted to experience your interests with you. You hadn’t minded, and that’s clearly out of the picture now. 
“I usually go to them by myself,” you add.
“Well, if you decide you want to invite one of us or hang out, you can always let us know,” Chin-sun teases, knowing you probably won’t. 
“Let’s wait until we’re not too tired and busy, okay?” You chuckle. “That way, we can afford to do whatever we want on the weekends.”
“Yup, that’ll probably never happen,” Do-hyun pouts. “When are we not tired and busy? It’s probably worse this time because we don’t get to laugh and joke around like we used to. Are we even getting a holiday? Will we have an out-of-town team building? Or dinners and karaoke like how Mr. Jung used to treat us to?”
“The team-building is budgeted so yes, we’ll have it,” you tell them. “And dinners? I can maybe suggest that to Mr. Jeon. And come on, no one’s stopping you from laughing or joking around. You can still do all that.”
“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to because it might seem like I’m not serious about my job because our boss is too serious and it doesn’t seem right,” Do-hyun whines. 
And for the first time, you feel genuinely bad for how they think about Jungkook. You don’t blame them though, but the man you saw earlier who broke into a small smile is definitely capable of laughter; you just don’t know how to elicit it from him again. 
“He’s just been under a lot of pressure, but he doesn’t prohibit you from finding joy in anything,” you say. “Just… give him some time, okay? He’ll come around. Let’s just focus on our work and then focus on ourselves when the weekend comes. So all of you, pack up now and go home to your families and your pets. We’ve got a long few weeks ahead.”
Jungkook hears a collective okay then heads out right away, the initial thought of saying goodbye to the team having dissipated. He can’t blame them for voicing out their frustrations over the change in how they’re being managed. Hoseok was loved. He built a competent team whose spirit Jungkook is afraid he’s now breaking. But he’s not like his cousin, and he doesn’t know how to reach out to them in a way that’s genuine. He let the pressure get to him too much early on and while he’s not the type to forge connections with his staff, he’s seeing now how important it is for him as Vice President to do that. 
But it’s too much to think about for today. He’ll let this affect him a little bit and then figure things out. Based on what he heard though, he’s not on his own. You were on his side again, even when you thought he wasn’t around. There’s something about the way you stand up to him and stand by him that’s refreshing. There’s honesty there, too, and he’s learning that it’s what he needs. 
He makes it to the elevator but then holds the door once he hears rapid footsteps. You mutter your thanks as you enter, and he feels the tension build as you’re together after the exchange earlier. He hasn’t gotten over that yet, so he’s unsure how to talk with you. 
It seems like so are you, as you drum your fingers on the strap of your bag and focus on the door while you both wait to make it to the ground floor. Jungkook is tempted to offer you a ride with him but he decides against it. Even then, he slows his steps so he could walk alongside you, as you both head out the main doors.
“Get some rest, Mr. Jeon,” you finally say. “And have a good weekend.”
You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, your smile soft and assuring, something he’s never seen you direct at him before. It’s even different from earlier. There’s more understanding, he thinks. Perhaps there’s care.
“You, too, Ms. Cho,” he replies before entering the car. “Get home safely.”
You bow to him and wave at Mr. Ri before walking down the pathway to the street that leads towards the bus stop. 
Jungkook lets himself be comfortable in the seat while he forces the image of your smile out of his head. The sun has set and it’s Seoul at its busiest on another hot Friday evening. There are more cars than usual and so movement is slow, but that’s how he sees you - walking down the sidewalk in the midst of all these people. And there you are, somehow looking at peace. There’s an air of isolation that surrounds you, but you don’t look lonely. Just… alone. There’s still that warmth in your eyes and your smile that he finds himself wanting to see more of.
This is when he realizes he might be in trouble. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, but there’s this desire to get to know you, to know your thoughts and your feelings and your words. He reminds himself that he needs you, in a way that an authority figure needs support and assistance. He needs you to be focused and capable, and he needs to be the same. 
With his attraction that he can’t get over, he knows that the only way to make sure that he keeps things professional is to keep his distance - not just physically, but more so emotionally. You’ll definitely be spending more time together and he needs to constantly remind himself of who you are and who he is. That much as he feels safe and honest with you, he can’t go any further; he can’t let you get any closer. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but that’s one other thing he’ll figure out.
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tremendum · 5 months
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personal lies
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[not my gif. title from the song of the same name, by Djo.] pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her)     rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)       word count: 5.6k  requested: Hi! Your work is so insane and incredible! I've literally been thinking about Joel Miller nonstop and was wondering if you'd write a fic where reader is flirty but also has a way of getting herself into clumsy situations- like she bends over to grab something at a party and Joel turns around at the same time and he's pressed right against reader's ass- and these situations keep happening and she just bullies him about him being a pervert until he finally does something about it ;) Keep up the incredible writing!! summary: "when you were young, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - but he was just your dad's friend, someone who would make you blush strictly because he was teasing you. now, though - he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons." warnings: healthy age gap (reader is around 23, Joel is like 47), DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel, brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader, dom!Joel, semi-public sex, light voyeurism, choking, light dacryphilia, inappropriate use of household appliances, use of word slut, its dirty, slight allusions to exhibitionism, brief choking, so much dirty talk (its joel), so much degradation, reader calls Joel a pervert, teasing, slight dumbification, brief spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum play, spanking. think that's it!
notes: okay once again, another mean!Joel for the soul! its a problem! im happy for this request bc it helped so much with my writer's block. pls pls keep sending requests i love them all u guys are amazing.
[other Joel fics: i’ve got headaches and bad luck but they couldn’t touch you fever landmines  Mr. Miller Series ]
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★  
the bathroom window fogs much quicker than it used to. 
it's the first thing you've realized since returning back to your childhood home - the lack of use in your old shower, now empty of all the half-used floral shampoos and body scrubs of your youth. 
you suppose it makes sense, with your father living on his own now that you're five years out of the house - he has no real need to shower in the bathroom you'd once used as your own. in fact, as you examine under the cabinets and the medicine cupboard, it seems as though he's converted it into a storage room for cleaning supplies and the odd bundle of cotton swabs. 
it makes you grin as you massage lotion into your legs, staring at your foggy reflection. 
your father's muffled voice from downstairs shouts something and, in lieu of a response, you towel off and wrap it around yourself, cursing your father for not restocking towels that were large enough to cover yourself in a modest way to your trek back to your room; not that it much matters, your father's friends won't be arriving for another hour and a half, at the least. 
you're struck with something from your youth when you open the door, though -
and it grunts in response. 
the breath leaves your throat as your eyes drag over the expanse of chest which lies just in front of the bathroom, with a hand extended almost as if he were about to open the door - muscular arms and a familiar wristwatch - certainly not your father's. 
you gape up at Joel Miller, who stares, wide-eyed, back down at your form.
your face floods with an immense amount of heat; Joel Miller, your father's closest friend.
you haven't seen him since last summer - and before then it was even more scarce. between college out of state and splitting summers with your father and mother, before your visit home last summer, you don't think you'd seen him since you left for university. 
he's changed, but not that much - tan, with hair that curls at the nape of his neck, a nicely fit t-shirt that brings out the honey of his eyes. now, though, he's got slight smile lines on his face that compliment his striking, burly features and a peppering of gray through his hair; your mouth runs dry as you take in the large frame of thick shoulders and contoured biceps. christ. 
when you were a teen, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - he was kind, funny, and would always buy you iced tea when he ran for some beers for him and your father after a day working around the house or in the yard. but he was just your dad's friend, someone who made you blush strictly because he was teasing you. 
now, though - ever since last summer when you'd caught his eyes lingering on your figure a few too many times, he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons. it was a thrilling game you came to know last summer - the way he’d flush and clench his jaw after every quip, each slight tease of phrase, wink, of riding up of your skirt when he walked by.
it makes your stomach flip still - and the most delicious part of it all is the smoldering glares he'd give you when you pushed him too far; last summer, you'd discovered the only good thing about your clumsy, teasing nature: Joel's reactions. 
he’s everything the gentleman, always has been - even when you pushed his buttons, flustered him, he never lost his cool. only ever let his eyes wander and speak for themselves.
so when you open the door directly into him, you’re shocked to see him standing there, eyes wide.
his appearance throws you off, as there was nobody besides your father in the house when you'd stepped into the shower minutes before. tilting your head, you regain your footing quickly, heart picking up as you see his eyes rake over the length of your legs, exposed from the tiny pink towel you wear.
it’s been far too long you think, noting the change in his face when he recognizes you.
his eyes scour over every curve of your body, as if seeing you for the first time- you can’t hide your smirk. "can I help you with something, Joel?"  
his eyes avert just as quick as they found you, staring at something extremely interesting just above the crown of your head. "was lookin' for some rags. your father spilled downstairs." he shifts on his feet, looking into the steamy bathroom behind your frame, "didn't realize there was anybody home..." 
you hum, lifting a brow, "good thing I came out when I did," you send him a sly grin, "or else you'd have gotten a show." you tease, shooting him a gentle wink.
his eyes narrow slightly, tilting his head. he mutters your name lowly and it strikes you that you haven’t seen him in over a year and here you are, staring up at him, in a minuscule towel.
“watch it. didn’t know y’were in there.” he utters, sounding defensive as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.
the rumble of your name as it leaves his lips is insatiable; it bathes you in heat as his eyes flicker down towards your chest and back up to your eyes and you smirk, a light tut leaving your mouth.
"sure you didn’t, Joel.”
he cocks a brow at your implications, his head tilting slightly, but he says nothing. your father yells something about warped wood downstairs and the moment snaps, Joel clearing his throat and you looking away.
“I'm onto you, perv." you smirk, winking once again. you don't give yourself the chance to see his reaction as you brush past him, a flick of your wet hair trailing over the green cotton of the shirt that hugs his biceps. you don't hear him move even as you slide past your door and shut it. 
it’s not until you’re inside your room that you hear the bathroom door slam so hard it reverberates through your walls. you fight your racing heartbeat and dull throb of arousal, pressing your fingers against your hot cheeks. 
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"honey?" your dad calls as you leave your room.
“Joel's here. come say hi and help us set up."
your heart skips, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you round the stairs, where the two men stand at the bottom. feigning surprise, you start down the steps towards them. "hi, Mr. Miller." you say pleasantly, "when did you get here?" 
Joel's eyes flash with something as he watches you, tilting his head as if trying to decipher what you're playing at - as if he didn’t see you in a towel thirty minutes ago.
"little bit ago." he responds, shifting on his feet and watching you with crossed arms. “when did you get here?” he counters, nodding to your suitcase, which sits still at the top of your stairs.
your dad laughs at your words, though, breaking the tension he didn't even feel before you can answer Joel’s question. "-Mr. Miller? since when did you have any manners?" your dad snorts, "been calling him Joel as long as I have."   you roll your eyes playfully at him, reaching the last step, still a few inches shorter than the man next to your dad. 
Joel’s eyebrows raise; you look away as you grin. “trying to be polite, I guess. it’s been a bit.” you shrug.
"guess they did teach ya something mature in college, huh?" you dad smirks, nudging your arm. you flush and shrug just as Joel swallows, "haven't seen you in a while, sweetheart." he nods, "how've you been?" 
you smile, "been really good, Joel. better now that I get to see my favorite old man." you tease, stepping between the two men, eyes trailing over Joel's gaze even as you walk away. despite your dad's grunt of offense at your joke, he still grins, "you look nice, honey." he says, patting your shoulder.
you smile, not breaking eye contact with Joel as you hum, "thanks, I just showered."  
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the crowd is thicker than you expected.
you didn’t know your father even had this many friends.
besides your own friends who you’d invited to come catch up, you spent the afternoon chatting with nearly every person in the old neighborhood you’d ever met.
if you thought being home from school while you were a student was bad, being freshly graduated at a backyard barbeque full of your dad's friends was much, much worse. 
flocks of couples, neighbors, and family friends gravitate towards you in waves, asking about your achievements and new job and oh, what's it like in the big city? 
you're barely able to break away for a minute to stalk over to the side of your house, nestled up in the grass of your backyard, to grab refreshments - sure, you've already had a few beers and you're not particularly thirsty, but Joel's leaning up against the side of the house and you're drawn with a heat in your abdomen towards him.
a small group of men talk just next to the coolers, engrossed in some conversation that holds no interest to you; but he's there, and something inside you screams for his attention. 
you barely brush his back to excuse yourself past the bodies, reaching down into the cooler to fish out something palatable.
but your blood runs just as cold as the ice in your hand when a sudden pressure against your ass sends a shiver of desire through you. 
you instinctively gasp. the pressure of someone’s hips pressing firmly but briefly against your ass, by accident, startles you as you stand up, a pulsing desire spreading through you instantly once you see Joel, face in shock, behind you.
you swallow; he must have turned after thinking someone’d tried to get his attention, just as you’d bent over. your face heats up.
you're met with eyes that hold awkward shock and a small dark flame that flickers slowly as your shame suddenly melts into a smirk, lunging at the perfect opportunity to sink your claws into him. 
"s-sorry, didn't see you there." he stutters slightly. heat pools in your stomach at the flush on his cheeks, the white ring around his knuckles spreading where he grips the neck of his beer bottle too tight. 
grinning, you shrug. "it's okay, Joel. I'm sure it was an accident. you seem to be prone to them." you say sweetly, voice sounding almost simpering as you smile.
from the look he gives you, it's clear he can see right through your words. "were you grabbing a beer?" you ask, watching his jaw clench. 
"no, I was-" but he stops himself at the teasing raise of your brows, shaking his head as he tries to save himself from your teasing. "sure. yeah." 
but just like that, he's fallen into your trap, and you smile, “just watch where you’re standing this time, yeah?” you ask. and within a split second, you're bending over again right before him, falsely digging through ice to grab a bottle that you know he likes. you shift slightly, leaning your weight on one leg as to pop your hip slightly before straightening up and handing the bottle to him with a smirk.
when you whirl back around, his eyes are up towards the sky, jaw clenched tightly with strain as if silently praying to god; though you know Joel Miller has not once stepped foot into a church in his whole life. he clears his throat tersely, eyes meeting yours again as he grabs the bottle from you. "thanks," he mutters. 
"you might want to finish that one first." you say with a grin, nodding towards his half-full beer bottle opened in his hands. he looks riled as he sends you a harsh look that only makes you smirk more, shrugging as you saunter off. 
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as much as you try, you can’t get the feeling of Joel pressed against you out of your mind.
and, with a shivering glance across the patio, you can tell he can’t either; while fully engrossed in a conversation with a woman close to his age, you lock eyes with Joel for a full five seconds before you break away. his gaze is heavy and intent - it follows you, watches you interact with people from the town and your friends from high school.
despite the scorching stares he sends you from across the yard, you keep your distance from Joel, too. you're engrossed catching up with a few friends from high school on the patio when your dad pulls you aside, asking you to help out bringing the food onto the patio. 
bowls of chips, salads, roasted vegetables, condiments, and several different variations of sweets are brought out and spread across the folded tables outside. the smell of ribs and pulled pork from your father's smoker fills the air while you fill a tub full of water for the kids on the law to bob for apples in, watching from the serenity of your kitchen. 
the breeze floats through the open window as you stare out, the scene calm as you let your thoughts linger. out near the yard, a woman leans down to pick up a discarded paper plate and the man beside her places his hand on her hip; a gentle squeeze that has your eyes glued to the motion. unable to help it, your mind wanders.
Joel's hands are large; they're rough with callouses from work and the skin gets cracked during the winter, but they're warm. you start to wonder if he's got a woman to touch like that - sure, you remember a few women who'd hung out around your dad and him when you were younger, once Sarah was old enough. but there'd never, to your knowledge, been a serious girlfriend.
you watch with desire as the man taps the woman's hip, fingers close to her ass, as she straightens, and it causes you to avert your eyes. your cheeks heat as you imagine the way it'd feel if you were out there - if the man's hand was Joel's, if he were to grab you in the middle of all these people, shove you down onto your knees-
you clear your throat, eyes snapping down to the sink where the water was overflowing from the bin with a gentle bubbling noise.
you groan to yourself in embarrassment. you need to get a fucking grip - no, you need to get laid. 
the tub is filled a little too high; it's unsteady as you lift it up, hoisting it above your hips to hold against yourself as you turn around. but there's a figure behind you that makes you jump in shock, jolting the tub until it spills over yourself. you're hit with a shocking rush of cold as the water tips and drenches you; you let out a sharp yelp as one hand flies to your chest. "christ!" you snap, eyes landing on the perpetrator - 
"Joel!" you snap, "you scared me."
"jesus," he mutters, moving towards you, grabbing the bin from you and placing it down on the counter, "I wasn't even close t'you, sweetheart. I was walkin' into the garage." 
you swallow, taking a breath to calm your tight nerves. "I was zoned out, I guess-" you curse your bumbling hands, a light breeze catching over your wet skin and sending a shiver through you. just your luck.
you sigh, tilting your head, "what are you doing, slinking around here?" you raise a brow as you accuse him. he rolls his eyes, "ain't slinking anywhere. was goin' to find apples. your dad is adamant about those kids on the lawn. afraid they're gonna tear up his landscaping." 
you sigh, shaking your head, "you made me spill." you pout dumbly, heart still pounding as you become increasingly aware of how wet your dress is- his eyes narrow, "'s not my fault you're always gettin' yourself into trouble." he mutters, shrugging as he looks down at your chest, the fabric slowly melding itself against your hot skin as the water spreads. 
"says you." you retort, shaking your head. his eyes catch yours after you mutter it; a quick, intense glance that sends a strike of heat through you. a warning look. 
but as always, he doesn't linger on your teasing, instead clearing his throat and moving on. it drives you mad as he hums. "at least it's water." he tries, "clean you right up." he hands you a dish towel, which you take with a quirked brow. desire burns between your legs.
"I already showered today," your voice is seductive, floating through the tense silence of the room as your eyes meet the side of his face. "as I'm sure you haven't forgot." you tease.
his hands freeze from where they were, wiping some of the water from the counter with a towel. he turns slowly to look at you, face dark. the air suddenly feels thick. "what's that supposed to mean?" his voice is low, brows drawn as he stares down at you - jaw clenched, chest heaving. his eyes dare you to say it, to let him take a bite. 
you hum, "don't act coy now, Mr. Miller." you tease, watching his eyes darken with your words. "I see the way you watch me. don't act like you aren't thinking about me." you add boldly, heart hammering - if, somehow, you've made it all up in your delusional head, you're utterly fucked. 
but his jaw ticks and his inhale is sharp, a flicker of his eyes down to your bra as it peeks through the wet material gives him away. it lights a flame within you that nothing else ever has. 
"creeping around upstairs while I'm showering. you're trying to tell me you weren't about to slide in, take a peek?" you tilt your head to stare up at him through lidded eyes, kicking the teasing up the highest you've ever done. 
you push onto your tip toes, your dripping chest mere inches from his as the barbeque continues feet away, outside. "you want to see it, don't you? feel me against you, like you did out there? I'm really warm." you mutter, drinking in his silence as he heaves his chest against yours. “and so tight.” you whisper, bold courage seeping through you as your eyes fall to the straining tent in his pants.
a rush of pride tickles you when he doesn't stop you, doesn't tell you off - so you continue, legs jelly with arousal. "I'm way too young for you, but you just can't stop yourself, can you?" you whisper into his ear, "you're so perverted, Joel." 
you're throbbing with heat when you pull back slightly to drink in his red cheeks, his piercing stare that nearly kills you. his glare is molten, sharp as his gaze flickers from you then out to the party, returning with a burning malice. "go change. now." is all he says.
"are you distracted, Joel?" you tease, smirking up at him. “or just too scared?”
“shut up.” he orders, the malice behind it barely surviving his bark as his eyes dip quickly to your chest and back.
you smirk, “you can’t keep your eyes away from me. you’re a sick man, Joel.” you mutter, letting your hand drag down the neckline of your dress, exposing your breasts through your wet fabric. he nearly growls, rough hand flying to your bare arm, tugging you close to him. "take it off." he hisses.
you blink up at him, shivering from the hungry, dark eyes that seem to tear you apart inch by inch, as you breathe out a defiant, "you're not my dad." 
he chuckles at that, an exhale leaving his lips. "you're damn right 'm not. and you're not a fuckin' child. go change." 
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you settle on a darker sundress this time, to avoid another wardrobe malfunction.
your heart hammers just as loud in your throat as it did minutes earlier in the kitchen as you stare out your bedroom window, searching for one figure in the crowd of guests. Joel's nowhere in sight, yet the kids are all huddled around a tub of water with bright red apples bobbing up and down. 
with a sharp sigh, you gather your undergarments and dress to bring down to the washer, flicking off your light. 
the laundry room smells fresh - a breath of clean air after the suffocating tenseness of the kitchen. the thought of Joel's face makes your cunt flutter slightly; that dark, angry stare - the rouge of his cheeks at your words. where doubt should creep in, nothing but pride fills your mind, knowing you can rile up the man just as easy as riding a bike. 
you've just started the wash cycle, moving to stand up when the door slams shut, making you jump once again to be met with Joel's large frame. 
you raise your brows, masking your shock and nerves with a grin, "back for more, creep? too late, I already put my panties in the wash-" 
but he crowds into you so quick that your mouth snaps shut; your back hits the edge of the washer as you stare up at him, shocked. "'m tired of your shit," he sneers, eyes angry, "prancin' around, wearing next to nothin' and bendin' over for everyone to see." your stomach flutters.
he sneers his next words. "you really that clumsy, or are you just too shy to admit how bad your pussy's aching for your daddy's best friend?" 
your jaw nearly drops from such bluntness coming from Joel's lips. you've rarely even heard him cuss - only during football games and the one time he burnt his hand on the grill after you'd leaned over and given him a perfect view down your shirt. 
 "Joel-" you start, a rush of arousal flooding the seat of your panties as you're pushed backwards. he leans into your space, dipping his head until he's in your ear. "who's the real creep, huh?" he mutters, warm breath scattering chills over your neck, "you’re sick, baby. goin' after men almost twice your age." he tuts, sliding his thick jeans between the soft skin of your thighs. “you got no idea what a man like me could do t’ya.” you gasp sharply, hands gripping his thick shoulders and he pushes you back further, your spine thrumming with the rumble of the washing machine.
“bet you think you can show me, don’t you?” you challenge, raising a brow.
"tired of your bullshit, sweetheart." he shakes his head, leaning back. "how am I gonna get you to shut up?" he asks mockingly. you swallow, canting your hips slightly as a prickle of desire rolls over you. "bet you'd love to turn this into a lesson, wouldn't you Joel?" you tease back, but he moves his leg up slightly, the rough material brushing against your heat. jolts of pleasure erupt from the spot and you let out a short mewl. his hand rises to grip your jaw, firm but gentle. his skin is hot and large against your cheeks. 
"don't lie, sweetheart, you love it." he growls, "you love trippin' and spillin' shit just so I can come clean up your mess for you. 's that right? you just need my attention?" his thumb caresses over your cheek, jilting a brow as he stares down at you, "answer me." 
you swallow dryly, nodding pathetically, "yes." 
he tuts, condescending as he tilts his head. "where's all the teasing now, baby? you're always so talkative. did'ya realize I'm too much for you?" he taunts. 
you shake your head, eyes wide, "no!" you eject, flames of heat licking your cheeks as he smirks. you try to go back on yourself, play down your eagerness, "-no, you're not too much, I promise." 
he tilts his head the other way this time, eyes sharp. "so what is it, then? y'afraid of all the people out there? that your daddy's gonna come looking for ya and find us in here? see me touching you, like the pervert I am? because I'll leave right now 'f that's what you want." 
you shiver as another rush of arousal floods you, twitching your hips at his words, the low drawl of his voice. you grasp him tight by his biceps, holding yourself against him as you meet his hot stare, unable to voice your desires. your blood pumps with need. 
"oh." he hums, eyes narrowing as he pushes his thigh up against you roughly, eliciting a short moan from you. "or do you like that?" 
you swallow, eyes lowering to where you drag your hips over his leg, pathetically desperate. he chuckles and it reverberates in his chest under your palms. "anyone could walk in here, sweetheart. your dad could be on the other side." he whispers into your ear, coaxing a moan from you - he tuts, "-an the washer's not loud enough if y'gonna moan like that." 
you nod, staring into his eyes; they pierce you with their intensity. he's giving you an out, asking if this is what you really want, or if its just some juvenile grasp for attention. your mind has been made up since you found out Joel was coming today, though. 
"I'll be quiet for you, Joel." you whisper, nodding, "I can handle it." 
you can tell, he likes that; he presses to you fully, his hardening cock pressing against your side. you sharply inhale, the reality settling in as you drip with desire, aching for his touch. boldly, with a breath of fresh desire, you snake your hand down to palm him through his jeans - he's thick, straining against his jeans as his grip on your jaw tightens. 
"how long have you been this hard, Joel?" you tease, confidence sudden as you smirk, "bet you've been thinking of me since you tried to sneak into the shower earlier for a peep show." 
his hand slides down to grasp your throat as your sentence tapers out: a squeeze causes a rush of pleasure through you. "quit it with the fuckin' lyin'. you're already desperate enough." his breath is hot on your face. with a grin, you accentuate a squeeze on his bulge, coaxing a short grunt from him. "says you, old man?"
this pushes him to the edge. 
rough hands leave your hip and throat to flip your body over, pushing you until you're bent over the washing machine, its vibrations tremoring your whole body. "eager, are you?" you tease, gasping when one hand presses you from the base of your neck.
his voice is sharp in response, "tired of you, sweetheart. gonna fuck all the teasin' right out of you." 
your cunt flutters at his words, wiggling your hips until you press against his crotch, feeling the hard thickness of his clothed cock over your panties. "-and you'll probably love every second of it too.” you mutter against the cold white surface of the washer. 
a harsh swat on your ass makes you yelp slightly, the pleasure smearing arousal between your thighs, legs shaky with anticipation. you swallow heavily when your dress is shoved up over your hips, exposing your skimpy panties to Joel as his large hands splay over the flesh of your ass. 
his hands grip and squeeze your skin, teasing you, as slowly his fingers graze over the seat of your underwear, toying with the ruined, soaked fabric. "you're dripping," he taunts you, the stark words causing your eyes to widen, a short whimper leaving your lips. "eager, are you?" he parrots your words. 
you let out a shuddered moan, swallowing as a finger falls to rub feather-light circles over your throbbing, clothed clit. the sensation has you bucking back against his touch, but his own grip on you prevents your movement; a harsh grip on your neck, forcing you down against the vibrations of the machine.
"tell me what you want." Joel mutters, voice commanding. you resist the urge once again to roll your eyes as you grit your teeth; your own medicine tastes bitter as he feeds you spoonfuls. "come on, you've always loved to talk." he sneers, his voice taunting, as if recalling all the times you've teased him, secretly aching for him. "you had such good manners in front of your daddy earlier, didn't you? so where's that pretty please? say pretty please, Joel, please fuck me on my daddy’s washing machine." he adds, thumb pressing down slightly harder on your clit. a strangled noise escaped your throat, your eyes wrenching shut. “say you want me to use you.”
"fuck- pretty please- J-Joel, please use me-“ you whimper, giving up as he hums at your words. a squeeze on your throat.
“y’gonna knock it off with the desperate teasing?” he asks sharply, holding you towards his mouth. you swallow, trying to hide your grin at the wall and hoping Joel can’t see it.
“yes, Joel, just please, please fuck me.” you submit to his request, throbbing with desire.
you feel his chest as he leans over you, breath against your spine. "begging your dad's best friend to fuck you? you’re so dirty, baby. you should be ashamed." he tuts, kissing your spine in a feather-light touch as his other hand slides your panties to the side, your arousal already dripping down your legs. 
your cheeks flush as you nod wordlessly, wiggling your hips slightly, cunt aching for him. 
he doesn't make you wait any longer; his cock is thick and heavy as he pulls himself out of his jeans, running his shaft through your molten heat.
your gasp is strangled as his tip nudges your clit, a groan from his lips rumbling and low as you hold your breath in anticipation. he rocks his hips again and your legs soon tense up, cold against the washer as your hands grip the sides, "hurry, please." your voice is breathless and cracked as you ask it, exhausted and driven wild from his teasing. "need it so bad.“ you whimper breathlessly. 
he has the audacity to chuckle lightly, his thickness spreading your juices and notching just at your entrance before sliding past in tease. your nails scrape the metal as your eyes clench shut - he's so big; a flood of nerves rolls over you. 
"i know you do, sweetheart.” he mutters; you almost consider slapping him, but then you're sharply inhaling at the sudden sensation of his spit, dripping down onto your pulsing, aching heat. you can't help the moan at the feeling; there's a moment where Joel's hand caresses your cheek gently and you can't help but lean into his warm skin, keening at the touch, until it slides over your mouth and you realize he's muffling you.
and then he pushes forwards, breaching your tight, hot cunt. 
and you’re gasping. simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, his own groan so low it may be a growl. 
your brows pinch together at the tight fit; he's so big and you're tight with desire as he slowly inches himself inside, relishing in the agonizing pleasure of him nearly splitting you open. "Joel," you whimper, voice completely muffled by his tight hold on your mouth. 
he whispers hot against the shell of your ear, "you better be quiet." 
his voice sends a flood of arousal through you, coaxing his cock further into you, enveloping him into your warmth as his cock presses against the spongy part of you that has your back arching in a gasp. and then he's dragging himself slowly out of you, thrusting back in deep and slow. 
he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into metal. you squirm at how deep he is; sweat lines your brow as your body is forced against the machine, barely able to accommodate his size. you let out a breathless, broken whine into his palm at the feeling, his length nearly splitting you, the sounds of your arousal slicking him and coating you both as he starts to thrust with a deep pace.
he holds you hard against the machine, ensuring you can't buck your hips, the other hand sliding to your neck, keeping just where he wants you at the angle that has both your eyes nearly rolling back. 
he growls as he starts to fuck into you hard and rough, the washer shaking with his thrusts. "take me, that's right." he grunts - the sentence sends your toes curling in pleasure. "fuck-" he grunts, "dirty slut, letting me fuck you right here- practically begging me all night-" 
the vibrations from the washing machine send tremors of pleasure through you and with wide eyes, you can feel your orgasm growing quickly. you can't help the gasps as Joel hits the spot in you that has tears brimming at the edge of your vision. 
"you close already, sweetheart?" he taunts, hand grabbing both your wrists to pin them against your back. you can't move as he pumps into you, the machine hitting the wall as the fire writhes in your abdomen. 
you nod, tears almost spilling in pleasure. the vibrations are bringing you so close to the edge as he hits the spongy spot inside you that nearly makes you scream; he chuckles darkly. "you need a little more, baby?" 
you nod, wailing gently against him as you try to move against him, toes leaving the ground as he fucks you into the machine. "you wanna cum, hm?" 
you nod furiously, yelping, "yes!" through his muffling. 
you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a several deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your leg slightly up, hitting a new angle that nearly sends you over the edge. "fuck." he hisses.
his hands grip your wrists tight, "you know how t'touch your clit, don't you, baby?" he asks. you nod, looking towards the wall as you can't crane your neck further to see him. he doesn't let up on his thrusts, even as you glare at the wall, nodding with a whimper. 
"why don't you touch yourself, then?" he asks, teasing with a dark lilt in his voice that sends thrills through your body. you flutter and clench at his condescending tone, his hand pinning your wrists back as you struggle to move your hand to where you most need it. 
"c'mon, sweetheart, try harder. work for it." 
a tear falls onto the washing machine as he thrusts deep, hard. he hums low, leaning over and hitting a new angle, lips against your neck. "you gonna stop slutting yourself out? an’ stop callin' me a pervert when you throw yourself at me?" he asks, taunting. you groan, nodding enough that your neck hurts as you keen your back towards him, on a desperate edge of something brilliant. 
he hums, "'kay, baby. touch yourself. want you to cum on my cock." 
your hands are released and frantically your fingers find your sensitive clit, yelping as he presses his hand harder to your mouth. the feeling is blinding. 
your cunt flutters as you hit your high not two thrusts later, your whole body tense. you let out a long, loud whine of his name as you nearly short circuit. 
 “f-fucking tight-" he grunts, his own thrusts sloppy as he chases his own orgasm, already moving on from yours as you go limp with pleasure in his grasp. 
overstimulation sends your legs quivering as he grips you tighter, fucking into your throbbing heat. your cunt, still sensitive and contracting, drives Joel crazy - though you tense as you hear a familiar voice calling out Joel's name from the patio. 
your eyes widen, but Joel doesn't stop - not when your dad yells his name louder, as if he's entered the kitchen. 
and, to your horror, your dad calls out for Joel, asking if he's seen you. 
 you don’t miss the coincidence of your dad yelling into the house in search of you while his best friend cums inside you. a groan quiet in your ear as Joel suddenly stills deep inside you, hot spurts of his cum pumping into you, both your breaths heavy. he rocks into you, shaking breath as your father once again calls for him. 
when Joel pulls out of you, he caresses your spine, releasing your mouth. you suck in a breath, shuttering when his thumb slides over your ruined cunt, thumbing his cum back inside you gently, lowly groaning. 
you don't say anything, too shocked to speak as he pulls your panties back over you, dragging your dress over your ass.
releasing you from his grip, he hums into your ear, "now you’ll quit your fuckin' teasing, you hear me?" 
and then, within seconds, you hear him returning outside, calling back your dad's name while you try to stand upright on shaky legs. 
shit.
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ja3yun · 4 months
Text
The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY Finale
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sim jaeyun x afab!reader
warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f rec.), pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, pet names, dirty talk, i think thats the main stuff, ynjake are so fucking cute so, fluff, reconnection.
wc: 8.7k
synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. However, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.
a/n: it's officially over :( i just want to say thank you to everyone who read the series, left comments, and likes! i hope the ending was what you wanted it to be. see you for the sunghoon series!
masterlist
Irony is a funny thing. So is deja vu. As you sit on a train heading home you can’t help but take in your surroundings and laugh at how you have found yourself running away from Jaeyun once again. You find it harder to convince yourself this is the right choice this time, nonetheless. Eunseo is right, you can’t take Jaeyun from Yeoreum. It’s selfish for you to walk in, raise hell, and get your happily ever after, leaving a trail of destruction behind you. You have already caused so much pain and confusion. 
Parts of you know it isn’t your fault, you didn’t know he was going to be there getting married. You did, however, have the opportunity to come clean, to disappear into the wind once again and let them live their happy life, yet you didn’t. Why? 
Selfishness? Ignorance? Love.
It was all for love. You and Jaeyun’s souls are bound by a connection greater than anyone can fathom and as soon as they found their way back to one another you couldn’t stop them from stitching back together, from loving each other. That’s why it feels like dying as you let him go. Just like the first time.
Looking out the train window you see the outskirts of the city you once lived in. It had been a long time since you stepped foot back home and to say you were nervous would be a massive understatement. Pieces of you are scattered around the city, memories of you from a lifetime before. Recollections of your past started to fade the more you were in Pyeongchang, largely due to the fact that you didn’t speak a word of your past to anyone for 4 years. 
Your mind drifts to your mum and dad. Mr. Sim said they had a hard time and that upsets you. In a way, you wish you could go back in time and just tell them not to tell Jaeyun where you were so you could keep your relationship with your parents alight. You have a lot of regrets about that day. 
Stepping off the train you smell the same caramelised nuts from when you were a teenager.
__
When you walked up to the Son family house, it was big, like a mansion. Nothing like your childhood home you were briskly walking up to right now. Carting your bag up the driveway your mouth goes moist, like you’re going to vomit any minute. If you were being honest with yourself you would admit that the anxiety you’re feeling seeing your parents again was overwhelming. If you didn’t know your body you would genuinely believe you might die. 
Tentatively, you raise your hand to the bell, waiting to muster up the courage to press the button. “It’s just your parents, they won’t hate you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you convince yourself to push the button.
The ding-dong from the doorbell shoots fear straight through your chest. What if they slam the door in your face? What if they shout and scream at you? You feel like a kid again who is terrified of their parents scolding them for doing something naughty. Guess it doesn’t matter what age you are, 13 or 23, you’ll always be scared of your mum and dad.
A gust of wind hits your face as the door swings open. Your mum. Your beautiful mum. She was right in front of you and suddenly your throat closed and your tear ducts filled.
“Y-Y/N? Sweetheart?” Her mouth hangs open as she whispers out your name, scared that if she says it too loud you’ll vanish from her. You don’t move and neither does she. 
During this time you look at how she’s aged so gracefully, crow's feet that were slight are now deeper, her forehead is adorned with new wrinkles, and her laugh lines are starting to appear. Your mum didn’t just miss you growing up, you missed her growing up too.
The wind blows around you and it pulls you both out of your trance.
“Hi, mum.” You wave nervously, your voice cracking, “How ha-”
Pulling you into her she hugs you tight, her arms squeezing around your neck as she takes in your scent. She can’t believe her baby is right in front of her. There is an astronomical amount of comfort in her hug, but she might squeeze you to death if she grips on any longer. “Mum…too tight.” Laughing slightly as you shed a tear.
“Sorry, sorry, I just can’t,” Her eyes drag over you and suddenly that sweet and soft look turns harsh and you know exactly what is coming, “Where have you been, young lady? Do you know how many times I called the police to look for you? How much time I spent worrying? My hair has turned grey because of you!” 
You laugh and hug her again, “I missed you too, mum.” Her tense body from the scolding she gave you flutters away, this hug holding every apology and forgiveness in it.
Your dad walks up to the door and he sighs relief. He never did have much to say but as he hugs both his daughter and wife, he says enough. 
“Welcome home, honey.”
___
After what felt like hours of explaining everything to your mum and dad, you finally felt the exhaustion hit you. It was hard to blabber out everything that had happened in the past week never mind the past 4 years. When you spoke about Jaeyun they also told you about how it affected him. 
He was a mess according to them. Jaeyun was never home, looking around every motel, all your friends' houses, and hospitals, he even went to every train station with your picture begging people to tell him if they had seen you. It shattered your heart to know that you did that to him. He said he went searching but somehow hearing it in detail from your parents made it worse, like you were there living it with him. 
Yet, here you are, doing it again to him. You can’t even find peace in the fact that at least he has a life to continue with because deep routed within you, you selfishly need it to be you that he’s with. 
As you drag yourself up to your childhood bedroom you feel the depression you felt that clouded you 4 years ago. It’s heavy and you can’t even be bothered to lift your feet to the next step. Talking about it all just puts everything into a clear and concise perspective.
You can’t have him. 
Opening the door you are hit with a massive wave of nostalgia. Everything was exactly in the same place; your plushies, the clothes you threw out of your wardrobe as you packed, and the posters of Monsta X and Seventeen are plastered along the walls. Suddenly you’re 19 again.
You place your bag down on your desk chair and sigh, beginning to tidy up your surroundings. Now you’re older you understand why your mum was always infuriated with the mess of your room and how she cleaned it for you. You’ll thank her properly for all those times tomorrow.
Walking to the pile of clothes you had on the floor you trifle through them and laugh, your fashion sure hasn’t changed. You haven’t really changed all that much if you think about it. One piece of clothing in your peripheral vision catches your eye. A simple black stretch t-shirt with a Lacoste logo embroidered on the right side. It was his t-shirt. 
Your fingers instinctively reach for it, picking it up gently and bringing it to your nose. Somehow it still smells like him, like the him you had the pleasure of calling yours. Gripping it tight you bury your face into it, soaking his essence up. A memory of the last time you remember him wearing it projects in your head. 
He was coming back from football practice and stopped at your house to see you. You think about how pretty he looked that day with his baseball cap put on backward, a silver chain peeking from under this very t-shirt you’re holding. How could someone be so effortlessly beautiful? 
“Baby?” He said waltzing into your room, still high from a successful practice. You were lying on top of your bed with earphones in.
“Jaeyun!” You beamed and sat up a little as you took an earphone out, “thought you were going to Heeseung’s after practice?” 
“Nah, wasn’t feeling it. I’ve used up my social battery for today I think.” He takes the earphone from you and places it in his ear. 
Like muscle memory, you opened your legs and he lay between them, his head placed on your tummy, arms hugging around you so his palms are placed against your back. 
“Jaeyun, if your social battery is drained, why are you here?” You look down and remove his cap, raking your hand through his hair. His puppy eyes meet yours as he looks up, his chin poking your stomach.
“Babe you know you don’t count,” he plants a kiss on your stomach, “I can never get tired of you.”
Heartache is the only feeling you have right now. Everything was so simple back then and you had to ruin it. How many chances did you miss to lay with him like that because you were stupid enough to leave him? 
All the conversations from the last few days swirl in your mind.
‘I would have made long distance work.’ 
‘Baby, I love you’
‘They don’t want him to marry her.’
‘You’ll make the right choice’
’If those reasons don’t matter anymore, you should do what you think is best.’
‘He would leave my sister for you’
It was all too much and you only had yourself to blame. You can’t shake this heaviness in your chest, the only peace you’re finding is in the comfort of his old t-shirt. 
Slipping out of your clothes you forget about cleaning your room, too sad to focus. If you can’t even clear up your thoughts what chance do you have cleaning this mess up? You strip down to your panties before putting on his t-shirt. It fits the way it used to, it’s slightly baggy and ends just on the very top of your thighs. Something about your body being engulfed in something that’s his makes you tranquil. 
You pull your covers back and slink into bed, the sensation strangely foreign despite the years you slept here. As you get comfortable, Jaeyun’s t-shirt wafts, and it’s like he’s in bed with you.
You cry yourself to sleep and dream of a better reality. One with you in his arms. One where you are his.
___
A loud thump at the door jolts you from your slumber. Someone is pounding at the front door and the sudden rude wake-up makes your heart match the rapid bangs. 
Creeping downstairs to not make a sound, your eyes are scanning the lower ground floor for any sign of your parents, fuck, any sign of life at this point. Your dad always said not to answer the door if they ‘chap it like a copper’ so you’re very apprehensive. 
“Dad?” You whisper shout and another couple of hard knocks scare you again. This is it. You’re going to die. It’s karma for all your mistakes. 
It seems you’re the only one home and you stomp your feet like a bratty child trying to build the courage to open the door. “If I die tell Jooheon I loved him.” You say to no one in particular, just anyone that will head your plea.
Unlocking the door you slowly open it and have your eyes tight shut, ready for the worst. 
“Y/N…” 
That voice. His voice. 
You pry one of your eyes open to see if your ears are deceiving you. They aren’t.
“Jaeyun? W-what are you doing here?” You look around behind him in bewilderment and then back into your house searching for the time. “You’re getting married in like-” Whipping your head around you don’t get to finish your sentence.
“I’m not marrying her.”
Shock pulses through your veins. Guilt pours into your heart. This is your fault. 
Your water line was filling with tears at the thought of you ruining his new relationship, ruining his new life all because you were an idiot. You stayed too long, let yourselves get attached again. 
A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth and you shake your head. “You can’t be serious?”
Looking into his eyes was the worst thing you could have done. He’s tired and drained, he’s looking at you like you hold the universe. Waves of all emotions crash onto you at once and you try to fight back the tears. 
“I’m so serious, baby.” He steps forward and you step back, “No, no, no, Y/N, don’t run from this. Did you think I wouldn’t come chasing after you this time? I love you, Y/N. I can’t live without you, not again.” 
Jaeyun spent the whole night driving, his first stop was at your flat in Pyeongchang. He begged Eunseo for the address and after a hard slap to his face, she gave him it. Jaeyun asked as a shot in the dark, expecting no result, but Eunseo saw the way he was frantically running around the house looking for you. She couldn’t see three broken hearts from this situation. When you weren’t at your flat there was only one place you would be. Here.
You shake your head full-on crying now and trying to get away from him but he yanks you back until your chest is pressed against his. His lips are dangerously close to your chapped ones. Sucking in your bottom lip you sob and look down, “Tell me you want us. Tell me you felt everything I felt this week.”
His words aren’t registering in your head. All you are thinking about is how this is exactly the situation you wanted to avoid back those years ago, Jaeyun giving up everything he has worked hard for, just for you. “You can’t do that. You can’t leave her.”
“If it meant I would have you back I would do anything. I’d break anyone’s heart to be able to hold yours again.” Jaeyun’s eyes are holding tears as his heart beats loudly in his chest and you feel it softly. Only soulmates can notice minute things like that. His words echo in your head and you sob loudly, covering your mouth. “I’ll ask you again, tell me you want this, us.” He’s begging for permission to love you again, to just be yours again.
Jaeyun’s feelings for you never left. When he went to Busan and attended Apollo College he was a shell of a person with only two emotions inside him longing and love, both just for you. 
“You started your new life for a reason, you gotta live it.” Despite your words trying to separate you both you find yourself practically melting into him, becoming one again. 
“Baby, please,” He kisses your forehead and feels you exhale in contentment at his lips laid upon you once again, “I might be living this life but if I don’t have you I’ll spend all of it failing to get over you, just like I have been.” Lips graze from your temple to your cheek, etching their way to your lips, brushing ever so slightly. “What you asked that night at the club, you meant it.”
Confusion sparks on your face, “huh?”
“When you asked me not to marry Yeoreum.”
Shock. 
You’re in complete shock. You didn’t say that, did you? There is no way did. Jaeyun sees the confusion written across your face. You really don’t remember. 
“I saw it in your eyes, in the way you kissed me, touched me. Y/N, it’s fate that you turned up.” Jaeyun’s lips are touching yours as he speaks, patiently waiting for you to give him the green light to devour you in a kiss. But you don’t.
There is so much to lose. Friendships, families, opportunities. Eunseo meant so much to you, if you take Jaeyun away from her sister you’ll lose her. But you’ll lose Jaeyun if you don’t take this chance. You’d be so selfish to say yes to him, to break Eunseo’s heart. To break Yeoreum’s heart. “What about Yeoreum? What about her?”
“I told her everything,” His big hand is holding the right side of your face now, “about us, about how I felt, that I think deep down we both knew we didn’t want this wedding. I wasn’t over you and Yeoreum wasn’t able to live with a husband that couldn’t be 100% hers. And she shouldn’t have to.”
“But you love her.” That’s what you had always thought.
“I loved that she was a distraction from you. When she and I met I was just hooking up with her,” There is pain on your face as he says those words and he rubs the apple of your cheek, “I know, I’m sorry baby, but you gotta hear me out.” He continues, “It was casual, she was good to me, patient. But no one was ever going to shine a light compared to you. One day she was just…my girlfriend.”
You shut your eyes. Honestly, you didn’t want to hear any of this. Of course, you knew she got to have him and touch him the way you used to, but when someone says it so brashly it makes your skin crawl. Especially when it was coming from his lips.
“I told her I wasn’t over you but she said she could help. After that…” Jaeyun continues to thumb your cheek, hoping it provides some comfort and reassurance. “I thought I fell in love with her. Really I did. I even asked her to marry me but I was just in love with the fact that she made me forget you, even for like a millisecond.” He rubs his nose with yours, sighing and closing his eyes, “Believe me, Princess, when I tell you I thought about you every single fucking minute of the day.” 
You did believe him because you did the exact same thing. Even in your dreams, he was always there. 
“Then when I turned around and saw you at the party on Tuesday,” He bites his lip and opens his eyes, almost rolling them at the thought of you in that dress, “Nothing was distracting me. I kissed her and suddenly all I could think of was you again. Your lips, how you made me feel. Fuck, Y/N, you’re the only one that ever let me just be me. How could I truly love someone that I can’t even be myself around.” 
The sobs in your chest rumble as you hold them in but it’s getting hard to breathe. “Shh, baby, relax.” He can feel you struggle for air and he wraps you tight in a hug, “Princess, I love you.”
As he feels your arms wrap around him and hears you crying, he guides you into the house and kicks the door shut to give you some privacy.
Crying hard into his chest he simply soothes you, gently caressing your back and kissing your hair. It’s all too much for you to process. 
One side of you feels guilty, he was happy with Yeoreum before you showed up. The wedding that was meant to take place today is canceled because of you.
The other side of you feels like it’s floating, finally free of a burden. You can love Jaeyun with all your heart because you have the opportunity to be his.
“Princess, look at me.” Jaeyun’s pointer finger lifts your chin, both your eyes meeting, glazed in water. “I’ve already called off the wedding, baby. Either you have me or you don’t. The decision is yours and I’ll respect it.” He smiles sadly, “but if you say no then I’m single and honestly I can’t bear to download a dating app. I refuse.” Jaeyun jokes to lighten the mood and you laugh loudly, masked in a sob. 
He’s right, there’s nothing really stopping you from being together now. You’re basically graduated, and so is he. He has a job in Busan which is like media hub central so you could easily find work. There is no reason to torture your souls anymore.
“Okay.”
“Huh?” Jaeyun’s eyes widen and dart over every detail on your face, waiting to hear what he wants to.
“I love you so much, Jaeyun.” It’s your turn to reach your hand to his cheek, your palm only covering a fraction of what he covers on yours. “I want to be yours. Forever.”
A second. It took one whole second before Jaeyun’s lips were devouring yours, those beautiful full pink lips pressed hard against your own. Not one thought left in any of your heads other than each other. 
You’re both desperate, clashing with one another. Jaeyun dips down and his hands slide down your ass to your thighs, picking you up so you are sitting on his hands, legs enfold around his waist. Not once did you stop kissing him. 
He carries you up the stairs, his feet moving instinctively and quickly to your bedroom like it was just yesterday. Jaeyun knew the scope of your house in every light and darkness with how many times he snuck in to fuck you late at night or had dinner with your family.
When he reaches the top step he bounces you up so you’re more secure on his waist but as your core presses down on his hardening cock he groans. He missed the way you felt and even this teaser was almost sending him over the edge, tempting him to just take you in the hallway.
Kissing Jaeyun felt like sunflowers blossoming in your stomach and out of your mouth, pouring sweetness and love into every smooch, every tongue flick. He rushes into your bedroom and almost falls over the mess. Fuck, you really should have cleaned your room.
Jaeyun’s hands grip you tighter to stop you from falling, “Sorry, Princess.” He places you down gently and goes right back to kissing you, his hands roaming the soft skin under your t-shirt. 
That’s when he notices what you’re wearing. His t-shirt. One he thought he lost when packing to leave for Busnan, but it was with you. Just like his heart. “I thought I lost this.” There’s a double connotation to his words. Yes, it was about the t-shirt, but it was also about you and your love. You look down and sheepishly grin.
“I found it when I came back here.” You say while his hands take the bottom of the t-shirt and rub it.
A smirk plastered on his face, “Damn,” he tuts, “Here I was having thoughts about you touching yourself wearing it while we weren’t together.” 
Oh, Jaeyun hasn’t changed one bit. Still horny, still obsessed with you. Playfully you roll your eyes. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t have another t-shirt of yours.” 
If a grown man could purr, he would have. Closing his eyes, he had to compose himself for a moment before he busted a nut right there and then. You use the moment to massage your hands up his torso and on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over his nipples. The purr turns into a whine as he grabs you tightly on your waist. “Fucking love you so much, Y/N.”
Jaeyun’s lips are back on yours with force as he pushes you onto the bed, his weight hovering over you. The heat emanating from both your bodies feels like the sun has been turned up by 100, his touches light up your skin, and his lips leave sunburnt kisses all over your neck. The way he’s desperately clutching your skin proves to you how much he missed you.
“I wanna fuck you in this t-shirt but shit, I gotta see all of you, baby.” Jaeyun pants in your ear. He’s like a dog on heat, just aching to have you, to consume every inch of you. His tongue runs down your neck until he reaches your collarbone but you need more than this.
While he’s kissing and biting the base of your neck he’s gripping at the t-shirt that’s covering his second favourite part of you and lifting it to uncover your tits. Jaeyun peels himself away from you for a second to admire your figure. God how he has missed your body - the softness of your skin, the way each of your boobs fall slightly to the side when you’re on your back like this, and how your nipples stand proudly. It’s mouth-watering.
“Sit up a bit for me, Princess,” Jaeyun says as he takes off your t-shirt and that’s when he sees the necklace again. He noticed you wearing it the whole week and it made him feel proud, like part of you always belonged to him. His pointer finger holds the chain away from your neck and his smile is beaming. “You never took it off? Like ever?”
“No. I couldn’t” You confess, looking down at it, the sun symbol shining as brightly as the first night he gave it to you. Jaeyun’s smile widened further if that was even possible. Something about you always being branded by him made him feel feral. You were always his and it made him feel guilty because literally yesterday he was getting prepared for his wedding to someone who wasn’t you.
You see his face change to a look you’ve not seen before, “Hey,” Your hand reaches for his face, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. For ever being with someone else.” Your heart shatters. It’s not his fault, none of it is.
“Jaeyun you never have to apologise for trying to move on. I left you without a word, it’s only natural you would move on.”
“But I didn’t. I couldn’t move on.” His hands are massaging your tits as he speaks and it’s sending your brain into a frenzy. It’s been so long since he touched you so intimately yet so commonly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words the love I have for you.”
As his hands knead your breasts he feels your heart skip and it entices him to lean down and kiss you softly. The act between the two of you right now is so pure and raw. It’s meant to be. 
You kiss him back gently, your tongue slipping into his mouth. The taste of him is so delicious you can’t help but moan and your hands rake through his thick hair. Instinctively, your back arches and pushes into him, the motion causing your tits to mold further into his hands, and the flesh spills between his fingers. 
Jaeyun keeps one hand on your left tit while the other slips down past your waist, the pads of his fingers etching hearts into your skin just like that day in the car. The feeling of his gentle touch is making your stomach do cartwheels and your core aching to be touched. You rub your thighs together to create some friction that will help ease the neediness. He notices you wriggling and he knows exactly what you’re doing.
“Am I not going fast enough for you, Princess?” He smirks, his middle finger dips into your pants just enough to sit in the waistband. You’re throwing your head back, preparing yourself for him to touch you where you need him but instead all his motions stop, causing you to open your eyes and go back to looking at him.
“What are you doing?” You ask.
“You seem to be pleasing yourself all on your own, baby,” Jaeyun’s eyes fall down to look at your legs rubbing together like they’re two sticks and you’re in the woods trying to start a fire, “Don’t want to interrupt you.” 
Oh, he is evil. It’s been 4 years since his hands have been on you and he still has the reserve within him to tease you. 
Jaeyun sits back and grabs your hand, placing it on his wrist. “Use it.”
“Use what?” You’re genuinely confused.
“My hand. Use it how you want. Tell me what you want since you seem to be so desperate and clearly I’m not doing it right.” His tone is unbothered but mocking. There’s a glint in his eye that’s almost challenging you. He’s so fucking hot.
Taking a harsher grip on his wrist, you open your legs and push his hand to cup your heat. He never let you take charge before so you’re apprehensive but you need to take your pennies before they disappear. 
His hand stays there doing nothing and you look at him expectantly. Why isn’t he doing anything? 
Putting your hand to ghost over his you push it down, his palm now pressed hard against your vagina yet he still doesn’t move. His head shakes as he pouts, “That all you want? Come on baby, I thought you were desperate. Hmm?” Somehow his voice is an octave lower and it elicits your pussy to drip through your pants and onto his palm. When Jaeyun feels it he smirks, licking his bottom lip. “Your bodies telling me everything, but you gotta use your words, Princess.” 
You’re feeling a little defiant, he’s too cocky in this situation and you want to take him down a peg or two. So you press the bottom of his palm to your clit and start to grind on it.
When Jaeyun carried you up the stairs not even 30 minutes ago you thought the sex would be sweet, full of confessions and whispered promises to never leave each other again considering the emotional rollercoaster you both went on this week. But you should have known better, that was never his style. 
The sensation of his rigid palm against your nub was sensational and you were gasping when it rubbed you a certain way. You could get off just by doing this but you needed more. More of him.
Jaeyun can see your internal conflict of whether or not to tell him what you want. He leans down, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks, “Princess,” he nips at your lobe, “give in?”
“N-no.” You’re trying to focus on the pleasure you’re feeling but your entrance is clenching around nothing like it’s talking to you and telling you it needs to be filled by something. Anything at all. Jaeyun. 
He tuts and sighs heavily, pulling back and watching you grind on his hand. “Since when didn’t you listen to me?” His middle finger suddenly rubs in between your folds, ghosting over your hole and you could cry with happiness but he stops as soon as he starts, “Want more of that?”
Nodding quickly you stare at him desperately, your hips never stopping the action that’s giving you satisfaction. “Tell me.” 
It was almost like he was asking you to beg him. 
And that is exactly what you do.
“Fuck, please Jaeyun, I need your fingers inside me.”
“There’s my good girl.” He kisses your temple and his once limp hand now gains its strength as it takes over. Finally.
Jaeyun doesn’t know how he’s restrained himself this long. If he wasn’t so in love with the way you act when he teases you he probably would have fucked you and made you cum 3 times already. But it’s the first time in so long since he’s had you like this, he was going to make sure he gave you everything he had. Showed you just how much he missed you.
After pulling your underwear down, two fingers breach your entrance and you throw yourself back onto the bed, gasping as you finally feel some sort of release. He thrusts them in slowly, gliding them in and out as he stretches you out in a way only he knows how. 
Right now Jaeyun didn’t want to think about how you’ve probably been touched by someone else but god does he love to have his ego boosted, so he asks the question, “You’re so tight, baby. All those other guys not fuck you right?”
You can’t believe he’s bringing this up right now. Of course he would surmise that you probably had sex. It has been 4 years and you weren’t going to go celibate your whole life. But to ask it while his fingers are fucking you open, curling into you like he was gesturing for your orgasm to come closer? He sure did pick his times. You know what he’s looking for, what he is looking the hear.
“No,” your voice was quiet, almost lost amongst the wet noises your pussy was making as Jaeyun picks up the pace, “No one fucked me like you do.”
“Because I’m the only one that can fuck you good. Isn’t that right?” His fingers start to scissor you open further causing you to lift your hips and bury the back of your head into the mattress. Jaeyun’s free hand lays flat across your lower abdomen and pushes your hips back down, the pressure only adding to your gratification. 
He was right though, not one other person ever fucked you as good as him. The way he would listen to your body was otherworldly, always giving you exactly what you craved. All those boys from college just looking for a quick fuck didn’t care about you or if you came. Not like Jaeyun who thought if he made you cum only twice it was a weak night.
“I only want you.” You confess his heart could flutter straight from his chest. Jaeyun had missed the way you would just casually say the prettiest things, especially when you were so fucked out like this. He smiles widely and kisses your tummy.
“And I only need you,” he replies, his lips still lingering under your navel. 
His thumb rubs your clit and you’re seeing stars, a coil erupting in your stomach. Jaeyun feels you cumming and goes harder with his fingers, thrusting them up at a rapid pace just the way you liked and putting pressure on your sensitive bud. “That’s it, Princess.” He talks you through it but you’re too far gone to hear a word he says, “So fucking beautiful cumming on my fingers like this. Such a good girl for me. I love you so much.” He says these cute but filthy words in between kisses he’s planting on your forehead. 
As you come down from your high you don’t get a chance to breathe as you feel your legs being pinned open and Jaeyun’s tongue is lapping up your cum. “J-Jaeyun give me a…give me a minute.” But he doesn’t let up, lost in your essence, drinking your cum like it’s the sweetest thing since honey. 
Your taste has been missed. Jaeyun almost forgot how addicting your pussy is. Messily he starts to lick and suck at your overstimulated nub, he’s eating you like a man starved and you can’t help but be brought close to release once again. 
His tongue dips into you, curling as he slurps up every trace of your last orgasm. Your fingers find his hair to grip on while you moan profanities into the warm air.
“Tug on it, Princess,” Jaeyun instructed and you did just that. Yanking his hair emanated a low groan from the boy between your legs, his hips humping the mattress to try and relieve the pressure in his trousers. If he didn’t make you cum again soon he would spill right into his boxers. That situation only happened once when it was his birthday and you wore those cute frilly pants that he loved. You let him eat you out with them still on, the fabric rubbing against his nose, and when you came all over his face he came in his boxers. 
Jaeyun’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the memory, only spurring him on to devour you even more in this moment. He feels your walls contracting around his tongue so he pulls out and puts his mouth to work back on your clit.
“S-shit, Jaeyun,” The grip you have on his hair tightens, “I’m gonna cum again.”
The smirk on his face didn’t match the butterflies in his chest. His cocky exterior was a mask for how much he was anticipating your release on his face, how he was so giddy with excitement that he got to soak you up, something he thought would never happen again.
“Let go, love. Give it to me.” He wanted to sound confident but he practically whined it, begging for your nectar. He was hungry for it, for you.
His words have you cumming again and the sound that erupts from your mouth has Jaeyun growling into your pussy. He was the one making you cry out in pleasure like that and he was confident no one else ever had. 
Your chest is heaving, pants echo in the room but Jaeyun is still between your legs, cleaning every last drop from you. 
“Jaeyun, please…” You go to shut your thighs but you can’t, his hands forcing them to stay open. He wasn’t done with you but you don’t know how much more you can take. “Baby, I’ve only got one more in me, max.” It’s embarrassing to admit it but you haven’t cum like this in so long, and you wanted to cum on his dick at least once today. 
His big eyes twinkle as he peaks his head up. “What?” He looked so cute you contemplate if you could really cum 2 more times.
Playing with his luscious now slightly damp hair you smile at him, “I can push for one more but I want it to be on your cock.” Almost like your words pulled him out of his trance he smiled, placing one last kiss on your clit before sitting up. 
“Remember you used to be able to cum like 6 times in one night?”
“Yes,” You roll your eyes and smile, “but that was when you had me trained. I’ve not cum more than once in, oh I don’t know, 4 years.” 
The arrogance radiating off him was so sexy. Jaeyun’s ego was the size of a hot air balloon as you disclose the information that he is in fact the only man who can make you feel good like this. 
His hand pets your pussy as he leans down again, “Don’t worry, I’ll train you back up in no time.” 
“Um, Jaeyun?” 
“Yeah?” His eyes meet yours waiting for you to continue.
“Did you just speak to my vagina?” 
There’s a silence and then laughter from both of you. Now that Jaeyun hears you acknowledge his actions out loud he realises how strange it must have looked. He brings his hand to scratch the back of his neck as his laugh gets louder.
“Yes?” He chuckles and places his hands on his hips in embarrassment, “Sorry.”
“Is that a new thing you picked up? Talking to genitals?” You shuffle up so you’re sitting straight, legs spread as wide as the smile on your face.
Jaeyun shrugs, “Sometimes it’s a very stimulating conversation.”
Your eyebrows raise, “Oh really? And what is my pussy saying to you now?”
Crawling towards you he smirks and his puppy-like eyes are blown out with love and lust, “It’s telling me that it needs to be fucked so good it’ll start barking.” You laugh again. He’s so silly and stupid. He’s your Jaeyun.
Once you both stop laughing you place your hand on his face, stroking your thumb on the squishy part of his cheeks. You both look at each other and instantly understand one another. The apologies, the pining, the need, the love. You could almost cry right there and then as his eyes whisper a soulful ‘I love you’, you can’t ever imagine living without him again.
“I love you so much, you know that right? You know I never stopped?” The hand that was on his face now wipes his mouth clean of your cum. Jaeyun wouldn’t have cared if your juices stayed there forever, at least he could taste you all the time.
“I know, Princess. I love you more than the moon and the stars.” Jaeyun’s bottom lip juts out and you take the opportunity to kiss it, sucking it a little and tasting yourself on him. 
Sitting on his knees he deepens the kiss, leaving you breathless. Your hands unbutton his trousers clumsily and he smiles into the kiss. “Want a hand?”
“Shut the fuck up,” You laugh, “I’m distracted.” Jaeyun beams and nuzzles your nose.
Standing up, Jaeyun pulls down his trousers and goes to follow it with his boxers but he swiftly turns around and heads for your drawer, looking to locate a condom. He pulls out the shiny blue packet and examines it, “Baby?” He twirls to you, the packet in between his middle and pointer finger, “You think these have an expiration date?” 
You watch him look thoroughly at the packet. If he didn’t look so cute right now you would be wondering how he can be so bright but so dumb at the same time. “Jaeyun, baby, did you not take sex ed?”
“Huh?” He’s puzzled.
“They lose effect over time? 3-5 years max? Ring any bells?” You’re trying to hold in a laugh as his eyebrows furrow together.
“When did we learn that?” He’s racking his brain for any recollection of the class, then i clicks his fingers and point to you, “Ah, Mrs. Lee. That was the class I made those little boat hats in.”
He was so proud of himself, every time he had the class he timed how many he could make within the hour.
“I think I still have the pink one you made me in here somewhere,” You scour the room to see if it was easily available. “Anyway, you don’t need it.”
“The boat hat?”
“No-” Oh my days he is unbelievable you think to yourself “No the condom you idiot!” You’re shaking your head in disbelief. He is truly so stupid. “You don’t have to use one, unless you want to, of course.” You let him decide what to do. However, you’re patience is wearing thin and you’re getting chilly due to you sitting on the bed naked.  
“Seriously?” Jaeyun never thought he would get to feel your raw pussy ever again. That one time you let him fuck you without a condom was the best thing he ever experienced. With Yeoreum he always wore a condom despite her protests most times. He just couldn’t risk it, being a dad so soon wasn’t worth it regardless of how good it would feel. That and he only wanted to have sex raw with you, no one else. “Are you on the pill?”
“I got a coil put in last year.” You shudder at the memory and pain. It was easily in the top 5 most uncomfortable moments you went through, but right now you’re glad you got it.
“Did you fuck guys without a condom?” His voice is hurt and his arms drop to his side, face frowning. Jaeyun didn’t want anyone else’s cock feeling your walls the way he did. It was his pleasure to have, not anyone else
You quickly shake your head sit up more alert than before, hands flying to your chest as if to swear on your heart. “Oh god no, baby. My periods got like, really really bad. I got the IUD because they said it would help.” How could he think that? You couldn’t do that to him.
Seeing him physically relax eases your own mind. “Okay, good. I was worried there for a second.”
“You never fucked Yeoreum without one?” Her name leaving your lips leaves a bitter feeling in your mouth and his ears. He mumbles a ‘no of course not' and throws the probably expired condom back into the drawer. 
Jaeyun walks towards you with a small smile on his face, relief evident. Now he can make love to you with full confidence that he is, and will be, the only man to ever truly feel you. He steps out of his boxers and you’re almost salivating at the sight, drool threatening to drip down your chin. You’ve missed it so much.
You reach your hand out but he slaps it away lightly. Protesting with a soft ‘hey’ you go to touch him again but it’s the same result.
“Princess, I love that you wanna gag around my cock but I need to be inside you, like, right now.” Your walls throb at his words. His effect on you and your body needs to be studied one of these days.
Before you know it, he’s pushing you to lay on your back, kissing all over your face and neck, each kiss meaning more than the last.
“You’re hearts beating,” You say quietly as he sucks on the sweet spot just under your ear.
“Yeah baby, kinda how I stay alive,” Feeling his smile on your neck as his tongue licks you gets you even wetter than before, if that was possible, “I didn’t miraculously turn into Edward Cullen.” 
“A girl can dream,” You joke. A slap across your pussy makes you yelp and open your eyes wide. “What was that for?”
Shrugging, Jaeyun smirks, “For thinking about another guy.”
“You brought him u-”
Slap.
The stinging on your pussy brings you to a halt. “Stop that!” 
Slap
You can’t deny how much it’s turning you on, the groan that slips from your lips plasters a smirk on Jaeyun’s face. “Be a good girl, yeah?” His hand goes back to your pussy to soothe the nipping.
Having sex like this again was invigorating for him, he missed this so much. He missed you. 
Replacing his hand with his dick he starts to collect your wettness on the tip of his cock. He looks into your eyes for permission to go and as soon as you nod he slips the head of his cock in. “Fuck.” 
The pace is slow as he takes in the feeling of your cunt hugging him so tight, fitting him like a glove. When he pulls back, the tip snags on your hole and he repeats this until your begging him for more. “Babe please, faster.” 
He speeds up, his hips driving into you as he bottoms out each time he lunges forward, his head pecking kisses to your cervix. He’s so deep in you, that the unfamiliar familiar feeling begins to overwhelm you. Jaeyun’s pubic bone is lightly hitting your overstimulated clit and it’s making you thrash under him. “Jae-Jaeyun please,” 
“What is it, baby?” The soft-spoken tone of his words is a juxtaposition to his relentless thrusts that are battering your cunt. 
“Close.” If it was any other time, you would be embarrassed at how fast you’re cumming again, but Jaeyun would understand. He does. 
Jaeyun spits on your folds and rubs it in, focusing on your clit to bring you over the edge. The sensations are too overwhelming, between his fingers roughly rubbing your bud and his cock bruising your walls, it’s all too much and you’re cumming for the third time that day. 
The squeeze of your walls nearly has Jaeyun spilling into you but he wants this to last a little longer. “That’s it, Princess. Cumming over my cock so well,” He kisses your forehead, “Such a perfectly good girl for me.” 
Jaeyun’s lips trail down your face to your neck to your tits, his mouth taking in your right nipple. “Fucking hell, Jaeyun.” He can’t hear you because he’s too busy sucking your tit and losing himself in consuming you. 
His hips are jackhammering into you and you can’t think straight, your mind is foggy, mouth wide open, eyes have rolled back, and hands aimlessly gripping at his back and arms. You haven’t been fucked like this in years, hell, you don’t think you and Jaeyun have ever had sex as good as this. 
Jaeyun mentally agrees with you as he starts to lose his rhythm but still gives you his all. His mouth leaves your nipple as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, “Fuck, Y/N, can’t hold back anymore.”
Despite his energy depleting, his thrusts are still sharp and his hands are holding you down by your hips, leaving you no option but to just lay there and take his powerful hits. Not that you minded, this is exactly how you like it.
You don’t truly believe it but you think you might cum again. To make sure you get there in time with him you reach down and rub yourself, mewling loudly in his ear at the feeling. 
Jaeyun’s head peaks up to look at you, “You gonna cum with me, Sweetheart?” The nickname isn’t used often but when he does whisper it, it’s your favourite one.
“Y-yes oh god yes.” 
Jaeyun kisses you hungrily as your words help him spill his seed into you, the white strings shooting straight into you and it mixes with your own release. You both chant each other's names along with some expletives, Jaeyun dropping in 2 ‘I love you’s’ just for added measure.
A few minutes later once you both had time to compose yourselves, Jaeyun falls to the side of you and stares at the ceiling. He was so content with everything in this moment. You are back in his arms, he’s just had the best sex of his life, and his heart finally feels like it’s beating with a purpose other than just living. It’s beating for you and that is the best feeling in the world.
“I love you, Jaeyun.” You turn your face to the side to look at him, eyes smiling softly. 
He takes your hand and lays a kiss on top of it. “I love you too, Y/N.” 
None of you have to say any more than that right now. It’s enough.
He sits up and inspects your body, some bruises were his fingers dug in too deep forming and he frowns. He didn’t mean to go so hard but quite frankly he wouldn’t take it back.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Planting a kiss on your head he makes a b-line for downstairs, grabbing a glass of water and some paracetamol for you. 
When he comes back, you’re sitting up, leaning against the headboard with your eyes shut. You’re the perfect view. 
“Here, baby.” After handing you the water and pills he puts his boxers back on and gives you the black t-shirt from earlier. “Almost forgot we’re literally still at your parent's house.” His neck turns red.
“I don’t even know where they are?” You place the water on the windowsill next to your bed and pull the top over your head. Jaeyun hums and stays sitting at the edge of the bed with his head down. Gently your hand makes contact with his shoulder, “Babe? You okay?”
“You’re mine again, right?” He side eyes you because he’s too nervous to look directly at you, “Like, you’ll come to Busan with me and be my girl again?”
Your heart summersaults and you smile reassuringly. You couldn’t imagine ever being away from him again. You made that mistake the first time but never again, “I will. I’ll need to finish up Uni but that’s only a few months.” Grabbing his chin you turn him to you, “Then I’ll be home with you.”
Home. Your home.
“Marry me.” 
“What? Haven’t you had enough wedding drama for a while?”
“I’m serious!” He laughs and looks at the ceiling, thinking deeply, “Not right now, but when we’re settled. Be my wife?”
The only thing you can do is kiss him as confirmation, too overwhelmed by pure emotions to give him a verbal answer. This is truly all you’ve ever wanted.
He pulls back and smiles widely. “Wait here!” In the next few seconds, Jaeyun shoved his t-shirt on and pranced downstairs and out the front door. What is he doing? 
Hearing his car door open and shut you impatiently wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long but why is it when you want them to hurry up time suddenly slows down. With his hands behind his back, he enters your bedroom once again. 
“Y/N L/N,” He coughs before he starts again, “I love you more than anything else in the whole world. You’re so stupid and annoying, and honestly, you’re mean.” 
Wow, you think, he’s such a charmer. 
“But you’re mine. My everything to be quite honest. I could have everything in the world and if you’re not by my side there really is no point in any of it.” He sits down beside you on the bed, hands still clasped behind him, “So, would you do me the great honour of marrying me in the distant, but please make it near, future?”
He moves his hands to the front of him and you tear up. Is it what you think it is?
Trembling, your hands take the white box and stare at it. It takes you a moment to gather up the courage to open it but when you do it’s like it opens a floodgate of tears as they ricochet down your cheeks.
The pinky ring he gave you the night before you left shines in front of you. He kept it all these years later. Jaeyun didn’t know why quite honestly because it only served as a hurtful memory. But as he sees you ogle at it, he realises it was exactly for this moment.
“My speech the first time was better I think.” Jaeyun jokes and you choke out a little sob. Taking the ring from the box he slips it onto your left pinky. It still fits perfectly. Just like you and Jaeyun. “So? Will you?”
“Yes.” Nodding your head and wiping your tears with your free hand you give him the answer he’s been waiting to hear his whole life, “I’ll marry you. Eventually.”
His forehead rests against yours. “I’m gonna love you forever.”
“Until the sun stops burning?”
“Until the sun stops burning."
486 notes · View notes
multifandomgirl08 · 6 months
Text
Through Max's Eyes [Mini Verstappen Series]
Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)
Photo Credit: Pinterest
Format: Social Media
Summary: Max's Instagram posts about Y/N, and a small life update from the couple.
Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist
maxverstappen1
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Liked by lewishamilton and 387,549 others
tagged: ynlnusername
maxverstappen1 This is my girlfriend Y/N who had to stay up until 3 a.m. to finish up a release for work.
Not only does she have to manage my schedule and Nico's, but she also has a time consuming job. I took her and Nico out for lunch today as a thank you for all of the things she takes care of when I'm not home.
You keep the apartment clean, take my son to school, and at the same time work a full-time job. I don't know how you do it my love...
ynlnusername You won't even give yourself credit for taking those photos? Max!
maxverstappen1 It's International Women's Day. I'm letting you have all of the spotlight.
yourbestfriend We love a girl boss moment
fan45 How do I get a Y/N?
fan26 He is simping so hard on main.
March 8, 2024
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Liked by maxverstappen1 and 441,858 others
ynlnusername First vacation since I moved to Monaco. Also first vacation with the boyfriend. We'll see how it plays out.
📸: maxverstappen1
maxverstappen1 Plays out? You live with me. You help me pay the bills.
landonorris Is Y/N sleeping on the couch until further notice?
yourbestfriend No, mostly because my girl is an expert at crisis management, or did you forget?
maxverstappen1 How can I, when there is a three year old living with us. Lol
fan86 I love that Y/N brings out the silly side in Max. It really makes you understand that he is so much more than a f1 driver.
fan96 I feel like Max had a secret .jpg account and it's just photos of Y/N and Nico.
July 30, 2024
verstappen1.jpg
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Liked by danielricciardo, ynlnusername and 134, 757 others
tagged: ynlnusername
verstappen1.jpg Starting off the summer break right
danielricciardo Since when did you start posting thirst traps of your girlfriend?
landonorris My eyes! How dare you sir! 🫣
ynlnusername Lando, you've seen worse. Remember Barcelona. landonorris Why do you have to bring that up? I told you it was an accident. maxverstappen1 Doesn't mean that we believe you.
fan87 What is Lando talking about? Did Lando walk into Max's motorhome without knocking or something?
fan38 OMG! Max had one of these too? Following right now!
fan96 I was right! Called it!!
August 1, 2024
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Liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 538,735 others
tagged: ynlnusername
maxverstappen1 I could say something cheesy like you are P1 in my heart. But instead I think I just need to tell you how much I love you, and I love that you've welcomed me and my son into your life with open arms.
Thank you for everything that you do. Going to races, cheering me on and making my hectic schedule work so that we can spend time together as a family.
I know that Nico already sees you as his mother. I couldn't ask for a better mother for my son then you.
I love you, soon to be Mrs. Verstappen.
View all 865 comments
danielricciardo Happy for you mate. @ynlnusername he spent over an hour picking out that ring, wear it with pride.
landonorris Official mom of the paddock, I'm calling it.
fan28 How is Max who is two years younger than Pierre now engaged and Pierre still only has a girlfriend?
August 15, 2024
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taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr
692 notes · View notes
ferrstappen · 11 months
Text
Hello! So while I’m procrastinating and ignoring the book in front of me, I got this quick idea and I hope you like it! Remember you can send me ideas or prompts to write blurbs 💘
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader
Warnings: maybe a swear word and nsfw mentioned if you squint.
AirPods and princess George (Charles Leclerc blurb)
Charles was playfully rolling his eyes at you and Joris the entire walk from the gate to the flight taking you to Miami, neither of you could contain the laughter of seeing your boyfriend trying to pick up his AirPods with a couple of tweezers like he was playing Operation.
Whenever your or Joris calmed down, images of Charles trying to pick up the dirty case between the tiny space was enough to bring the tears back to your face while clutching your stomach.
“It’s not that funny, it could’ve happened to any of you!” Charles playfully complained while placing his carry-on bag on the overhead compartment.
“Sweetheart, if it happened to me I would’ve cried, but kept my dignity and buy a new pair. I know you can afford them Mr. Ferrari,” you teased him as he accommodated your carry-on bag. “Window or aisle, babe?” You asked him, leaving the teasing aside.
“Aisle please, you know I like to pretend it’s my side of the bed,” he said accommodating his belongings on the big first class pod, carefully pulling down the partition separating both of your seats.
“I don’t think we’re going to sleep much, though. It’s pretty early,”
“I know, but I was thinking we could catch this new show I downloaded, Citadel I think?” He said and you smiled, leaving a shy peck on his lips, knowing that even if it was first class, people were watching and could easily snap pictures. Fans knew you were Charles’ girlfriend, but he was constantly protecting your privacy and keeping everything between the both of you.
And his jpg Instagram account, of course.
“Hey, i’m right behind you so don’t you dare on joining the mile high club or whatever,” Joris warned the both you as he adjusted his eye mask, ready to wake up when they already were in Miami.
“What makes you think we haven’t joined the club already?” You retorted, followed by a gagging sound from Joris, and a blushing Charles who placed his hand very low on your back.
A few hours passed and while the series that Charles downloaded was good, he failed to notice it only had two episodes, leaving you with only the in-flight catalogue and unstable wifi.
Charles noticed you yawning and eyes fighting to stay open, so he called the flight attendant to help him turn the seat into a very comfortable bed, doing the same on his seat as Charles placed his arm under your neck and your head found its natural place on his shoulder, with your hand draped on his waist.
Suddenly, your arm was moving and no, it wasn’t because of the plane, it was being moved by something shaking. As you came to your senses, noticing the cabin lights were turned off, you also became aware of your boyfriend trying to suppress his laugh while looking at his phone.
“What’s so funny?” You asked him nuzzling into his side, his arm instinctively tightening around your shoulders.
His green eyes were shining even under the dark lighting of the cabin, “sorry, bebe, did I wake you?” He asked leaving a kiss on your hair.
You stirred on his arms, “no, it’s fine. Now tell me what’s so funny”
This time Charles couldn’t hold back his giggles, but still careful not to disturb the other passengers, but his low giggles music to your ears. “Look, its a meme of me playing Operation with the tweezers” he put the phone in front of your face.
“Baby, I told you that’s exactly what it looked like when you were pulling them,” you joined him with the quiet laughter, but then he found something even funnier.
He snorted.
“Charles!” You laughed just by seeing the reaction of your boyfriend, who couldn’t contain his laughter while clutching his stomach, but still aware of the sleeping passengers close to you.
Even Joris who both of you were sure was snoring while wearing the most ridiculous eye mask and special compression socks.
“Babe, I mean look at this!” He again placed his phone in front of your eyes, and you had to admit it was pretty funny. “It’s Max and George! Ah, I think I’m crying”
And you quietly laughed, but saved the sound of his carefree giggles and disheveled hair, but with his arm never letting go of you.
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too-deviant · 6 days
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jackie and wilson.
previous | next series masterlist.
summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.
paring: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader
word count: 4k
content: luke is still a moody teenager, reader is still the fly he cant get rid of. does he really want to, though?
notes: these first two parts feel very introductory but it gets juicy as we dive a little further in the next parts hehe. also who do we think readers godly parent is?
PART II — and lord, she found me just in time 
For a hotshot lawyer, your mom couldn’t lie for the life of her. Every time you brought it up, she’d always quip that she didn’t need to be a good liar to be a good lawyer, since all new evidence is legally required to be disclosed to both parties before they are presented in court. Therefore, there is no lying, only brief twisting of the truth. She was good at that — clearly. 
“You said you didn’t want me to leave you!” 
The wooden floor of Chiron’s office wasn’t the most comfortable of lounging places, but you’d accidentally kicked the radiator after tripping over a horseshoe and Mr. D — who had escorted you there when you’d asked about speaking to your mom — had just sighed and told you to use the mist currently spraying from it as a form of communication. The whole Iris Message thing was still unusual to you, but at the same time, you’d tripped over a horseshoe because the owner of the office was half-horse. Does it get weirder than that? Probably not. 
You leaned back on your haunches, disbelief written all over your face at the scene you…walked in on? Called in on? Iris Messaged in on? Whatever — you were more worried about what you were looking at than the right terminology to describe it. 
“Oh — sweetie!” Your mom was quick to hop down from the kitchen counter, pushing the man who had been standing between her legs away from her so forcefully he fell back into the living room. 
“What was that?” You heard him ask from afar. Your mom chuckled, buttoning up her blouse. 
“The answering machine.” She excused, “I completely forgot I was supposed to call back my daughter. Would you give me a minute?”
The man agreed with a huff and your mom pushed the kitchen door closed with a click before looking at you, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “I didn’t. I sure do now!”
“I’ve been gone for, like, two days!” You exclaimed, “And you’re already inviting your boyfriend over? How old are you?”
“Oh, let it go.” The woman chastised, shaking her head and attempting to push down her amused smile. “I was bored.”
“Bored.” You chuckled, “Of course.”
“But I miss you.” She said then, smiling sweetly and leaning her hip on the island, “How’s camp?”
“It’s great.” You grinned, “The people are great, the food is great. Turns out, I am super with a spear.”
“A spear, huh?” Your mom nodded, “No surprise there, you’ve got a hell of an arm.”
You hummed excitedly, the previous event long forgotten as you filled her in on your first few days at camp, “One of my friends in cabin nine offered to make me a personal one.” Your mom furrowed her brows, “Children of Hephaestus. Blacksmith guy.”
“Right.” She nodded with a click of her tongue. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” You smirked cheekily, ignoring the scoff and evil look she sent you in response. 
“Alright. I best go.” She interrupted just as you went to make another comment about her guest, “I will see you at the end of summer. Okay?” 
“Okay. Love you.” 
Truthfully, you were happy to spend the rest of the day talking to your mom — it was so hot that morning that you’d thought about sacrificing your breakfast to Apollo in hopes that he’d ease up a little. You decided against it and just sent your prayers to each of them in general, hoping maybe your dad could fess up to actually being your dad. 
Clarisse had suspected you would soon join her in the Ares Cabin — something about your skills with a spear and the swift right hook you sent Chris when he made one too many comments on your form during your training session with her. You weren’t even sure why he’d been there, but you could probably fathom a guess if you judged by the looks he sent her whenever she wasn’t looking. 
After the exciting discovery that yes, you were good at something, Mr. D had come by to say you could either call your mom now or never. You chose the former option, obviously, and you only regretted it slightly as you heaved yourself up from the ground — already missing the sound of her voice. 
You didn’t let it linger, instead you pushed the creaky door of the Big House open as gently as you could, even though it still swung back against the wall, and nodded at the pair sitting on the porch, currently in a heated card game you couldn’t recognise. They didn’t look at you for long, Chiron muttering something about meeting the Demeter kids by the fields to test your gardening skills before putting down a card that made Mr. D grumble in his seat. 
You were trudging through the grass, huffing when the longer bits tickled your legs and made you go all itchy, when you spotted a body sat by the hearth in the horseshoe of cabins. You lit up, changing course and jogging over to them, “JoJo!”
Luke looked up at you, frowning, “What?”
His curls fell over his eyes and he shook them away, only to squint at the sun that shone into them. You sidestepped, your shadow proving ample shade so he could focus on you, and you stammered a bit when his face fell into focus. He was pretty. 
You let out a breathless chuckle, folding your arms, “From Horton Hears a Who.” He shows no signs of recognition, “You’ve never seen it?” Again, his face did little to answer you, so you shrugged, “Whatever. I’ll get an answer out of you one day, I’m sure. We’ve made steady progress.”
“Have we?” He hummed, picking at the worn sleeve of his hoodie. 
“Of course we have, ya’ nutmegger.” You quipped with a short chuckle, grinning when his eyes snapped back to yours. 
“You still haven’t told me where you’re from.” 
You tutted, “Where’s the fun in that? You gotta find out.”
He huffed, “Whatever.”
Since his outburst about New England the day before, Luke had done a considerable job at avoiding you. Well, you didn’t think he was doing it on purpose — he just wasn’t obligated to spend time with you anymore now that you were cleared to roam camp on your own. You’d seen him at breakfast, perched silently on the end of the bench and staring sadly at his soggy oatmeal, but then Clarisse had whisked you off to the training fields with Chris hot on her tail and you hadn’t seen him since. 
You weren’t completely sure why you were so determined to break his shell. Maybe it was because you knew he never used to be this way — that underneath the deep frowns and annoyed huffs, was a happy boy who would spend days in the sun with his teeth bared in a wide grin — and you yearned to get a peek of who Luke Castellan used to be. To bear your eyes on the side of him he kept away and to find out why he did so, to understand him on a level deeper than anyone around you did, or even deeper than you understood yourself. 
Or maybe because he’s hot. 
Either way, you weren’t letting him slide away that easily. No sir. You straightened your back, “Going to the gardens.” 
No reply, as usual. 
A huff, “Mind walking me? I don’t wanna get lost.”
He looked at you, brown eyes flitting over your expression, before licking his lips and standing, “Fine.”
You grinned then, wide and sunny, “Great.”
You knew where the gardens were — hell, you could see them from where you stood, the two teenage sons of Dionysus chasing each other with sticks while the Demeter kids scowled at them. But you were new, and Luke was ‘the guy’ for all the new campers, so really he wasn’t allowed to say no. 
You were desperate to know more about him; his favourite sport, movie, colour. Anything irrelevant that you could see in public and think: Luke. You just didn’t know where to start — he could shut down at any given moment, so which question was more fitting to ask before he built up his walls and fucked off? 
You settled for something easy — something subtle that wouldn’t hint towards you asking about him. An easy question that any reasonable tour guide would have to answer. 
“So, do you guys host any…mortal activities?” Looking up at him in question, brows raised as he once again made no indication that he’d even heard you speak. 
But he had, “Not usually. Sometimes on weekends we’ll play volleyball on the beach, and I think Lee Fletcher has a soccer ball he kicks around but…” He shrugged, “No. Not really.”
You hummed, “You said we. Do you play volleyball?”
Nice one. 
Luke stiffened a little, sort of appalled that you’d swerved the question on him so easily, but he answered with a grumble, “Not anymore.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, “Grew out of it.”
“Huh.” You said then, facing forward with a nod and continuing your trek through the long grass, occasionally reaching down to scratch your calves, “I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of baseball.”
Come on, Castellan, take the bait. 
“Baseball?”
“Yes!” You exclaimed, a little too excitedly for it to be a simple answer to a simple question. You lowered your volume and gave a more collected nod, “Yeah. Yes. I’ve played since I was old enough…little league.” You let out a weak chuckle, suddenly shy about the subject. 
Luke nodded at you, “First base?”
“Left field.” You corrected with a proud smile, “I got legs.”
“Oh.” He replied, a little caught off guard at that. Although, he was also caught off guard when you said you played baseball. 
You were debating whether or not to press when a gangly blonde boy with dark purple eyes jogged up to you and held out a wicker basket, “You’re the new kid right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting the basket to your chest, “I’m Pollux. We’re picking strawberries, c’mon, I’ll show you the best way to get ‘em.”
You weren’t sure there was a specific tactic to picking strawberries, but you stepped to follow him anyway. Turning your head to send a thankful smile to Luke for walking you down, you spotted him looking between you and Pollux with furrowed brows — then he noticed your stare and swallowed, nodding, “Uh, see you later.”
“Bye.” You replied, slightly starstruck. He walked off, but he did it slowly as if he was unsure of where to go next. You were positive he had somewhere to be — big shot counsellor and all — but as you stood, one foot in front of the other, face turned back to watch him go, he seemed to stutter in his steps at the top of the hill, deciding where to turn. His beaten converse led him west, and Pollux yelled you out of your stupor so you could help him and his brother pick strawberries. 
As suspected, your strawberry-picking skills were pretty much the same as everyone else’s — really, how can one person be any better at picking strawberries than another? It’s a very simple task. Either way, Castor and Pollux didn’t envision you as their long lost sister, and the Demeter kids apparently couldn’t smell it on you that you were one of them, whatever that meant, so you were back to your search for daddy dearest — at this point, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to find out anymore. All this hassle and for what? It’s not as if he was going to attend the daddy-daughter dance with you, no matter which god he might be. 
“So, do you, like, know Luke or something?” 
Henry Furstatt was a Demeter kid a couple of years younger than you, who had been set the task of walking you to the lake where you would rejoin the Hermes cabin on their canoe lesson. He wasn’t very talkative until you’d put some distance between yourselves and the strawberry fields, where he posed his question. 
You glanced at him with a thoughtful frown, “I mean, he’s been showing me around the past couple days, so…I guess —“
“I meant like,” He swallowed, waving his hands around, “from before. Did you know each other before you came to camp?”
“Oh.” You responded, tucking a loose hair that had fallen in front of your face away, “No. Why’d you think that?”
Henry shrugged, his loose-fitting camp shirt doing wonders to hide the movements, “Dunno. He just hasn’t talked to many people since he got back from his quest…but he’s talking to you.”
“Well.” You were suddenly a little sheepish — were you pushing Luke too much? Was your constant questioning making him uncomfortable? You were only on a mission to find out more about him because he interested you, but did you interest him, or was he ready to boot you as far as you’d fly? “He has to, doesn’t he? He’s still a counsellor, even if he does hate everyone here.” 
“True.” He settled with a nod, fiddling with a daisy he’d picked while you were walking. 
You breathed a content sigh when you finally stepped out of the grass — the summer blooming made it slightly unbearable to walk through, tickling at your legs the whole afternoon. The beating sun didn’t make you feel any nicer, but you just wafted your shirt a little as you walked past the Hermes cabin and towards the dock. 
Camp was always noisy; something you’d grown accustomed to the longer you stayed there. You never really noticed it until you were alone, but the chatter of the kids filled the air the whole day and only really faded out when they all went to sleep. It was slightly unnerving to sit in the silence, and the loud murmurs often comforted you — made you feel less suffocated as the new kid. Less eyes on you, the better. 
You were so used to the noise, in fact, that you almost completely brushed past the argument that was brewing outside the Ares cabin just a few metres away. Fortunately, Henry spotted the commotion, and pulled you to a halt in favour of staring at the ever-growing crowd. 
You followed his eyeline and spotted a burly looking boy with black hair — when he moved his head and the sun hit the right spots, you could see dark red highlights swimming in his locks. You thought that was a little bit much, but you forfeited commenting on it considering the giant machaira that hung on his back. 
The boy in question was sneering at someone in front of him, but the corners of his mouth were perked up in an amused smile that made you think he wasn’t angry yet, but he sure was getting there. You couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as Henry ventured closer, you were forced to follow and eventually his words reached your ears. 
“—big shot golden boy finally got himself a quest and doesn’t fancy sharing the details.” He laughed, deep and low in his throat. 
Henry patted someone on the shoulder, and they stepped aside to let him into the circle. You stayed behind him, watching over his head and finally checking out the opponent. Your eyes stopped on the familiar figure, and his familiar curls that hung over his eyes — eyes that were glaring daggers in the Ares kid’s direction, casting shadows over his cheekbones and making his scar look a little menacing. 
The boy continued after Luke showed no signs of replying, “We get it, Castellan. You failed, but that doesn’t mean you get to gatekeep the whole thing.”
“Dean, man.” You finally noticed Chris, standing off to the side of Luke and glancing at his brother in apprehension at the boy's words. “Back off.” 
Dean just snorted, “Don’t defend him, Rodriguez. We let him mope, now it’s time for him to spill the beans.” He took a step closer to Luke, “What happened on your quest?” 
You had only known Luke for two days. You weren’t sure if he was the type to fly off the handle, swing before reasoning, but you suddenly became aware that neither did anyone else. Sure, these people had known him for years — but you’d heard it from enough people to know that he was a different person these days. After his quest a couple of weeks ago, people had been walking on eggshells around the boy. Maybe a month ago, he would’ve calmly walked away and let Dean simmer in his anger. But now? Nobody could be sure, but judging by the look in his eyes, darkening by the second, you might be able to fathom a guess as to what he’s going to do with his hands now that they were rolled into fists. 
“I mean, is this about glory? Because you won’t exactly be sharing it — ya’ can’t share what you don’t have.”  Dean let out a chortle at his own joke, looking between his friends around him and grinning with them. 
Luke stepped forward. And — you couldn’t blame anyone, really. After that last comment, you were all expecting fists to be swung. It was only reasonable. Maybe the old Luke wouldn’t have done it, but this new Luke was looking increasingly more angry at the world as the days went by, so when he took one measly step forward, the crowd around him let out a collective woah! and put their hands out to stop him from lunging. Including yourself. 
Only he wasn’t about to punch Dean. His hand stayed dormant at his side, the only clear movement was the single step closer he’d taken to match the one the Ares boy had made earlier. He was only really stepping forward so his next words would hit harder — that’s all it was, words. They died on his lips when he realised the implications of his actions, looking between the outstretched arms and tense faces. 
He looked at Dean, “We can discuss quests when you get your own.” 
Then he walked off, past the crowd that didn’t bother stopping him. Looking around, you saw the looks on their faces — shame, from assuming Luke would evoke such violence off the sparring mat. You definitely felt it, but you didn’t stick around long enough to confirm that with anyone else. Instead, you left Chris to berate Dean in place of the head counsellor and followed the boy in question as he huffed up the hill towards the edge of the woods. 
“Hey!” You said, breathless (you were not an uphill climber). “Hey, Luke!”
He hesitated in his steps like he did earlier, but he didn’t turn around. His head twitched a little, like he wanted to look but was holding himself back, but you simply rounded him until you were face to face. The anger had long since dissolved from his expression, replaced with soft confusion. 
“Hi.” You huffed, still recovering from that incline, “Are you okay? That guy’s a dick.”
“I know.” He replied, short as usual. 
You licked your lips, still catching your breath, and nodded. He remained silent, looking around you like he was just waiting for you to leave. You decided to take the hint, muttering lowly, “Okay, sorry for bothering you.” 
But his hand reached out, circling your wrist just as you passed him. You looked at Luke, raising your eyebrows, watching as he stammered on his words, “I, uh, you aren’t bothering me. I just…”
He let go of you and you stepped back to your precious spot. Behind him, the crowd had dissipated, Dean long gone. Chris remained, staring up at the pair of you on top of the hill. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression, but he seemed to hesitate before turning his back. You looked up at Luke. 
“Why did you…come after me?” 
You scoffed a laugh, “What? Anyone would’ve, it’s like…common decency.”
He twisted his expression, looking amused and devastated all at the same time, “But they didn’t.” 
He was right; before you’d set off up the hill, everyone had just been watching him walk off. It seemed a little out of character, but then again, you didn’t know these people as well as you thought. Luke let out a sad chuckle, shaking his head, “Everyone’s sorta given up on me now that I’m…”
“Moody and depressed?” You finished, raising a single brow. You smiled at him, and it lifted into a grin when he smiled back, albeit only slightly. But you’d take it. “I just think that they’re a little unsure.”
“They’re scared, is what they are.” He said firmly, staring at the ground in mirth, “Their precious golden boy won’t clean up all of their messes anymore and they’re scared that they’ll have to start looking after themselves.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” You said, even if you didn’t believe it. How could you? You didn’t know these people, Luke did. “They’re just worried about you.” 
He scoffed, finally moving his head up and meeting your eyes. He went to say something, presumably another quip about the campers, but stopped himself. Backtracked. Instead he said, “Aren’t you angry that you haven’t been claimed yet?”
That was a deep question. You sat on it for a couple of seconds, reeling at the sudden shift of conversation, until you finally let out a low puff of air and shrugged, “I don’t really know how I feel. Why? Should I be?” 
“This camp, it’s —“ He huffed, “It helps you, sure. But it also forces you to…mould yourself into the perfect kid for — for a parent who doesn’t care enough to watch you grow up. Help you live, use their divine powers when a dragon is clawing your fucking face off!” 
He’d stepped closer to you, unknowingly, that final shout making you wince a little at the volume. He stopped then, evening his breaths and stepping back with an apologetic expression. You brushed it off. 
“A dragon clawed your face off?” 
“Yeah.” He chuckled weakly, “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.” 
You smiled at him, shamefully admiring his face. Now that he wasn’t glaring in anger, and his face was more relaxed, you could see the whites of his eyes. His lashes, unreasonably long, and his lips that were so plush you were close to asking him if he took a trip to see Dr Miami while he was on his quest. 
“Gods.” You murmured under your breath, “You’re so pretty it sorta pisses me off.” 
Luke laughed then — a genuine chortle that shook his chest and made passers by glance in his direction. His grin was uncharacteristically wide and for a second, a brief moment, you saw it. Luke Castellan, the one everyone looks up to. The one they turn to in times of peril, the one they giggle and gossip about under the shade of the fir trees. 
Then you knew your answer to Luke’s question. No — you weren’t angry that you hadn’t been claimed. In fact, you didn’t think you’d care even if you were so long as he was smiling at you like that. 
He calmed down, catching his breath, his face relaxing back into that cool expression he’s always got on. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you were sure he looked a little less tense than before. He nodded, waving a hand, “Alright, Sunny. Let’s go canoeing.” 
“Sunny?” You asked, walking alongside him. 
He clicked his tongue, glancing down at you, “If Apollo won’t claim you as a child of the sun, then I will.” 
“Alright.” You smiled softly, looking forward so he wouldn’t see it and run off. You picked at your nails, “So long as I can call you JoJo.” 
“Let’s watch that silly movie it’s from and I’ll decide if you can call me that.”
“Deal.”
🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons (comment to be added/removed!)
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Rigor Mortis (part 7)
College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader
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(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,
Part 6, Part 8
summary: You spend some time with Miguel.
warnings: smut. f receiving oral, fingering, grinding, switchy behaviour from both sides, angst. 18+ Minors DNI
a/n: this chapter beat my ass icl
Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Join my taglists here
wc: 6.3k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
all-consuming grief,
It’s going to be a warm night. It's ushered in by the kind of dawn that bleeds red and gold, tawny and autumnal in the waning light. Like the washy colours of a Renoir, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing the thing he swore black-and-blue he wouldn’t. Reminiscing and romanticising; for the first time in a while, Miguel is able to see the sun set, legs splayed on the brick of his front steps. 
Sitting by worn metal railing, he’s still in his work clothes. He chucked his rucksack on the step above, leaning long legs onto the ones below. They don’t ache as much as they used to, well-trained by a couple months of running and spending more time in the gym. There’s a shake in the fridge, labelled ‘Tuesday, PM’ that he’ll gulp down before bed, and one labelled ‘Wednesday, AM’ that he’ll take before setting off in the morning. In the morning, with cloudy skies and street cars to keep him company. There’s too much pollution, light or otherwise, for him to see some stars. He hasn’t seen stars in a while, now.
Long days seem to have turned into just days somewhere along the way. He can’t quite pinpoint when, and doesn’t really care to, but he thinks his brother would call it “progress”. There’s a grimace on his face as he thinks about it; a word that tastes like mud and feels like swirling cement in his mouth. It’s all bullshit, really. Gabi’s paltry attempt at therapising him, one which he would usually nip in the bud - taking metaphorical shears to slash at weeds and dense conversation. Catch-up calls about how he feels, how he’s doing – when he’s fine, he always is – as if Gabi is waiting for a shoe to drop. 
He’s waiting for Miguel to have an epiphany, a breakdown the size of a collapsing star. It’s not coming, he keeps telling his brother, and the sooner the younger O’Hara realises – without the wide eyes and the pity – the better for the both of them. After all, Gabriel is his baby brother, and he’s spent his whole life worrying on his behalf: playing hide-and-seek in little closets and putting back together broken toys. Trying to drown out the sound of shouting and broken plates. They’re too old for all that, the worrying and gulping back tears, walking its well-travelled paths – and it doesn’t feel right that Gabi should do the same for him.
He sighs, deep and heavy and rolling down that quiet street. After what feels like forever, he’s tempted to lie down, to rest his head on the stone, close his eyes and think of something else. Of someone else - lots of someones, at this point in the day. He’s not the weepy type, but he is tired; shaking off the wear and tear, and fighting off sleep. 
Then he sees it; a figure walking towards him, all sandals and khaki shorts and smiles. Mr Estevez, donned in his year-round attire of a polo shirt, a little tight around the middle, and cargos cut off below the knee – finally appropriate, considering the weather. He’s strolling closer like he’s got all the time in the world. If Miguel wasn’t so exhausted; the bone-deep kind, the kind that seeps into skin and lines a casket; he would’ve been annoyed. Instead, he hisses, furrows quickly deepening. 
“Buenas, Miguelito!” Mr Estevez beams, scratching at scraggly facial hair. 
Miguel frowns, but greets him nonetheless: that politeness drilled into him during childhood rearing its head.
“Buenas tardes, tío.” He grits his teeth as he gets up from his seat, creaky joints and all.
His landlord, the building’s handyman, owner of half a dozen shops all over the city, and Miguel’s uncle-that’s-not-really-his-uncle; Mr Estevez wears many hats, staying bright and informal regardless. He’s known the older man since he was 6, so he can’t be too disappointed; his tío has been late for weddings, funerals, and his little boy’s birth – it’s not much of a surprise that he’d be late now, too. Miguel stretches out a rough palm, and the man stops just shy of his hand, completely ignoring it. Before he knows it, Miguelito is engulfed in a great big bear hug, with wet kisses pressed to the apples of his cheeks. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, as usual, so they hang limply; arms flailing to his sides like a t-rex.
They separate, and he coughs at the great big hand that slaps his back. Grumbling, he walks up to the door, bag over his back, and stands expectantly. Mr Estevez doesn’t follow, instead dusting himself down to sit on the steps.
“I just need to get into the building.” Miguel starts. “Forgot my keys, and I've been here for hours. M’tired, and I–”
“Let’s sit, Miguel.” He scoots over, making space. “Look at the stars.”
It’s clear the older man isn’t moving. Begrudgingly, he obliges.  “We’re in the middle of the city. You only see “stars” in the river – beer bottles and tinned crap reflecting the lights.” 
“Language.” He gets a sharp nudge to his ribs.
“Discúlpame, tío.”
They stew for a moment, bathing in the silence that follows. The man besides him is the first to speak.
“I spoke to your mother.”
He’s scoffing and moving to get up, before feeling a firm hand on his shoulder.
“She’s worried, Miguel. Says you haven’t called in a while.”
“She hasn’t called me either."
“She’s stubborn.” The man besides him chuckles, bringing gentle eyes to meet his own. "Pig-headed. Remind you of someone?"
Miguel rolls his eyes, he just can't help it. 
"She’s also the one that moved back home, so either way–”
"You know it's all been hard on her." 
" –on her? It's been hard for her, surrounded by family, after she abandoned me? A-After…" His voice gets dangerously hoarse, threatening to crack under the weight of those words. 
He can't stand the pitiful look sent his way: brows drawn, lips pressed into a thin line.
"Sorry. It's… It's nothing. I'm fine. Just fine."
"I didn't ask if you were fine, Miguel."
–even though you're definitely not okay. That part is left unsaid, spat onto the pavement like bitter backwash. 
Mr Estévez sighs, ruffling a hand through Miguel's hair. It makes him hiss and dart away from the hand, pouting like he's a little kid again. He doesn't like it; the way he feels like all this life he's lived has been for naught. Trials and tribulations, and yet he doesn't feel that ache of growth; still stuck in the shoes of an awkward teenager. 
"You think too much, Miguelito. Always have." He smiles, the kind that deepens the wrinkles around his mouth. It twists Miguel into knots, mouth dry as he tries to untangle himself from that feeling. "I'm worried about you, kid."
He sniffs, eyes trained towards the pavement. There it is again, worry; complicating and unravelling what was meant to be just another day. 
"It's today, isn't it?" 
All Miguel does is nod, shakily. It's been 2 years since his heart was ripped out of his chest. It heaves now, an erratic rise and fall he’s doing his best to control. Breathe, deeply and calmly; try not to think about his little girl in that hospital bed, and those blank eyes staring back. 
“M’fine.” It comes out more desperate than he intends it, and he curses under his breath. If Mr Estevez hears the crude language, he doesn’t react.
Miguel is tense, hunched over the bag on his lap and curled into himself like prey – spitting and prickly and clearly uncomfortable. He’s never been the weepy kind, but the older man can’t help but think it’s a shame; so much love, and nowhere to keep it but inside. Miguel's bottled it up; the memories of precious Gabriella, all that warmth she brought out in her father; and he's turned them to poison pills to keep himself sick. 
Miguel would never admit it, of course. He’s too stubborn. Pig-headed.
His tío sighs, moving to get up. He groans, in that dramatic sort of way he knows Miguel can’t stand, but still, there's a rush to help him up. Producing the door keys with a flourish, he pulls from the depths of cargo pockets, and unlocks the main door. Ushering in the younger man, who has grown so tall he needs to duck as he climbs the narrow stairs, there’s a finger prodded into the back of that cotton button-up.
“Miguel?” He starts, revving up a conversation he’s been meaning to have for a while now.
“Hmm?” 
They both wait by the entrance of the apartment. The keys jingle in Mr Estevez’s hand.
“If I open the door, will I find out that you’ve driven away another one of my tenants?”
Conveniently, there seems to be a rather interesting spot in the hardwood that Miguel pokes with a dress shoe. 
“...depends on your definition of 'driven out', tío.”
“That’s the third one this year! Not even 2 months– I knew there was something up. Not a single one of those little smiley faces to my messages, and–"
“I’ll make up for his side of the rent, you know I will.”
“I don’t like it. You should be saving up, to go get a house and settle down somewhere."
“I like living here, and I’ve said multiple times I’d pay the extra to live alone–”
“And then what? You rot in your room for the rest of your life?”
“I don’t– rot feels a little–”
“Nonsense. You’re lonely, Miguelito. If you don’t like it, you move out.”
They both know he won’t. It’s not really an option; the apartment is affordable and he likes living so close to his old neighbourhood, his old haunts. It’s like he’s tethered to that place with a bungee cord wrapped under his ribs, always snapping back.
“No promises, tío.”
“Doesn’t matter, Miguelito.” He sighs, scratching at stubble. “It’s been hard to find other tenants, with half the neighbourhood drying up. But as soon as I do–”
He points an accusatory finger at Miguel, and the sentence is finished for him.
“...best behaviour, I know.”
“Best behaviour.” Mr Estevez repeats, and starts to fumble with the keys. He throws a little comment over his shoulder. “I liked your lady friend, ages ago… the scary one, with the blue hair. She was–”
“Xina’s not scary, when you get to know her.”
“She was funny. Very pretty. Always paid rent on time, gave me food when I came to fix the heating…”
“It's out again, by the way.” Miguel chews his lip, with a strange expression. “And yeah, she was.”
The door swings open. Mr Estevez doesn’t let him off the hook, though, engulfing him in a warm hug. This time, in the doorway of his apartment, eyes screwed shut; he doesn’t try to wriggle out of it, melting into his tío’s arms. It feels different now that he’s not a kid: angry and hurting with a different sort of ache, but he leans into it, all the same.
~~~
There's a pressure released from the apartment, lately. Miguel feels… well, first of all, he feels ; thinks with his heart and not his head, sometimes. It's lighter, coming home with that weight on his shoulders and with someone there to distract him from it. Living life, he thinks, for the first time in a while. Vivid and vibrant and awake ; relishing the autumnal weather. It's always been his favourite season, despite how childish he thinks having a favourite season is; something you had asked him on a whim one morning. 
Normally, he wouldn't entertain it, and with all the shit Pete spews, sometimes, he's had plenty of practice ignoring it. A well-timed dirty look, and then he'd get his head down and work; occupy himself with something less frivolous. But when you say it, with half a piece of toast sticking out of your mouth, it doesn't feel like a chore to answer. It doesn't feel like a stupid question, and he finds his face growing warm at the thought of you caring about these little things – wanting to know him , however that comes. 
And so, his answer is Autumn. It's a little stilted; but catching him off guard after a run will do that to him. It's purely practical , he says, eyes tracing the slopes of your body in that shirt and shorts that stops at your thighs; high enough that he feels like a perv for looking. Autumn has temperate, even weather. Perfect for sweaters and hoodies. Warm enough that you don't need a jacket. Just right. You snort, nudging him. Bullshit, Mig. You flutter your eyelashes mockingly, your tone light. You just think it's the prettiest. 
And he hums, catching you off guard. You're both drawn towards that little window over the sink, the one that overlooks a fire escape and the street. He's had that view for three years, now. Sleeves always rolled to his elbows as he does his washing up, but never quite looking. The street just below is framed in its windowpane, quite the pretty picture. Crisp leaves scattered on the sidewalk, carpeted in red and honeyed amber. And he can feel it from the other side of the glass; smell it, touch it, taste it. Autumn: hot chocolate and giggles, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and cupping tiny palms to warm them up. Sunsets seen for the first time, watched through bus windows on the way back from school – he misses those the most. 
"You don't think it's beautiful?" You say, leaning your head towards the half-open window. 
You don't notice, but he looks over to you, swallowing roughly. He says it with a small voice.
"I…I do."
You're darting to the bathroom not too long after, breaking the spell. Frustrated, he resists the urge to curl up into a ball and scream into his palms. He's got what he wanted; a good fuck, a pretty face, a warm smile. Friends, at the most, who happen to get the other off after a long day. A welcome distraction, at the least. He's got what his body has been telling him he needs for the past few months. It makes him feel weird, so oddly settled; but, all things considered… 
Miguel is doing okay.
“...and I wouldn’t normally ask, but I swear , I left him…o-on read and he won’t stop texting me.”
Really, actually; he’s doing fine.
“It feels weird– mmffuck– but I can’t ignore him any longer.”
Maybe even… good. Better than okay.
“I still have a bunch of my stuff over there. At least half of it is clothes and books, a-and I’ve put it off for as long as I can…”
He hums in response, pulling quiet curses from you, above. Pressing the flat of his tongue onto your clit, your hips jump up and he purrs ; rearing up to dive even deeper into your pussy. Too quick for him, you catch on, hand in his hair to pull him up.
Sitting up on your haunches, he rests his head on your bare thigh – licking the taste of you off of his lips.
You tilt your head, looking at him with those eyes he can’t help but marvel at. A beat passes. 
“...so?” You start, expectantly. “Will you help me or not?”
His response comes in the form of teeth nipping at pillowy skin. You yelp, and swat him away whilst he chuckles.
“I’m serious , Mig. It’s too much to pick up by myself. And you’re the only person I know with a car…”
“ Ouch, hermosa. ” He frowns as you peter off. “Is that the only reason you’re fucking me? For my car?”
“If I say it’s because of your sparkling personality, will you help me?”
For a moment, it seems like he’s got his brows pressed together like he’s seriously considering it, but it ends up being just smoke and mirrors. He’s pretending , biding his time to hook a hand under your legs and force you to lie down onto the bed. Your head hits the covers with a gentle thump as he hikes up the lip of that big tee even further; squeezing your thighs around his head like earmuffs. 
It’s when he makes eye-contact, tongue circling your hole, that you realised you’re fucked. Up until now, he’s been toying with you – playing with his food, so to speak – lazily swirling his tongue around your clit and pressing buttons to see exactly where to push. And you'd welcomed it, a hand in his hair as you talked about your day – which he'd asked for, of course. 
Now, he's insatiable, eating you out like a man starved; all tongue and wet kisses to your swollen bud. You're slightly raised up on his shoulders, clamping around his tongue as he fucks into you fervently. Big palms spread you wider, and he hums into it, content.
"So pretty ," He sets you down, pupils blown as he studies the way your back arches and the way your legs shudder in the sheets. He slides upwards, sitting next to you, tracing a hand across the gentle curve of stomach that peeks out from your big t-shirt. 
Still coming down from your high, you're only just able to register it: he looks mesmerised, a dopey smile plastered on his face. 
"What?" You scoff when a moment passes, and his hand inches closer towards your lower lips. 
"M'just looking." He shrugs, with a little smile on his face. "I'm not allowed to look?" 
You scoff, but you're still shaky so it comes out a little more pathetic than you intend. Nevertheless, you start to sit up but he stops you with a gentle hand at your chest. 
"Call him." He says, pressing two fingers to your clit and then down to your gushing slit. 
Maybe it's the way he hunches over you, eyes flicking towards your lips, or the way he slips those fingers in; but your eyes go wide, and you're choking on your next words. 
"Call… Call who?" Playing dumb, dancing on a razor's edge, and Miguel only quirks up an eyebrow at the stupid question. 
"You know who." He says it low, smooth and dulcet as he curls his fingers at that sweet spot, experimenting. "I'll help you, fine. But I want you to call your ex, too. Let him know when to expect us. Is that okay, sweetheart ?" 
That last word comes with a twang, the lilting tone of what sounds like mockery. He twists the knife, nudging the flat of his palm onto your clit – still tender and throbbing from your last orgasm. 
Before you change your mind, you pick up the phone laid face down on the bedside table, pressing shaky fingers to its screen. You don't dare to look up, knowing Miguel is watching; dark eyes studying your every move. 
Flicking his wrist this way and that, he swallows roughly as your fingers stutter on the screen. Not completely satisfied, he still has the time to look smug, settling into a comfortable pace. Finally, your phone rings with a tell-tale dial tone. It rings once. It rings twice, and–
"Hello? " The voice is muffled as it says your name. Put it on speaker, Miguel mouths and you oblige.
"Hey, J-Jamie." The phone is shaky in your hands, so you lay it out next to you on the bed. 
"It's late, baby." You don't have time to be annoyed at his tone – or the unwarranted pet name – because Miguel speeds up, pumping in and out of you with a little more force. 
"I… I know. S-Sorry." You clamp down the moans that threaten to erupt, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts. 
Head lolling back into the sheets, you spend a good ten seconds in oblivious bliss, until Jamie breaks the silence. 
"You've been ignoring me for ages, baby… and then you call out of the blue. What is it?" He's tired, it sounds like. Irritated for sure. 
"Just w-wanted to–" Miguel presses his thumb to your clit and you jump. Once back down to earth he has to prompt you to answer. "-my stuff! Fuck , I just want to pick up my stuff."
"...now?" 
Tomorrow. Miguel mouths. 
"Tomorrow. " You repeat, wrapping a hand around his forearm to slow him down. It's too much, too fast; and he has the audacity to add another finger, scissoring out to stretch your cunt. 
"O-kay. " He clicks his tongue, with some things rustling in the background. "Okay. You're acting weird, but..."
You're conflicted. His tone makes you melt, reaching for your phone to answer when Miguel snakes a hand under your shirt, palming your tits. To your surprise, he presses shaky kisses to the skin, rolling around your nipple with the flat of his tongue. You keen, clamping a hand around your mouth to stop the noises that spill out. 
"...we still need to talk about what happened. About how we left things." 
Anger flares up at your chest; hot at the sheer gall. He wants to talk? Now, when you had been met with a brick wall of silence; begging and begging for even a simple explanation? 
What made it sting even more was that even after the breakup, everything happened on Jamie's terms. He broke up with you, providing little warning. He completely ghosted you, refusing to answer countless calls and messages. And now, he wants to talk; to make himself feel better and wank off his own ego, no doubt. It's not bitterness that makes you press Miguel closer, to revel in the pleasure that he gives you, you convince yourself. It's for you ; finally, unabashedly, just for you. 
You don't bother to answer, hanging up the call with a click. Tugging at his hair, you pull him off with a wet pop; slick-soaked fingers slipping out of your cunt.
He cradles your chin, angling you upwards. 
"You okay? Too much?" It barely registers; you're too focused on the tangle of curls framing his face, and the rosy pout of messy lips. 
You shake your head, writhing against the sheets. 
"More." You move his hand over to rest between your legs. "Please, Miguel."
His eyes flutter, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 
“Eyes on me, baby.” 
He says it with sobering clarity, bolstered by just how precisely he slots against your bare pussy. You can feel it, the full length of his cock; pressed up against you as he slips it out of his sweats. Head spinning, it slaps onto your stomach. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Oh fuck. He's big. 
"Just like that." He coos, spitting into his palm and pumping his cock. “Wanna see how pretty you look when I make you cum.”
~~~
When tomorrow comes, you’re still sore from the litany of bruises and hickeys littered. It’s a Saturday, and you’re up bright and early. Well, Miguel is up bright and early, clattering around in the kitchen as you wake up. 
He seems energised, mug of coffee in hand whilst you rub the sleep from your eyes.  You waltz into the kitchen through the open doorway, morning breath and all. 
"Morning," You say, soft and giggly at the way he jumps ten feet in the air, too wrapped up in himself to notice at first. 
"Morning." He breathes, melting when he sees you in the shirt he had picked out for you last night. He shakes himself out of it. "Hungry? I can make something."
"No, no. M'good." You sidle up to the counter, head clocked at the fancy machine on the heavy slab. There's a question on the tip of your tongue, one you roll between your teeth. "Could I have some coffee? I mean… could you show me how?" 
Where you expect laughter, mockery, or surprise that you've lived here for months and can't figure out the coffee machine; he nods, patient and calm. You ask him more questions; curious with every flick of a switch, and the way he lights up when talking about it. To your surprise, you want to know more – anyway that comes. 
He's talking about expensive beans, and his favourite roasts – and a place across town that sells the exact kind he likes, but it's too fucking gentrified for him to go there more than two or three times a year. That makes you giggle: his little pout, the press of brow; and he looks up in surprise before joining you in light laughter. 
You finish, pouring cream into his special mug with a flourish, and he steals a sip before you can. You elbow him away, angling for that stolen taste. When you do, it is deep and rich; sweet in a way that reminds you of Miguel, grounded and balanced and silky. In short, it's the perfect cup of coffee. More than content, you hum. 
"Is it good?" He asks because he's already making mental notes, planning to greet you with a hot flask of the stuff in the mornings – if it means he gets that smile, of course. 
"Very." Fervently you nod, lips curved to the ceramic as you blow; and Miguel is trying really hard not to stare. Maybe it's the fact that he's seen you in a way not everyone gets to; pretty and vulnerable and writhing on the tip of his cock; but it has him fending off vivid daydreams. Your lips wrapped around his length, his hand pressing you further down, feeling that warmth as you choke on his–
He blinks and you're gone, padding off to your room with that mug of coffee. You return not too long after, phone in hand and tapping away at the screen. Miguel ignores the way it makes him feel, having your attention and then losing it just as quickly. Like a kicked puppy, he resists the urge to beg for more – of your time, of your attention – turning away to clean up instead. 
"I spoke to Jamie," You start, leaning with your back to the counter as he rolls up the sleeves of a comfy sweater. "He said he'll be around later in the evening, after his shift. Around 10. Is that okay?" 
He shrugs, not caring either way. You're a friend, and he's helping you because that's what friends do. He can still taste you on his lips, but it doesn't mean anything. Not in a way you'd want, anyways. 
"Sure." He doesn't turn around, stealing glances at the open window whilst he clatters around. "I've got a session later on anyways."
He catches a flash of something on your face, and you're pushing it away; prickly and uncomfortable. In his defence, he's stopped bringing people over for faux chemistry tutoring and there's less banging coming from across the wall. Less , but not completely gone, because you've learnt he has a penchant for dropping shit and cursing like someone's Dad. 
But you can't help but think about Sarah , and Jia …. and how close he would get to Sita on the dining table. Fuck . 
You're sighing now, tracing the curve of his jaw as he settles in front of the window: jaw set, arms crossed, and distant. He does that sometimes, goes off somewhere else – all teeth and claws. Tense, brows drawn up in a way that makes you want to smooth them out.  
You put your phone down and mug away, sliding across linoleum to gently nudge his shoulder with your own. 
"Are we…" He starts, and you track his line of sight to a quiet street below. He hums, without looking away. "Are we good?" 
It makes you turn. You blink, as if out of all the nonsense you bicker about daily, that was the most ridiculous. Good? Good? Of course we are, of course we always will be. How could we be anything else? You shut it down before it spills out of your mouth, overzealous and desperate. 
He clarifies with a nervous cough. "Last night. Was it… good?" 
His frown deepens, and you wonder if it's just you that hears it in his tone. His real question, the one that makes you splinter and creak like a felled oak tree: Was I good? Am I good enough?
"Yeah. " You say it like the most obvious thing in the world – and to you, it is. For all his flaws; assholery and its trimmings aside; Miguel has never been a bad lay. You don't even think he has it in him; he couldn't half-ass it if he tried.
"It was–" Fucking amazing . The kind of thing you'll fuck yourself to for the foreseeable future. Cathartic and breath-taking and hot . All of the above. 
Miguel finishes your sentence with something a little less… horny. "It was a lot, wasn't it? I wasn't really thinking, how uncomfortable it could be for you, and–" 
Gently, you laugh and cut him off. "I've been having mediocre sex for basically the whole of my adult life, Mig. This is… exciting and new. I like it, I really do."
Exciting and new. It brings him crashing back down to earth. You're enjoying the way he makes you feel, the thrill . Not… him. Not really, anyways. That pang of disappointment feels different, for some reason. He's never liked the song and dance of flirting, but he cherishes its rewards: of being wanted, and someone wanting him . So that fiery flame of need; deep and heady; is unfamiliar under his skin. 
"We can slow down, if you'd like." You bring a hand to his arm, warm and gentle. "I don't mind. We can go back to just messing around on the couch…."
You've got a cheeky smile when you say it; a vague memory of a different time, when you had gotten a little too comfortable on the sofa, leading to hands stuffed in trousers and pressed up against one another. Quick and desperate, you had wanted to see him fall apart; like he did your first night together, and the next, and the next. 
He gets closer, sandwiching you between the counter and his body. With a gentle hand, he strokes your hip, bunching up the fabric to get a peek of thigh.
“What do you like?” He’s deadly serious, red-brown eyes searching your face for something he can’t quite place. And just like that, the air is thick with tension. All you can manage is a limp shrug. 
“I don’t know, really.” It comes out as a croak , as you’re much too occupied with the shrinking gap between you both. “I haven’t done the things you’ve done.”
You’re making assumptions, of course. Filling in the gaps of what you’ve learnt in the past few months; of alleged threesomes and a laundry list of women at his feet. He’s an asshole; pretty and gruff and sarcastic; but God , he knows how to touch you just right.
“I could show you.” He slots a knee between your thighs and your head spins. “Make you feel good. ”
Before you can think, you’re nodding; chewing at your lip to bite back moans when he rucks up your shirt. He nudges your legs apart, both hands on your waist as he slots himself between them. You can feel it; quickly hardening, loose underneath sweats. Miguel slides wide palms to your ass, kneading its globes. With one hand, he picks up your leg by the thigh, and snakes the other to your pussy. Bare, because you’re trying to kill him, of course, and he groans at the feeling of his hand at your cunt; already wet and pliant for him. 
After a few wet taps to your hole, obscene, he slips himself out and you heave; pussy fluttering at just the thought of him inside you. Gathering up your slick on his palm, Miguel pumps his weeping cock, pressing its tip to your hole. 
"Still sore, Miguel." You hiss, looking down at where you both meet with the prettiest pout he thinks he's ever seen. 
It has you clawing at his back for purchase as he finally sinks in, stretching you out in that wonderful way he did last night. Except this time, he's slow and careful; steeling himself with shaky breaths. 
"Oh, fuck. " He settles in about halfway, stopping to hike up your leg just a bit higher. "Want me to make you feel better?" 
He says it breathless and crooning, forehead comes to rest on yours. With that other hand flat on the counter, you're lifted up to only toes on the floor, and he angles himself to buck up; filling you deep, and cock sliding past that sweet spot inside. He sets a pace, grinding into you, rather than fucking. If last night was dirty ; taboo, quick and primal; then this morning feels different. Intimate and reverent, he rolls his hips perfectly ; sending flashes of that first night down your spine. 
With the moans that spill out of your mouth, it takes all of Miguel's willpower not to swallow them in a kiss. Impossibly close, he traces up your thigh with a large palm; eventually pressing into the small of your back. Arching into him, your lips barely brush together, and you're both panting into open mouths; drunk on pleasure. 
"Miguel." There's a warning somewhere in your tone; underneath the layers of lust, you remind him of your previous agreement. 
"I… I know. " He swallows, nose pressed to yours, eyes screwed shut. He thinks if he opens them, he might spill into you right then and there. 
He's trying, he really is, tracing your cheek with his nose and mouthing at your neck – light kisses against the skin. He smells like coffee, bittersweet and heady, and you groan, rocking into him in a way that rubs up against your clit – before finding an ounce of restraint and putting a hand to his neck. 
You apply a little pressure, intending to push him away, but he likes it: eyes fluttering open, and mouth curved into a little O. It's a pretty sight that has you drooling, tits pressed against him as he practically purrs . And so, you pull him closer; nails dancing underneath his shirt, whispering filth into the shell of his ear. You're close, grinding into him like the push and pull of waves, merely waiting for the crescendo of orgasm to take you out to sea. 
"I'm close, Miguel." All he can do is hum, pulling you closer. "Fuck, I feel so good. You make me feel so good."
"Yeah? " He asks, needy in a way you haven't quite seen before. 
"M'gonna cum," You nod. "...because of you, baby. You did good. So good. Shit, ohh –g-god–" 
You clamp down on him, gushing around him with shaky legs. And Miguel is good; patient as he watches you fuck yourself through the aftermath. When it finally slows, he slips out with an obscene squelch clamping a hand to the base of his cock and leaning heavily on the counter. 
"It's okay," As if on cue, you kneel in front of him as best you can, tugging down your shirt to expose collarbone and the swell of tits. 
Miguel growls, grunting as he splatters thick cum across your chest, pumping his poor cock through it. 
He wouldn't have lasted a second longer, not with that smile across your face; smug as you swipe fingers across your chest and lick up the mess he's made. 
He's sighing, tucking himself back into gray sweats and pulling you up with a hand in yours; grumbling as you absentmindedly follow him to the sofa. 
You're leaning back onto the arm of the tattered material, and he settles to sit so your legs lay in his lap. He's frowning, again, and it makes you giggle, still licking up what's left on your fingers. 
He rolls his eyes, tapping a spot on your chin. A fat glob of his cum, dripping from your jaw to your neck. You miss it on the first swipe, and he gets impatient on the second, grabbing your hands and clambering over you. He drags the flat of his tongue to your skin, licking it up for you – and your eyes go wide. That… that felt good. 
You giggle at the sensation, so attuned to your roommate that you can hear it: his eyes clattering into the back of his skull, as he rolls his eyes a second time. 
"Is that okay?" He says it into the skin, pausing over a particularly tender spot. "Not too far?" 
"Feels nice, Mig." You sigh, content. Sun streams in on a lazy morning, and you're sore in the kind of way that feels good; fucked out and blissful. 
You lean into it, and then he sucks , teeth clashing onto the skin as he gives you a hickey and the juncture of your jaw. You wriggle, and he pins you down with one big hand holding down your arm, nipping and kissing and soothing it with a flash of tongue. This time he smiles, wrapping around your middle, tugging down your shirt to decorate your chest with hickeys. You play with his hair, wrapping soft curls between your fingers. 
You spend a little too long like that; curved into him, spines moulded to the shape of each other. It feels nicer than either of you would care to admit; the pretense of sex wrapped around you both like a thin veil. Before he leaves, Miguel indulges himself just this once; head on your chest and sinking into those arms wrapped around him. You smell like coffee and sweat and Autumn, somehow. He presses kisses wherever he can reach, for a bit longer. 
Miguel is okay. He's doing just fine. 
_
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atticrissfinch · 6 months
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Series: The Rogue Who Coaxed You | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)
Part 1: The Phone Call
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pairing: boss!joel miller x fem!secretary!reader summary: you suck joel off while he takes a Very Important call warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] mean!joel but reader is way into it, joel respects you approximately 0%, age gap (no specifics), infidelity, hella power imbalance/dynamics, daddy!kink, also hella degradation and humiliation kink, oral (m receiving), use of slut, whore, etc extra disclaimer: we are going to be HEAVY on the infidelity in this series, folks. it’s basically its own character. it’s frequently referenced by the characters, very in-your-face, and will be used as a kink in this series. So if that bothers you, you may want to skip this one ❤️ word count: ~2.5K | ao3 a/n: the infidelity kink bug has bitten me and I am stokeddd. I fucking love writing joel as a dick with a massive dick. i'm planning this as an interconnected series as opposed to linear, so we might jump around. But I have a lot of ideas for these two so I hope you like them 😊(also she said i didn't have to but i'm still gonna shout out max @macfrog for her Elite ceo!joel series Sex on Fire which i HIGHLY suggest for a joel that is a little....nicer lmfao) Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi
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You like to think that you’re an okay person. You donate to charity when you can. You occasionally buy food for panhandlers on street corners. You’re always nice to waitstaff. You’re not a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but you like to think you have some redeeming qualities. 
“Oh fuck, baby, just like that. So good with that dirty mouth of yours.”
Okay, so you’re on your knees with a mouthful of your boss’s cock right now. Who hasn’t dabbled in a little ethically dubious workplace activity? Maybe it’s a bit wrong, a bit scandalous, but where’s the fun in following the rules?
“So pretty on your knees for me, baby. Keep goin’, just like that,” Joel spurs you on from above, his fingers carded in your hair and his legs spread wide for you to fit between. 
When you moan softly around his cock, his head hits the back of his office chair with a quiet curse. Rug burn is already sprouting on your knees through your black nylons, your matching black pumps long discarded by your feet in the alcove beneath his desk where his chair usually resides—now pushed out slightly to accommodate you. 
His cock is thick and glistening with your saliva as your head bobs on it obscenely, inches appearing and disappearing like a crude vanishing act. 
“So fucking naughty for me. The perfect naughty little secretary, all for me, yeah?”
You nod as well as you can with your mouth occupied, eyes straining to remain fixed on his, just how he likes. He loves looking into your eyes when he takes you, capturing your attention as well as your body. Loves knowing that you know exactly who you’re doing it for. Loves looking into your eyes in the more professional moments in the office, knowing they’re the same ones staring back at him while one of your holes is being filled by him. 
You whine around him as you pull up off him, spit clinging to him from your lips. “Love your cock, daddy,” You purr, sucking kisses along his shaft to tease him. 
“I know you do, baby. It loves you too,” He sighs, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips rocking subtly to rub his cock along your plumped lips. 
The pointed tip of your tongue drags up the vein on the underside of him when a rhythmic beeping comes from Joel’s phone. Joel taps a button with a brisk, “Yes, Laura?”
The voice of the receptionist fills the room through the intercom function on his phone. “Mr. Miller, your wife is on line one.”
Okay, so you’re sucking off your married boss in his office. Who…who hasn’t, right? 
Fine. You’re not a great person. But…fuck. The way Joel looks at you. The way Joel fucks you. You can rationalize being a shitty person. Maybe even delight in it. And that’s Joel’s fault, not yours. Couldn’t be yours. 
Joel sighs and flexes his hand at your scalp. He leans forward slightly and presses a button again. “Thank you, Laura.” He flattens his back against the chair again and looks down at you. “I’ll get rid of her, just give me a sec.”
You think for a brief moment, then whisper against his cock with a playful glint in your eye, “Answer it.”
Joel quirks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn’t pull you away. “That’s fucked up, dirty girl.”
Your smile imprints into his hardened flesh, the filthy look shimmering in your eyes still going strong. “Scared?”
Joel snorts, shaking his head. “Fine. But you keep fuckin’ quiet, you hear me? Not a fuckin’ peep, or you’ll be very sorry,” He threatens vaguely, leaning forward for the handset. 
“Put it on speaker.”
He hesitates as he studies your impish grin as you place little kitten licks up his cock. He gives you one last hard look and repeats, “Not a fuckin’ peep,” as he hits a couple buttons on his phone. 
“Hey, honey,” Joel greets, relaxing back in his chair and scratching at your scalp with his short, manicured nails. You sigh at the sensation, burrowing your face into the base of his cock, his zipper scraping lightly at your cheek as you suck at him with leisurely movements. 
“Hi, baby,” Her mezzo-soprano tones ring through the office, and you inhale the musk of his groomed pubic hair as you mouth at him. “Just got in finally. JFK was a fucking nightmare, as per usual.”
“As per usual,” Joel recites in understanding affirmation. He glances down at your head in his lap and tugs lightly on your hair, tilting his head toward his cock in silent instruction. 
Your mischievous smile returns as you grip him around the base and slip the head of him back in your mouth, eyes drifting closed at the delicious weight of him on your tongue. Joel taps under your chin twice, and your eyes spring back open to gaze back up at him. 
He very distinctly mouths, “Eyes open.”
You nod obediently before sinking further into him, mouth watering again as he fills your mouth back up. 
“Had Douglas waiting an extra two goddamn hours at the airport in Austin while the incompetent assholes found my bags. But I guess that’s what we pay him for.”
“It is indeed what we pay him for,” Joel parrots, thumb petting at your temple as you suck him down, tongue dancing into the slit of his cock on your upbeats. 
“And then, god fucking dammit, Joel, and then I come home. Fix myself a goddamn drink. And she’s fucked up the ballerinas again, Joel!”
Your eyebrows raise as you lock eyes with him. He rolls his eyes at you in response to his wife’s words, and presses onto the top of your head, urging you further onto his cock. You restrain the gag that threatens to break through, raising your mouth back up slightly to stem the noise. Joel nods approvingly down at you with a dirty smile, stroking at your hair. 
“What happened with the ballerinas, honey?” Joel inquires, cool as a fucking cucumber with his dick roving every crevice of your mouth. 
“Julia fucked them up again, Joel! They’re all cattywampus!”
Joel’s mouth contorts as he tries not to laugh. “Cattywampus, Claire?”
She sounds absolutely put out. “Yes Joel, cattywampus. Arabella is where Maureen should be, Siobhan is completely turned around, not even facing Charlotte. It’s a mess in here, Joel. She does such a good job otherwise, but if she can’t get this right we’re gonna have to let her go. It’s not that hard to dust a cabinet and leave everything intact.”
While Joel’s wife rants about her ballerinas, you’re savoring the taste of her husband, each bead of precome slipping free of his tip, every inch of his cock that is coated in his own unique Joel taste intermingled with your spit. Joel’s lips remain parted in pleasure, intermittently wetting them with his tongue as he devours the sight of you swallowing his cock over and over. 
Joel offers her a very astute, “Mmhmm,” in response. 
“And for some reason, god only knows why, she spritzed this god-awful, sickly sweet linen spray all over our sheets. It’s horrid.”
You choke on Joel’s cock unexpectedly, quickly wincing and quieting yourself down as Joel yanks at your hair in reprimand, mouthing down at you through clenched teeth, “Quiet!”
But she doesn’t comment on the sound if she hears anything. 
Joel sighs, licking his lips and rolling his hips into your mouth shallowly. “I’ll talk to Julia, honey. I’ll make sure she doesn’t mess up your ballerinas again.”
“Thank you, baby.”
“I like Julia, I don’t want to have to fire her. And I hate having to hire new help, you know that.” Joel’s eyes take in the bob of your head, the stroke of your hand around him, the dribble of your spit from the corners of your mouth, and gives you an open-mouthed smile laced with filth. It encourages you, your head moving faster on him as your hand comes up to massage at his balls. 
His eyes clench as he lets out a long, tampered breath through pursed lips. The first real indication that what you’re engaging in is actually impacting him. A calculated move on your part, since you know he can’t resist his balls being played with, and it pays off. You love that little dent that carves between his brows. 
She sighs and says, “You know I like her too, it’s just…she needs to do shit right.”
Joel swallows and clears his throat. “I know, honey. I said I’ll talk to her. Now I have to go, okay? I need to work.”
“Okay,” she replies, sounding a little pouty for a grown woman in her 40s. 
“I’ll see you at home.”
Her voice suddenly goes more sultry, inviting. “And I’ll be waiting for you at home. In a little something I picked up on Fifth Ave. Missed you up there, big boy.”
Your nostrils flare as you look up at him, and he looks down at you with a clear order in his eyes. Behave. 
Joel matches her tone, letting his eyelids sag down a bit over his eyes, his lower lip sliding between his teeth and popping back out slick with saliva. “Looking forward to it. Missed you too, honey. I’ll see you.”
She purrs her goodbye, and Joel leans in to hang up the call. 
Joel takes a deep breath and lets himself collapse all the way back in his chair. “Such a good little slut, being so quiet for daddy,” He coos, gripping harshly at your scalp again and pulling you off his cock. 
You can’t scrub away the crease between your brows, the bitterness on your face. “You gonna fuck her tonight?”
Joel scoffs, yanking your head back to ensure you’re looking at him. “She’s my goddamn wife. ‘Course I’m gonna fuck her.”
“She doesn’t do it like I can.”
A sneer pulls up on his face as he looks down at you, internalizes your self-proclaimed prowess. He rests his forearms on his thighs and bends down closer to you, pinching your chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer finger, enough to make it hurt. “And I’m countin’ on that. Know why?”
You shift your jaw in obstinance. “Why?”
His eyes scan over your face with superiority, and when he speaks, it’s without even a hint of remorse. “Because you’re the nasty bitch. The nasty holes for daddy to fuck however he wants. The filthy whore who does all the shit no respectable wife would ever do. I can go home and be the husband she needs me to be ‘cause I fucked all the disrespectful, depraved shit in my brain into your tight, slutty little body.” 
You shuffle on your knees, staring him down. You knew this. You’ve known this for a long time. He fucks you like a two-dollar whore, then goes home and makes love to his wife. And you like being the whore. His whore. His mistress. You like him depraved and degrading. 
But you hate that he fucks her at all. You don’t hate her. Just what he does with her. Even if you’re the other woman. 
So you don’t argue further. Just pelt him with a sassier, “Yes, daddy,” than usual. 
“Come here,” He spits back at you, his iron grip on your hair jerking you back onto his cock. “Prove to me you're worth my fucking time. Show me what you’re good for.”
And you do. 
You take him down deep, the fat head of him dragging against the back of your throat as he fucks up into you, using your mouth. 
“That’s what you are, isn’t it? Just a hole for me to fuck?” He groans as your throat constricts around him before he pulls you off, just to fuck right back in again. 
You nod when you can, your eyes watering and spilling over as you open yourself up for his taking. Your throat is scratchy, sore, and fighting against him. He doesn’t care. 
“Yeah, that’s what you are. Just a slutty little secretary. Sole purpose is to obey your boss. Spread your legs when he says to spread ‘em. Open your mouth when he says to open it. Shut the fuck up when he tells ya to shut the fuck up.”
You whimper around his cock as he fucks your mouth, your pussy clenching between your legs as he degrades you. 
Joel’s thrusts begin to staccato as he reaches his climax, shoving your head all the way down onto his cock until your nose smashes against his pubic bone and his come jets down your throat, forcing you to swallow him down in his entirety. 
As he releases you, you spring off his cock, your head falling to rest on his thigh, panting and rasping in breaths. His hand reaches up to grip the back of his chair at the headrest as his chest evens out. 
His hips raise as he stuffs himself back into his slacks, successfully hiding it from view until he pulls it back out to fuck his wife tonight, your saliva dried into his skin. 
“I have a confession to make,” You whisper, cheek still pressed against the cotton of his pants. 
He peers down at you, stroking a hand over your hair. “Yes?”
You sigh, lifting your head and setting your chin on his knee. “I moved the ballerinas. Last night. When you were fixing our drinks.” 
Those stupid fucking porcelain ballerinas, all pristine on their glass shelf. You’re actually surprised she noticed, but the fact that she did has your chest welling with satisfaction. 
A moment passes before recognition creeps across his features, and then a scandalized grin. “You little devil. You could’ve cost poor Julia her job, baby.”
You shrug, a hand coming up to caress his other knee. “Maybe I could be your maid instead. Get one of those sexy little outfits.”
“You can borrow the one I make Julia wear when it’s just me at home.”
You give a soft gasp, realistically knowing he’s most likely just joking, but also knowing him well enough that it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility. “You dirty old man. Exploiting your maid.”
He smirks, dipping his head low to murmur in your ear, “She likes it. Something the two of you have in common.”
You can’t exactly argue with that. You’re a glutton for punishment, and you both know it.
“And wear a lighter perfume next time, baby. Claire’s already gonna be confused when the maid insists she didn’t change the linen spray.”
You muffle a laugh into his slacks and nod. As long as there’s still a next time, you’ll do whatever the fuck he wants. 
All the red from your lipstick has transposed onto your knees beneath your stockings as you slip out the door, a pleasant ache in your jaw and your joints as you complete the rest of your secretarial duties for the day. 
Joel still looks flawless when he switches the lights off in his office and heads out for the night, Douglas waiting for him with the car and Claire waiting for him in his bed with her Fifth Avenue negligée. 
And you…
Well, you drive yourself home to no one, playing with your clit to the daydream of whatever Joel might see fit to use you for tomorrow. 
Part 2
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dance the night
summary: barbie date and an invitation from clarisse you can't refuse
pairing: clarisse la rue x f!reader
word count: 3.4k
tags: fluff fluff fluff
series masterlist 2/?
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You were getting more and more comfortable at camp. You were getting along very well with your siblings. Especially Lee and Cornelia, who explained everything – sometimes twice – to you. They also explained to you that if you wanted to leave camp during the summer, you needed to get an authorisation from Mr. D. And Clarisse knew, so she told you to get it since it was your idea to go see that movie. Your siblings told you he rarely gave them away. 
“Mmh. I accept this challenge.”
“It really wasn’t,” Lee said. “It was a piece of information at best.”
You walked, determined, to Mr. D’s office. You didn’t have many arguments, but Cornelia did tell you Mr. D was always looking for campers to give him alcohol even though his father, Zeus, forbade him to drink any. Mr. D was playing cards with Chiron. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, you hesitated before Chiron looked up.
“Yes?” he said, putting his cards down. 
“Mmh,” you froze before staring at your camp director, “I needed to talk to Mr. D, please.”
Chiron turned his face to look at Mr D, and he took off his sunglasses before looking at you.
“What?”
“I need authorisation to leave camp for one day,” you explained firmly. “Please.”
“And why would I give you that?” 
“Because I need it. For next week, the 21st,” you begged.
Mr D stared at you, bored. He was ready to take back his cards, when you shouted, desperately.
“I–I’ll give you alcohol in exchange!” 
“No you will not!” Chiron gave you a hard stare. “Zeus–.”
“I’m desperate, so yes I will.” 
Mr D was still silent. 
“What is this about y/n?” Chiron asked. “Why do you need to leave camp?”
“I– I asked Clarisse on a date. Well,” you faltered. “It’s not exactly a date I don’t think, it’s more like I won a bet, and what I asked for was for us to go see a movie together. So maybe it is? And it would suck for me if I can’t go, when I won the bet you know.”
Chiron and you were both looking at Mr. D, and you had your best puppy eyes for him.
“Still a no for me,” Mr. D took his cards. 
“Please, please, please, please, please!” 
Mr. D shook his head. You sighed, thinking about what to say to try and convince him to let you go. 
“That’s–,” you hesitated before blurting out “such a homophobic thing to do in 2024 to refuse to let us go on a date! Which is what that is… a date, with us girls.”
“What?” Mr. D muttered confused.
“And during pride month? You have no shame. It’s–.”
“Fine, if I give you this authorisation, will you shut up and leave?”
You nodded vigorously. And Mr. D sent you a  flying paper with the snap of a finger, and after reading the paper to make sure it was legit – which did take a few minutes – you ran away in case he changed his mind. The first person you ran into Luke and asked him if he had seen Clarisse. He pointed at the Ares cabin, and told you he saw her go in. 
You walked to her cabin, and knocked, shouting Clarisse’s name over and over again. The door flew open, revealing an annoyed Clarisse.
“Hi,” you smiled. 
Her face softened slightly at your sight, but she still looked at you annoyed, with her arms crossed. 
“What?”
“Guess what?” your hands were in your back, hiding away the piece of paper you got earlier.
“Your boyfriend called your mom to ask her why you ditched him?” 
“What?” you hesitated. “No. First, I don't have a boyfriend, they were all losers in my school. And no girlfriends either for the same reason.”
“Good,” she nodded. “So what was the news then?”
The paper was still held behind your back, you held her gaze a few more seconds before showing her proudly the paper. She looked at the paper, frowning, and then took your paper. You stood there patiently, swinging on your feet, waiting for her to finish reading it at her own pace. 
“How did you get Mr. D to agree to this?” she puts the paper down. 
“It’s a secret. But I’ll tell you if you want to know.”
“Of course I do, no one here in years got one of these,” she shook the paper in front of you. 
You held up your index, and made a ‘come closer’ motion with it. She came closer, and you put your face even closer, her nose almost touching yours. Clarisse was taller than you – taller than most campers actually – and your face was facing up. And having her this close to you, it was as if time had stopped. You smiled. 
“I promised him alcohol,” you whispered. 
“What!” she stepped back. “Do you know Zeus–.”
“I know, I know, Cornelia told me. I don’t remember what I said after that,’ you lied, “I guess he just likes me.”
“Okay,” Clarisse smiled, “liar.”
Clarisse and you stood there, at the threshold of the Ares cabin for a few more moments, just enjoying each other's company before her siblings ran in, pushing you toward Clarisse. Your  body slammed against hers, her arms wrapped around your shoulders to steady you. You would have been upset if it weren’t for the outcome. But Clarisse quickly let go before grabbing the shirt of her brother – Mark – and made him stop in his tracks. You didn’t hear what she said, but you saw Mark nodding vigorously before walking away. 
“Let’s get out of here,” Clarisse grabbed your arm and led you outside. 
“So,” you started when she stopped under a tree and sat there. “Do you know what you’re going to wear?”
“No. Do you?”
“Uh obviously! I have the perfect outfit for Barbie. I actually planned this before coming here, minus the ‘going to camp half-blood’ cause I didn’t think I’d end up here. It’s all pink, and cute and oh, should I also do my nails? Should we do our nails all pink?” you beamed at the idea.
“No.”
“True, yours do look very good in black,” you nodded. “Oh, we could cosplay Barbie and Raquelle. But it’s not going to be accurate, Raquelle hates Barbie.”
“I think it’s pretty accurate,” she shrugs. 
You slapped her arms playfully before laying your head on her lap. The weather was nice, the sun was out and the leaves were shading you from it, the perfect combination for you to take a nap. And then Clarisse started to run her fingers on your arm which made it for you. You were asleep in no time.
“Wake up sunshine,” Clarisse pinched you lightly on the hip. You jerked awake. 
“What?” you mumbled, standing up. 
“I have to meet up with my brothers and sisters for the next Capture the Flag strategy.”
“Can I come too?” you yawned. 
“We’re not on the same team, remember.”
“I won’t tell them anything.”
“Nope,” she walked away, “don’t follow me,” she turned around, walking backwards. 
I’d follow you everywhere you go Clarisse La Rue. 
“I won’t,” you said instead. 
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The night before the date, you laid out your outfit neatly before washing up to go to bed. Cornelia was your bunkmate, with the bed above yours. But before going to sleep, you loved updating each other’s day. 
“So tomorrow huh,” Cornelia sat on your bed. “I never thought I’d live to see Clarisse being friendly with anyone other than her siblings.”
“I think she’s funny.”
“Sure, if funny was a synonym of mean. Wait– do you even have money to spend on tomorrow’s activities?” 
“Actually I do. Mr. D did tell me he wouldn’t give me any, and thank gods I found a load of cash in my backpack. My mom gave it to me. I mean she did write it was for any expense that I would have to make on my way home, but I have other priorities.”
“Clearly,” she rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re gonna regret this in August.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Like before any exciting day, it took some time to fall asleep. Anxiety and excitement mixing together, making up the worst and best scenarios. What if Clarisse is just messing with you and forgot? That can’t happen, you just saw her a few hours ago talking about it. What if you annoyed her so much with it, she’d stood you up? What if she doesn’t like everything you planned? Not a single positive and happy ‘what if’ comes to your mind. 
“Wake up!” someone shakes you awake. “It’s 8 already, you're going to be late!” Cornelia said. 
“Fuck!” you ran to the washroom. 
You rushed through your routine, before rushing back to your bed and grabbed your outfit, and put it on. And all of that only took 28 minutes. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a final check up, before opening the door. Clarisse was already there. Her curls free, just like the first time you saw her. It felt weird not seeing her in her usual orange tee, but she still looked pretty. She wore a simple short brown tank top with blue faded jeans, with her beaded necklace still hanging from her neck.
“You look really pretty today,” Clarisse smiled shyly, holding her arms around her.
“Thanks,” you approached her, putting your hands on her arms and leaned in, “you look pretty every day.”
“Don’t come home too late,” Lee interrupted, appearing just next to you. 
“Don’t worry, but also don’t wait up!” 
You grabbed Clarisse’s hand and dragged her away from your cabin. A taxi was waiting for you outside of the camp, and in no time you were at the local theatre in the middle of nowhere. And lucky for you, the people of this town weren’t going to see the 9:30am slot for Barbie. Except for that one couple sitting in the back. You dragged Clarisse in the middle, and sat with the popcorn and sodas. You ate in silence, watching the trailers. 
Well that was not fun. The worst ‘what ifs’ from last night came back immediately making you anxious. It was not supposed to be like this. What if she wasn’t enjoying herself. What if she was mad because she ate a salty popcorn when you asked for the sweet ones. What if she was disappointed—
“Ouch,” you looked at her, frowning, rubbing your arm. “Why did you do that?”
“You were ignoring me.”
“What? Oh I– I didn’t hear sorry.”
“I asked you, what’s the deal with Barbie anyway? Why are you so excited about a blonde, white, plastic doll?”
“W– Barbie is not– ok. She is a plastic doll, and she may not look like us but it’s the idea of Barbie, the idea that us women can be anything we want. And how in Barbie Land, it’s all about girls and women being able to be whoever they want, and have whatever jobs they want. Barbie is literally a doctor, a pilot, a model, a chef, a fashion designer, a business woman, a teacher – she has every job in the world. And there is no one telling her that she can’t do that because she’s not a man. And also, the Barbie franchise is my childhood. The movies, they deserve an Oscar honestly–,” you stopped. “Sorry, I talk too much.”
“I asked,” her attention went back to the screen. “So did you have any barbies?”
“Of course! I had Barbie's dreamhouse, and so many barbies and outfits. I’m surprised I didn’t end up being a writer with all my imagination. Did you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“My mom wasn’t the kind to buy me anything. And certainly not dolls.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t feel sad for me, I’m fine,” she gave you a quick glance.
“I’m not!” you frowned. “So you never watched Barbie and A Christmas Carol? The best Barbie movie ever?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, we have to change that. Mmh. But phones and laptops aren’t allowed though… Maybe if I bring my mom’s DVD player next summer.” 
“Already planning on your next move to woo me?” she teased, approaching you. 
Your eyes widened, your cheeks were hot.
“I– No! I– I– I don’t.”
“Relax sunshine, I’m kidding,” she laughed. 
And just then, the lights went out and the movie was about to start, thank the gods. Because you did not know what to say. The movie was incredible, you shed a few tears at the end, and sang Dance The Night with Clarisse laughing and cheering you on. It was a great experience, and it was even better to have watched it with Clarisse. 
“Did you like it?” you asked her when the credits started rolling.
“Yes. It was great.”
“And you’ll love the other Barbie movies because they are way less depressing.”
“So, what’s next?” she stood up.
“It’s almost time to eat, what do you want?”
“Whatever you want.”
“No you choose, I insist,” you smiled.
Really you were just very indecisive. Clarisse settled for a burger place not too far away from the cinema. There weren't many people inside, so you were able to choose where to sit – a table next to the window. It was a booth seat, so you had your own booth each, facing each other, menu in hand. 
“So, what are you choosing?” you asked her.
“I’ll take the Highwayman. You?”
“The Roadhouse looks good.”
Clarisse raised her hand and weaved at the waitress, when you grabbed her hand. 
“Wait!”
“What?”
“Can you order for me please?”
She furrowed her brow, but nodded. You smiled. You only waited ten-or-so minutes before the waitress came back with your food. Like always, you checked the inside of your burger before eating it, you picked out the onions and the tomato. 
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t like these.”
“Couldn’t you have asked the waitress to take them out.”
“No…”
“Give me your tomato then,” she opened her burger bun.
You were the one entertaining lunch. Clarisse asked questions about your life and you told her – you told her stories about your childhood, your school, your mom and she listened, nodding along. Once you were done, you took a cab and decided to go to the mall. 
“We don’t have any money,” Clarisse stopped you when you were going to step into the mall. 
“I do. Remember I paid for the tickets, and the food.”
“Yeah, but I thought you only had enough for these.”
“Nope. Well, remember how I said my mom is an opera singer. It was you fifty percent talent and fifty percent nepotism and generational wealth. Meaning I’m rich, I mean my mom but her love language is sending me money for not raising me,” you joked.
She stared at you, concerned. 
“I’m kidding,” you grabbed her hand, “let’s shop.”
Clarisse refused to accept anything you’d set eyes on for her. 
“Well, at least try on some of them, just to see.”
She agreed to it, which was a mistake because now that you knew her size, you could buy her everything she laid eyes on. She was trying on this dark green simple long sleeve tee shirt, and after she put it back, you took it with you.
“What are you doing?” she tried to grab the tee shirt back. 
“I might want it for myself!” you hid it behind your back. 
‘Doesn’t look like something you’d wear.”
“My style changes, it depends on my mood. Maybe I want us to have matching clothes.”
“Then why is there only one in your hand?”
You quickly grabbed another one. And then it was settled. You’d buy her things and then another copy for you – everything went, from boots to tee shirts to pants, and jackets. Then you went to a jewellery shop. You needed new rings because yours flew away from your hands during the last Capture the Flag – they were obviously a tad too big. 
“Did you find anything you like?” you asked her. 
“No, they aren't the most useful things to have.”
You pouted, and threw a bunch on the table. 
“What are you doing?”
“Putting these back on the shelves, cause I chose half of these for you,” you sighed dramatically. 
“Oh,” she took a look at the jewellery. 
Various rings and bracelets.
“They’re great, I love them.”
“No you don’t.”
“You picked them out so yes, I do.”
“You don’t have to, it’s fine,” you sighed. 
“Maybe you don’t have to buy all of it, just one of each.”
You nodded, and picked one ring for her, and two bracelets for each of you. You gave them to the seller to wrap them and left to look at other items. Clarisse soon joined you and soon enough the seller gave a little bag, you paid and left. Your hands were full of shopping bags, and before leaving you needed a little bit of rest so you two sat on the chairs in the resting area. Thankfully the mall wasn’t too crowded as it was still early in the afternoon on a random Tuesday. 
“Huh!” you gasped pointing at something behind Clarisse.
“What?” she turned around swiftly, not seeing any threat. 
“A photobooth!” you smiled.
You stood up, grabbed all of your bags and walked to the booth, hoping Clarisse was following you. You turned around, and Clarisse was still sitting still, legs crossed, leaned into the chair, staring at you. You held your hands together, and motionned her to come. She didn’t move for a good minute, but seeing how you weren’t going to move, she caved in and stood up. 
“Sunshine,” she put her hands on your shoulders, “you can look at me for free, I won’t charge you, don’t worry.” 
You rolled your eyes, smiling. 
“You’ll thank me in a few years because of this. Pictures are the best kind of souvenirs.”
Clarisse got in first, the space was a tight fit, and you were glued to Clarisse, but you two fit in the frame so it was good. You put the coins inside, and waited for it to take the picture. But that was not good enough for Clarisse – she put her arm around your waist and scooped you onto her lap.
“Better?” 
You nodded, staring at her. 
“Better,” you confirmed. 
You went to take a pose but too late, the four pictures were already taken. 
“It’s fine, we’ll take another one.”
Another turned into another few more and you ended with a ton of pictures. By the time you left the mall it was already pretty late. Almost time to go home. But neither of you wanted that, so you went to the beach instead – main beach in the east. It was empty – people at this hour were all eating. You two sat on the sand, far from the shore. 
“Did you have a great time?” you asked.
“Yes,” she looked at you, “did you?”
You nodded enthusiastically. 
“Aren’t you glad you lost that bet against me?”
“Mmh,” she shrugged, “my option would’ve been just as good for me.”
“Well, I am glad I won. I prefer this option much better.”
Clarisse started to lay down but you grabbed her arm. 
“Sand will get in your hair.”
“I’ll wash it tonight, it’s fine.”
You shook your head, and took off your blouse and laid it on the sand, behind Clarisse. She tried to protest, but you were quicker. 
“I don’t want this day to end,” you admitted, staring at the waves. “I don’t think Mr. D will give us another authorisation anytime soon,” you laughed. 
Clarisse stared at you, not saying anything. You arrived at camp only a week ago, and yet you two were already closer than she was with any of her siblings. You were nice to her, always rooting for her, and you were a great friend. Not many people were these things to the Ares kids. 
“There this field trip around October,” Clarisse sat up again, “I suppose you’re not staying around the whole year. But it’d be great if you could come.”
“A field trip? To where?”
“It’s something we do once a year at camp,” she explained. “A trip to Olympus.”
You thought about it. 
“Are you asking me to meet your father? I didn’t think we were already at this stage so early on."
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gurugirl · 2 months
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Can We Start Over | Ch. 5 The Coincidence
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Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers
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This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).
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Chapter 5. Summary: Things have changed for you and Harry but when you see him at a meeting, you are taken by surprise. It feels like destiny. Maybe this time things will work out for you two.
A/N: This is the final part to this series! Thank you everyone who stuck with the story and gave it a shot! Appreciate all the love!
Word Count: 12.7k
Warning: 18+ only, angst, smut, fluff
Can We Start Over? masterlist
Mr. Allen was on the phone again. He’d called you into his office but the moment you stepped in he got a call and told you to sit and wait. That it would only be a minute.
And it was only a minute. But then he got another call and now it was 23 minutes later while he was still yammering about some person who was just the worst.
You were used to it, though. Mr. Allen was retired so nothing was a rush for him anymore. Which also meant he held other people up. But waiting for your boss was the least of your worries.
His wife and her ever-changing personality was your biggest concern. She was, to put it mildly, a monster. And to make matters worse, she ran the whole household so you were often seeking her out for things. Mrs. Allen also handled her husband’s schedule and if he was running behind guess who got the blame. That’s right. You did. Every time.
And it was the same thing over and over again. You started your day trying to keep Mr. Allen up to task, failed, got reprimanded and degraded by a nasty human, held back tears and then took a long drive with loud music to clear your head with a quick stop for dinner, probably at a drive-through.
Needless to say, you were already planning on quitting. You’d gotten really lucky with Alfred. And even working with Harry hadn’t been as bad as it was working for Mrs. Allen and her husband. But you tried not to think about Harry if you could help it.
By the time Mr. Allen got off the phone he was running late for his physical therapy appointment. You got him moving along quickly and sent him on his way but not before Mrs. Allen started poking around and making comments under her breath.
“What was that?” You turned to look behind yourself at the wicked witch as she stood near the edge of the foyer.
“He’s late again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“That is correct.”
She rolled her eyes, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant who can’t even keep the boss on schedule?”
You smiled, holding back your true thoughts, “Well, being as my job description doesn’t entail using physical force on the boss, which is what it would take to get Mr. Allen to keep on time for anything, I’m certain you’ll find that once again, this isn’t my responsibility.”
“Lazy,” she spoke under her breath.
You tilted your head and squinted your eyes at her, “That’s the last thing I am. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday is over. Have a good evening.”
You walked past her to go into your room to pack up your laptop and leave. You’d stay at your own place that night. You hated staying at the Allen’s house. Not only was the room they’d given you a tiny spec of a thing with no windows, no closet, and not even a single rug to cover the cold tile floors but being anywhere near Mrs. Allen made your skin crawl.
“I don’t know why we bother with the room for you,” she was standing in the doorway when you turned around.
“You really didn’t bother much with the room in the first place. That’s why I don’t stay here. My house has a better bed with a big window looking into my backyard. I just feel better in my own bed at night.”
You walked past her and held your breath so as not to inhale her disgusting, pungent perfume. You used to like the scent she wore. But now you loathed it. Whenever you smelled it, even on another woman, it made you queasy. You very much did not like Mrs. Allen.
You turned up the volume on your car radio the moment your front tires hit the road. You always looked forward to going home after work. This day wasn’t as bad as you’d had before and tomorrow you’d do it all over again.
And instead of stopping at a drive-through for fast food, you decided you’d stop at the grocery store and pick up ingredients to actually make something fresh.
Typically you didn’t cook. You didn’t have time for it. Picking up groceries would put you home at almost 8 pm. And then you still needed to cook so you wouldn’t be eating until close to 9 and then you could finally relax with a glass of wine and a good book or something trashy on television. Which was why drive-throughs were your go-to dinner plans. It meant you were home by 7:30 and dinner was already cooked. Not the best use of money and certainly not the healthiest way to live but you wouldn’t be doing it much longer.
You had a meeting to attend with Mr. and Mrs. Allen the following week that piqued your interest. It was for a piece of art that they’d been looking for. And someone found it for them. From an art dealer who was not too far away. You didn’t know for sure but you had a feeling. And you wanted to find out if that feeling was right.
Maybe you were a masochist and just wanted to pour salt onto the wound of your split open heart one more time. Or maybe you did have some hope that it was Harry and that maybe you could try and receive his feelings for you once and for all.
But it’d been just over 9 months since you’d seen him and you were sure he’d moved on by now. There would be no reason for him to still be pining over you the way you were over him. And what were the chances that it was him in the first place? You didn’t know but you needed to find out.
Yeah. You regretted what you’d done. Pushing him away like that. But once you’d done it, it felt like it was too late to go back. Maybe it was your pride. Or that little voice in the back of your head that told you men always leave and they always lie. That anyone that might love you would probably just disappoint you in the end.
But now you were in therapy and talking to someone opened your eyes to your self-sabotaging ways. You had been certain that the way you felt couldn’t be helped. That you were a prisoner to your trauma and all the hurt and that it was for the best. You’d been wrong, though. You could help the way you processed feelings and the way you responded when things got hard. You didn’t have to push away the notion that a man could love you or keep running away from your problems.
After picking up ingredients to make a nice little dinner for yourself you arrived at your cute house.
You loved the place. Loved the neighborhood. You found it a few weeks after you told Harry to leave your apartment. It wasn’t that far from your old place but you felt like it was good enough for a new start. At the time, you were ready to take the plunge. To move on. It was just a rental but it felt like your own place.
Though, not long after moving in you started feeling like getting rid of every trace of Harry had been a bad idea. You missed him. However, you didn’t recognize how you were feeling for him until you began therapy. The more you spoke honestly about everything and without any judgment, you began to peel off layers of yourself that you had unconsciously piled on to protect yourself. But that only wound up making things worse.
And one night, almost six months since you’d seen him, you decided to drive past his big, gated home. You still had the fob to his entry but of course, you wouldn’t use it. You only wanted to just drive past. To your surprise, there was a For Sale sign stuck in the grass in front of the gate.
You parked across from the house and tried to see if there was anything that indicated he’d actually moved out but seeing inside was impossible. You could see the top level of the house and that was really it.
The sinking feeling in your chest that you’d probably never see him again started to settle over you slowly. You’d moved away and blocked him from everything and then deleted his contact and now he was no longer living in the only place you knew where he might be. He was gone.
But then when you helped set up the meeting with the art dealer there was the smallest tinge of hope there. You felt like this might be your last chance. You had just been about to quit when Mrs. Allen gave you the number to an assistant of a dealer who had access to a painting they wanted. You never learned the name of the art dealer, only of the assistant who worked for them.
So you’d stick it out until after the meeting and then you’d give up your hope for ever seeing Harry again if it wasn’t him. And you’d also quit your job once and for all.
Of course, it’s not him. Don’t get your hopes up.
You had to remind yourself of that over and over again. The chances were slim that you would actually be seeing Harry.
Either way, you were looking forward to that meeting. Even if it wasn’t Harry, you’d be free of Mr. and Mrs. Allen once and for all after you quit.
But the days dragged on slowly. The only thing that was good about the time that led up to the meeting was the little secret that you were quitting. It was something you were excited about.
The morning of the meeting you woke up well before your alarm went off. You’d been unable to fall back asleep as you remembered the last time you and Harry slept together. The words he spoke to you that night haunted you every day since, “Want to make you feel so good. Want to make you smile, Y/n. Want to make you happy.”
You sighed. You hoped it was him at the meeting. You hoped there was still some way to salvage what you’d done. Hoped there was still something there. If it was him, that is.
Your entire morning routine had turned into a spa event. You turned on your coffee pot and then got into the shower, getting yourself ready for the possibility of anything and everything. You had selected your outfit days prior and put on a full face of makeup. You were going to look your absolute best.
And no matter what the outcome of the meeting was, today was a good day. Because at the end of it, you’d be a free woman. You’d never again step foot in the Allen house. You took all of your belongings from the spec of a bedroom over a few days so no one would notice. You rarely stayed over anyway so it wasn’t like you needed to keep much there in the first place.
You had a taxi take you to the Allen’s on that day. Because your plan was to quit the moment the painting was purchased and you weren’t going to be going back to their house with them after the meeting just to get your car. You’d get a taxi home. It was quite dramatic but you couldn’t wait to quit. Couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Allen you were done and then walk off. Only a few more hours.
When you arrived at the Allen’s your first stop was the kitchen to make Mr. Allen’s coffee (skim milk and stevia) and Mrs. Allen’s chai green tea with raw honey. This was always the best part of your day. Things were usually quiet, Mrs. Allen wasn’t raging just yet, and the morning light that came into their gorgeous kitchen felt peaceful. While the coffee was perking you brought Mrs. Allen her tea drink where you knew you’d find her and placed it down on its coaster next to her. As usual, she did not acknowledge your existence or even say thank you.
Mr. Allen was always cordial, however.
“Morning Mr. Allen. Here’s your coffee.”
“Thank you, Y/n. Have you seen my wife this morning?”
You smiled and stood next to his desk, “I just gave her some tea. Why?”
“I think she wanted to make sure we had wire information set up to pay for the painting today. She’s very set on making the purchase. Can you double-check we have everything we need?”
“I’m certain we have everything we need but I’ll definitely do a quick check.”
As you suspected, everything was ready to go. When you confirmed as much you went to find Mrs. Allen to tell her.
“Mr. Allen told me you wanted to make sure the wire instructions were ready and I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got everything we need and it’s all ready to go for when it comes time to pay.”
“Good. Now,” she turned to look at you, “this is a meeting we cannot be late for so I’d appreciate it if you could have everything ready for us so there are no delays. I don’t want any excuses.”
You nodded, stifling the small laugh before it could make it out of your mouth, “Of course, Mrs. Allen.”
But as always, Mr. Allen was dawdling. You did remind him of the meeting but he assured you he was going to be on time. He wasn’t. You weren’t surprised.
When it was time to leave he was still in his office in his slippers on his third cup of coffee talking to his brother about sports.
“I told you this is a meeting we cannot be late for. This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Allen was red in the face as she barked at you. Somehow, she always seemed shocked when her husband held things up. You didn’t know how it was possible that she was so surprised.
You blinked your eyes and sighed, “He doesn’t need to be at the meeting with us. I say we just go. He’ll be fine here by himself.”
She nodded and mumbled under her breath about your incompetence, “Tell him we’re leaving without him. I’m going to get the driver to pull the car around.”
You poked your head into the office and waved at Mr. Allen and he pulled the phone from his ear to look at you with his brows raised. As if he didn’t know what was going on.
“We’re going to leave now for the painting. You can stay behind. No need for you to be there. Okay?”
He smiled at you and nodded before getting back to his call. You knew he didn’t care. This painting wasn’t for him. It was for Mrs. Allen. It was something she’d been wanting. She’d just hang it up alongside the rest of her collection of exotic animal paintings and artwork.
The car ride was silent. Which you preferred. You tried not speaking to Mrs. Allen when you could help it. Luckily she wasn’t interested in having a conversation with you.
And 30 minutes later when you arrived, your mind was swirling with thoughts of what could happen and what probably wouldn’t.
Your nerves were all over the place. If you were about to walk into a room with Harry Styles, being nervous was warranted. You hadn’t seen his handsome face in so long and wanted so badly for it to be him.
It was unlikely. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. No reason to get your hopes up.
You and Mrs. Allen got out of the car once the driver had let you both out at the front.
It was a public gallery so everyone could just walk in to admire the art. You noticed there were people inside looking at the sculptures and paintings as you followed behind Mrs. Allen toward the desk at the side of the room where a young woman sat.
“Hi. I’m Delia Allen here for a meeting to view the Ghaui piece.”
The young woman smiled widely, “Yes. Of course! Just follow me. We have it moved into a special viewing room just for you.”
If there was ever a moment in your life where you thought that one small step toward a physical room could forever change your life, it was this. What if he was there? What if he wasn’t?
The gallery wasn’t a large space but there were temporary walls placed around the room to act as dividers and a spot for more art to hang. You wove around the walls and into a hallway where the young woman stepped into a room with Mrs. Allen just behind her. You paused for a moment before stepping inside. This was it. It either was or it wasn’t.
Placing your hand on the frame of the door and taking a deep breath you breached the space to enter the viewing room and found that there was no one else inside. It was the painting that Mrs. Allen had been so keen on buying, hung up with lights aimed at it, a table and chairs.
You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. You imagined someone would be inside the room waiting for you.
“The dealer will be right in. He’s finishing up something with someone else. Five minutes tops.”
The painting was of elephants in an African wildlife scene. It wasn’t your taste but you had to respect Mrs. Allen for her interests. If there was anything about her you could say you liked, it was her love of animals and how much support she’d given African wildlife sanctuaries. She’d also gone on many safaris (without Mr. Allen you learned) and helped fund conservation parks that helped employ people and protect the land and animals. Honestly, when you found out this was her thing you felt like you were looking at a different woman.
She was still a bitch, though.
“I thought this meeting was set up and ready to go, Y/n,” she turned to look at you. As if somehow the dealer running late was your fault.
“It is set and ready. The girl said the dealer would be right in. We just need to wait a couple of minutes.”
You didn’t look at her face as you responded. You were done looking at her face. After this meeting, you’d never have to look at it again.
“Sergi could’ve come if I knew this was going to happen.”
You rolled your eyes, back facing her as you looked over the lines and the paint on the canvas. It was a well-done piece of art.
When the door opened only a moment later you felt your heart stop for a split second, a chill ran down your face, over your shoulders, and through your spine as you slowly turned around when Mrs. Allen spoke, “Finally.”
Your vision grew spotty, like tiny particles floating around and mixing up the scene before you. Fuzzy like a grey screen on a television. You blinked your eyes to clear your sight as you looked at him for the first time in over 9 months. It was him.
And his reaction to you appeared much the same, with him pausing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide.
“Hello? Are you the dealer?” Mrs. Allen was great at ruining a moment.
Harry’s eyes blinked as he shook his head and finally peeled his sight from you to look at the other woman in the room. He cleared his throat, closing the door behind himself, and stepped forward to Mrs. Allen with his hand out, “Yes. I’m the dealer. Harry Styles,” he shook her hand and then shot his eyes back to you, taking in your outfit quickly before moving toward you, his hand outstretched in silence.
You hadn’t moved from your spot next to the painting. You hadn’t closed your mouth or peeped a single word because you couldn’t. And even though you had a feeling that it was him before the meeting ever took place, the surprise and shock you felt was overwhelming.
It was really him. It was Harry. And you couldn’t believe it was him.
You placed your hand in his to shake and the moment was eternity. Your eyes pinned together, palms warm to the touch, searching gazes, and a million little thoughts dancing around your heads. It was real. He was real. You were real. The moment was real.
But of course, as Mrs. Allen tended to do she interrupted the odd reunion and began speaking, “Please go over the details with me. I think I’d like to know a little more and then we can talk price.”
Harry’s adam’s apple bobbed as he released your hand and straightened his posture and he handed a folder to Mrs. Allen and began to go over everything she might want to know.
Your heart was racing and you were unable to listen to anything he said regarding the painting. It all sounded like gibberish to you but you could hear his smooth deep voice as he spoke, and the occasional glance in your direction had your skin sparking in delight.
“Earth to Y/n,” Mrs. Allen waved her hand in front of your face and you slowly drifted from your reverie back to reality and looked at her.
“Jesus, it’s like herding cats with you,” she pointed, “Let’s get this part ready. Open your laptop.”
You reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop, placing it on the table so you could begin the wire payment. You looked from Mrs. Allen to Harry and then back to your screen as the bank sight loaded.
Of course, you had to log in and the internet connection wasn’t as fast as you’d have liked so Mrs. Allen let out an annoyed sigh.
“Always like this with her,” she looked at Harry with her arms crossed, “Slow. Lazy–“
“Are you serious?” Harry sounded perturbed. Aghast.
You looked from him to Mrs. Allen and the look on his face matched the sound of his voice as he looked at her with disdain.
“Of course I am. You don’t know her so you have no idea what–“
“I do actually know her,” he glanced at you softening his gaze. “Don’t speak about her that way or the deal is off.”
You blinked and smiled gently as you opened up the bank wire screen.
“What? You can’t treat me like this. I’m a paying client. I will walk out of here without this painting if you dare–“
“Then leave.” He looked at her with his brows raised in a dare.
She huffed and clutched her purse, “Fine. Just… do the deal, Y/n. I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom and get some air. When I return I want this to be over with.”
She walked out of the room and slammed the door rudely and Harry stepped in front of the computer as you looked up at him, “Y/n. I can’t believe it’s you. Are you working for her?”
You stood up straight and nodded, “Yeah. It’s a disaster. I’m quitting as soon as this is over. It’s been my plan for a month.”
He smiled, “You’re quitting? Now?”
You nodded again, “Yes. As soon as this deal is complete I’m done.”
“Can I see you? Like, after this? Dinner maybe?”
You sputtered a tiny laugh. It was like music to your ears, “Okay. Why not?”
Harry grinned widely and pointed at the computer, “Let’s get this over with then. Push that payment through and let’s get out of here.”
There it was again, the blurred vision, grey and colored specs floating around you as if you were in the grey screen of a TV. You couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was only a dream. Perhaps you were about to wake up and it was all going to have been just a wild dream that you’d never recover from.
You called the bank with a smile on your face to begin the wire transfer. Everything was set as you entered the details into the account on your laptop and spoke with the representative.
But of course, there was one thing holding the whole thing up. Mrs. Allen had to be there to verbally give the go-ahead to the man on the phone. You were not authorized.
So when she came back to the room and the payment wasn’t yet completed she was furious, “How can you mess up the simplest things, Y/n?”
“All you need to do is tell the man this wire transfer from your bank to the owner’s is authorized. You’re holding this up. Not her,” Harry spoke.
She pulled the cell phone from you with a sigh and spoke into the receiver as you smiled at Harry.
“There. It’s done.” She handed the phone to you and the transaction was finalized. Emails went out to all the parties involved in the sale with the receipt and you closed your laptop.
“Good. Now, have someone wrap this so I can bring it back without getting scratched.”
Harry nodded, “I’ll have Laira get someone for you and they’ll bring it to your car.”
Mrs. Allen looked at you and snapped her fingers, “You can go wait in the car for me. No need to have you standing around and gawking like an idiot.”
You stuffed your laptop into your bag and looked at Mrs. Allen, “Delia?” You made it a point to call her by her first name, which you knew she hated, “I quit. Working for you has been hell. You’ll go home without me as I’ve already made other arrangements. Tell Mr. Allen it was lovely to work for him. I’ll send him an email explaining why I quit tomorrow. Also, the agency won’t work with you again after I share details and proof of the way you treated me.”
Her mouth dropped open and the look of surprise on her face was quite hilarious as you pushed passed her with Harry following behind you.
You felt exhilarated and your heart was pumping blood through your body and your limbs rapidly as you smiled and made your way to the front of the gallery.
Harry kept in step with you as he waved at the girl at the desk, “Please help Mrs. Allen get the painting wrapped and put into her car. I’m done for the day. Call me if you need anything.”
You felt the warm air hit your cheeks when you stepped outside into the sun with Harry behind you.
“Y/n, I’m still kind of in disbelief that you’re here. I must be dreaming,” he turned toward you with a wide grin.
“I feel the same way. Like I’m just going to wake up and it’s all been a dream.”
“Pinch me,” he put his arm out and pushed his shirt sleeve up to his forearm, displaying the tattoos on his skin.
You laughed and put your thumb and pointer over his skin and gave him a good pinch and he let out a deep breath, “Do it again.”
You couldn’t stop the small chuckle that fell from your lips as you pinched him again and he grabbed the tops of your arms tightly, “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted to talk to you so many times. I have so much to tell you.”
“Me too, Harry. There’s so much to say.”
He led you to his car and you both got inside. It felt so surreal to be climbing into Harry’s car with him, “Where would like to go eat?” He looked at you from the driver’s seat as he started up his car.
You shook your head, “I don’t know. Don’t care really.”
He nodded, “Yeah I don’t care either. Just as long as I get to go there with you. Okay, we’ll go to this spot I found some months ago. They have great crab cakes.”
When he pulled out to the street you looked at him, “New car then?”
He nodded, “Yeah. The lease came up on the other one and figured something different would be nice. I’ve had this for a few months.”
“And did you move?”
He licked his lips and glanced at you, “Yeah. Not long after you left. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. I… did a lot of thinking about what I want in life and how I want to live it. The place was too big. Not sustainable for me any longer. Too expensive.”
“Really? That’s surprising.”
He breathed out through his nose as he nodded, “I stopped dealing with stolen items. It was dumb of me to get involved in all that in the first place. I never started off being an art dealer with the idea that I would be wealthy. It began because I genuinely love the art world and discovering new pieces. I lost that somewhere along the way and you leaving like you did remind me of what was important in life. Money is not all there is.”
You were surprised to hear this. It made you wonder what else had changed.
The restaurant was a small, hip-looking spot. You had both arrived before the dinner crowd, it was still a bit early for dinner, but to you, it didn’t matter. You were with Harry again and even though you weren’t quite sure what to expect things were going better than you imagined.
You and Harry were seated at a small round table for two by a big window looking out over the parking lot. It wasn’t fancy but it felt amazing to get face to face with him after all that time.
“Y/n, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look incredible. I know I said it already but I really missed you. I hope you and I can keep in touch after this. If that’s something you wanted. It would mean so much to me to be able to see you again.”
You picked at the corner of the laminated menu that had been placed on the table in front of you and looked up at him, “Harry, I missed you a lot too. I regretted the way I ended things. Moving away and blocking you. I thought it was the right thing to do. I deleted every part of you from my life and by the time I realized it was a mistake I didn’t have your contacts anymore,” you shook your head as you looked into his eyes, “I’m sorry I did it that way. I’m sorry for walking away from you.”
Harry reached across the table and put his hand over yours, “I’m glad you did. Y/n, I don’t know if I would have had the kind of self-reflection and epiphany I did if you’d stayed. But you leaving like that made me rethink everything I thought was important. Made me realize that dealing in the black market and jet-setting all over the world to do something that goes against my very core… I hated it. I hated you leaving but it opened my eyes.”
“So you really don’t do any of that anymore?”
He shook his head, “No. Now I bounce around from gallery to gallery to view pieces and check the legitimacy, the provenance. I work for myself still but now I’m not making as much money. Which is fine!” He laughed, dimples digging into his cheeks, “It’s better this way. I sleep better knowing I’m doing things right now.”
“Where do you live now?”
“Like twenty minutes from here. Bought a regular-sized house with a garage and an ugly entryway,” he grinned, “But I love it. I love it because it makes me feel happy. It’s not so much to maintain. Had to let go of all the staff I had but other than that, I haven’t missed the income as much as I thought I would.”
You were impressed with him. You never imagined he’d stop dealing in illegal items because you knew the money was so good.
The waiter stood at your table and you both told him what you’d like to drink. A sparkling water with lemon for you, and a hot black tea for him.
“So you were working for that woman. She’s awful. How long did you stay with her?”
You laughed and shook your head, “I worked for the Allens for just over seven months. Hated every minute of it. She only got worse as time went on. I thought once she got used to me she’d lighten up be she was truly evil. Would just talk down to me and blame me for everything that went wrong.”
“Why did you stay there for so long?”
“At first I stayed hoping it would get better. You know you kind of get into a groove and can look past bullshit and then everyone starts to get used to one another. But that never happened. I tried to stick it out. But then of course I needed the money too. Well, on some level. The security of having a job is nice and the rent at my new house is a lot more than what I paid at my apartment. Figured I’d wait for the right moment. Then about a month ago I found out that Delia wanted to buy this piece of art she’d been wanting and she was going to go through a dealer and I was just about to quit. I really was but,” you shrugged and smiled as you looked down at the menu, “Though it would be funny if maybe you were the dealer,” you brought your eyes back up to him.
He squinted, his brows pulling in as he looked at you, “You continued working for them when you thought maybe I was going to be the dealer on the sale? So you could see me?”
You nodded and smiled, “I mean. Sort of. I really didn’t think it was going to be you but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just see. So I stuck it out. My plan was to quit the moment the deal was over. That’s why I was saying that at the gallery. It was like, one last thing, just to see if it was you and then I was done working for them.”
Harry laughed and pulled his lips into his mouth, shaking his head in amazement, “I can’t believe you wanted to see me. I was certain you were done and wanted nothing to do with me. I did go back to your apartment one day, maybe like two months later. But you’d already moved out. And you never responded to any of my texts or calls. Figured that was that. What made you want to see me?”
You tried not to feel bad how you ended things with him but it was hard not to, “I really did like you. It was just hard for me to admit how much. And then Brandy, my best friend, talked me into going to therapy. And honestly? Just talking about how I process things and my emotions with someone else helped me a ton. Helped me see how I self-sabotage. Anything that might make me happy, specifically romance, was a big block for me. I didn’t even realize it consciously. I think I knew I pushed people away when I didn’t need to. And I realized I did that with you.”
Harry nodded as he listened and the waiter placed your drinks down on the table before taking your orders for food.
It felt like you had so much to tell him and you could see Harry felt the same with everything he admitted to you. You loved listening to him and watching him as he spoke or the way he gazed at you as you recounted the last 9 months to him.
While so much did happen in those 9 months, you felt comfortable sitting at that small table talking to Harry about it all. Everything felt so familiar and nice with him. It felt like you were both exactly on the same page and this time around maybe you could really have something special with him. If he wanted the same thing as you.
“So you missed me? What did you miss about me?” Harry smirked at you as he took a scoop of the dessert you were both sharing.
“Hmm… I think I liked it when you were nice to me and vulnerable with me. Our late-night kitchen chats. How you took up for me with that one lady. And even today you did it again with Mrs. Allen. I think there were times when I hated you but mostly I liked you. And those things I missed.”
His smirk didn’t fall from his lips and it looked like he was holding back what he wanted to say.
“What? What’s that look?” You pointed your fork at him.
Harry laughed and looked down at the table before putting his eyes back on yours, “You didn’t miss… like my body or something?”
You laughed and grinned at him, “Oh my god, Harry,” you rolled your eyes and shook your head.
“I mean you have to admit, Y/n, we are very good together. Aren’t we? Like… just fit so well me and you.”
You inhaled and let your eyes trail over his features as you tried to keep the grin off your face.
“You’re insane.” You licked your lips.
“No, I’m not. You know it’s true. Tell me you’ve had better with anyone else and I’ll tell you you’re lying. You missed me but you also missed all those dirty little things I did to you.”
“You’re way too confident and cocky still,” you laughed.
“Am I?” His smile was something that always got you. The grin, the dimples, the crinkles at the edge of his eyes.
“What do you want me to say, Harry? That I missed little Styles down there?” You sputtered a laugh.
“Little? Is that what you’d call it?” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward closer to you, “You said otherwise when–“
“Anything else for you two?” The waiter broke the tension as Harry shot his eyes up to the man.
“I think we’ll take the check. Thank you.”
You laughed as the server walked away and Harry cocked his head with that smirk still plastered on his face.
The sun was beginning to go down as the check was laid on the table and you insisted on splitting it with Harry. He grumped about you paying anything at all but you weren’t taking no for an answer.
You were surprised you’d been at the restaurant for so long. Hours had gone by but it didn’t feel that long because you two had so much to talk about. So much lost time to make up for.
“So where do you live, Y/n? Should I drop you off at home?”
You bit your lip and shrugged, “Not too far from here. Off Coalfax and the interstate. Do you want to drop me off?”
Harry’s smile softened, “I don’t want to drop you off. No. I want to continue this. I’m not ready for you to disappear again.”
Swallowing you reached your hand toward his and rubbed your fingers over his knuckles, “Then you don’t have to drop me off. Come with me. I’ll invite you in.”
Harry stood up quickly, taking your hand in his as you both walked to the exit and toward his car. You laughed as he pulled you along.
“Coalfax? Just North of here?” He spoke as he started up his car.
“Yeah. Exactly. You’ll take a right on Coalfax. I’ll tell you where to go.”
Harry kept glancing at you and the smile on his face stayed throughout the entire drive. You were sure he was feeling the kind of excitement you had bubbling in your tummy. Still not quite sure of what to expect but nearly certain of what could happen.
Maybe you were jumping in too fast but maybe… just maybe the timing was exactly right. You couldn’t tell but you weren’t going to let yourself overthink it. That wasn’t going to happen with you anymore. You already regretted too much of what had happened with Harry and this time would be different.
Harry parked his car on the street in front of your small house and you both walked up to your door, “You’ve still got the same car,” he noted.
“Yup. Runs well. No payment other than insurance. Cheap maintenance. I love the old thing. Hope I never have to get rid of it.”
Harry followed behind you through your front door and you switched on the light before you felt his hand tugging at yours.
You turned to face him and the reality of everything was clear suddenly. You’d reconnected with Harry. The one man you couldn’t stop thinking about. Couldn’t stop replaying his words to you, couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed you and took care of you.
“I can’t believe you’re standing here in my living room,” you smiled at him and Harry shook his head.
“I can’t believe I’m here either. I can’t believe I’m looking at you and that you were there today and…” he swallowed as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t want to scare you off, Y/n, but you have no idea how happy I am right now. How this all feels like destiny. Like we were meant to be here right now.”
You laughed through your nose, “I don’t really believe in stuff like that, but it doesn’t kind of feel that way, doesn’t it? Like another chance.”
He nodded, “Another chance. Exactly.”
“Do you want to sit? Or would you like some wine?”
Harry looked around the space of your living room. He hadn’t taken his surroundings in until then as he was too focused on you.
“Maybe a glass of wine. If it’s not too much trouble.”
You grinned, “Of course it’s not. Come. It’s in the kitchen.”
The light flickered on overhead as you flipped the switch and then opened your cabinet to retrieve the bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Y/n, this place is really nice. I like it.” Harry looked around as he spoke.
“I like it too. It’s why I moved here. Felt like home when I walked in to view it for the first time. It’s just a rental but it’s perfect for me.”
You placed the bottle on the counter and handed him a glass of wine.
Harry held his glass up, “Thank you for inviting me in and for humoring me with your kindness.”
You laughed, “Humoring you? Harry, I am fully genuine right now. I wanted to have dinner with you and I wanted you to come into my home. I’m not just being nice. I want you here.”
“I like hearing that.”
You both took a sip of your wine as Harry kept his eyes on you.
It was warm. Searing hot in fact. Harry was gorgeous and he was in your house and he was looking at you with those green eyes that had looked at you so many times before.
“Have you…” He paused as he placed his glass down and cleared his throat, “Have you seen anyone since? Like dated? Are you dating?”
You laughed at the way he fumbled his words. He seemed nervous suddenly, “No. I haven’t.” You placed your own glass down and suddenly felt that flutter of nerves, “And… I’m a little nervous to ask you the same.” You raised your brows at him.
He shook his head, “No.”
You nodded, “Surprised to hear that. But relieved I have to admit.”
“Why are you surprised?”
“Because I thought you’d have your pick. In fact even today when I thought there was a chance I might see you, felt like it was silly because surely you’d moved on and found someone.”
Harry’s brows stitched together, “I had a hard time feeling okay after that day when I left your apartment. Have actually never been so depressed and distraught over anyone before. I couldn’t just move on. Even when I started to feel a little better about it all. I just missed you so much. I know you blocked me on every platform out there. I got the hint when you didn’t text or call back. But I still missed you.”
You smiled, “And you’re not on social media at all. I did look but I kind of felt like if I did find you it wouldn’t have been good for me. I know I could have tried harder to reach out. I think I was a little scared of what I’d find.”
“What did you think you’d find?”
“That you were dating someone. I don’t know.”
The air shifted when Harry brought his hand up to your chin and gently gripped your face, “You’re the only woman I’ve had my mind on all these months. The only one I could ever think about. I don’t want anyone else.”
Your lips parted and you blinked your eyes as you took in his words.
“Do you understand what I mean? I don’t know if you feel the same way about me but just to know that you missed me and want me to be here with you right now means everything to me.”
“I don’t want anyone else either, Harry.”
“Does that mean you want me? I just need to hear it if it’s true, Y/n.”
You gulped and nodded, “Yeah. I do.”
The hand that held your chin released you and moved around to the back of your neck while his other hand landed on your hip and he pressed his lips to yours.
At last. At last.
You closed your eyes and drew your hands up to the back of his neck and moaned as he opened his mouth and you opened yours. Lips winding and smearing and pushing…
It felt like you were looking down at yourself, watching as you kissed Harry in your kitchen. And it was a beautiful sight. The two of you joined, grasping onto the other, hearts thrashing in your chests, bodies alight.
Harry’s grip on your side tightened, his fingers pinching around your clothes. The hand at the back of your neck squeezing and holding you in place as his lips slid against yours
You allowed yourself to be pulled in closer and moved your hand into his curls. You missed his scent. You missed his touch. His warmth. His care.
He parted from the kiss and moved his hand to your jaw, “Can we start over? This time, Y/n, you’re not going to regret it. This is it for us. Understand me?”
His words were almost a threat. Or maybe a promise. Both perhaps.
“Yes, Harry. I’m not going to regret it this time. I promise.”
He nodded, still holding you close, and then softly ghosted his lips over yours, “Because I can’t lose you again. I want this with you.”
You were gonna lose it. Everything was too much and not enough. You wanted him and you wanted to go slow but you wanted to tear his clothes off and feel him all over.
“I want you, Harry,” you breathed out against his lips as you clung to him, “I want this with you.”
You felt the vibration of his moan against your mouth as he dropped his lips to your chin and then along the curve of your jaw. When his lips pressed into the skin on your neck you gasped and hugged him tighter. His mouth drew your flesh in as he sucked a spot and then lowered to the curve of your shoulder and neck, suckling again at the skin where you knew it would be bruised.
“Fuck…” he whispered as he pressed his nose against your jaw, “Where’s your bedroom, Y/n?”
That was easy. The house was small. You led him down the hallway to your bedroom where you turned on your lamp and he began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Take your clothes off.”
You were surprised by his sudden command but you didn’t want to ask questions. The only thing you wanted was him and his hands and his body…
You pulled off your top before unzipping your skirt and kicking it down your legs. Harry’s eyes were dark as he continued taking his clothes off while he watched you undress.
When you were only in your underwear and bra he pointed, “Off. All of it.”
You swallowed and did as he said. Taking your bra off first and then your panties slowly as you used your bed to keep balance.
Harry was left in only his boxer briefs as he stalked toward you like a predator. You’d seen him in action before, you’d seen him a little dominant but this was different. It was like he had something to prove.
“On the bed, Y/n.”
You gave him a curt nod and sat down before scooting back into your bed. He climbed between your legs and moved your thighs apart, “You want this right? You want me? Want us?” He looked at you.
You nodded, “Yes, Harry. I do.”
That seemed like all he needed to know before he finally placed his lips on your chubby thigh, dotting wet kisses down and toward the soft inside near to your crotch and then he switched to the other side, kissing upward gently as he looked at you and then gripped the back of your thighs to push your legs apart, switching his sight from your face to your pussy.
“Y/n I missed everything about you,” he lowered himself, putting his stomach down onto your bed as he held himself over your core, “I know I only had you twice like this but I missed your body. Your smell,” he let go of your left leg as he pressed his fingers onto your mound and slowly dragged them downward, “The way your thighs part and how your skin looks right here,” he pressed a kiss over the spot right next to your labia.
But then he pushed himself up and climbed over you releasing your leg, his hands finding your breasts, “Your perfect tits,” his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue laving over your sensitive bud and kissing over your soft skin toward your other side, lapping at your plush breasts before dragging his mouth upward to your neck, “Your skin, your voice,” hot peppered kisses up to your jaw until his mouth met yours again.
“Your mouth, this mouth,” he licked against your lips and pushed his mouth against the edge of yours and ran his nose against yours, “You. I missed you. Everything. Your heart and your laugh. I can’t do it again. I can’t go through that again.”
You felt his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you, “Don’t leave me. Not ever again.”
You shook your head and lifted a hand up to his jaw, “Never. I don’t want to, Harry. I won’t.”
He grinned dreamily at you, his eyes wandering over your features slowly before he lowered himself down your body again, pressing his shoulders to the back of your thighs, and hooked his arms underneath to keep you in place.
The moment you felt his mouth on your core you clenched your eyelids closed and sighed. It had meant so much to you to have him loving on you, touching you, needing you. And Harry was the only man who’d ever worked an orgasm out of you with his mouth.
And even then, his tongue dragging through your pussylips and up to your clit, over and over again in a teasing, slow build it had you unwinding and unfolding for him. You wanted to give yourself to him fully. And that felt so good.
It felt good to trust yourself for once. To allow yourself to trust him. You could push past your feelings of inadequacy and thinking that no one would actually want you for you. Because that was a lie. You had been lying to yourself for so long and even though you knew it was your own hangup, it was hard to get past it. Until now. Because now you weren’t going to undermine yourself anymore. You learned it was okay to question motives but that it was also okay to accept kindness and love where it was offered.
You felt as he applied open-mouthed kisses to your clit and finally began to push over it, the pressure and the slide of his tongue right where you needed him had you moaning. Had you getting his face all wet.
Harry’s mouth and tongue worked at you strategically; slow teases of a gentle lap at your bud and then a harsh suck and flick to make you shiver. Every wet drag of his muscle against your clit drew you closer to your end as you gave in to the feeling.
And just like the other times he’d eaten you out you reached down to push your fingers into his hair and arched your back into him as a signal for him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. And he seemed to understand your nonverbal cue as he dug in and continued lapping and sucking exactly like you liked.
He watched your tits wobble and your body jerk and convulse as he kept his mouth suctioned to your pussy with his tongue wagging and slicking over your puffy clit until he felt you pressing his head down further and you coughed out a loud groan when your thighs started to shake.
His moans into your pussy vibrated through to your guts and it felt like you were going to explode.
“Fuck, Harry!” You were grinding yourself into his mouth and nose as you felt your release snap and you lost control of your volume and the sound of your voice and your limbs as he held you down so he could press broad strokes of his tongue over your pussy back and forth.
Harry closed his eyes and let you use his face and mouth to grind your clit on as you orgasmed. His cock was so hard; just tasting you and hearing your gasps and pleas of need had him spinning in the clouds. It made him happy to hear how good he was making you feel.
And that’s what he wanted the most. Was to make you happy. He wanted your smiles and laughter. He wanted you to enjoy his company and to feel happy with him. He wanted your heart and your soul and everything that made you who you were because he’d already decided he’d give you everything he could. His heart was yours already.
Ever since that day you kicked him out of your apartment, he hadn’t stopped thinking about all the things he did wrong. How childish he’d been with you. He hadn’t meant to fuck up so badly but he would make sure that his old ways were in the past. Now he was yours and he would prove to you that you could trust him.
When you gently released his hair and pushed yourself up to look at him he lifted with a grin, “Felt good?” His mouth and chin were glistening with you.
You laughed and nodded as you watched him slide his underwear down his sturdy thighs and toss them onto the floor. His body was even better than before. You weren’t sure why. Maybe he’d been hitting the gym harder. Or maybe it was just that now things were different. And you were seeing him in a different light. Looking at him in a way that you never had before. But you were still focused on his strong build and dark tattoos as well. That glorious cock, bobbing and heavy was all yours. You loved the way he felt inside of you and how perfect it looked hanging between his thighs like it was.
You sat up and got to your knees to adjust yourself and laid a palm on his thigh as you looked at him and licked your lips. He understood your hint as you moved your hand up toward his cock and he looked down at your fingers before placing his hand over yours, “We’ll do that later. Plenty of time to get to all that. I just want to make love to you, Y/n.”
“But you ate me out. I should at least–“
“No. Later,” he got to his knees and pushed you gently back to your bottom, “You don’t understand. I can’t wait one more second to be inside of you. We’ll have plenty of time for that other stuff but I haven’t had sex since in 9 months. If you put your mouth anywhere near my cock it’s gonna make me come too fast. A little out of practice,” he smiled with a small laugh as you laid your back into the mattress and he settled himself between your legs, hips tucking against yours.
You could feel his rigid, girthy cock slide through your labia as he rolled his hips down and up, wetting his shaft, “Want to fuck you now. Okay?”
You moaned and nodded. It was okay by you. You knew there’d be time for blowjobs later so you didn’t mind having him inside your cunt, stuffing you to the brim like you knew he would. There was plenty of time for all that, now that you weren’t going to be running off from him again.
“Want this cock, honey?” He continued rocking his hips. Sliding himself up and down, the tip of his cock collecting your arousal and pushing it up to your clit.
“Yes, Harry. Please.” You bucked upward to catch him at your entrance but he pressed your hip down and grinned at you playfully.
“Love hearing you say please. Such a good girl for me.”
You groaned when he wouldn’t push in right away, still teasing you with the drag of his thick shaft up and down through your labia and against your clit. The sound of it was lewd. Filthy.
“Please fuck me!” You whined.
Harry paused his motions, keeping his eyes on yours as he reared back and took his base in his palm to line himself up to your hole. He kept one hand on the inside of your thigh as he began to press himself inward slowly, the snap of his bulbous head entering you and pushing through your walls was the first act of confirming everything.
Confirming that this was it. That now you were connected and there was no turning back. That all the promises spoken were sealed.
You both kept your eyes pinned on one another as he bottomed out, balls tucked against your ass with a whimper from his mouth and a deep sigh of relief.
He slowly pulled back before inching his way back into the hilt and repeated his languid strokes as your wet pussy blossomed and opened wide for his girth until he was rocking down into you with a force that had your tits bouncing and harsh breaths punching from your lungs.
Harry’s strong abs clenched as his thighs flexed, working into you, exacting strokes deep into your cunt and skin colliding every time you felt the dip of his crown nudging into your tummy.
He sat back to his haunches, knees bent with the back of your thighs draped over the top of his. He watched as he sunk into you and pulled back to his tip, his shaft glistening and coated in you before he thrust back in until you were gasping and reaching for his arms to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself of who’s cock was fucking you so good.
“Love this pussy, Y/n. You take me so well. So fucking juicy and plush,” he pounded into you, putting everything he had into it, muscles working and pushing him further and further as you bounced upward on the mattress every time he crashed into you.
“Hear that, baby?” Harry used a hand to squeeze at your tit, “Your bed squeaking, your pussy creamy and wet around me, those desperate whimpers from these pretty lips?” He pushed his hand up to your mouth, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.
You moaned in response and nodded as you stitched your brows together in bliss.
“That’s right. That’s the sound of me fucking you and we’re gonna do it again and again and again. Yeah?” He spoke through clenched teeth.
You nodded, “Fuck! Yes, Harry!” Your words were punched from your lungs as he continued railing ito you, his hips rocking against yours.
Your whole being was lit up. From your racing mind to your tingling skin and toes, the bones that kept you solid, your pumping heart, and your pussy gripping onto Harry’s fat cock as he slid into you, back and forth, bumping through your inside walls into that hard-to-reach little dip that had you breathless.
Every stroke he gave you put you closer and closer to your second orgasm. The delicious emergence and unraveling of your end made you delirious.
When he leaned himself over you he thrust down harshly, pushing your thighs wider apart, the sound gushy and slick as he drove into you. You could feel his cock sliding through your guts and his pelvis grinding against your clit making you quiver.
“Oh my god…” you panted as you reached up for his shoulders where you could feel the taught muscle keeping himself up and aligned as he fucked into you, your back digging into the mattress underneath.
“Yeah? Feels good huh? Told you we fit together perfectly. Pussy deserves to be filled and stuffed every day. Want you to feel so good, baby…”
“It’s so fucking good,” your whimpered words were shaky and breathy.
“I know baby… So good… gonna give it to you every fucking day like this. Make love to you and treat you like a queen. Be so good to you…” his strained words were breathy as he was feeling the heat with you.
His lips pressed into yours and your brain short-circuited as you fell into that hazy, floaty space of ecstasy and need. Need for Harry and his body and his heart. Need for happiness with him. The need to feel happiness with someone you could trust.
When you sucked on his tongue and he rocked into you, keeping his hips smoothe against yours you began to whine and moan as your orgasm approached.
But then Harry stopped. He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you with that evil grin you’d seen before and you gasped at the loss. You had just been on the cusp of coming.
He quickly pulled out as his own chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cock swayed and you pushed yourself up to see what was happening before he grabbed your sides and rolled you over to your tummy.
“Harry!” You yelped at the sudden maneuver and felt his palm land harshly on your bum. And then again and again. You jumped and crooned out as he issued your ass a handful of spankings to each side and then heard him moan when he kneaded into the meat of your bottom as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You suddenly felt him pushing your legs apart and fitting himself between them as he forced his hard cock back into your wet pussy, his heavy tip pushing past your small opening and you gasped at the suddenness of it all.
You moaned at the relief of finally having him tucked back inside. He slid through you smoothly, his hands holding your ass cheeks apart as he worked himself in over and over. You had your face smushed into the blankets as you sighed.
His hips rocked against your ass and you could feel him swiveling himself in every time his balls pressed into your skin, grounding himself deep through your tummy. The sounds he was making had you grinning. It felt just as good for him. He needed your body for relief. You were happy to let him get whatever he needed from you.
Slow languid strokes of his long cock, splitting you open with every thrust felt so good. It reminded you of how big he really was. How bulky and long his cock was as it disappeared inside of you and nudged its way into your depths.
“Stick your fingers over your clit, Y/n. Go on baby.”
You gurgled a moan and lifted your hips slightly to allow your right hand access to your pussy. And it was more relief. The feel of it all coming together was perfection. His fat cock taking up every inch of your insides, his tip crashing through your guts, the weight of him behind you and fucking you into the mattress, and your fingers on your clit, slipping and pressing…
Harry gave himself a moment to bask in the view of his cock spreading your vagina apart. He dragged a thumb over the spot where he was fucking into you, feeling himself move in and out, watching your pussy wrapped around him, glistening wet until he felt his balls tightening and constricting and your walls clamping down over him.
He could see your hips moving faster as you ground over your hand to get to your orgasm but then he pulled at your hand, moving your fingers away from your clit and you felt his chest against your back and his lips against the shell of your ear as he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.
It caught you off guard. The second denial of your orgasm. You angled your neck to try and turn toward him, “Harry, what?”
You felt him press his cock in hard, hips stilling against your ass, his lips pressed over your ear, “Put your fingers back on your clit but don’t move them til I say.”
In confusion, you slid your hand back to your core and he continued, “Good.”
He reared back and then thrust forward again, “Do you want to come, Y/n? Wanna come on my cock?”
You moaned a yes as you secretly slid a finger across your bud making you shiver.
“Then tell me you’re mine. Say you’re mine, Y/n, and I’ll let you come.”
You had no hesitation in telling him just that, “Harry I’m yours. I’m yours…”
“My girl. That’s right. Rub your pussy, baby. Get yourself off,” his breathy words were warm over your ear and neck as you began to slip your fingers back and forth to get you back to that spot that would have you tipping over the edge.
Then you felt Harry shift behind, his chest no longer pressed into your back as he started pounding into you, “Fucking come, baby. You’re mine now…”
You grinned in elation at his words and the way he sounded totally fucked out himself. Much like the way you were feeling. Like he was out of his mind with lust for you.
Every smack of his hips into your bum had you jolting up and you ground down into your hand, rolling your clit over whatever you could reach when you started to feel that melting, unraveling sensation. The electrical charge that made your pussy quiver and your back arch and your vision go white.
“There it is! Fuck!” Harry’s thrusts were harsh but every stroke felt like a sparking and exhilarating charge going through your body. His tip plunged into your cervix and fingers gripped your bottom harshly as you heard him choke out a loud moan.
“Gonna fill you fill you up baby… fuck… stuff you with my come…”
You could hardly hear your bed creaking and clanking as your ears began to ring and you gushed around Harry, your walls spasming and constricting around him tightly.
He moved into you, gliding in and out until finally his balls squeezed and pumped sperm through his cock directly into your wet hole. He stilled his hips as he whimpered a groan, throwing his neck back with his mouth dropped open, his cock throbbing inside of you, coating your walls with his come.
It seemed to last forever. He moaned and twitched, his body connected and pressed into yours as he drained every bit of himself into you. He pressed inward further, stuffing your pussy with his come, making sure every bit of it seeped through your cunt and soaked your insides.
He hadn’t had sex in 9 months. Jerking himself off didn’t do it like the real thing and when it was with you it was even better. The best. He hadn’t come so hard ever in his life he was certain as his body flushed in heat and his heart thudded wildly in his chest when he crumpled over your back, tucking his arms around you and kissing your neck softly.
You moaned quietly at the feel of him on your back. The post-orgasm glow was never so good before. It felt like you were in a different realm of existence, floating and glowing in bliss.
“You’re mine, Y/n?” He wanted reassurance. Which was understandable after the way you handled things the first time around. But this time was going to be different. You two were starting over again. This time with a better understanding of what the other needed, with a better understanding of yourself and what each of you needed to do to be a good partner. Things were different this time.
Harry pushed himself up and looked down at his sensitive cock still inside of you. He drew himself back and watched as his creamy come leaked from your hole and he pressed himself back inside. You felt him pumping himself in and out shallowly and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were glued to your cunt where he was fucking his come back inside of you. A natural urge he couldn’t deny.
When his eyes found yours and he finally pulled himself out, he helped you roll to your side as he laid next to you, his hand on your cheek and you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m yours, Harry. I was back then too I just didn’t realize it. Couldn’t admit it. But I’m yours.”
You both smiled at one another. His eyes were bright and clear and you could trust him. You knew you could. He made you feel so comfortable about yourself. Made you feel like you could make him happy and that he’d want to stick around for you. That he would make you happy in return.
He took your hand and pressed it harder over his chest, “I’m yours too. I was since the day I first met you. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful, Y/n. And I’m not letting go of you again.”
You grinned and pushed yourself up to his mouth to kiss him. You felt his palm slide down your side and to your bum, as he squeezed you, causing a laugh to puff out from your lips against his.
“Sorry, I love your ass. Feels so good in my hands. Just wanna bite it and stuff my face against it. Can’t help it.”
You rolled your eyes at him still grinning but when he swatted at your bottom your mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. When I tell you I love your ass, I fucking mean it.” He gave you another good squeeze to emphasize his words.
So you slid your hand down to his nipple and squeezed at it, “And I love your nipples and these tits,” you laughed.
Harry’s wide grin and dimples were suddenly hidden when he nuzzled his face into your neck and you heard him inhale deeply.
The afterglow with him was something out of a romance novel. It was beautiful and precious. Almost too good to be true.
The sound of a cellphone ringing had both you and Harry lifted out of the sweet moment. He sat up, “It’s me.”
He hopped out of your bed and you watched as he crouched down to his pants where his phone was in his back pocket. His strong back flexing as he pulled it out and then stood up to answer the call.
“Hello?”
You frowned as you watched him disappear into your hallway, still nude. Turning to look at the clock on your side table you noted that it was paste 10 pm. You wondered who was calling at the late hour. Couldn’t have been work. What could be so important that he had to leave your side after he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life?
“I’ll be there! I’m booking a flight as soon as I get off the phone. Yes..”
You could hear him pacing and talking. You picked up most of what he said as you sat silently on your bed waiting for him to return and explain himself.
“I missed you too. I can’t wait to finally meet her. I know. Me too.”
You slid off your bed and pulled a t-shirt from your drawer to put it over your body as he ended the call with an I love you.
Harry walked back into your room with a huge grin, “My sister just had her baby!”
You smiled at him widely as he took three long-legged steps toward you, his cock swaying as he was still completely naked before he wrapped you in a tight hug, “Today is like the best day I’ve ever had. First you,” he kissed your cheek, “Now my sister...”
You laughed when he twirled around with you and then he let go, a sudden look of realization on his face, “Come with me to London. I want everyone to meet you!”
You blinked your eyes and stuttered your words, “Are you serious?”
He grabbed your hands, “Dead serious. Come with me. It’s not like you have to ask off for work. We can go for a couple of weeks. God, it’d be so fun, Y/n. Me and you… My mom’s going to love you.”
Your head was spinning from everything that had happened that day. From the moment Harry walked into that room at the gallery to now having him standing naked in your bedroom asking you to take a trip with him to see his family and his sister’s new baby. But, spinning or not, there was no part of you that would turn down the offer.
“That sounds amazing. I’d love to, Harry.”
He pulled you in for another hug and pressed his face into your neck, “This is going to be so good, Y/n.”
You laughed as he squeezed you tight and then his hands cupped your cheeks, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll book our flights. Yeah?”
You nodded as your cheeks burned hot when he pressed his mouth to yours again.
It was a funny thing to you. That the first time you had sex with Harry the post-orgasm afterglow was interrupted by a phone call. And this time another phone call had broken the moment too. Except things were not the same as they were then. Now you knew who Harry was. You trusted him and this time everything was going to be different.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this!! xoxo
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lowkeyerror · 22 days
Text
The Family Business Ch.2
WandaNat x Reader
Word Count: 2.5k
Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister
Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.
An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
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True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.
Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.
Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.
Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.
The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.
“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.
“What kind of delivery?”
He smirks, “Special.”
You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.
“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”
Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”
You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”
“The truth often does.”
Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”
“Mr. H.”
You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”
Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “
“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.
The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”
“Why the driver’s seat?”
He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”
While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.
You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.
Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.
She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.
Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.
Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.
“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”
He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.
Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later. 
Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.
You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.
“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.
“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”
Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.
“So, what the fuck happened?”
He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”
“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”
“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”
The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.
“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”
Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.
Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.
The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.
Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.
“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”
She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”
There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.
“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.
“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.
“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”
Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.
Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.
“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.
“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”
Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”
Any further pleasantries would have to wait.
“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”
Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”
Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”
This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.
Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”
She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”
Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”
Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.
Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”
“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”
“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.
You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”
Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”
“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”
“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.
You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.
Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”
Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”
“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.
Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”
She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.
“Pietro,” Dragos starts.
“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.
Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”
“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.
“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”
Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”
Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.
“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”
Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.
“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”
The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”
Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”
You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”
A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”
Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”
You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.  
“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”
Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”
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luvjunie · 6 months
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— Unforgettable ( 3 )
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part one • part two • part three • part four • part five
pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader
contains: sooo much fluff, plot progression, a glimpse into reader and miles’ relationship, the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤭, and another itty bitty plot twist
summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 3,254
a/n: i know y’all ain’t think i forgot about this series!!! but here’s a long chapter as an apology since i made y’all wait so long </3 also did i say an ‘itty bitty’ plot twist? cause i be lying. recap of part two is in small italics!
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“You had her approval as soon as you called her Mrs. Morales.”
Your head tilted in question, eyes panning to the ceiling in thought. “Isn’t that normal? Calling someone’s parent by their last name?”
A comfortable silence settled, just for a moment.
“You’d think so.” A smile curled Miles’ lips, the memory of when he’d introduced the first girl he’d ever liked to his parents flashing into his mind; his interest in tossing the ball paused momentarily as images from the past flooded his thoughts.
Wait… Why was he thinking about her?
. . .
“Miles?”
“Milesss?”
“Huh?” Miles blinked quickly as he brought himself back to the present, his slightly startled gaze landing on your puzzled expression.
“Earth to Morales?” Your tone leaked with a playfulness as you quirked a brow at him. “Did you hear a word I just said?”
“Nah, sorry,” Miles cleared his throat, then scratched his forehead with a laugh he hoped didn’t sound too awkward. “Just spaced out for a sec. What’d you say?”
“I saiddd,” Laying on your stomach as your thumbs twiddled along the screen of your phone, you sent a quick text before you continued. “—It’s getting kinda late, and if I’m not home in the next thirty minutes my Grandma will alert the entire police force over my absence.” you chuckled, the perpetual buzzes of replies sounding from your phone only furthering your point.
“Oh— Yeah, you’re right. My bad, I didn’t even realize.” Miles stood and grabbed his coat from the hook off his closet door before he turned towards you with a warm grin.
“C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”
Miles had been staring at his ceiling ever since he got back home, headphones blasting music over his ears to drown out the inevitable. For what seemed like hours, and for what probably was, he was trapped in an endless rumination he didn’t want to be a part of.
The grace his weekend temporarily granted him had unfortunately come to an end, and before he knew it, there was a knock on his bedroom door that reminded him of the upcoming drive him and his dad had to make back to Visions.
“Dude, this is so stupid. My head is about to explode from all this thinking.” Clad in a wifebeater and plaid boxers as he laid on the top bunk, Miles whined out what had only been his hundredth complaint in the span of fifteen minutes.
“And I can’t find my bonnet!”
Miles’ voice was muffled by the fluff of his pillow, the same pillow that was clutched tightly and caged between his arms as an effort to cling onto the last bit of his sanity. Also the same pillow that’d gone flat nearly two months ago. How convenient.
He thought talking Ganke’s ear off about all his feelings would help sort through his thoughts, but it did the exact opposite. Miles’ feelings for you were growing, that was an undeniable fact, so he still couldn’t figure out why after an entire year, Gwen was still on his mind. Why couldn’t he just forget about her?
“I really like this girl, man. Like, really, really like her. Like, Sunflower ain’t got shit on this girl, like her.” Miles blinked, astonished at his own words as he carried on, “Like, I offered to walk her home instead of having my mom drive her, like her—“
“Bro— Bro. I get it,” Ganke interrupted.
“I didn’t even know I could feel like this for someone else!” Pulling himself into a seated position, Miles let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. “I mean, I even let her meet my parents. You know how I am about that!” He exclaimed, arms outstretched as if they would help him present his case better. Ganke, in fact, did not know how he was about that.
“That obviously means I’m over Gwen! Right?”
No answer.
“Right?”
“I dunno, dude! Now you see why I don’t even bother dealing with that kind’a junk. It’s confusing as hell. “ Ganke’s eyes darted from side to side as they tracked the video game on his PC’s monitor, tongue poking at his lip in intense concentration. His half-baked advice to Miles was as much as he could muster without losing focus on his Call of Duty mission. “That’s love for you, man.”
Miles’ eyes went wide and his heart began to race. “Woah woah woah— I ain’t say anything about love!” Technically, he did, just in different words.
With a weighted sigh the controller plunked out of Ganke’s hands and down onto the desk, ‘MISSION FAILED’ flashing in bold onto the screen.
“Alright, look,” Ganke spun around in his chair and glanced up at the top bunk. “If you like this girl as much as you say you do, why don’t you just go for it? What’s stopping you? A girl who’s not even here anymore?” he scoffed. “Quit dwelling on the past and look at what’s right in front of you. You know, someone who’s actually in this universe.”
Miles sat with pursed lips as he stared down at his open palms, treading in the water of his thoughts.
“You know what,” Head raising, he looked to his roommate with a newfound determination. “You’re right, Ganke. Starting tonight, I’m done thinking about the past.” Miles nodded.
“Great, now either let me get back to my mission in peace, or grab a damn controller and help me.”
Ganke was right. Gwen’s gone, and she wasn’t coming back. It’s not even possible.
Miles let the conclusion settle within him as he dug around in the junk drawer for the spare controller.
It’s time for him to move on.
As you relaxed on your back in the room you’d been in more times than you could even remember at this point, head idly bopping to an album by Tears for Fears, you thought back to the time before you knew Miles. And even though you hadn’t known him for nearly as long as you’d known yourself— maybe just caught up in the whirlwind of something new and exciting, or him in general— you couldn’t help but feel as if his presence had been missing from your life this entire time.
Spending the day with him had become as normal as breathing to you. His space had become your space (his words), and it rang true as you hummed along to the tune echoing from the record player on his desk.
“Help me to decide. Help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure. Nothing ever lasts forever…”
The song ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ wrapped you snug in a warm sense of nostalgia, it having been one of your favorites since middle school. And paired with being around your favorite person— you were sure you never wanted to leave this moment. You smiled to yourself at the upside down image you had of Miles as you let your head hang over the side of his bed, the beads on the ends of your braids clinking against his wooden floors when your head tilted with a new found query.
“Miles,”
He hummed, but it wasn’t the kind that sounded as if you’d interrupted him, or as if he were annoyed. It was the kind that let you know he was interested in whatever you wanted to tell him, and that you had his attention even if his eyes weren’t on you.
“Okay, bear with me here. And answer carefully, because this kind of decides the type of person you are and whether I’ll even speak to you afterwards.”
“Wait, what is it?” He quickly looked up at you—upside down you, at least— with concerned eyes and you struggled to hide your grin.
“What color do you think science is?”
“Are you serious?” He deadpanned.
Your brow raise was his answer.
“Green, obviously.”
“Interesting choice. Why green?”
Miles shrugged, “Cause of the environment. Plants are green. And when I think of plants, I think of photosynthesis. Photosynthesis, equals science. Therefore,” pen in hand, he made a ‘viola’ gesture. “Green.”
“Mm,” You scrunched your nose, eyes panning back to the ceiling. “I guess I can see that.”
“And math is blue.” He tacked on.
“Blue!?” You balked, flipping over onto your stomach so his face was right side-up now. “Math? Blue? Are you deadass?”
“As dead as ass can be.” Miles quipped with a snort and continued to scribble away at the page he’d been sketching on for the last half hour.
“History is blue, not math!” You scoffed.
“Alright Y/n, what other color would math be then?” He asked incredulously.
“Red, duh.”
“Red?” He repeated breathlessly. “Why would math be red?”
“Well,” you started, “Math makes me angry. And when I think about anger, I think about the color red, just like everybody else does. And I hate red, just like I hate math. Numbers and letters do not belong together, just like pineapple on pizza. Therefore,” you mimicked his previous gesture to the air with a confident grin. “Red.”
“Pineapple— Numbers… What?” Miles blinked at you with both disbelief and confusion, the corners of his mouth threatening to expose his amusement as they lifted. “That’s it? That’s your grand explanation?”
“Mm-hm.” You hummed proudly, chin perched in both your hands.
Miles shook his head as his smile finally made itself known, dimples and all the moment your lashes batted at him.
“Not gon’ lie to you, that sounded like a whole bunch’a bullshit.” He laughed at your fake offended expression.
One of Miles’ favorite things about you was how you always seemed to ramble about everything, and nothing at the same time. He thought it was adorable.
“Well, the math part I understand, I guess.” he shrugged. “But you can’t possibly hate the color red all that much.”
Your brows furrowed at him, “What makes you say that?”
“Cause,” Miles turned his sketchbook towards you, the drawing he’d been working on this entire time revealed to be a moment he’d caught of you, gazing up at his ceiling just the way you were a moment ago. “Look.”
You nearly felt your heart stop as you took in what was in front of you. All this time while you were in your own world, singing along to whatever song came and went, he’d been focused solely on you. You dragged your eyes up from the paper so they’d meet his, your calves swiftly tucking under your thighs when you rushed to sit up in a straighter position.
“I—Is that me?” You blabbed out before you could think.
“Nah, it’s Boo-Boo the fool.” Miles huffed out a laugh. “Yes, it’s you dummy.”
Gentle strokes of red to the thin paper framed your face and lips, the attention to detail he used brought your eyes to life on the page, and he’d even managed to capture the beads on the bottom of your braids, too.
“How the hell did you do that?”
He shrugged shyly and turned his artwork to face him once more, studying the page as if he hadn’t been doing just that all this time. His heart was beginning to race faster than he’d originally predicted, and he wondered if he should’ve shown you.
“It’s kind of muscle memory at this point.”
Miles heard the words that came out of his own mouth, and you did too, but it was like the both of you comprehended exactly what he’d said at the same time.
“Don’t—“ He tried, but it was too late, you were already gushing, and he was already blushing.
“Awwwww!”
“Please—“
“Milessss!” you teased, ignoring his plea.
“Stop it.” Flustered, he shielded a smile behind his hand and tried to look anywhere else but your face.
“You’re so cute when you blush.”
Things were beyond easy with Miles.
The two of you never ran out of things to talk about and he always matched your energy, as if he were the other half of you.
There were no awkward moments, or pressure towards the other about making a move, because deep down you both knew what this was, and that everything would fall into place with time.
It was apparent in the way he looked at you, in how perfectly you fit in his arms when he hugged you goodbye, and how you always relaxed in his embrace when he would hold onto you just a bit longer.
Your first date went perfectly. Well, not really, but that’s what made it even better.
An ominous ‘be ready in 20 mins’ text to your phone and about a half hour later, Miles popped up at your door, pink tulips in hand and a smile big enough to match his signature jacket.
The two of you decided to catch a movie after a short train ride to the theater, and he let you pick. Horror being one of your favorite genres, that’s what you went with, and like everything else that came with you, Miles agreed.
But just thirteen minutes in at one of the simplest jumpscares (if you could even call it one), Miles let out a scream belonging on one of the highest vocal registers your ears had ever heard, and it sent you into such an uncontrollable fit of laughter that you ended up accidentally spilling your fresh popcorn all over the floor.
Miles’ ego wasn’t nearly big enough for him to remain embarrassed once the tears started rolling from your eyes, and eventually, the laughter he tried to stifle made itself known to everyone sitting around you. And when you say everyone, you mean everyone.
It only took two minutes of you guys cackling and snorting before the both of you were asked to leave, and you had no idea how you made it out of the theater with how hard your stomachs were cramping.
Sure, the movie hadn’t gone quite as planned, but you didn’t mind and neither did he. As long as you both were in each other’s company, you wouldn’t mind watching paint dry.
The blue hue of the night had long enveloped the city, and as you and Miles sat up on the roof of his apartment, the dimmed fairy lights twinkling in the darkness from where they were strung across the perimeter, you made a mental note to study up on the movie you told your Grandma you were staying out late to see.
You leaned into Miles and rested your head on his shoulder, knees pulling to your chest as you exhaled softly.
“You cold?”
Far from it, actually.
A perpetual breeze prompted your bodies to curl into each other more, though goosebumps and chattering teeth were nowhere in sight, only fingers secretly inching closer and hearts growing fonder.
“I should be asking you, I’m wearing your jacket.” you joked.
“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’m alright.”
The silence was comfortable. You didn’t want to go home just yet and Miles wasn’t ready to say goodbye for the night, so you stayed.
This had become a new norm for the two of you, so much so that this was pretty much how all your hangouts ended. You’d stay just a little longer, and then he’d take you home. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but for some weird reason you always felt much safer when you were with Miles, like he’d be able to protect you if anything were to happen when the two of you were together.
“Y/n?”
“Hm?”
“Have you ever been in love before?”
Miles’ voice was quiet, nearly drowned out from the lively sounds of the city around you. You were surprised you even heard it.
You swallowed, and it took so much effort to form your lips around the simple word you answered with. “W-what?”
He cleared his throat as his posture straightened slightly. “Like, do you know what love is? Is what I mean...” He clarified quickly, mentally cursing himself for how badly he worded things, even if it’s what he meant. He didn’t even know if you felt the same.
You lifted your head from his shoulder, prompting his own to turn towards you, but you didn’t meet his eyes. You settled for toying with the sleeve of his jacket as your heart began to thrum a little faster.
Nibbling at the inside of your lip, you inhaled quietly before answering. “When they’re the first person your mind thinks of when you hear the word ‘love’. Or maybe when the thought of them gets you out of bed in the morning instead of your alarm clock. You know when you know, basically. That’s what I was taught, and I think it checks out.” you glanced over at him, and he felt like time stopped when your eyes locked.
“Do you?” you asked.
“H-Huh?” Miles was enthralled with how pretty you looked, and how your features were perfectly illuminated by the gentle glow of the city lights, so much so that he could hardly think straight.
Rolling your eyes and suppressing a giggle, you shook your head at him. “—Do you know what love is, dummy.”
“Not exactly— uh, I don’t think so, no.” Miles’ jaw tensed and his gaze met yours once more. The twinkle in your eyes temporarily dimming due to the fear of this all being in your head.
“Oh.” you murmured.
“But I think I know what it feels like.” He said softly.
“Really?”
Lips parting slightly for a shaky breath to pass, Miles nodded. “Positive.”
Your eyes fell down to his lips almost immediately, then lifted back up to see that his had done the same to yours.
“Well… What does it feel like?”
The question left your mouth long before you could’ve thought to stop it, yet regret was the last thing you felt. What you were feeling was something entirely different.
Your faces grew closer until your noses brushed against each others, a second spared as a chance for either of you to bail on what you both knew was bound to happen in a matter of time.
He leaned in and you let him— let your arms curl around his neck and his around your waist so your lips could meet faster. Let your lips move against each other’s because it felt right, because that’s what you knew love to be. Letting something happen because it felt right.
He felt right.
Miles pulled away, but barely, his breath warm against your lips. “Come to my parent’s party tomorrow?” He blurted.
Hands holding the back of his neck, you blinked yourself out of your daze, brows furrowed. “What?”
“My dad, they’re making him police captain. We’re celebrating tomorrow, here, and I want you to come.” Miles licked his lips. “Well I— I was gonna invite you anyway. But now I really want you to come. And I wanted you to come before this happened, obviously—“
“I’d love to.” You smiled, and let him pull you back into him the second you’d given your answer.
Miles remembered what it was like to be so head over heels in love with someone that it consumed him entirely. How it corrupted his days and fogged his mind with nothing but the thought of them, and he could feel himself slipping back into it again, but this time, with you. And if he were being honest, it kind of scared him, how quickly you’d claimed his heart.
But what he did know was that you liked him, and he liked you. He’ll admit, he didn’t expect his feelings for you to develop as fast as they did, for them to hit him as hard as they had. But he was past that now. Tomorrow was going to be special, and not just for his family, but for the two of you. He was finally going to take the leap he’d been too scared to make before tonight.
You were the perfect girl, that he was sure of. And who’d be dumb enough to not accept perfect when it was right in front of them?
He wanted this. He wanted you.
But any chance for another sensical thought was interrupted when the impossible happened.
‘Impossible’, being the multi-layered hexagonal portal that suddenly opened up on his ceiling, and the blonde-haired, gap-toothed girl he thought he’d never see again, appearing with it.
Bright and beaming down at him with a heart-halting grin, Miles felt his stomach drop as soon as she spoke.
“Miles!”
Shit.
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forcemeanakin · 5 months
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𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 ('𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗱) - 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮
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•WARNINGS: Semi-smut. Age gap !!! Infidelity kink !!! (you’ve been warned, so if you do not agree pls leave because I’ll delete any hateful comments about this). Dirty talk, teasing in a public space, voyeurism, make out session. Mentions of an unhappy relationship/divorce/troubled marriage. 
Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x female!reader.
Series Summary: Luke takes you home for Life’s Day. On the edge of giving up on you two, Skywalker manages to light up a fire inside of you again. Problem is… wrong Skywalker.
Part Two Summary: After your little moment with Mr. Skywalker last night, you’re determined to persuade your father-in-law into fucking you. Right on the dinner table with everyone else around. Including your boyfriend. 
Word count: 3.5K.
Link to Part One
A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao. 
I’m super excited to announce that I’m very motivated to continue the journey of this pairing, so I’ll be turning FYBD into a series! :) but please be patient! I don’t usually deliver short fics, that’s why it takes me so long to post ! (also look at me trying to polish my themes, omg who am I?)
NEXT PART WILL BE PUBLISHED ON SATURDAY !!!! <3 Consider this as a Part 2.1. If you wanna be tag on it, leave me a comment below :)
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“Alright, everyone gather at the table! Dinner 's ready!” Padmé yelled, placing the last set of plates while Leia dropped the center piece. 
“Sugar, you look like a million bucks.” Luke complimented your outfit while you finished up accessorizing, hiding your eye roll by clipping your earrings. 
Last night, you eventually made it to bed with him, feeling uneasy the rest of the night. You gave Luke your back, refusing to cuddle or respond to his arms wrapped around your waist. Tossing and turning, every time you shut down you dreamed about Anakin and his lustful orbs. And, unlike someone with common sense, you didn’t feel guilt from your forbidden target. No, it riled you up even more. 
Being spooned by your boyfriend while thinking about his dad. 
The naughtiness of it was a thrill you didn’t want to stop chasing.
“Is that dress new?” From the moment you woke up to this very instant, Luke hadn’t stopped apologizing and drowning you in compliments and demonstrations of affection.
Yet you still hadn’t responded to him with the same tenderness, prolonging your fight. The reality was that you had already forgotten all about the “slut” bomb, but staying angry at him somehow justified daydreaming about fucking Anakin. 
“Thank you.” You replied coldly, checking yourself one last time in the mirror, turning around to make sure the back side wasn’t wrinkled.
You had chosen the tight, long, black dress even before making it your personal mission to seduce your boyfriend’s dad. You were now thanking Y/n from the past for packing something so flattering and form fitting to this particular event. It’s not like you were out of place, everyone was dressing up as well. 
“Guys! I’m not calling you again!” Padmé rushed. 
“Y/n I don’t want us to keep fighting… Not this weekend, please?” Luke caught your attention by trapping your hands inside his palms. “I’ll do better. Be more adventurous for you…” He murmured, caressing your arms with tenderness. Arching an eyebrow at your cleavage, “Maybe make it up to you tonight?”
Disappointment settled in your chest at the prospect of not spending the night with Anakin.
“Sure.” You faked a smile. “I’d like that.”
“Great.” He kissed your cheek, missing your horrorized face. “Now, after you, m’lady.” He exaggerated a bow for you to walk in front of him.
You snorted, “You’re such a dork.”
Luke escorted you to the table, pulling your chair to sit right in the middle of him and the empty head of the table. Right in front of you was Padmé, with a gorgeous light blue gown and beside her was Leia, who was trying to sit down Han at the other head of the table.
“I don’t want to sit right in front of your dad!” He whispered-yelled, being harshly pushed by his girlfriend to sit his ass down. To be such a tiny person, she sure was strong.
“Try to bond!” She whispered back, fanning herself so the sweat wouldn’t ruin her makeup.
“I'll get food poisoning” He huffed, crossing his arms in a childish manner. “And he’ll puke in my face.” 
You couldn’t help but giggle, accepting Padmé’s offering of a glass of wine while observing Han’s pout.
“Easy for you to laugh, newbie.” He scoffed with his usual feistiness. “Could you please do something despicable so he hates you instead of me?”
Oh, you sure had done something to scare him off. 
After he practically ran away from you at full speed, you hadn’t seen him all day. Leia and Han adopted you the whole morning, taking you to pick up some stuff for dinner and showing you around the area. Luke joined in at lunch time, after dealing with a way-too-long call from his friend Din. And even when you came back to the house, Anakin was secluded in his little cave, his personal workshop, in the back of the house and hadn’t showed up at all. 
“Y/n, love that dress, you’ll have to lend it to me.” Leia complimented mid sip.
“Manners, Leia.” Padmé scolded her, head moving in disapproval as she set her napkin on her lap.
“You can borrow it whenever you want.” You winked at the short girl, earning a heartfelt smile. 
“It’s perfect for my funeral.” Han dramatically threw himself on the backrest.
“Han, I can’t think of something I could do that would make him dislike me more than you.” You joked, cracking a breadstick. 
Yes, you could.
“Maybe you could kick R2. At least that’s what Han did.” Luke snorted, Han’s head snapping to send daggers to the blonde. 
“I didn’t kick R2!” Han raised his voice while wincing. 
“Yeah, you did.” Leia murmured under her breath. 
“I accidentally fell on him!  How was I supposed to know that he was behind me?” Han freaked out, dramatizing the scenery. “Oh, who am I trying to convince? You already made up your mind about it.” He dismissed the potential debate, shooting the rest of his beer. 
“Han, you’re overreacting, he doesn’t hate you.” Padmé reassured him with a soft smile. “That much.” She said under her breath. 
“How bad could dad actually be?” Luke rolled his eyes, picking one of the entreés to stuff into his mouth in one bite.
You googled him while you were supposed to be showering: the “Hero with No Fear” had enough battles, manslaughtering and war crimes under his belt for Han’s panic to have grounds, your deep investigation showed.
“Ha! You haven’t endured his bullying for two years.” Han crossed his foot over his knee. 
“And counting.” The voice that had you clenching around nothing boomed through the air, his figure appearing just when Han was about to eat a piece of breadstick, immediately choking. “Good, now I don’t have to do it myself…” Anakin muttered under his breath.
Anakin’s eyes widened when he distinguished that the seat reserved for him was right by your side. His usual seat was always at the head of the table, but having you at arm's reach was exceptionally dangerous after the occurrences of last night. It felt like all his hard work of avoiding you all day was just thrown into the trash with a single sweep. He convinced himself that he had to push through dinner, eating faster than usual and quickly returning to his workshop and wait until everybody left the dining room, so he could safely seek refuge in his bedroom.
Nonetheless, faith had a different path for him. One of painful blue balls and heavy sweating. 
Why did you have to wear that dress? Was it indeed appropriate for a family dinner or was it just him thinking too much of it with the head inside his pants?
And why were you smirking at him like he was the meal you were about to devour?
“Anakin, good, you’re here. Let’s say grace so we can properly start eating.” Padmé announced, glaring at her son that was currently on his third appetizer.
Padmé thanked the Maker for having the whole family here, making special emphasis on being grateful for you this year, the new member of the family. You popped an eye open, and voilá, Anakin was staring at you while her wife praised you to the rest of the table. Separating your palms from praying position, you dropped one on top of his, careful not to make a single noise. You drew random figures inside his palms with your nail, biting your lip as you checked him out. If his handsome face wasn’t enough already, he was wearing a full suit, black tie on top of a white buttoned up. 
Perfect to rip apart.
“And please bless this delicious meal that it’s about to feed us… Amen.” Right before she could pronunciate that final word, Anakin had slapped your hand away. “Alright, let’s dig in! Ani, honey, could you do the honors and carve the turkey?”
Whatever that would keep him away from temptation. 
Getting up, Anakin picked up the utensils, turning the turkey around to cut into it. Doing the proper round, he asked every single person their meat preferences before making the incision, starting with his wife. Anakin quickly ruled that him with knives and using his strength to lash a large piece of meat wasn’t the best evasive mechanism when he spotted you drooling over his flexed bicep. 
“Dad, I want a leg.” Leia requested, passing up her plate to him.
“Sure, darling.” Anakin propped the leg on her plate carefully. “Good choice.”
“I want one too, please.”  Han put his plate up in his direction.
Anakin glared and huffed, but eventually dumped the requested piece on Han’s dish. “Fucking child…”
Giving up, Han dropped on his chair, violently biting the leg. After Luke picked white meat, Anakin had no other choice but to pay attention to you. 
“Y/n-” He cleared his throat, ignoring your subtle attempt to press your cleavage against the table so your tits would pop into his vision. “How do you like your meat?”
Anakin regretted that question the second he formulated it. Although, he was appreciative that the brawl between the twins deprived everyone else from your answer. 
You offered your plate to him, wide doe eyes as your foot grazed his shin. “I like my meat tender.” Your velvety voice sent an electric wave directly to his groin.
The rest of the dinner was no better. 
Playing footsie, curling your hair with your finger, glancing at him longer than necessary, more lascivious than necessary. There was this particular moment that still had his mind-blown: You, leaned over to Luke to whisper something in his ear, gaining a laugh from him in complicity and sealing the adorable scene with a quick peck, all while your sandal made its way up to an escalating boner inside Anakin’s underpants. 
“Pass the salt, please.” Anakin requested out loud, clearing his throat, seeking a distraction.
But you were fast as a bolt. 
“There you go, sir.” Flashbacks from your face all flustered calling him that kicked in, the salt shaker falling from his hand at his nervousness and the contact of your hand. 
“Y/n, question.” Leia broke through the madness of noises. 
“Of course, shoot.” Anakin was amazed at your ability to smile like nothing was happening underneath the table, like you weren’t trying to touch his thigh underneath the table cloth with the hand that wasn’t supporting your chin. 
“What’s your major? I think I haven’t asked you that yet.” Leia swallowed a spoonful of sweet potato casserole. 
“I’m a psych major.” You drank a bit of your wine. 
“Oh, that solves the mystery. You’re dating Luke as an experiment, aren’t you?” Leia mocked, earning a kick from her brother. “Auch, laser brain!”
“Leia!” Padmé scolded her. 
“My God, have you been psychoanalyzing us this whole time?” Han stopped chewing his biscuit as he stared deep into your soul. “How bad is it?” He was dead serious.
“Oh my- No! No! I haven’t, I promise.” You totally had.
“Could you please prescribe something to mom so she relaxes once in a while?” Leia begged. “Or give her a session, whatever works.”
“Bet you are thrilled to hear Y/n is a psychologist, huh, sir? Know how much you love shrinks, Mr. Skywalker.” Han’s sarcasm revealed -in a very obvious way- how much Anakin did not like your profession. 
“Still better than being a smuggler.” Anakin bit down on a piece of meat with venom directly right at Han. 
“Oh, dad!” Luke exclaimed. “You should do dad!”
You grinned at the way Anakin almost spit his drink. 
“I’m so open to that, sir.” You turned to meet the former Jedi’s face and smirked with mischief at Anakin’s knuckles turning white on his grip on the chair. 
“Do you do the little shrink couch thing?” Han wondered with his mouth full. 
“I mean, if the patient wants to lay down while I do all the work, that’s fine by me.” You laughed innocently, batting your eyelashes to Anakin the second everyone got distracted trying to guess what you would diagnosed Han with.
Sensing Anakin’s heavy breathing, you did the whole charade of dropping your fork onto the floor, obliged to pick it up. As much as Anakin tried to nervously hide the bulge in his pants, you confirmed that your little game was in fact working. You sat back on your chair with a victorious snicker.
“Oh, c’mon dad! Let Y/n work her magic on you! You bottle so much stuff, it’s good to let them out.” Leia reasoned, completely missing the panicked face of the woman that gave birth to her.
“Suddenly, I’m full.” Anakin announced, cleaning the sauce off the edges of his mouth and tossed the napkin to his plate, getting ready to leave.
“You can’t go, we haven’t had dessert yet.” Padmé frowned, signaling with a harsh glare to sit back down. 
“Why don’t Luke and I take care of that?” You stood up, picking up the empty plates around. 
“Oh, no, sweetie, you’re a guest-” 
“No problem at all! Please let me take care of you.” The fact that you said that while collecting Anakin’s plate was a true coincidence. 
“Only if you let Han and I wash the dishes!” Leia negotiated, following her mother’s welcoming values.
“Shut up, I bet they were going to do it anyway.” Han grunted with gritted teeth. 
“We’ll be back with dessert.” You declared, dividing the tower of plates and walking to the kitchen with your boyfriend. 
While Luke threw away the leftovers, you came back to scoop up the rest of the plates with the side dishes and so. You surveyed everyone about their dessert preferences, until you reached a spot next to Anakin. 
“Padmé, back me up here! Wouldn’t it be cool if we save money on rent and live in the Falcon?” Han upped his voice to match Leia’s.
“I'm not living on a ship that’s falling apart, Han!”
“It would be an adventure every day!”
Sliding by Anakin’s side to hoist up the gravy bowl, you briefly grazed his shoulder with your chest, excusing the lame contact by your need to stretch for the dish. While you were leaned over him, the low-cut of your dress exposed to his delight, you turned your head and asked him:
“Would you like dessert, sir?” No one would figure that your question had any double meaning, but Anakin knew the filthy desires your eyes hid. 
“Not for me, thanks.” He smiled curtly, doing a superhuman effort not to fall into the teasing of your playful peaks behind the tight fabric. 
“Are you sure, Mr. Skywalker? The pie’s so soft and warm, very creamy. Baked it myself.” Anakin visibly shuddered, inhaling sharply as he closed his eyes while gripping the armrest. 
You grinned, thanking your hair for covering your expressions to the rest of the family so you could bite your lip lecherously. 
“On a diet.” He spat, playing with his fork to avoid the magnetic pull of your wanting eyes. And if you hadn’t taken the hint, he rubbed his eye with his left hand, showing off the gold band in his ring finger. 
“Please, it’s cheat day.” You curved your lips into a smirk, feeling clever at the pun. “Just a taste? Bet you’ll love it.” That tortuous glint in your eyes. It had him, it had him good. 
“He’s always playing hard to get, Y/n. Bring him a piece!” Padmé interrupted the moment, smiling at you and Anakin, unaware of the tension she had just cut off. 
“I see that.” You finally left the table, not without grazing his back with your swaying hips.
“You know what? I’ll help you with these.” Anakin barked, standing up and picking the few dishes left.
“Oh-” You stiffened at his huge figure walking towards you. You were not prepared for him to bite into the trap. “Not necessary, sir. I’ll come back for the rest.”
“Let me. It’s the least I can do.” Standing in front of you, he raised his eyebrows to hurry you. 
Nervously, you made your way to the small aisle before the kitchen, feeling the powerful pounding of your heart. His presence hung heavy behind you and suddenly the bravery you had flagged during supper had magically disappeared, the only trail it left were your jelly legs. Mere feet from the kitchen door, you felt a pull from your waist, your back stamping against the wall. 
“Is this funny to you?” Anakin glared at you, pressing your torso enough to threaten your ability to breathe. “Trying to break up a marriage, being the homewrecker of your boyfriend’s family? While he’s at the table?”
You tried to escape, fighting against him for your release. But if the enlarging of his nostrils was any sign, you were not going anywhere anytime soon. It was time to summon that feistiness back. 
“You can’t mess up something that’s already broken.” You snapped, squinting your eyes. “Why are you really here Anakin? To tell me off?” You cocked an eyebrow, glancing down at him. “You don’t seem rather convincing.”
Being between a rock and a hard place had a whole other meaning when you were sandwiched between the wall… and Anakin’s crotch. 
“Stop it.” He demanded, seeing the way you put aside the dishes on a nearby table to play with the lapels of his suit. 
“That’s not what you were saying last night.” You grazed your lips against his chin, enjoying the quivering that came from it. “Why do you fight it, Anakin? And don’t pull up your lame excuse of a marriage, when we both know that’s not the reason.”
Anakin pushed you by your throat, your head hardly banging against the wallpaper. He overlooked your whining, taking advantage of your dizziness to get his point through.
“Forget me, Y/n. All about me. All that happened.” He warned in a deeper voice. “For my sake. For yours.”  
“Tell me you don’t want me, Anakin, and I’ll stop, hell, I’ll fucking leave.” You murmured with a fire in your eyes letting him know that you weren’t joking around. “Just say the words and I’ll be out of your face.”
Disappointment settled in Anakin’s chest at the prospect of not seeing you anymore. 
So he stayed silent, waiting for the duel inside his head to end and speak the winner’s name: lust or reason. Luke’s voice calling for his girlfriend helped the struggle come to a conclusion. 
“You haven’t answered the question.” You reminded him, to his disdain. “I want you, Anakin, you-”
“Forget me, Y/n. It may be too late for me, but there may be salvation for Luke and you.” He advised, pushing the plates back to you, stepping back. 
“Y/n! I need help over here!”  Luke again.
“Alright. Loud and clear, sir.” You spat, brushing past Anakin while he still stared at the floor.
Marching down to where the voice was calling you, you encountered Luke elbow deep into the water.
“Hey, you brought the rest of the-” 
“Did you mean it? When you said you wanted to be more spontaneous?” Your breathing was irregular from the adrenaline rush. 
“What?” Luke frowned, drying up his forearms with the hand towel. 
“Kiss me, Luke. Kiss me now.” You demanded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing against him.
“It’s everything okay? Why-”
“Luke! Please.” You purred on his ear, peppering smooches along his cheek. “Kiss me, please.”
Once Luke caught up with your level of neediness, he delivered the antidote for your hornyness. Hands fixed on your hips, Luke’s lips found yours and played along at the dangerous pace you set. The makeout session quickly escalated: out of nowhere you were roughly jammed against the counter top, manly hands sliding to your back side to squeeze some of the fat. You reciprocated Luke’s attention by playing with his hair as you sucked his bottom lip. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as kissing Anakin; because even when you and Luke were almost sucking each other’s face off, he was still too gentle for you.
But thrill didn’t take long to appear through the door. 
Anakin’s stroll to the kitchen ceased at the door frame, when he spotted the heated embrace you two were entangled in. Thankfully, the only person he could see was you and barely because of Luke’s back. So your visual connection was only possible because you managed to angle your boyfriend so you could see Anakin above his shoulder. 
Luke moaned when you hugged him tighter, kissed him harder. 
“Y/n.” He moaned, unaware that your sudden passion was boosted at the sight of his dad’s heaving chest.”You’re so hot, sugar.”
“I want you.” You whimpered, staring dead into Anakin’s eyes. “I need you.” Your naked leg escaped the slit from your dress, surrounding Luke’s hip. “Just do it. Give it to me.”
Whatever sweet nothing Luke murmured into your ear flew right under your radar as you delighted yourself with the view of Anakin’s hurting frown. The image was ripped away from you when Luke physically circled your attention back to you. 
“You’re so beautiful, Y/n. You’re too much for me.” Thanking him, you came back to kissing, the only escape route you had at hand to evade his love bombarding. 
However, Luke’s cringy dirty talk was the second most disappointing thing to happen in that kitchen, just after Anakin leaving.
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taglist : @darthgloris @ingrid69ers @shulipp @bookishnights03 @anakinswh0re419 @fuckmyskywalker@dxviiin
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hannie-dul-set · 8 months
Text
CRASH & BURN.
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p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — fluff, humor. w — swearing, one absolutely horrendous dad joke, the secondhand embarrassment is even worse this time i'm not sorry at all, the rest of the en-kids are also losers. 1.3k words.
note — listen, who am i to deny the public from their needs and wants? i have no idea how rizzless hoon became such a hit, but ask and you shall receive. i'm sure this won't be the last you'll see of this loser. PART ONE. if you enjoy loser! hoon, you might also enjoy this other series of mine.
also tagging those who were asking for a part two hope u all don't mind! — @gyulune @jngwnlvs @snowysab @miercerise @karinasswifee @cerealdreamwriter @dinonuguaegi @tyongff-ff
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for the past five days, you have been routinely returning to the skatepark at the same time without fail. this has obviously attracted questions from your friends considering the first time you tried out a longboard, you crashed and scraped and bruised your chin within seconds, but you can’t exactly tell them the truth about your endeavor— that you’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of mr. kuromi bandaid with the rollerblades again, and being left disappointed every single time.
he hasn’t shown up. not even once.
it’s day five, and there’s still no sign of him nor his lollipop. it’s day five, and you’re just about to give up until you spot from your peripheral a familiar group of boys that scared the shit out of you the other day— except this time, they aren’t staring at you like maniacs, and they seem to be one person less.
“are you fucking stupid?” you overhear as you hesitantly approach their circle, cautious steps because they’re still as intimidating as you can remember. they all look so serious, two individuals glaring at each other while the rest simply watch, both unconcerned and amused. “oh yeah? you really think you can beat me? wanna duke it out right now, dickwad?”
cold sweat breaks out and you freeze in your tracks, expecting them to spiral into a fist fight.
“my dragonite will sweep your fucking team, loser.”
“your dragonbitch doesn’t stand a chance against my tyranitar!”
nevermind. you really shouldn’t be so quick to judge them again.
you regain the bounce in your step and race up before they could metaphorically kick each other's asses.
“hi!” 
you flinch when the six heads suddenly snap towards you. your smile twitches, discomfort  lasering into your skin from the half a dozen set of narrowed eyes leering at you so intently and so intensely. “who are you?” the one previously bragging about his dragonite asks.
“dumbass.” another one smacks the former on the backside of his skull. “it’s shoelaces.”
the nickname sets a few lightbulbs off, and a pair breaks away from their violent staring at you to give each other knowing glances. “oh, shit!” this time it’s mr. tyranitar who exclaims. “right. the dude hoon absolutely decimated himself in front of. poor guy. he’s still going through the five stages of grief.”
hoon must mean sunghoon. you want to open your mouth and present your business about the missing individual, but it’s not so easy to butt in when they’re busy conversing amongst themselves.
“what do they want?” 
“how should i know? i’m not them?” 
“no fucking shit. but what do you think they want?”
“maybe it’s about hoon?”
“no way. that guy’s done for.”
“hey, don’t be too harsh on him! he’s grieving!”
“what if it’s because we‘re being too loud—”
“what if they’re here to have a pokemon batt—”
“you do realize they can hear you, right?” 
light-haired guy is right. you can very much hear them, and they’ve all finally quieted down, slowly turning their heads to you once more but with a dampened intensity this time. they’re waiting for you to speak. you can’t believe you thought they were scary. you can’t believe you were intimidated by a group of nerds.
“sorry for the intrusion,” you smile, pressing your palms together. “i noticed one of your friends hasn’t been coming around lately. is he okay?”
a cough. a nudge. a silent conversation between the six pairs of eyes. “he’s been sick these past few days,” dragonite owner finally says. “sickeningly unbearab— ow!” 
your smile disappears. “oh no.” he’s sick? he already didn’t seem that strong when you met him the other day, collapsing into the ground and all.
“i think you can help him get better— ouch! jungwon, what the fuck?” one of them gets hit again. you’re sure it’s been the same guy hitting the rest of them since earlier.
“why are you asking about him?”
the nicest looking one squeezes out of their group while asking his earnest question, fishing out the answer from you with bright, curious eyes. “ah,” you sound out. “i just wanted to tell him that i also think his shoelaces are really cool.”
they stare at you, then stare at each other. and then someone spews out, “is that a new pick-up line, or some shit?” before getting hit again, and the light-haired guy comes forward to block the squabble happening behind him, and to tell you that they’ll be dragging their friend tomorrow at the same time (isn’t he supposed to be sick?) so you can compliment his shoelaces in person(?), and that they are looking forward to welcoming you to their family (whatever the fuck that means).
as promised, they do drag the sick man into the skatepark— literally dragging him because the guy who introduced himself yesterday as jake is pulling him forward by the sleeve while jungwon pushes him from behind as the wheels of his roller skates make sure that sunghoon keeps on moving. he looks like he’s ready to move on into the afterlife. your eyes light up when they drag him closer.
“c’mon, hyung! just a little bit more— a liiiiittle bit—
“i told you, i’m never coming back here again!“ you hear him groan, attempting to break away from his escort team. “never ever. never again. this is is where half of my dignity is buried. my pride. my shame. my—”
and then he freezes.
sunghoon gets frozen by an invisible force when your eyes meet, frozen but his cheeks are set ablaze. his friends did a great job in escorting him to you, encasing him and in consequence his view of his surroundings until you’re within an arm’s reach so he doesnt run away. the heat from his face thaws him back into movement, panicked and angry expressions sent to his friends and they all look pretty stupid trying to talk with just their eyebrows, but it’s cute nonetheless.
“hey!” you finally chipper in, causing sunghoon to freeze once more, creaking to meet your gaze. 
“h—hello. hi.”
sunghoon’s greeting comes out as a choke. jake and jungwon send each other signals before hurling the poor boy at you.
it’s like he’s suddenly forgotten how to skate. he can’t control his muscles, sliding over the short path at a dangerous speed that mimics his racing heart and oh shit— oh shit, oh shit. how does he stop again? how does he make a turn? how does he not fucking crash into you like a meteor being sucked into the earth’s orbit?
“oh!”
like all of his (very limited) interactions with you, sunghoon crashes and burns. it’s inevitable. but this time, he crashes and burns into you. you’re both on the concrete and his hand feels like it got crushed between the hard ground and the back of your head, but that pain quickly subsides into a numbing buzz, pumping his arteries with nectar, burning his veins with gasoline, because holy crap—
“close.”
“you’re right, that was a close call,” you breathe out. “i could’ve cracked my skull open.”
“i— i mean, close, you’re— you’re too close.”
does he realize that you can’t exactly move underneath him? he probably doesn’t, not when you can practically see the smoke emitting from his head and the panicked swirl in his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “ah, sorry.” that was a mistake. sunghoon’s face flushes warmer and like a hammer to his skull, the realization hits and he and slowly pries himself off of you.
“sorry—”
“it’s fine.” you sit up and brush the dust off your clothes, stretching out your legs as you nudge yourself closer to him on the ground. “your friends told me you’ve been sick. are you feeling better now?”
“huh?” 
you’re not sure why he’s confused, but he looks very confused before turning his gaze to his friends. you find jay snapping out a thumbs up and sunoo’s stern face somehow reading don’t fucking blow it. he turns back to you with a lot more sweat on his neck than prior. “oh, yeah i was sick, i was so sick, ahaha—” he stammers. “a—anyway, what’s up?”
“i just wanted to see you again. it’s not everyday that i get a compliment on my shoelaces, you know?” you smile. “what about today? aren’t they prettier than the last ones?”
you wiggle your shoes to show off, laced in a complicated pattern that you’ve been practicing for the past five days, and you expect to receive another compliment for it, but sunghoon is oddly quiet. 
he’s quiet. you’re sure you chose a cool pair of shoes this morning. you’re about to be disappointed, until you notice that he’s actually thinking. he’s thinking very hard he’s thinking of something, and that something comes out of his mouth in the form of a badly timed pun.
“...what about...toe-day...”
park sunghoon only knows how to crash and burn. all his friends are a witness to that. they’re a witness to this events that transpired this afternoon, but what they didn’t expect is for you to have an affinity for disasters. you’re laughing at his dumb joke. you’re actually laughing. they’ve been shitting on sunghoon for being hopeless, but maybe there’s something wrong with you, too.
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CRASH & BURN.
© hannie-dul-set, 2023.
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