#the employee is still doing things. i need to do the final check of the store.

[orcelito]

Finally fucking finishing close. About an hour later than it's supposed to be

I love staying at work sooo late so it's soooo dark so I can't go to the woods without it being inherently dangerous so I have no real good way to unwind. Great for me. I love it. I love being here an hour and a half after the store closed.

#speculation nation #negative/ #i am.... just barely keeping myself from self imploding. #the employee is still doing things. i need to do the final check of the store. #so no. im still not done yet. #but almost. almost. #im showing remarkable restraint all things considered. i reaaaally wanna break things :)

[atrwriting]

trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader

hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was

informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know

as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash

anyway.... here's trust me:

when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.

a lot of it.

and an old building.

the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.

the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.

within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.

until one day. that day.

you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.

mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?

that was dangerous. too dangerous.

even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.

on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?

you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.

when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.

you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“ma’am?”

you turned around.

a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.

but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.

you smiled. “another drink, sir?”

“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”

you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”

you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”

“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”

you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”

he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”

“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”

“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”

“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”

“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”

you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.

“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.

and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.

the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.

billy, on the other hand… did not agree.

one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.

“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”

“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”

you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”

“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.

you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”

the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.

as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.

“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”

“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”

“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”

“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”

“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”

“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”

you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.

the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.

you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.

“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”

you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.

“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”

“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”

you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”

“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”

“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.

through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”

“pay. the. tab.”

he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.

“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”

that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.

“time for you to leave, friend.”

the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”

“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.

the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.

you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.

but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”

you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”

“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”

“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”

“‘s my job.”

“i know… but still,” you spoke.

you were continuing to close before he spoke again.

“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.

“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”

“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”

you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”

“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“

“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”

from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.

he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.

you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.

but he kept that to himself.

however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.

“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.

you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”

to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.

but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.

“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”

“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.

there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”

“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”

you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.

“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.

if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...

that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.

the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.

“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.

billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.

“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”

a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.

“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”

there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.

you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.

it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.

“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”

jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.

“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”

you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.”

he tipped his hat to you.

“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”

without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.

you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“

“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”

a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”

“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.

you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.

“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.

“knocked,” he bit.

you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”

“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”

you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”

“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”

you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”

you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.

he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.

you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.

no. you couldn't.

you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.

“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”

“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”

“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”

“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.

“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.

billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.

“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”

“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”

“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.

he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”

you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”

he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.

he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.

“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.

“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.

“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.

“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.

you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.

you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.

“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.

you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.

“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”

“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”

“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“

“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”

that shut you right up.

billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.

…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.

“what — what —“ you stammered.

“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”

you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.

“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.

his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.

“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.

“look at me, sweetheart.”

your eyes glanced back up to him.

like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.

“y’trust me?” he asked.

you hummed in agreement, nodding.

“say it.”

you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”

instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.

that was when his fingers picked up speed.

and, god… did it feel damn good.

“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”

“still trust me?”

“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”

he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.

“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”

you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.

“something — feels —“

“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.

“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“

“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”

and that was it.

the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.

a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.

“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.

“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”

it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”

“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”

“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”

his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”

“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”

he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.

“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”

“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”

you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.

“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”

you nodded, half ignoring him.

but it didn’t hurt.

the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.

“you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“

“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”

“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.

you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.

billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.

that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.

“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”

“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.

“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”

you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”

his hips snapped against you. hard.

maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.

“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”

his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.

“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”

“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.

billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”

you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.

“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”

you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.

his touch. only his touch.

“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”

the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.

“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“

“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”

he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.

with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.

his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.

he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.

“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“

he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.

“billy — you didn’t —“

“s’alright, darlin’—“

“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”

“that... thing?”

“with my mouth.”

he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”

he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.

“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”

his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?

“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.

he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.

you tried to hide your smirk from him.

he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.

"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.

he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."

you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.

you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.

"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.

you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"

you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.

that shut him up.

a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.

you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.

but you did anyway.

you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.

"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."

you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.

you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.

tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.

you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.

both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.

above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?

he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.

"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"

"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.

the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.

"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."

you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.

"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."

you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.

"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"

he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.

"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."

you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."

"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."

you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.

"on one condition," you spoke.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.

"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."

"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."

---

what did we think?? xox

-L

#billy the kid #William h bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #William bonney smut #billy the kid smut #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

[quaintii]

Miguel Imagine Part 2

Gif taken from TikTok @almenhenn, not mine. Please check it out!

dom!Miguel x fem!reader

(long fic) :3

Contents: rough sex, choking, hair pulling, slapping, breeding kink, bdsm, oral sex, angry sex, degradation kink, praise kink, angry sex, mating press sex position, sexual tension, mirror sex, nelson position, masturbation, sex toy, fang kink, sir kink, etc.

MDNI.

a/n: sorry if this is quite long, just trying to feed u hungry miguel whores (aka me) this gon be nastyy

~

You were too anxious to go to his office, but you had to. Every Spider man/woman had to submit in their reports at least every week to Miguel or Lyla because it was a mandatory checkup. You haven’t seen him since that incident, it runs through your mind constantly. You sometimes use your vibrator to relieve yourself of that immense need that you crave so desperately

~Tonight you were pulsing throughout the whole day. You couldn’t stop aching for his touch, you want to go on your knees and beg for him to tease you, to use you like a fucking slut.

You turn on your vibrator and place it on top of your clothed clit, imagining it was his hands opening your folds whilst licking your slickness.

“F-fuck..this feels so painful..” Despite the vibrator making you jerk and twitch and spwel a couple of loud moans, it didn’t feel enough. You really wished he hadn’t stopped that day. You pushed two fingers inside your wet cunt, dragging them in and out slowly while poking that soft spot that made you mewl.

”M-miguel, fuck…I want your cock inside of my pussy..please fuck me until I can’t w-walk..” You say as you start reaching your climax. Your cunt clenching hardly on your fingers as the vibrator finally made your clit release that sweet sensation through your system. You started twitching and moaning, still not removing your vibrator off your clit so you could overstimulate yourself. “Nghnmf..please fill me with your cum Miguel..” You mewl. You then approach your second orgasm, making you hold in your breath and your heartbeat fastening and pulsing loud in your ears, feeling the blood rushing.

You arched your back and rested your head on your pillow, grabbing onto your sheets and palming them on your mouth to prevent you from screaming ecstasy. You then try to steady your breath back in order as you stare directly at your ceiling. Once again, disgusted because you just masturbated about your boss. But you had yet wanted a taste of him.

Today was the day. Your weekly checkup. Unfortunately, Lyla was offline so you couldn’t submit it to her so you had to face him.

As you were getting ready, you dolled yourself a bit but not too excessively to the point someone would weirdly point out. You wore a professional blazer dress with small heels, but allowed your cleavage to pop out a bit. Teasing him was your favorite thing to do. You began approaching his office.

Your heels tapping on the floor, causing echoes to spread across the huge room. Miguel was looking through the perspective cams at the top of his floating floor, you always thought it was stupid that he would slowly go down. “C’mon Miguel, I seriously don’t have all day for you to make this ‘entrance.’ You place two fingers on your nose bridge, sighing. “Should I remind you who makes the rules around here again? I don’t understand what gives you so much balls to talk to me like you command me.” He rolls his eyes at you. “Don’t be so egotistical, Mig..you have to stop being so full of yourself. Work on that. Here are the files, take a look through them and I’ll get going,” Miguel hums and looks back and forth at the files and your face.

“Me? Being full of myself?” He chuckles with a smirk. “How about you work on not looking like a total whore.” You audibly gasp as soon as he blurts out that word. Whore.

"I am one of your employees, you should respect me! I can’t handle your awful behavior sometimes, you’re so annoying.” You say.

“What makes you think that I also can’t fucking stand you whenever you open that fucking mouth of yours?!” He says angrily as he approaches closer to you, towering you. “You really need to be taught manners because you can’t seem to behave.” He glances at your breasts, a shaky sigh leaving his lips.

Miguel is trying his best to restrain himself from breaking you right now because you just look so vulnerable, he wants to take that smug look of yours off your face. Replacing it with him thrusting deep into you, making you not be able to even think a coherent thought.

The way his suit would perfectly shape around his muscles had you pool more into arousal. There was a loud silence between the both of you and you dared not to speak. “I thought you were going to keep up with that bratty attitude? Where’d it go?” He snickered. “Shut the fuck up, Miguel. Forget it, I’m leaving.” You turn your back to face the door, being completely covered in red webs. “Let me out you weird fuck!”

”You see, I’m so frustrated how you always seem to stress me whenever you come inside of this office. You’re going to regret being a fucking brat and learn some manners ‘round here, ‘kay?” Your back hitting the door, your breath hitches as Miguel struts towards you. You try running an opposite direction til you feel a web grab around your waist and place you on a chair.

Your hands now tied up behind your back and your legs separated, also tied to the chair. “L-let me go..now.” You spurt out. “Why should I? I can smell something that says the exact opposite.” He gets closer to your face, lowering himself to your level. “I mean you arrive in that dress of yours to tease me again? Do you even understand how badly I want to rip it off your body?” You shiver a bit from his cold tone. “I’m s–sorry Mig.” Miguel grabs your chin harshly. “Don’t call me that.” His chest heaving a bit more noticeably.

You aruptably gasp as he suddenly spreads your legs, his face getting closer to your clothed cunt. He nibbles and licks your outer thigh. You try not to give him satisfaction and hold in your whines. “You’re still being a brat? Let me hear you, carino. Todavía no vas hacer caso?” (You're still not going to behave?) He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing it slowly. He rips off your panties and licks your wetness with his warm tongue. You still refuse to let out your moans, you resisted the urge to give in even though you desperately wanted to.

”No seas asi, tesoro. No te va encantar lo que te voy hacer si me vuelves ignorar. Quiero escuchar tu sonidos bellos.” (Don't be like that, love. You're not going to like it if you ignore me again. I want to hear your sweet sounds.) He swirled his tongue on your clit and spread your folds with his girthy fingers. Miguel loved seeing you squirm and still attempt to hide your mewls. He rapidly slid in two fingers inside your cunt. You finally let out a choked groan that’s been awaiting to be released from your aching throat.

”Fu-fuck..m-more Miguel.. touch me please.” You whine. “No tan rápido, mi reina.” He slurs as he places his hot mouth onto your pussy. Two fingers inside of you, being pulled in and out in a fast pace while his thumb massaged your clit and his tongue nibbling on your folds.

You lean your head back, accepting into submission. You wanted to cum around his fingers, for him to feel how good he makes you feel and how your cunt would clench so tight around his cock. Miguel rips off your clothes right off your frame, leaving you fully exposed in front of him. His voice groaned as he has a clear view of your curvy body. He moves his head up to suck on your nipples, pushing his tongue on your nipple causing you to twitch. His face was a mix of arousal and anger that still lingered. He moved his fingers slightly quicker, keeping a solid pace.

You felt like you were going to come, the pleasure felt so good and you were yet so needy for more. “Please Mig…make me cum..I can’t hold it in anymore.” You whined. “Please.. I can’t-“ You sobbed, the only thing keeping you in place being his hard grasp on your left hip.

“Please what?” You could feel him grinding against you as his fingers fucked you silly. No matter how badly he wanted to be inside you, he almost prepped you for him. He knew how big he was and how much he could destroy you.

His fingers only went even faster when you said that while he rested his head on your shoulder. He sunk his fangs deep inside your flesh, causing you to spring up and release your orgasm. Your screams and whines echo in the room, begging for him to stop because it was just too much for you. “I thought you could handle this..fuck..”

Your body was overtaken by a wave of electricity flowing through your veins. Your body shaking and your cunt throbbing. Your vision is blurred out with tears. You’ve never felt so breathless. Miguel loved how your pussy spasmed and clenched so tight on his fingers. He pulled out his fingers and sucked them clean. Seeing that explicit look of him only made you want more. “You taste so fucking good, so sweet. You’re such a fucking good girl for cumming around my fingers.” He whispers as he presses his lips onto yours. Both of your tongues are destroying each other, the both of you becoming breathless.

Miguel removed the webs tied around you and placed you right on top of his table. You look at him through your teary lashes, your mouth agape. “I want to taste you Miguel, I want to taste your fucking cock around my throat.” That alone was enough for Miguel to force you down onto your knees and slam his cock inside of your warm throat. You choke around his sudden thrusts pick up fast. Your tongue swirls around his length, taking all of him in your mouth. “Your mouth is made just for me, only mine. You’re such a dirty whore, taking me all like a fucking slut..” He groan and his head rolls back.

His hands run along your hair, grabbing it to push you deeper onto his cock. Small tears trickling past your cheeks. The gurgling and slurping you were making made Miguel harden, along with small whimper sounds parting from Miguel’s lips were the only noise around you both, it just made you even wetter.

You loved how his cock would repeatedly twitch inside your throat, so you hollow your cheeks which make him loudly groan and jerk his hips harder.

Your moans would make his cock feel so fucking amazing as it would make your mouth clench around his cock. He looked down at you, seeing how good of a slut you were taking him. He loved seeing you under him like this, taking him so well he thought. You clawed your fingernails deep into thighs, tapping on them so you could take a chance to catch your breath. “Miguel, please just put it in..” You moaned, reaching back to swirl your hands around his tip, getting a lovely groan out of him. You lowered your head on to him once more, teasing his tip with your tongue as your right hand pumped his cock all the way from the base to your mouth. You kept a close eye on him though, making sure he didn’t cum.

He immediately removed your mouth from his cock. That’s when you felt his bare cock teasing your entrance, covering himself in you. His voice was low and husky, laced with want. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy of yours.”

Miguel didn’t want to cum inside of your mouth, he wanted to pump his hot cum deep inside your womb. He wanted to breed you like an animal. He quickly pulled you back up from your knees, placing your legs on his shoulders. You were now in a mating press position. He slammed his hips against yours, reaching your cervix.

Miguel could get a perfect view of his dick aligned with your warm cunt, how your cunt would suck him perfectly. Your eyebrows furrowed as you cried out, taken back by his cock pounding up into you. You slumped down, resting your head on his shoulder, to cock drunk to do anything else. "F-Fuck you're so good at this!" You shriek when he had his fingers pinching each of your nipples as he bit on the soft spot of your neck.

"Mm, I know, cariño." The way he whispered in your ear made you shiver above him. You held onto his arms but at some point Miguel slipped one arm down, rubbing your clit to increase the tension as he thrusted deep inside you. You were so cock-drunk, you couldn’t let out any word besides moans.

Miguel altered your positions so you were now facing a mirror. “You like it, huh, cariño?" He growled as his pace fastened deeper into your cunt. The sight of him fucking you in the mirror drove you crazy, crazy that you were clenching so tight - “You’re my little dirty slut aren’t you, muñeca?” "Yes sir, I love your cock inside of my f-fucking pussy..."

"Say that one more time and I'll have you screaming my name. He said dangerously.

"Please sir. Let me…" He pulled away from you and flipped you over so you were now underneath him. Still in front of the mirror, MIguel grabbed your throat, pulling it so you could arch your back.

Miguel moaned as you clenched your walls around him, the feeling of heat as your bodies collided driving you crazy. Your nails scratching at nothing but the floor. He plants his lips onto your sensitive neck, leaving it bruised for later.

Each thrust deepens, stronger and more irresistible. Miguel wrapped his hands around your neck, making you choke but excited at the same time. You looked in the mirror to see Miguel in such an erotic position on top of you. It was hot. Your walls clenching around him makes Miguel stutter his hips against your back, finally painting your plushy walls, white. The overwhelming feeling leaving you completely breathless, your body twitching and moving without your control. Your chest heaving heavily as you gasped for air. You eventually pass out.

~

You wake up to a warm feeling spreading across your body. You open your eyes hazily, turning your head towards Miguel who's massaging your back with oil. You let out a soft groan, it felt so relieving. You haven't been this relaxed since..ever. "Estás despierta muñeca?" (You're awake, doll?) You hum, resting your face on the pillow. "Hope you liked it." Miguel chuckled. "You left me with numb legs so I loved it. Gracias, Miguel." (Thank you, Miguel.) You say. "Te nada, mi vida." (Your welcome, my love.) The tension between of you finally cleared and your relationship grew closer than ever.

Taglist: @spid3rslvt @horror-cassettes @cl-0-vr @mars-yyy

<3

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel smut atsv

[chokchokk]

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

masterlist link | join my taglist

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?” Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

#song mingi smut #song mingi fluff #song mingi x reader #song mingi x y/n #song mingi scenarios #song mingi imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #chokkiwa #chokko

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟏)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 9.4k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), explicit language, some angst

author’s note: i had the idea for this lil two part mini series (and have been working on it on and off) for like a thousand years at this point and i'm so glad and excited that it's finally free from the jail cell that is my google docs lol. i really really wanted to finish this and have it up before this year was over, so part two is coming new year's eve<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

For the first time in the past two weeks, you were early. Granted it was only by two minutes, but you still counted that as a win. 

You stepped out of your car and headed to where the other parents were on the sidewalk, waiting for school to be over and the kids to come out. You inwardly ran through the list of things that you still had to do today— on a Friday that should’ve been calm, but instead, it had been pretty hectic. 

It felt like pure luck that you were able to step away from your coffee shop for thirty minutes to pick up Oliver from school. God bless Jude for being willing to take over the rush that was happening. She was your favorite employee, and you knew that she definitely deserved a raise for being able to effectively keep up with the insanity that the last two weeks brought.

That transition from summer into the beginning of the new school year was harder than you had anticipated, and you knew it was mainly because this time last year you weren’t running a business full-time when Oliver had been starting Kindergarten. Instead, the coffee shop was still just an idea, a dream, that felt like it solely lived in your head; even though it had actually been in its final stages, and with each passing day, you only got closer and closer to that October opening date. And when the long-awaited opening finally came, it actually didn’t alleviate an ounce of your stress; instead, it was only increased practically tenfold. 

You’d never say it out loud for fear of being deemed as a bad mom, but it was so fucking hard juggling everything and trying to handle it all.

However, somehow, you were doing it and you were actually doing it pretty well. Although at most times it felt like you were so close to drowning, for the time being, your head was completely above water.

You kept running through your mental to-do list as you waited for the time to go from 2:29pm to 2:30pm, indicating the official end of the school day.

Call the vendors that supply the coffee beans and teas and see if they can change the next delivery date, finalize the work schedule for next week, prep the ingredients for the pastries that will be baked tomorrow—

Your eyes instinctively went to check the time on your watch right as the first handful of kids came barreling out of the front doors. 

When you saw Olly, you waved until his eyes landed on you and he immediately smiled. 

Suddenly, you couldn’t care less about the time and the rest of the shit that you needed to do throughout the day.

“I made a new friend!” Were the first words he said to you when he came over to where you stood.

“That’s awesome!” You kneeled down so that you were pretty much at eye level with him. Hearing him say that made your heart feel so happy. You knew how shy he could be and he rarely ever talked about any kids that he was friends with, especially not with this much enthusiasm. “Who is it?” 

“Maddie,” He answered and then pointed in the direction of where you assumed the girl was standing.

There were a handful of kids standing with their parents in the direction Olly was pointing to about ten or fifteen feet away, but when he further specified that she was “the girl holding the blue lunchbox,” you saw her. A girl with brown hair who was smiling at her dad who was smiling back at her and holding a hand up so that she could give it a high five. 

You recognized him immediately.

In your mind, his name was “the worst person in the world.” In reality, his name was Steve Harrington. 

You didn’t really pay attention to him until this past January because your kids weren’t in the same Kindergarten class. You actually didn’t even learn that he was the only other single parent in the grade until then. 

It was one of your New Year’s resolutions to become more active and involved in school activities, PTA meetings, etc. Mainly because you knew that the other Kindergarten moms were judging you for barely doing anything aside from the occasional bake sale and the school was way too small for you to slip under the radar and not be noticed; those moms noticed everything. 

Therefore, on the first meeting back after the Winter holiday break, you were there— five minutes late, but there nonetheless. Although, it could’ve been assumed that everyone thought you were an hour late with the amount of withering looks you received when you entered the gymnasium. 

You offered a small apologetic smile and made a mental note to never be even a minute late again. 

Leslie, the PTA president, was droning on and on about what big things were planned for the second half of the school year— somehow dragging out a short list of things that you thought could’ve been simply sent out in a mass email— when Steve walked in fifteen minutes after you. You fully expected him to receive the same type of annoyed looks that you had gotten, and maybe even more because he showed up later than you, but he got nothing but happy smiles from the majority of the moms. 

That complete opposite reaction severely confused you and you wondered how he was able to receive such niceness when all you got was the coldest of shoulders. 

Meeting after meeting it was continuously proven that he was the favorite among the moms, and it didn’t take you too long to learn why. He was a charmer, which everyone absolutely loved, and he seemed to effortlessly throw money at any school activity or fundraising event, another reason why he was so goddamn adored. 

You were probably the only one that didn’t give a fuck about his charming personality, and instead, you would inwardly roll your eyes or scoff at pretty much anything he’d say and how easily the moms ate it up. Because when you really looked at it, you two were pretty much doing the same exact things— only moderately participating in events, showing up to the big monthly meetings instead of the weekly ones (and he was still always late to them), and not signing up for fields trips or activities that happened during school hours because of how overly demanding your jobs were; you’d learned from one particularly chatty mom that he worked at a pretty intense marketing firm. However, there was such a stark difference in treatment because he was the “hot single dad that gave a lot of money;” all of the moms practically fell at his feet and seemed to only tolerate you.

Maybe it was a hint of jealousy talking, but he still always managed to piss you off and you didn’t like him at all. It was an animosity that was perhaps just one-sided, and you hated yourself for caring so much, but that changed in April; during a moment where if the circumstances were different, it would’ve felt like some sort of romcom-esque “meet cute.” But, you basically despised Steve, so instead the whole situation just made your blood boil. 

It was a Thursday at almost five o’clock during parent-teacher conference week; it was the only day that could work in your insanely busy schedule and you managed to get the latest time slot with Oliver’s teacher. You were pacing in the hallway where all three of the Kindergarten classrooms were; a coffee in one hand, because it was the only thing keeping you going that late in the day, and your phone in the other as you texted back an employee who was having problems with the oven. You were seconds away from calling him— because you knew that the issue would probably be solved quicker if you did so— but before you could, you were bombarded by someone who was quickly coming around the corner and they crashed into you. The abrupt collision was forceful enough to make your drink spill on you and your phone slip out of your hand. 

You glanced down at your now coffee-stained white shirt and then up at the person who had caused this mess, and of course, it was Steve Harrington standing in front of you. You had to fight the immediate urge to roll your eyes. 

“Oh, shit. My bad,” He quickly said. “I’m minutes away from being late for my parent-teacher meeting, so I was rushing from the parking lot. Now it really does make sense why teachers always said no running in the halls, right? Because something like this can happen.” As he rambled, you picked up your phone off the ground, glad that it wasn’t broken, and then you tossed your now mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can nearby. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Anyway, maybe I can pay for your dry cleaning? Or so you can at least get another coffee later or tomorrow?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve thought that the gesture was nice. But, since it was coming from Steve Harrington it only pissed you off because, of course, money was his immediate thought solution.

That time it was too difficult to not allow yourself to roll your eyes at him. “Y’know, throwing money at everything doesn’t make you a good dad. It actually makes you kind of an asshole.” 

You knew that you were being a little too harsh, but it was still too hard to feel completely regretful about your words; you were pissed at this current situation that was fully caused by him and you were also pissed simply because he was him.

You weren’t sure what you expected Steve to respond with, but he easily matched your angry energy. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Well, at least, I can do something. You barely show up to things and can’t give money to make up for it, so how much of a ‘good mom’ does that make you?”

Before you could say anything in response to that— a response that probably would’ve started and ended with a simple “Fuck you”— you heard your name being called from behind you by Oliver’s teacher. With everything happening with the man in front of you right then, you’d almost forgotten the meeting you were at the school for in the first place. 

Instead of saying anything to Steve, you simply buttoned up the black cardigan you were wearing to cover the majority of the coffee stain on your shirt and then walked away from him, putting on a smile and greeting Miss Wilson.

It wasn’t outwardly stated right then, but it was pretty much sealed then that this disliking could no longer be confused for being something that was one-sided. You two hadn’t said any words to each other since that moment in the hallway, and instead only annoyed looks and glares were shared anytime you saw one another; which lucky for you, actually wasn’t too frequent. 

On the first day of school, you learned that his daughter was in the same First Grade class as Oliver due to the emergency contact form all the parents had to fill out, which was then condensed into one sheet and shared among everyone for “just in case” purposes, and Steve’s name and number was on there. You really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal because you could still avoid him like the plague that he was, and that was exactly what you’d been doing for the last two weeks. 

However, you did not think that your kids would become friends.

“Can we have a playdate tomorrow?” Oliver asked. 

You racked your brain for a response; a way to say no without actually saying it because you really did hate disappointing him. “Oh, um, this weekend is gonna be really busy. But, maybe soon though, okay?” 

He frowned a bit but still nodded. “Okay.”

You held out your hand so that he could slip his in and then you started heading to your car.

“We have to go back to the coffee shop for a few more hours before we can go home. But, how does pizza for dinner tonight sound?” You asked as you buckled him in his car seat. The offer was an attempt to cheer him up and you hoped it worked; probably like every other six-year-old, Oliver loved pizza.

He smiled at that. “Ooh, yeah, that’s good.”  

You smiled back at him and inwardly hoped that this playdate idea would blow over over the next few days. And that the thought of you having to spend any sort of willing time with Steve Harrington would become a scary thought that only occasionally haunted your dreams, instead of it being something that actually became real.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Of course, it did not blow over. 

Excuse after excuse would fall from your lips, but Olly was determined and your words of “Today’s really busy” or “This weekend probably won’t be good” didn’t discourage him from continuing to ask. 

As the days came and went and a week passed with Olly asking the same question each day, you were so close to sucking it up and calling Steve and finally setting something up, but you were still way too fucking prideful to do so.

That didn’t stop you from thinking about doing it most days, though. But it was easier not to think about it when you were busying yourself at the coffee shop, and it was almost too easy to make yourself busy in some way there. And that was something that didn’t change on this Friday.

Oliver was sitting in his favorite booth working on homework and you were behind the counter, making a simple hot chocolate for the older woman who would come in almost every afternoon, typically around four o’clock. 

“Enjoy,” You said with a smile as you handed her the drink. 

Things in the coffee shop were calm and quiet, and you were about to go see if Oliver needed any help with the worksheets he was doing, but then your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. When you grabbed it, you saw that it was a random number calling, and maybe you should’ve thought about that fact more before answering, but you didn’t. 

“Hello?”

“Has Oliver asked to have a playdate with Madeline?” You quickly recognized Steve’s voice.

You let out a small sigh. “At least once a day since last Friday.”

“Same here with Maddie,” Steve said and then let out a sigh of his own. “We need to let this happen. I don’t think either of them are gonna let it go.” 

At first, you didn’t say anything in response to his words. You wanted to disagree with Steve, but you knew that you couldn’t because it was the truth. And then there was the fact that every time you gave some sort of fake excuse to Olly, you would feel like the worst parent ever, so maybe it would be best to just finally let this happen. “You’re right. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes,” He answered. “We can just do a quick thing at the park if that’s good?”

That was exactly what you were about to suggest, but you didn't tell him that. “Yeah, that’s fine. Is twelve okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to you and instead simply ended the call there. The lack of an actual goodbye almost made you want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you didn’t because you knew that you probably would’ve done the same thing to him. 

You put your phone back in your pocket and walked over to the two-person booth Oliver was sitting at, sliding in across from him. “Hey, bud, I have really fun news. You and Maddie are finally gonna have your playdate tomorrow.”

Seeing the elated grin immediately take over his face made the fact that you’d be spending a few hours with Steve Harrington tomorrow worth it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You never thought you’d witness a moment where Steve was actually on time for something, but for once he was. When you pulled into the small parking lot of the park, you already saw him sitting on one of the wooden benches that surrounded the playground watching Maddie go down a slide.

Moments after the car was put in park, Oliver was unbuckling himself and rushing to get out so that he could head over to where Maddie was. You could only smile at his enthusiasm before telling him to slow down and be careful.

You took your time walking over to where Steve was because of how much you were dreading it, and for a moment you debated whether or not you should sit next to him or go to the bench that was empty and a few feet away. Ultimately, you decided to just sit next to him; you could be civil for a couple of hours. 

“Hi,” You said as you sat down on the wooden bench.

He looked at you just for a second before turning back to the playground. “Hey.”

“How are you?” You asked. It was always easy to go into the mundane small talk you’d have all day with customers; aside from the ones that were the regulars that you knew too well and couldn’t simply ask how they were doing without actually meaning it.

“Good,” Steve responded. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered with a small nod. 

A silence that could only be deemed as awkward began to linger in the air because it felt as if there was absolutely nothing else to say. If he was a customer, you would’ve simply taken his order and he would have walked away by now, but obviously, this wasn’t that kind of interaction. The only sound that could be heard was the handful of other parents with their children and your own kids looking happier than ever. 

It could’ve been easy for you to make some joke to Steve about how weird this entire situation felt because of how much animosity you had toward each other and now there you two were on a sort of playdate of your own because of your kids. And then the two of you would have laughed about this current set of circumstances, and maybe that would’ve allowed things to actually start to feel somewhat okay. But, it just felt way too hard to let yourself actually be civil toward him, even though you had told yourself that you would be.

“I’m very surprised you’re actually on time for something. After all the PTA meetings, I thought you were incapable of it,” You said, still staring straight ahead as you then took a sip from the water you had in your hand. 

“And you’re late, which is not surprising,” He told you with a small scoff.

Aside from that first time you had been late for the meeting, there was one other time where you were late again and, of course, that was also the one time where Steve managed to be a little bit earlier than you. Given that he had been late countless times, you felt that it was both stupid and unwarranted for him to use the single time he saw you late against you.

“Whatever,” You said as you rolled your eyes. “Not that I even owe you an explanation for being only five minutes late today, but the coffee shop was starting to have a rush right before me and Olly were about to leave, and I didn’t want to leave my employee right then to completely fend for himself.”

“That’s interesting because every time I drive by the place, it looks the complete opposite of busy.” 

Perhaps this entire conversation immediately taking the shittiest turn was your fault because you “fired the first shot,” but his words felt equivalent to a low blow. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected by them and tried your hardest not to recognize the slight validity behind them— the coffee shop had its peak times and also its deserted moments, and maybe sometimes it did feel a bit more deserted than not, but you were surviving and right then that was all that mattered you.  

You glared harshly at him although he wasn’t even looking back at you. Muttering a “Fuck you” was right on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back and instead got up from the bench and started moving to an empty one. Steve didn’t say anything else to you and instead seemed completely unfazed by you walking away from him. 

You watched Oliver and Maddie talking and laughing at the top of a slide that was big enough to fit both of them and they went down it together. Seeing how happy Olly was and knowing that this was the first friend he actually wanted to spend time with outside of school, made dealing with Steve’s bullshit right then completely okay with you. 

When two o’clock rolled around, you were waving Oliver over to you, much to his dismay.

“I know it’s time to go, but can we all get food together?” He asked when he walked over to you.

For once, the excuse for saying no that you were about to tell him wasn’t a made-up one. “We gotta go pick Eddie up from the airport, remember? Also, he told me that he has a bunch of cool stuff to give you from California.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said, a smile taking over his face. “I almost forgot he was coming today.” 

He went over to where Maddie was now standing with Steve and he gave her a quick hug goodbye before running back over to you.

Instead of giving any sort of verbal goodbye to Steve, you simply gave him a small wave. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you’d now probably have to see him more often than not. With how happy Oliver and Maddie looked playing together, you knew that today definitely wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

Somehow with the wave Steve gave back to you, you could tell that he knew that too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were in no way related to Eddie Munson, but he felt more like family than your actual family. 

He was the first person you met when you moved to Hawkins three years ago. After going through a messy divorce that felt like it had actively taken at least ten years off of your life, it felt so goddamn nice to immediately make a friend in this town that was completely new to you.  

Coming from Chicago, a city that had always felt way too big for you, any small town sounded perfect in your eyes, and you were able to find a cheap-ish house in Hawkins, so it was the winner.

You met Eddie at a grocery store a week after you’d moved in. It was also your birthday, a fact that three-year-old Oliver didn’t fail to tell Eddie when you accidentally bumped into him— quite literally crashed your cart into the guy— in the bread aisle. 

“Happy birthday,” He had said to you and you gave him a small smile before proceeding to say another sorry for bumping your cart into him. He then looked at Oliver. “Are you gonna bake a birthday cake for her?” 

Oliver visibly brightened and turned to you. “Ooh, yeah, can we bake a cake?”

“Sure,” You nodded and smiled at his eagerness. 

He smiled widely and then looked back at Eddie. “Can you come over and help us make it?” 

“Oh, um…” Eddie’s eyes met yours to see what you wanted him to say. 

“You can, if you want,” You told him and you genuinely meant your words. He seemed normal, and even though this was a small town, he was the first person who had been so outwardly nice to you and Olly. 

“Okay, yeah, I’d love to help,” He said with a nod. “I’m Eddie, by the way.” 

You told him your name and then gestured to Olly. “And this is Oliver.” 

“Sorry for suggesting this idea and contributing to the sugar high that will probably be happening tonight,” Eddie told you as you moved to the next aisle where all of the baking stuff was, you were giving Oliver full reign over what cake mix you got. 

“Apology not accepted,” You responded but still smiled at him.  

Many hours later, when the cake was baked and Oliver was tucked away in bed after having two pieces of it, you pulled out a bottle of wine for you and Eddie to drink. And then because of the wine and because of the fact that birthdays always managed to bring something severely melancholic out of you, you started crying to him about your divorce that had just been finalized, the affair that your husband had with his coworker being the catalyst for said divorce, and how you felt so weirdly alone in this new town but also not at all alone because you had Oliver. 

Somehow none of that managed to scare him away— even though you would’ve been completely understanding if it had— and a friendship had been cemented ever since. 

Eight months ago, he moved to California because of a huge opportunity he got with his music; it was something he had been waiting for for so many years. You had called it a “big break,” but he thought that sounded too pretentious. 

You hadn’t really wanted him to leave, he was your best friend— your only friend in this town— but you were also so happy for him. And the distance actually managed to feel somewhat okay because you two would talk all the time and he’d visit every few months.

Oliver especially didn’t mind the distance because whenever Eddie did come back to Hawkins for a visit, it always meant that he’d get some cool new toys from him. And this time proved to be no different. 

The three of you were in the coffee shop. It was quiet right then— you didn’t think about Steve’s words from earlier— and you watched Eddie smile at Oliver as he animatedly talked about something, you assumed he was telling Eddie about Madeline.

Moments later, Eddie walked over to where you stood behind the counter, beginning the clean-up process because you were closing in about an hour. 

“It’s really nice seeing how fucking– I mean fudging,” He turned around to see if Oliver heard what he’d just said, but Olly was too busy playing with his new red toy car to hear anything. “Happy he is. All he’s been doing is rambling about his new friend.” 

“Yeah, it’s really great,” You said, smiling as you thought about how happy he had been at the park earlier. You then thought about Steve and inwardly sighed. “Well, for the most part.”

“Why? Is she a bad influence or something? I didn’t think there could be bad influences in first grade,” Eddie said and then laughed a bit. “Actually, scratch that, I was definitely a bad influence in first grade.”

An amused look crossed your face. “You talk a lot about this “bad boy persona” you used to have, but I don’t know if I really believe it because all I see is a guy that actually enjoys buying toys for a six-year-old.”

He smiled at that. “I changed. Turned over a new leaf.”

“Mhm, got it,” You responded, your voice slightly sarcastic because it was still hard to imagine Eddie as anything other than the nice guy who baked a cake with you and Oliver on your birthday. “Anyway, though, it’s not the girl that’s the problem; she’s really sweet and nice. It’s her parent that’s the worst person in the world.” 

Eddie nodded. “Okay, tell me all about this mean mom drama.”  

“It’s a dad, actually,” You said and then started explaining everything that you had never said aloud before. You told Eddie all of it— how Steve was so easily able to throw money at anything the school needed, how he was basically treated like a King among the other moms because of that, the incident that happened last year during parent-teacher conference week where everything between you two fully came to a head, and the shitty conversation you had with him at the park only hours earlier. 

“Wow, I’ve missed a lot. I can’t believe you have a nemesis, and I also can’t believe you never told me about him.”

“He’s the last thing I ever want to think about, let alone talk about. If it wasn’t for Oliver becoming friends with his daughter, you wouldn’t be hearing about him. Also, I feel like “nemesis” is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I can call him your mortal enemy, if you want,” Eddie said with a teasing smile and you only rolled your eyes in response, refraining from flipping him off. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. Aside from you, people rarely ever move to this town for fun, so he’s probably been here his whole life.”

You actually never thought about the potential of Eddie knowing Steve, although it was completely plausible given the reason your friend just mentioned. 

“Steve Harrington.” 

“Oh.” 

From Eddie’s reaction, the answer to your next question seemed pretty obvious but you still decided to ask it. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we were in high school at the same time.” 

“Okay, what was he like?” 

“All the typical high school stuff. He was a popular guy, played sports, was kind of a jerk but pretty much all of the girls still loved him.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That sounds very accurate.” 

“By the end of it, though, he seemed like somewhat of a changed guy. Got his heart broken by the nice girl, and then became friends with actual good people,” Eddie told you, and that was the one part of his description of the Steve that he had known that managed to actually surprise you. “I didn’t know he had a kid now.”

“Yup, and he’s also changed back into the jerk that you originally knew him as in high school,” You said. “And the most fuc— fudged up part of it all is that we should be friends. Which probably makes me sound crazy because of everything I just said, but it’s true. Me and him are basically in the same boat— the only single parents in the grade, we both have time-consuming jobs, and now even our kids are friends with each other. It would just make sense if we were actually friends too.”

“I mean, you still could be, right?”

You immediately shook your head. “Wrong. There’s no way that could ever happen.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The rest of September and most of October flew by with what felt like an abrupt kind of quickness. 

Absolutely nothing changed between you and Steve, even with Eddie’s idea that maybe it could. The only time the two of you talked to each other was if it involved your kids and if you were setting up the day and time for another park playdate, which quickly managed to become a weekly thing because of how adamant Oliver and Madeline were— just like you assumed they’d be. 

It may have seemed a little weird, these brief conversations you’d have with one another that were nothing more and nothing less than transactional, but it worked perfectly for you two. 

“This weekend is gonna be pretty busy for me, so is tomorrow after school good?” You asked Steve. A PTA meeting had just ended and you and him were lingering by the same exit that the kids would come out of when school was over. 

You were pretty close to not showing up to this Thursday night meeting, but you knew that you had to because it was about the Winter Carnival happening in December. It was a huge event that would be an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, which was why they talked about it so far in advance and why attendance at any meeting discussing it was pretty much mandatory.  

Steve shook his head at your question. “I have this big work thing tomorrow, so I have to pick up Maddie and then drop her off at the babysitter before rushing back to the city.”

You nodded understandingly at his words. A part of you knew that you should have left it at that, because you tried to set something up and that should’ve been more than enough of an effort, but instead, you found yourself saying, “I can pick her up and take the two of them to the park tomorrow if you want.”

Steve was quiet and your words simply lingered in the open air. You almost regretted making the suggestion because you felt as if he was somehow going to find a way to be a dick about it, but then he looked at you curiously, and another look that you couldn’t decipher crossed his face too as he said, “You sure?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, it’s really no problem.” And it honestly wasn’t a problem in the slightest; Madeline was the sweetest girl ever. She reminded you nothing of Steve, so you assumed that she got her personality from her mom; you still had no idea what that entire situation entailed. “What time will you be done with work?”

“Hopefully around five or six,” He answered. There was still that look on his face, which you still couldn’t tell what it said, but you really wanted to know.  

“Okay, after the park, I can take them back to my house and you can pick Maddie up from there when you’re done with work,” You said, only a little surprised at how easily this idea came together. “Olly’s been wanting to show her his new fish, anyway.”

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned his fish to me probably a thousand times. It’s blue and purple, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a betta fish; Barnaby.”

“Barnaby?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea how Olly came up with that name, but I will admit that it does sound more like the name of an old sailor lost at sea rather than a fish. But, in some weird way, both of those things are actually kind of related.” 

Steve laughed at that and somehow it didn’t sound the least bit mocking or condescending, it was more amused. Hearing that sound coming from him shocked you as much as it, surprisingly, made you inwardly smile. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The amount of dark clouds in the sky didn’t necessarily faze you until a raindrop hit your cheek as you sat on a park bench watching Oliver and Madeline on the playground. It was a light drizzle that transformed into something heavier in a matter of minutes and you realized that you probably should’ve been more mindful of what the weather was going to be today. 

Neither of the kids really minded the rain putting an end to their time at the park though, because Oliver was happy to go home so that Maddie could finally see the fish.

They bounded up the stairs to Olly’s room the second you unlocked the front door, and you headed to the kitchen, sending a simple text to Steve in the process. 

You: Had to leave the park because of the rain. We’re at my place now

At first, the lack of a response from him didn’t surprise you because it was only around four-thirty and he was probably busy. He was also Steve Harrington and he rarely ever responded to you in a timely manner. 

You heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs and you looked up from your phone, after checking it for probably the hundredth time in the past hour, to see Olly and Maddie coming into the kitchen.

“Can you convince my dad to get me a fish?” Maddie asked as she and Olly joined you at the small dining table. 

You smiled and nodded at her. “I can try.” 

“Thanks,” She said, smiling back at you. “The only time I get to see any pets is at my Aunt Robin’s house. She has a golden retriever.” 

“Oh, that’s really cool. What’s its name?”

“Willow. She’s a girl.” 

Oliver looked at you. “Can we get a dog next?” 

“Let’s just worry about Barnaby for now,” You told Olly, giving him a small smile. You could only imagine how much more hectic your life would become if you two got a dog anytime soon. “I was thinking about doing dino nuggets and french fries for you guys for dinner. How does that sound?”

They both perked up at that and nodded and you got up to turn on the oven, purposefully leaving your phone on the table because you wanted a break from impulsively checking it every few minutes. It slightly annoyed you that you heard nothing from Steve yet, and it annoyed you even more that the lack of a response felt personal. You wondered if he actually hadn’t seen your message yet, or if he was simply being an asshole and not responding with a simple “Okay” or even a thumbs up to it on purpose. 

It wasn’t until the time was a little after six, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Steve, that your initial annoyance toward him not responding to you and not giving you any sort of updates on what was happening with him over the past few hours, morphed into something that resembled worry. 

You walked out of the living room and into the kitchen and pulled your phone out of your back pocket so that you could call him. Your gaze moved toward the window as you pressed your phone to your ear; the weather outside still looked pretty shitty. The call went straight to voicemail and you sighed as you waited for the beep. 

“Hey, um, it’s me. That’s probably very obvious. Um, anyway, you said you’d be done with work around five or six, but I haven’t heard anything from you in the last couple of hours… I hope everything’s fine. Um, any sort of update would be really nice. Call, or at least text me, whenever you get this. Okay… Bye.”

You hung up and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

It was an obvious fact that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, but that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him. 

The only thing that managed to not make you feel completely worried was that Maddie seemed okay and not worried at all. Instead, she and Olly were in the living room playing in the fort you made for them out of couch cushions and throw blankets.

You went back into the living room and sat down on the small loveseat that was the only piece of furniture that still had its cushion left. 

“You guys okay in there?” 

“Yup!”

“Yes!”  

Hearing their chorus of happy “yeses” made you inwardly sigh in relief and lean back into the chair, letting your eyes shut just for a second and muttering to yourself that everything was and would be fine. 

Your phone was still glued to your hand as you grabbed the remote with your other and turned on a random Disney movie for the kids to listen to as background noise and for you to take your mind off of Steve, even though all you were waiting and hoping for was for your phone to vibrate in your hand with a call or text from him. 

You didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you were startled awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The abruptness of it actually managed to scare you, so much so that you could immediately feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears when you opened your eyes. 

The second Lilo & Stitch movie was now playing on the TV and through your half-awake haze, you found the remote to pause it. You then peeked inside the fort and saw that Olly and Maddie were asleep. 

As you rubbed the slight tiredness out of your eyes and got up from the couch, you checked your phone and saw that the time was 8:11pm. The doorbell rang again as you unlocked the door and the first thing that you noticed when you opened it was that it was no longer raining, you were unsure when it had finally stopped. 

“Hi.”

Seeing Steve standing in front of you managed to immediately wash away the worry you had been feeling for the last couple of hours. And it was quickly and completely replaced with the annoyance you’d initially felt. “What the hell happened?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Hearing a genuine apology come from Steve Harrington’s mouth actually managed to baffle you. “My meeting at work ran over, and there was no way to get out of it, not even for a second. And then there was a ton of traffic because of the rain, so a drive that typically only takes thirty minutes took longer than an hour. Also, I have the worst and probably oldest phone in the world because it never holds a charge anymore, and it was plugged in during the entire drive but didn’t turn on at all. So, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been able to call or text or anything. These past few hours have been hell.” He let out a sigh and then looked at you, concerned. “How’s Maddie? Is she okay?”

There were a lot of words that had been thrown at you during Steve’s ramble, but hearing his full explanation and how apologetic he was made your annoyance with him dissipate into nothing just like your worry did. Instead, you felt a little bad for him because of all the shit he had to endure in the past few hours. You pushed the door open further to fully let him in. 

“She’s good. She’s okay. She and Olly are sleeping in the living room. I made them a little fort,” You told him as he walked in and you pointed to where the kids were in the living room, and he nodded when he saw the construction of couch cushions and blankets. 

You looked at Steve and hesitated for a moment. You knew that this was where the goodbyes for the night should’ve started, but it didn’t feel right to have him leave just yet; he still seemed sort of frazzled and stressed about everything that happened. You started heading toward the kitchen and he followed you. “Do you maybe, uh, want something to drink?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Okay, I have water and juice boxes,” You told him and turned around to meet his eyes, he was leaning against the small island. “It’s moments like these where it sucks being the “good influence/leading by example” parent because I can’t offer you something fun, like a soda.”

Steve laughed a bit; it still felt so foreign hearing that sound from him. “A juice box is fine. That’s probably all that lives at my house too.”

You grabbed one from the fridge and then closed it. “I hope you like apple.”

“My favorite, actually,” He said as you handed the drink to him, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you didn’t have enough time to really ponder that before he completely changed the subject. “How was Maddie when you picked her up? When I told her about it this morning, she seemed excited about it and about hanging out with Oliver after school too, but was she really okay?” 

You nodded at his question. “She was great. They both had fun at the park and didn’t even mind the rain because they really wanted to come here and see the fish.”

He smiled and you could see the immediate relief wash over his face. “Okay.”

“She also wants me to try and convince you to get her a fish.”

“Of course she does,” He said before taking a sip from the juice box. You had to admit, it was a little funny seeing a man wearing professional clothes, that were probably so expensive, drinking from a tiny juice box meant for little kids. 

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you pick her up every day,” You told him as you turned and went back into the fridge to pull out a water for yourself. “Given your job, I thought you’d just have a babysitter or someone pick her up most of the time. I had no idea it was half an hour away.”

“I didn’t used to do it… Her, um, her mom would,” He said and you could tell by the way he said those words that whatever happened involving Maddie’s mom was a touchy subject. It sounded similar to how you’d usually sound whenever you talked about Oliver’s dad— a little sad and a lot like you’d rather talk about anything else. 

Your mind started desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject; it was what you would’ve wanted him to do for you if the tables were turned. But, before you could say the first thing that came to mind, which was, “So, I wonder if it’s gonna rain tomorrow too,” Steve started talking again. 

“It had become a routine because of how hectic my job is. She’d always drop Maddie off and pick her up. But, she, uh… She left last year, so that changed everything,” He told you. You closed the fridge and turned around to face him; you forgot to grab your water but that was the last thing on your mind right then.

This conversation suddenly felt like completely uncharted territory between you and Steve because you two did not talk about touchy subjects— you and him barely talked about anything at all. But, for some odd reason, you didn’t necessarily mind the serious turn to the conversation because maybe it was a shit ton of honesty that was needed for you two to actually, finally, not dislike each other.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes away from yours. He instead fixed his attention on his juice box in hand. “It happened around this time in October. She dropped Maddie off at school, but didn’t pick her up.” 

Hearing him say that surprised you as much as it confused you because you had absolutely no idea that happened last year. But with how busy you’d been then, and since you weren’t friends with any of the “gossipy” moms that somehow always knew everything, it did make a little sense why you knew nothing. 

“Maddie was waiting in the office for about two hours after school was over before I could get there because I was in a meeting and didn’t see the calls coming from the school. She didn’t really know what was happening, but she was still so sad and I think that somehow a small part of her did know.” He shook his head and sighed, a look that could only be deemed as melancholic crossed his face. “I never want her to feel abandoned like that again, so I always make sure to drop her off and pick her up now.”

As he said his last words, something managed to shift inside of you in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, his name was no longer “the worst person in the world” in your mind. 

In all of your months of having this “nemesis relationship” — as Eddie would call it— with Steve Harrington, you never thought that your opinion of him would ever be able to change. However, in this moment of you two standing across from each other at your small kitchen island as Steve held a freaking juice box in his hand, it finally did. He was a good person, a really fucking good person.

You were able to see it so goddamn easily then— the exact ways that he and Maddie were just alike. She got her personality from him, you were now quite literally certain of it. And you immediately felt bad for ever thinking differently.

“I’m sorry about what I said last year during conference week,” You told him, suddenly ready to give him your own burst of honesty. “I was pissed that you spilled my coffee all over me, and I was even more pissed because it was you, and you annoyed me so much. Because even though we’re kind of in the same boat with the amount of “active” things we do for the school, all of the moms love you so much and I swear they hate me, and it’s just so annoying.” You let out a small sigh and then met his gaze before saying the words that you didn’t think you’d ever say to him. “Anyway, you’re a really good dad, and I’m so sorry for telling you differently.”

“I’m sorry for what I said that day too. You’re a really great mom,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it slightly shocked you how much hearing that meant to you. Aside from Eddie, you couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to you. “And I don't think the moms at school actually like me. I think they just pity me because of everything that happened, and how they basically saw it all blow up in real time. Since pre-school, Maddie’s mom was dropping her off and picking her up, and suddenly one day she was completely gone. I swear the number of times I got phone calls that were a bunch of them saying, “We’re here for you,” but they really just wanted to get the full story about what happened, was insane during those first few months.”

“Jesus, small town moms are the worst,” You said as you shook your head. “Or, at least, ours are.”

You looked away from Steve and turned around, finally going back to the fridge to grab a water. “Oliver’s dad was kind of the same way. He left too. Or maybe it’s actually not the same because I made him leave— he was having an affair with his coworker. But, he also wanted to leave and be with her, so maybe it actually is a little similar. Sorry, now I’m just rambling about that asshole,” You said and rolled your eyes at yourself. You weren’t sure why you even decided to circle the conversation back to your exes.  

“Do you and Oliver ever see him anymore?” Steve asked, and when you closed the fridge and turned back to face him, you shook your head at his question.

“Not since we moved here. He does the bare minimum and sends Olly checks for his birthday and Christmas. Which I think is dumb because no kid wants a check as a present; even I would rather get an actual gift than a stupid check,” You told Steve as you opened up your water. “Does Maddie ever see her mom, or does she ever come around sometimes?”

With the way she left, you were almost certain that the answer was no, but you were still curious.

“No, she hasn’t, and I don’t think she would ever want to,” Steve answered and you gave him a small nod of understanding before he continued. “I remember about a week after everything happened, and after avoiding my many calls and texts, she finally called me. She was really apologetic about the way she decided to leave, but she said that she just couldn’t do it anymore because none of this life that we had here was making her happy, and she didn’t want me to try and convince her to stay. When she said that, it made me realize that the smallest part of me knew that this would eventually happen. Maddie was completely unexpected and our relationship had already gotten pretty bad before we found out, so neither of us was remotely ready to be parents, but we still decided to do it and try to make it all work. Right when I saw Maddie for the first time I knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and that never changed. But, it wasn’t the same way for her mom, and sometimes it seemed like she felt the complete opposite way. So, in a way, I can understand why she knew she had to leave. I hate the way that she did it, but ultimately I understand that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she’d never want it.” A sad smile took over his face.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to,” You told him, suddenly feeling bad that you had been the one to bring the conversation back to this in the first place. “We can change the subject to anything else. Maybe the weather? I wonder if it’s gonna rain again tomorrow…” 

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I really never thought I’d say this because we’ve never had a real conversation before, but I think I actually like talking to you.” He shook his head at his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds fucked up.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I feel the same exact way. Ten minutes ago I couldn’t really stand the thought of having any sort of conversation with you, and now I feel like an idiot for hating you all this time. So, this is insanely fast progress,” You said and then immediately thought of something. “Wow, I really wish I had some alcohol for us to drink right now because us actually not despising each other anymore is a milestone that truly should be toasted to.”

Steve laughed a bit; it was nice hearing that sound after all the sad stuff that had just been shared by both of you. He raised his juice box toward you a bit. “This will have to do, I guess.”

You raised your water and “clinked” it with the juice box. “Cheers to… whatever we are now.”

It didn’t feel entirely like a friendship, but it, at least, felt like you two could actually be nice to one another and not feel pained to do so. 

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a quick nod and then finished off the rest of what was left in his small juice box. “I should grab Maddie and head home. She has dance class at eight in the morning. She hates it for the most part, but she has a recital next week and I told her that she should push through until that and then we can quit. A part of me is kind of glad that she hates it, though, because classes are insanely expensive.”

“Olly’s starting soccer at the end of the month,” You told him. “It’s for boys and girls. You should see if Maddie wants to do that.”

“If Oliver’s doing it, she’ll probably say yes.”

You nodded at that and how true it was on both sides. “I’ll text you the information.”

“Thanks,” He said and smiled.

You followed him as he walked into the living room to get Maddie. She was still fast asleep as her arms circled around his neck when he picked her up. You grabbed her bookbag that she and Oliver left by the front door and helped Steve hook one of his arms in it.

Somehow something was silently exchanged in that last look shared between you and him before you said your final goodbyes for the night, and you softly shut and locked your door behind him. It was a look that expressed that you both were glad about what happened in the past twenty minutes— the honesty-filled conversation that led to you two finally understanding one another and realizing how you were actually more alike than either of you had ever thought. 

It was a realization that was simultaneously surprising and refreshing. 

“Goodnight,” You said, giving him a small smile and he smiled back at you. 

“Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

PART TWO

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #steve harrington series

[fxrmuladaydreams]

drunken bets (cs55)

carlos x mclaren social media!reader

summary: carlos makes a bet with a few other drivers, claiming that he can get you, a new (introverted) mclaren employee, to fall for him

notes: what can i say? i love writing driver x mclaren worker apparently 😂 i think it’s because she can be bffs with lando and oscar and that makes me soft. someone had to be the villian/bad influence so i’m sorry drunk pierre/lance. i hope you guys like the “she fell first, he fell harder” trope

next part

The music in the club blasts through the speakers. Drinks are thrown back as warm bodies dance, or more so grind, against each other to the beat.

Carlos feels the buzz from the alcohol coursing through him. He takes drink after drink. He deserves to relax after this race weekend, hangover be damned. He’s approached countless times by girls looking to spend some time with him, all to which he brushes off, choosing to go home alone at the end of the night.

“C’mon man, what’s up?” Lance asks as Carlos sends another breathtaking girl away. “You’re just not in the mood?”

“I don’t think he can do it. I think he needs his “smooth operator” title revoked.” Pierre drunkenly laughs.

Carlos scoffs, pushing Pierre away by his shoulder. “I could get any girl I wanted. Try me.”

Pierre grins and nods. “Alright,” he looks around the club and nods to a blonde at the bar. “How about her?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, that’s too easy. She’s been staring at him all night.”

Pierre points out a few more girls, all of whom have already expressed some kind of interest in the Spanish driver, until an idea pops into his head.

“What about that new McLaren girl?”

Carlos knew who he was talking about almost instantly. You were a newer part of McLaren’s marketing team. While most others from the team could be found creating content with the boys, you tended to keep yourself behind a computer. Lando said you were hired to do things like edit videos or photos, more behind the scenes stuff.

Others had taken an interest in you when you had shown up. A few engineers or pit crew from other teams attempted to get closer with you, all while you turned them down with a quick no. Hell, even Pierre tried to shoot his shot, but you very quickly shut him down.

You tended to stick closer to Lando and Oscar, both boys somehow able to get you to open up to them.

“You mean Y/n? She won’t date anyone.” Lance shrugs.

“Yeah, so I don’t think Mr. Smooth Operator could get her to date him.” Pierre smirks.

“I could.” Carlos is quick to defend. “Easy.”

“Alright then, let’s make this interesting. You get Y/n to have actual romantic feelings for you, and I’ll give you one hundred euros.”

Carlos reaches his hand out for Pierre to shake. “Deal.”

Carlos wakes up with a pounding headache the next morning, the sun streaming in way too bright through his hotel window. He drags himself out of bed and into the shower, attempting to feel a little more like a human before he actually has to go outside and face the world.

He eats a simple breakfast, something that doesn’t make him feel like he’s about to puke his guts all over his plate. Then he finally starts to pack his suitcase for his trip back home.

He checks his phone before pushing it into his pocket. He sees a few message notifications from Pierre and Lance.

From Lance

Insane night last night. I never want to drink again.

From Pierre

I honestly don’t remember much from last night, but I do remember a bet, and I can’t wait to be 100 euros richer

Carlos groans as he remembers the bet he made the previous night. There’s no way they’re going to let this go, they’ll make sure it hangs over his head until the end of time.

A selfish part of him wants to go on with the bet, to prove that even though he’s had some time being single for a while, he’s still a hot ticket item in the dating world. It wouldn’t hurt his image either, he thinks. If he’s seen pursuing and dating someone who isn’t a model it could make him look like he’s matured, like he’s ready to settle down instead of spending his nights in different beds wherever they travel.

From Carlos

I think you mean 100 euros poorer

The next race weekend he makes it a point to hang around the McLaren garage. No one’s surprised to see him there, given his close friendship with Lando, so the striking Ferrari red practically goes unnoticed in the sea of papaya.

He keeps an eye out for you as he sits with Lando, excusing himself when he spots you making your way towards them. You’ve got a set of headphones on over your ears, clearly enthralled by whatever you’ve got playing on the tablet you’re holding.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts walking in your direction, scrolling through whatever social media app he happened to quickly open. He walks until his shoulder bumps into yours, a little too rough, nearly knocking the tablet out of your hands.

Carlos wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you upright, and manages to catch the tablet with his other hand.

“Are you alright?” He asks, flashing you a smile.

You nod and take a step back from him. “I’m okay, are you?”

He swipes a hand through his hair, then holds your tablet out for you to take. “I’m good. It’s Y/n, right?”

“Yeah, I’m at McLaren.” You tilt your head towards the McLaren garage.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He laughs, glancing down at your papaya team kit.

“Right, sorry.” You laugh. “I should probably go, filming and editing to do and what not.”

Carlos gives you a smile and a nod followed by a quick goodbye. He brushes his arm against yours as he walks away. He has to keep himself from looking back at you to see your reaction, but gets a text from Lando later in the day that gives him the satisfaction he was looking for.

From Lando

What did you do to my editor?

The next time Carlos sees you, he recreates your first meeting, bumping into you just so he can wrap his arms around you again.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He laughs, holding you.

You laugh with him and shake your head. Your hands rest against his chest from attempting to catch yourself. “We really do.”

He smiles as he lets go of you, but keeps himself planted where he’s standing, giving you his undivided attention.

“I saw the recent McLaren video, it was really good. It kind of makes me wish you worked here when I was with McLaren.” He says tilting his head up teasingly.

“It’s mostly my coworkers, I pretty much just make it look good after it’s filmed.” You tell him, you duck your head down to avoid his gaze.

“Still.” He shrugs.

He’s pulled away by Charles after that, who gives you a quick hello before dragging Carlos back to Ferrari’s garage.

You see Carlos a lot more now around McLaren. You chalk it up to his friendship with Lando, but you begin to notice his seeking you out. He shares meals with you now, even if he ends up sitting with you while you’re focus is locked on your laptop.

Carlos is surprised to find that he’s started to genuinely enjoy your company, that he actually looks forward to seeing you every race weekend. He shakes away the feeling that blossoms in his chest whenever he sees you, afraid of becoming too attached.

That all flies out the window when he’s headed back to his hotel one day though. Dark clouds covered the sky, turning it almost black as rain poured down. You could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, likely headed towards the track.

Carlos sees you standing under the awning of McLaren hospitality, looking up at the sky. You’ve got your phone in your hand and a disgruntled look on your face.

He lifts his bright red umbrella up over his head and dashes over to the McLaren building. He puts his umbrella back down once he’s standing next to you, shaking the drops of water off.

“Did you forget an umbrella?” He asks.

You turn away from your phone to look up at him. He’s got a teasing smile on his face. The humidity in the air has made his hair impossibly fluffier, but somehow still picture perfect. He’s bundled up in a Ferrari windbreaker, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. And I walked here from the hotel today, so I can either try to get a taxi or I can wait until the weather clears up.” Just as you finish explaining your problem thunder booms above you.

Carlos shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I’m not letting you walk out in this.” He gestures to the sky.

“Well the other option is find a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you.” He says it as if it’s an obvious solution. Before you can respond he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him so that you’re both under his umbrella, then starts walking towards the parking lot.

You try to keep up with his pace, occasionally bumping into him, but he makes sure to hold the umbrella over the both of you. He leads you to his car, and holds the umbrella over you as you climb into the passenger side.

You notice how water clings to his hair, drops falling down his coat on his right side, evidence of him prioritizing keeping you dry over himself.

“Carlos, you could get sick, and it’d be my fault.” You scold him.

He shrugs and gives you a smile. “Then you’ll just have to nurse me back to health.”

He parks at the entrance to the hotel McLaren had booked, and walks you into the building. When you expect him to leave, he places a hand on your lower back guiding you to the elevator. He walks you all the way to your door, and leaves you with a “goodnight” and a soft squeeze of your hand.

You get a text from him later that night.

From Carlos

Lando gave me your number. What time should I pick you up tomorrow?

From Y/n

You don’t have to, that’s okay

From Carlos

That’s not an answer cariño

You feel yourself start to smile at the message on your screen and text him what time you usually leave.

He picks you up the next morning, driving you to the track with him. You make conversation about little things like how you slept and what you had for breakfast. He’s quick to run over to your side of the car to open the door for you, and keeps himself close to you as you enter the paddock.

He meets you at the end of the day as well to drive you back to the hotel. He keeps up this new routine each race weekend following. He enjoys your company, and you seem to enjoy his. After a few weekends you could say you have a new chauffeur in the form of a Ferrari driver.

With this new closeness to Carlos comes a wave of media attention you should have expected. Photos are posted over social media of the two of you walking together, you looking up at Carlos with bright eyes, or him looking down at you with his doe eyes.

It’s easy to tell that all of the new attention makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t want to lose your friendship with Carlos so you stick it out. You’re grateful when you see a clip of an interview with Carlos where he’s asked about you, and he sets the record straight.

“There’s nothing going on, we just like to hang out together. We’re just friends.” He smiles.

Although you’re glad he’s put an end to the speculation, you can’t help but feel like your recent hangouts have been only barely platonic. After the nights you’ve claimed are “movie nights” that have turned into falling asleep in each other’s arms, it’s hard to put a platonic label on your relationship.

The first time it happens, it’s you who wakes up first. His chest is warm beneath your head, and his arms lock you against his body. You tilt your head up to look at him. His hair is unkempt, yet still looks effortlessly good. You reach up and brush a few strands away from his face. You watch him for a few minutes, wondering how you were so lucky to be spending your time with someone so beautiful. You rest your head back on his chest and let sleep wash over you again, listening to the soft beats of his heart.

Carlos wakes up not long after you’ve gone back to sleep, lifting an arm to run a hand through his hair. He can feel the little puffs of air from your breathing against his chest, his heart melts when you subconsciously nuzzle your face deeper into him to get more comfortable. You look so sweet, so soft, and a part of him hates himself for it. He let himself accept that stupid bet, and he let himself fall for you. He wishes he’d never let his friends talk him into making that bet, but he also decides he’d never trade the time he’s spent with you for anything.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you slowly lift yourself up off of him. He misses your warmth as soon as he can’t feel it anymore.

The two of you continue spending your evenings together, wanting nothing more than to keep falling asleep wrapped up in one another.

He finds himself searching for you in the crowd at parties and events, even those he knows you won’t be at, just so he can spend more time with you. He texts you everyday you’re apart to make sure that you’ve eaten and gotten enough sleep.

Carlos can’t bear the thought of being away from you for more than a week between races. He casually mentions that he’s going back to Spain for the small break, and asks if you want to join him.

You laugh and scoff shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, it could be fun. You could relax a little bit. I could take you on my boat. C’mon.” He persuades you.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time off.”

“You’re not. I want you there, I promise. Please?” He takes your hands in his, swinging them back and forth. He gives you his best puppy dog eyes and bats his eyelashes at you.

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” You sigh, but can’t stop the smile from spreading over your face.

It’s different, sharing a space with Carlos outside of the four-walled hotel rooms you’ve stayed in for work. It feels intimate being with him in his home country. He books a private villa to stay in on the beach.

The trip quickly feels more romantic than friendly, what with him cooking your dinner for you, and your evenings in either the hot tub or curled up together on the couch.

You spend your days with Carlos on his boat. You reading a book you brought with you, and Carlos laying out in the sun to tan.

It’s hard not to stare at him, his tanned toned chest on display, while his swim trunks hang low on his hips. He has just as much trouble keeping his eyes away from you as well, he can’t help but watch you as you scamper around the boat in a different little bikini everyday.

Occasionally he convinces you to hop in the water with him, to which you reluctantly agree. You keep your arms locked around him when you feel something brush against your leg in the water. Carlos keeps a firm hold on your waist as he can’t stop laughing at your distress.

Eventually you get back on his boat and sit side by side on the edge, with your feet dangling in the water. You stare down at the crystal blue sea, looking for any creatures swimming around.

Carlos looks back out to the shore. The smile that’s been plastered on his face for the last few days falls when he sees a figure on the beach. They’re far enough away that he can’t really tell who it is, but close enough that he can see the camera in their hands.

He leans back and grabs a towel, laying it over your shoulders, covering up the skin you had on display. He wraps a protective arm around you and pulls you closer to his chest, in hopes that the photos he knows will be everywhere in a few days won’t be clear enough to reveal you in them.

That night he decides to cook on the boat, which turns out to be a little more chaotic than he’d originally planned. He struggles to keep everything straight, but finds it all worth it in the end when he gets to see you surrounded by the sunset. You look breathtaking, looking out into the sea. The soft breezes wisps your hair away from your face. The sinking sun casts a gold light to wash over you.

He wants to tell you how he feels, but he knows he needs to come clean. Maybe you’ll forgive him, he hopes you will. He needs to put this in the past so that he can love you publicly and wholeheartedly.

You quietly share your meal, then break the silence simultaneously.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“Carlos-”

“You first.” He nods.

You take a deep breath. “Carlos, I want to thank you for bringing me here, and really for spending all this time with me. I’m glad you bumped into me at the paddock because I’ve gained a new friend from it. You’re one of the best men I know, and I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

“Thank you.” He feels his chest tighten at your words.

“The truth is, I’ve come to care about you a lot more than I thought I would. A few of the other drivers tried to ask me out when I was first hired, but I told them no. I was happy when you didn’t try to make a move on me, and instead wanted to pursue a friendship with me.” You look down at your hands, and fiddle with your fingers. “But if you did try to make a move on me now… I don’t think I’d mind it…” Your last sentence comes out quieter than the others.

“Really?” Carlos asks, a soft smile growing on his face.

You clear your throat. “What were you going to say?”

He can’t tell you now. He can’t poison this perfect moment, after you’ve confessed your feelings to him.

“I was going to say that I feel the same way.”

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #formula one x reader #cs55 x reader

[chocochipsushi]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 7.8K

🌸AU: The story of how the new bodyguard fucked his hot-headed CEO

🌸CW: humiliation, bratty reader, brat tamer! Toji, mean! Toji, face slapping, name calling (mainly 'bitch' and 'brat'), use of 'Princess' and 'little doll', unprotected sex, daddy kink, age gap, almost predatory vibes from Toji, hair pulling

🌸A/N: Sorry this took so long! I'm currently working on the last chapter of Uncle Toji as well, so you can expect that in the coming weeks!!!

Main story🔞>>

No one told you that you were going to have a change in bodyguards. You only found out when Bora came in to remind you of a meeting so you left your office, only to see a taller, less pudgy— actually, ripped man standing by Bora’s table. He was staring at you quietly with a dark gaze, his green eyes sharp and analytical. You glanced at Bora, who was smiling at the man with such an adorable blush on her cheeks that you had to turn back to him and take a better look. 

This guy had dark, black hair that was styled up, but you’re not sure if it was considered neat or messy. Maybe both. It suited his sharp face and his beady eyes that seemed to bore right into you. He had a scar at the corner of his lips, which made him look scary. Even more so when his lip twitched. You’re not sure if he was trying to smile at you, or if he was showing discomfort in seeing you. 

Whatever it was, you’re not the type to have emotional connections with your employees anyway. So you rolled your eyes to the front and walked forward to the lift. The man followed a few steps behind you, together with Bora. It was only until you were standing before the elevator and the new bodyguard had stepped forward to press on the ‘down’ button, that Bora finally introduced him to you. 

“Oh! This is Toji Fushiguro and he is your new bodyguard.” 

You turned to look up at the tall man, who simply dipped his head in a silent greeting before staring back at you. You dropped your gaze down his body and up again, giving him a once-over. Then, you turned away to Bora without saying a word to him. 

“What happened to Shino?” 

Bora actually looked nervous as she mumbled, “Um… he quit yesterday.”

“Why?” 

You already knew why. 

You weren’t the best boss ever. You had a temper. You were uncontrollable. Everyone was afraid of you. You had never mistreated any employee, but that didn’t mean you were a favourite. No employee had ever gotten close to you, or even tried. You were just too good at chasing people away with your personality. 

So when Bora hesitated to answer and the lift finally arrived, Toji held the door open and you headed straight into the box, not caring to hear the lousy explanation Bora would give. Toji had to check his phone for the floor level of your next meeting, so you muttered, still facing the closed doors of the elevator. 

“Level 17.”

You were walking while answering an incoming phone call when Toji suddenly took your folder and your handbag from you without being asked. He had never done this before, because you never asked for your handbags to be held for you, or your confidential documents. And honestly, you didn’t actually need someone to do these things for you. But as you listened to Mr. Jung on the phone, you watched Toji carrying your things like they weighed nothing, like this was the most natural thing for him to do. You decided that he wasn’t so bad afterall. 

Well, not like you thought that he was bad, at all. Apart from being so broody and quiet, he was great at his job. People were afraid of your guard dog and he was doing a good job at keeping you safe the past week. You didn’t think you’d lasted so long without screaming at a new employee before. 

When you got off the phone with Mr. Jung, you reached out to Toji for your things. “Thanks,” you muttered. 

Toji only glanced at you for a split second before turning back to the front. “I got it,” was all he said. 

You were taken aback by his answer to say the least. The both of you hardly talked but whenever you did, they were short and straight to the point. This time wasn’t an exception. What was shocking to you was that he basically went against your instructions. Never had an employee directly under you ever done this before. 

Yet somehow, his confidence and his firmness made you feel that it was okay. You’re not sure what the logic was behind it but you let it slide this time. 

And the time after that. And the time after that. And all the other times after that. 

Now, you didn’t even have to pick up your handbag because Toji proactively did it for you. And you let him. You had to admit that you enjoyed being taken care of like this. Aside from this act that he did, he would also help you into your coat or hold his arm out for you to grab onto if you were on uneven terrain. 

Despite the short and professional conversations that you shared, you were getting along well and fine. That was until you received bad news on the phone, about one month into his time working for you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!!” you screamed the moment you put down the phone.

You got off your chair and started pacing the office. Your mind was racing and the blood in your body was boiling. You stood by your floor-to-ceiling windows in hopes of the city view giving you a bit of comfort. But nothing about you was calm. You didn’t notice Toji quietly entering your office with the cup of coffee you asked for. You were blindsided by your anger as you spoke to yourself. 

“How did we lose two big investors today?! God! Fucking incompetent shits. Fuck!!!”

Your pacing was getting more frantic as your footsteps turned into stomps. Feeling uncomfortable in your heels, you let out a frustrated groan and bent down to take your shoe off. You sent your left heel flying to the wall, where you missed Toji by just a few centimetres. You flickered your gaze to him staring at you with a certain glint in his eyes. Feeling somewhat peeved by that look he was giving you, you bent down again to take the other shoe off, leaving you barefoot now. Just as you brought your hand up to get ready to launch it at the wall, you glanced at Toji again, only to catch a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“What?!” you snapped. 

The corners of his lips were turned down as he shook his head. “Nothing.” 

He kept your gazes locked, however, not blinking once, not looking away even after a few seconds. And something in those steely green eyes of his made the fire in you die a little. So, instead, you ripped out another groan and threw your heels on the ground before squatting in your place. You cradled your head in your hands as you despaired silently. 

Your tough act broke apart when angry and frustrated tears found you. You didn’t hear Toji picking your heels off the floor but you were surprised when you saw a piece of tissue in front of you. You looked up and saw Toji squatting in front of you, looking unbothered as ever. You accepted the tissue from him and started dabbing at your tears. Toji stayed there with you, his elbow resting on a knee, his other hand holding onto your pair of heels. 

“Go away, Toji,” you muttered without looking at him, feeling quite embarrassed. 

“Let me bring you to the couch, at least. You can cry there.”

You raised your head to glare at him. Why did he have to state the obvious to a prideful and egoistic woman? “I’m not crying!” 

Toji’s eyebrow lifted but he turned the ends of his lips down and nodded. “Okay, you’re not.” 

“I really am not!” you whined and threw your tissue at him. 

This time, he looked like he stopped breathing. He tilted his head down just so slightly so that he was staring at you with a certain look in his eyes. He licked his lips. 

“That’s very rude,” was all he said. 

He was definitely admonishing you for that. And you should feel degraded and mad that an employee was speaking to you this way. But maybe it was the way he was postured, so calm and collected, or perhaps it was his dark green eyes glaring at you like a scolding father. Either way, you felt yourself backing down. You dropped your gaze and apologised. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. 

You must have forgotten when the last time you said the word ‘sorry’ was. It felt so foreign rolling off your tongue, and it made you feel so embarrassed. You didn’t even know why you had to apologise to him when you had never done so to any of your employees before. 

“You’re alright, Princess.” 

The irrational annoyance at having to apologise to your bodyguard was immediately washed away when you heard the last word of Toji’s sentence. You immediately lifted your head to look at him, only to see him picking up the wet tissue on the ground. He turned to you and saw you staring, which made him quirk an eyebrow. 

“Wanna get up now? And wear your shoes you so nicely threw at me?” 

You immediately flushed red. God, no one had ever had the balls to speak to you like this. Not even your love interests because you were just too proud. You never would have let anyone speak down to you like this. Yet for some rhyme or reason, Toji made it so easy for you to accept it. It’s like he just naturally turned you into this submissive little girl. 

“I’m sorry for throwing my shoes at you,” you whispered guiltily. 

Toji hummed. “Come on. Up.” 

He stood and held out his hand to you. You took it and let him pull you to your feet. Then, he squatted down again and actually lifted your foot to slip your heel on. You leaned down to hold yourself up by resting your hand on his shoulder. When he had helped you into your shoes again, he stood up and looked down at you. 

“Your coffee is on the table. I’ll be outside if you need me.” 

You nodded your head but grabbed his sleeve when he turned to leave. He looked back with furrowed brows. “I didn’t cry,” you told him. 

It was the first time you saw a hint of a smile on his lips. Toji nodded his head and, without another word, left the room. 

Ever since then, you had been on your best behaviour around Toji. You never threw a fit when he was around, although he would have to clean up after you whenever he came into your office after a good thrashing session. 

You’d gotten comfortable with Toji in the few months he had been working for you. Maybe a bit too comfortable. Because while he took care of you as a bodyguard at work, that didn’t mean that he was responsible for you outside of your working schedule. Which was why it was the stupidest decision to call him after a drunk night out with your friends. 

“Is everything okay?” Toji’s rough voice sounded so quiet and confused. 

You let out a big breath. “Toji. S’rry for calling but—” You hiccuped here. “Can you bring…me home? I’m… I’m not in the capacity—”

“Send me your location. I’ll be there.”

And then he hung up like this. It took you a while to do what he asked and when you finally did it, he simply replied with “17”. So while waiting for him, you went back to sit with all your rowdy friends, who were obviously not as lightweight as you were. 

By the time Toji was escorted to your table, you were already close to passing out. You barely even heard your friends openly and loudly flirting with him because you were being lifted up to stand. You frowned at the assault but when you saw that it was Toji, you immediately melted into him and let him bring you out of the restaurant. 

You’re stumbling in the lobby of the hotel, leaning into Toji while he had one arm around you securely and his other on his phone. You groaned as you nearly slammed your cheek on his broad shoulder. 

“Wh’re is Iro?”

“It’s two in the morning. Iro is off duty,” Toji grunted. 

You huffed and glared up at him. “What about your car?” You supplied every one of your bodyguards with a brand new car each time just in case Iro wasn’t available and you required them to use it. 

“I didn’t drive.”

“Why not?” You groaned and rolled your eyes, pushing away from him. He managed to grab hold of your wrist before you stepped back too far. You were frowning at him as you scolded, “I gave you a car for a reason, Toji.”

Toji’s gaze hardened. “I was out with some friends for drinks. I wasn’t planning on working tonight.”

That immediately shut you up and sobered you up. “Oh,” you mumbled in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

He didn’t say anything but simply turned back to his phone. He managed to get a cab to your place. The entire time the both of you were quiet and the awkward tension was hanging over you like a heavy rain cloud. Toji was still holding onto your handbag, even when he walked you up to your apartment. 

He knew the passcode to your place and got you home safely. He placed your handbag on the coffee table before turning to you and breaking the silence. 

“You’re going to be okay alone?”

You didn’t respond to that question. Instead, you took a step closer to him and asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?”

You shrugged and looked away. “For being a stuck-up bitch,” you mumbled. 

“Doesn’t matter if I am or not.”

You lifted your head to frown at him. “What do you mean?”

Toji shrugged. “You can be a stuck-up bitch all you want and I can’t be mad at you.”

“You can,” you argued. “And you should.” He raised an eyebrow here so you explained, “I mean, you’re the only one… I mean… I deserve it for being a bitch to you.”

Here, his lips pressed together as he shrugged. You knew he was agreeing with you. But he didn’t say anything else. So you walked over to him and grabbed his black shirt that hugged his body so nicely, tugging on the cotton material. 

“Sorry, Toji. For making you work when you shouldn’t, and for being a bitch.”

Toji finally sighed and nodded. “Alright.” When you didn’t let go of him and continued giving him the puppy eyes, he frowned. “What?” 

Your lips jutted into a pout. “Say you forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” he repeated in a deadpanned tone. You continued pouting at him, making him a little impatient. “What is it?” he grumbled. 

“You didn’t call me Princess. You’re still mad at me.”

This surprised Toji to say the least. He didn’t think you cared, or even liked being called that. He only used that term once because he was annoyed, to say the least, that you were throwing a tantrum at your age. He meant it as an insult, and he hadn’t planned on doing it again. He wanted to keep his good paying job, even if it meant having to put up with your princessy attitude. 

Toji awkwardly patted your little fist on his shirt. “I’m not mad at you, Princess.”

Something in your eyes changed when he said that and Toji caught it. His brows furrowed as he focused on your features, trying to understand what he was really looking at. The moment he saw your bottom lip push out in another pout, he immediately knew what he was dealing with. 

Just to make sure though, he wanted to gauge your reaction when he patted you on the head lightly. “You have a good rest, Princess.”

And you gave him the very reaction he was expecting. Your eyes rounded even more and your cheeks were flushed. You let go of his shirt and dropped your hands to your sides. Toji thought you looked so small like this. He waited for you to say something and when you didn’t, he nodded and took a step back. Just as he turned on his heels to head for the door, he heard you breathe his name. He turned to frown at you. 

You were nervous for some reason. You’re not sure why. Actually, you didn’t even know why you were stopping him from leaving. You could blame it on the alcohol because you would never do this sober. But you knew you would definitely think about doing this when you eyed his veiny, rough hand lifting to his face, his finger scratching his chin. You just needed the push from the alcohol to act on it. 

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked again. 

Toji shook his head. The both of you continued staring at each other; Toji waiting for you to speak while you tried to think of something else to say. He raised an eyebrow, getting a little annoyed now. You pursed your lips and looked away. Toji gave you a few more seconds before he sighed. He was about to walk away when you spoke up again, your voice the softest he had ever heard. He wondered if he imagined the slight tremble in your voice. 

“Are you going back to find your friends?” 

He turned back around to see you just so slightly pouting at him. He ran his hand through his hair as he looked at his watch. You couldn’t help your eyes roaming to his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. 

“Not sure.” Toji looked up at you. When he saw you nibbling on your bottom lip, he quirked an eyebrow. “Is there something you need?”

You shook your head quickly. He knew you wanted to say more but when you didn’t, he decided to turn away again, this time in the pretense of leaving. He knew you were going to call out to him again, which you did. He swiveled around and threw a hand up in exasperation. 

“What do you want?” Toji saw the kicked puppy look on your face and immediately regretted his actions. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Princess,” he started gently but frustratedly. “You want something from me. And until you tell me, I won’t know what you want.”

You hesitated again. But when you saw the lift of his scary eyebrow, you mumbled something under your breath. There was no way Toji could hear you because you’re not even sure what you actually said. Yet Toji knew. 

“What?” he muttered. You knew he was teasing you now from the way he crossed his beefy arms and his lips curled slightly in a smirk. “Come closer and let me hear you, Princess.”

You hesitated moving forward. You shuffled a little closer to him and only stayed staring. Toji lifted a sharp eyebrow again. Hanging your head, you mumbled your request again. You stopped breathing when the man bumped your chin up with his rough hand. You were staring up at him with unblinking eyes now. He was so close that you could see the light shadow of his stubble. 

“You asked if I could bring you to bed?” Toji repeated, except it sounded like he was mocking you. 

You gulped and nodded your head. Drinking had never made you so submissive or timid. Ever. And no one had made you such a docile girl before. Ever. 

You felt your heart steel when Toji scoffed. “I’m not your babysitter, sweetheart. Why would I bring you to bed?” Your lips parted slightly to say something but you stopped when he challenged, “Just get to the point and tell me you want to be fucked, why don’t you?”

You gasped. “Wha—!”

Toji let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. “And now you’re acting like that’s not true?” 

It was. But that wasn’t the point. 

“This is very unprofessional of you, Toji,” you snapped, your face heating up now. You just hoped he would pin your blush on your anger. 

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m wrong?” You continued glaring at him. “So you don’t actually want to be fucked by my big cock?”

Your heart was pounding now. You wanted to be dicked down so bad. Especially by your hot bodyguard. But you were a prideful person. 

So you crossed your arms and announced, “You’re an asshole. You’re a fucking piece of shit, Toji. I’m your boss!”

Toji crossed his arms and shrugged. “My boss that wants me to fuck her.”

“Fuck you, Toji!” you swore as you held your hand up to swing at him. 

Toji caught your wrist in midair and quirked an eyebrow. “Little girl going to hit me for speaking the truth?” You continued glaring at him and sucking on your inner cheek. Why was your heart flipping at the disrespect you were getting from him? “This is what you wanted, huh?” 

“What—”

“Being a needy little girl who needs to be tucked into bed when you just want to be fucked good?”

“Fuck you,” you spat at him. 

Toji narrowed his eyes on your angry expression. “Do not curse at me, Princess.”

You were throwing a fit now as you stood your ground and said slowly, with more emphasis, “Fuck. You. Toji.”

Your heart jumped when Toji threw your hand to the side. He took a step closer, towering over you like a huge wall. You gulped at the proximity and the dark look in his eyes. 

“You’re a spoilt brat, you know?” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Your tantrums and your shitty attitude. I put up with all of that just fine. But being a needy bitch with that attitude of yours is just distasteful.”

You felt your throat swell up and your nose prickling. Did he have to be so brutally honest with his words? 

Toji saw your eyes glistening over with tears now. He might have gone overboard with his insults. He wouldn’t be surprised if he lost his job tomorrow. Especially when he saw the first teardrop fall from your eye. He cradled your cheek with his calloused hand and roughly swiped his thumb over the tear streak. 

“Stop crying.” 

You only sniffled as more tears fell. Toji let out a loud sigh, now engulfing your face with both hands to wipe your tears away. 

“You’re such a brat,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“You’re mean,” you retorted in your wobbly voice. 

Toji looked amused by your response. “What?” He chuckled softly. “I’m mean? Have you heard yourself curse at your employees?”

“Behind their backs though,” you mumbled quietly. You did say some mean things about them. 

Toji scoffed out a laugh. He pushed your face away, causing you to gasp and glare at him. He clicked his tongue. “Good night, brat.”

Upon hearing that sentence, you immediately dropped your tough act as you gaped at him. “You’re leaving?” You sounded like such a kid. 

“Yep.” He was slowly walking backwards now. 

“So you’re not actually going to fuck me?” 

This made Toji stop in his tracks. You just had to say it. Dancing around the issue was not going to get you anywhere. He lifted an eyebrow.

“I only fuck good girls.”

You craved his approval. You perked up and wiped your tears quickly. “I’m a good girl.”

“And I don’t fuck young girls.”

“I’m not that young!” 

“We have at least a 15-year gap between us. You’re plenty young, sweetheart.”

You whined. “So? You hate young, tight pussy?”

Toji squinted at you. He made sure to look you in the eyes as he said, “No. Little girls just can’t take my big, daddy cock.” Your heart slammed against your ribcage and was almost going into overdrive. “You’re not going to be able to handle me, Princess.”

“Try me.”

“Try you?” he repeated in a chuckle. He glanced away as he ran his palm over his mouth. When he looked back at you, his eyes were dark and dangerous. “I’m not going to fuck my boss and ruin her with my cock, Princess.”

You levelled eyes with him. “What if your boss ordered you to fuck her?”

Toji didn’t look away or blink. “Doesn’t work. I want to hear her beg.”

You paused. He was going to degrade you into a begging whore. Knowing that you were too prideful for this, Toji blew air out his nose and smirked. He had thought you were done arguing until you walked forward and hooked a finger on his belt loop. 

“Please, Toji? Fuck me?” He kept staring down at your puppy eyes and your little pout. You slid your hand down to tug on the buckle of his belt. “Please fuck me with your big cock, Daddy,” you mewled. “I’ll be a good girl for you.”

Toji licked his bottom lip as he reached out to cup your face. You tilted your head and nuzzled your cheek into his palm. He lined your bottom lip with his thumb, which only made you slither your tongue out to meet his digit. You gave him a sultry look as your tongue played with his thumb before enclosing your lips around it. You could hear Toji’s low groan. 

You reached your other hand out to start unbuckling his belt, only for Toji to pull his thumb out of your mouth and engulf your small hands with one of his. You gaped up at him, holding your breath. 

“Brats don’t deserve my cock,” he said slowly and quietly. 

Immediately, you slid your hand out from under his and tipped your toes to be closer to him. It was a very small action but you caught Toji pulling back a little, as if trying to put some distance between you. So you reached up to cradle his nape and try to pull his head closer to you, although he wouldn't budge. 

“I’m sorry!” you apologised, giving him the most desperate look ever. “I won't be a brat to you anymore, I swear!” 

Toji scoffed and turned his head away. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Impatient that he was just brushing you aside, you let go of his nape and stepped up on your couch so that you were facing him again. Toji was glaring up at you now. So you leaned forward and circled your arms around his neck, pressing your face to his cheek. 

“Please,” you whined into his skin. You even gave him whispery kisses in between words as you pleaded, “You’re the only person that I will let dominate me.”

You could feel the tension in his jaw as he clenched down on his teeth. As you continued kissing and licking a trail down his neck, you were aware of Toji going very still. So, in one last attempt, you tried pulling him closer again to whisper in his ear with a hand on the back of his head. 

“Daddy Toji,” you purred in the sultriest voice you could have ever made. 

Almost at once, you yelped and clenched your arms around his neck as Toji’s strong arm wrapped around you and swooped you towards his body. You were suddenly carried like a baby, sitting on Toji’s hip with your legs and arms around his body like a koala bear. You realised belatedly that you were moving, and only then you found out that Toji was walking in the direction of your room. 

The moment he entered your bedroom, Toji threw you on the bed so roughly that your hair was all over your face. You swept it all away just in time to watch the silhouette of him undoing his belt at the foot of your bed. It was dark but you just knew he was staring back at you. Wanting to see the expression on his face, you flipped around and started crawling towards your bedside table to turn on the lamp, only to gasp when a strong hold catches you by the waist and reins you back. 

“Running away, little doll?” You shivered at how rough Toji’s voice sounded next to your ear. With his other hand, he curled your hair behind your ear and moaned into your neck. “You’re not about to turn me on and leave, are you, Princess?”

You shook your head, turning your head slightly so that you could feel the tip of his nose brushing your cheek. “I wanted to turn the light on,” you noticed your quiet voice shaking a little. 

If Toji heard the nervous tremble of your voice, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he easily picked you up and started walking around the bed to reach your bedside table. “Good. Daddy wants to see the look on your face when he fucks you,” he muttered into your ear. He let go of you and landed a big slap on your ass. “Go on, then.”

Twisting your body, you tried to reach for your bedside table. Your arm was a bit too short to touch the lamp, so you pushed your ass out to lean against Toji’s crotch and used his erection to steady yourself as you reached out for the lamp. 

The moment you managed to turn the light on, Toji grabbed your hair close to your scalp and fell forward so that you were laying on the bed beneath him, your ass still glued to his groin, your cheek smushed on your bed, his other hand holding himself up on your bed so his big build doesn’t crush you. Your heart was pitter-pattering at this point. No one had ever had the balls to be so rough with you before. You were incredibly turned on. 

“Mm…” Toji groaned into your ear, the tip of his nose pressing into your hair. “So eager for my cock, huh?” 

You nodded your head almost desperately. “Touch me, Toji.”

The man tugged on your hair. “That’s Daddy Toji to you, little girl.”

“Touch me, Daddy Toji,” you breathed. 

At once, he pushed himself away from you. Your breath was stuck in your chest when he flipped you around roughly and pulled on your legs to bring you closer to the edge of the bed. Toji was a tall man. As you stared up at him, you were once again reminded of how physically huge and tall he was. And suddenly you were getting cold feet. Because he definitely should have a size that would match his physique, and you just knew he was going to be huge. 

You guessed that he saw something on your face because he clicked his tongue and gave you a light smack to the side of your thigh. “Don’t go backing out now, sweetheart. You’re going to take this dick inside of you and you’re going to be having the best time of your life.”

You swallowed and shook your head. Of course. Yes. You could do this, you were mentally hyping yourself up. 

It’s weird because of how tough Toji was normally but he must had seen how scared you looked. You felt his rough hands on your thighs, dragging your dress up as he caressed you. You held your breath as you watched him lean down to nose your stomach, the only thing between you being your silk dress. Your eyes shut and you felt your body relax as he trailed his nose up your chest, leaving kisses in his wake. 

When he got to your neck, he glanced up to see that you had your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes shut in bliss. He wasted no time in dipping his head into the crook of your neck, giving you light bites and open-mouthed kisses. Toji moved around your throat like he was forming an invisible necklace. 

When he got to your other ear, he moaned in a voice lower and way huskier than his ever was, “You’re good, Princess. You’re going to love my cock.”

As if you were in a trance, you immediately nodded your head. And like you were under a spell, you turned your head to meet his lips for the first time ever and you swore that he tasted like everything you needed and wanted. His kiss was somehow so him; he showed dominance yet was careful with you in his kiss, treating you like the princess that you were. 

As your tongues danced, you felt Toji’s hand sliding higher up your thigh where he met your underwear. You weren’t wearing much in order to look good in your dress, and Toji appreciated it with a low moan. He easily slid his thumb under the thin string of fabric. Your lips lost contact with Toji’s as you let out a pitched moan the moment he started sliding the back of his thumb up and down your lips, spreading your wetness everywhere. 

Toji chuckled quietly. “So wet, someone must have waited a long time for this.”

You couldn’t say anything as he continued to tease you like this, letting the sound of your wet lips smacking against his thumb dirty your room. Toji, knowing that you were finally loosening up again, leaned away and this time, pulled on the crotch of your g-string to slide the back of his pointer and middle fingers against your lips instead of his thumb. He did the same motion and when his fingers were wet enough, he bent them so that his knuckles were being dragged up and down your pussy lips. 

The moans and mewls slipping out of your mouth were pornographic. Your hips were moving in tandem with his knuckles, your back was arched in pleasure — these reactions were happening without you even knowing. You couldn’t even hear the unzipping of Toji’s jeans or the clang of his belt buckle when he pulled his briefs down, not when he was rubbing circles on your clit with his knuckles, sending jolts of pleasure to every fiber of your body. You had never felt such euphoria in your life. 

Toji’s voice was nothing but a rasp when he asked, “Where do you keep your condoms?” 

Your brain was still foggy with pleasure from his ministrations that you were unresponsive. You were knocked awake when you felt a smack to your cheek. The slap stung enough to pull you out of your fervor, but light enough not to actually hurt. You blinked and focused on the gruff man towering above you. He’d stopped touching you at this point, not wanting to lose you again. 

“Condoms. Where?” he asked again, this time with more enunciation. 

You swallowed and shook your head. “I don’t keep any.”

Toji was visibly troubled now as he looked to the side. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. 

Slowly, you raised yourself up on your elbows. “What’s wrong?”

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he faced you. “I don’t have one on me.”

You sat up now so that you were closer to him. Your voice was airy but sure when you said, “Fuck me raw, Toji.” You could see him staring at you, wondering if this was a prank. So you reached up to grab a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer so that you could kiss him. Then, you breathed against his lips, “Now, Daddy.”

That was all he needed. 

Toji brought his hand to your neck and pushed you away roughly, causing you to fall back on the mattress, one side of your dress strap falling off your shoulder. You were excited now as you watched him pull your g-string down your legs. Pressing the tip of his cock to your wet lips, he flickered his eyes up to meet yours. You bit down on your bottom lip, moaning as he moved his hips slowly, sliding his length up and down your slit, lubricating his cock with your juices. You were undeniably getting wetter. The sound of your lips kissing and smacking against Toji’s meat was turning the both of you on. You were mewling and he was groaning in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Toji cursed. He had never enjoyed foreplay this much before. He was sure he was going to nut the moment he entered you. 

Darting his eyes up, Toji found you already watching him with half-lidded eyes, already looking so fucked out. The fact that he had his prideful, arrogant boss in this position just made his insides burn with a kind of desire he never felt before. He wanted to see you like this all the time; under him, being toyed with at his mercy.

Making sure to keep his eyes locked on you, on a downward stroke of his cock, he slyly positioned his tip at your inviting hole so that when he thrusted his hips again, his cockhead would slip through your lips. You let out a painful shriek the moment you felt your pussy widen, trying to fit something unfamiliar and thick. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit down on your lip, your hands now grabbing at Toji’s muscular arms, your nails piercing into his flesh. He slid further into you, giving you a pleasurably painful stretch. 

A whimper slipped past your lips and you felt a hot tear drip down the side of your face. Toji stopped, but he might as well had still been entering you because your head was throbbing and your body was burning up. All you could feel was his huge dick that was barely even inside of you and how tight your pussy was clenching around him. 

Toji brushed his hair away from his face, trying to distract himself from plunging the rest of his length inside of you. The look of pain and pleasure on your face, accompanied with your goddamn sloppy, tight pussy was going to make him sin more than once tonight. But he had to hold himself back. He was not a foolish and rash person, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be one now. 

“Sweetheart.” Toji’s voice was faraway. He placed his hands on your knees and pushed down on them to bring them closer to your body, successfully getting your attention this time. “You alright?” 

You blinked several times, blankly. He reached forward to stroke your chin, only to accidentally slide another centimetre of his cock into you, causing you to groan and shut your eyes. Toji froze and waited. When you finally had your eyes open, you saw that he was looking worried. 

“Painful?” 

You swallowed and confessed, “A little bit. But it’s okay. You’re just the biggest I’ve had.”

Toji hummed and stroked the side of your thigh. “And you’re about the tightest pussy I’ve ever had.”

You giggled breathlessly and relaxed yourself, trying to get your walls to unclench around him. Toji leaned back a little, staring down at where barely even half his cock was buried in your pussy. He could feel you pulsing around his cockhead, trying to will yourself to loosen up. So to help you, he started churning his saliva in his mouth. He dropped his head and spat directly on your clit, the warm fluid coating your engorged bud. Using it as lubrication, Toji stroked your spit-covered clit with his thumb almost in a gentle caress. 

Your insides fluttered at his ministrations. Inch by inch, he slid slowly inside of you, distracting you with the swirling of his thumb on your sensitive pearl, easing the pain of his thick girth widening your tight pussy. He suppressed a groan, actually enjoying your mewls and whines that he just wanted to be quiet to hear them. But you felt so tight and warm that Toji cannot help but moan when he was completely sheathed inside of you. 

The image of his mouthy, ill-tempered boss at the mercy of his cock, paired with your wet and tight pussy around him, Toji had to take a moment to breathe. He didn’t want to cum yet. He couldn’t. He wanted to enjoy this while it lasted. He might actually be fired tomorrow, so he needed to make the most out of this. 

Blowing out a big breath, Toji steadied himself. He looked down at you, your face still contorted in pain and pleasure. With his hands on your knees, he spread your legs apart. He started thrusting slowly, waking you up from your daze. His pace quickly sped up until he had your tits bouncing so hard that they were out of your dress. He watched you arch your back and grab a fistful of your duvet, trying to futilely ground yourself. But he was going so fast, and so hard. You were breathless and almost seeing stars. 

Toji felt your pussy clamping up when he smacked the side of your thigh. He groaned. “You like being treated like a whore, huh?” You whined, unable to say anything as he continued rutting his hips into you. “You like being put down and degraded like the stupid little bitch you are.”

You were blabbering incoherent words now and it made Toji chuckle. He reached forward and slapped your cheek. 

“Feels good, huh?” You could only nod as you gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes. He landed another slap on your cheek, eliciting a loud mewl from you. Toji groaned. “Fuck. I could fuck you all night, baby.”

You reached up to hold his wrist, placing his hand on your neck. “Choke me, Daddy,” you plead. 

“Shit.”

Toji was incredibly turned on. To have you begging and asking to be choked, his cock felt like it was going to explode. Wrapping his fingers around your neck, you tightened your hold on his wrist. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he continued to fuck you while suppressing oxygen flow to your brain. The pleasure was so good. Toji could feel your pussy clenching on his cock at longer intervals, signalling how close you are to climaxing. 

Releasing his grip on your throat, Toji grunts, “You’re going to cum, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You could only nod your head in a daze. Toji’s stamina was incredible. He kept fucking you hard and fast, not slowing down once, just building up your climax higher and higher. 

“Good. Make some pretty noises for Daddy when you cum,” Toji cooed. 

Tightening his grip on your airway again, he sped up his fucking once again. Each time he entered you was a resounding wet slap of his hips against yours. You felt a knot forming in your stomach when Toji touched your clit, rubbing the pearl up and down like it was a joystick of a video game controller. Toji let go of your throat just as you were about to see white. 

You were a mess under him, moaning and whining like the needy little girl you were. You felt a heady pleasure when his palm struck your cheek, then the back of his fingers caressing the assaulted flesh like he regretted that decision, only to receive another slap to your face. 

Toji was relentless. He could watch you all day, just being degraded by him, thrashing about from the pleasure. But this was riling him up too. He was so close. And judging by your frequent moans and the fluttering of your pussy walls, he knew you were close too. Toji wanted to please you first but he knew that he couldn’t fuck you any longer or he would cum before you did. So he stopped his fucking and stayed buried inside of you. Now, he used his thumb to pull the flesh of your crotch upwards, exposing your clit. With his other hand, he rubbed harshly on the sensitive button, at the same time sheathing in and out of your pussy at a steady pace. 

“Oh, fuck!” you screamed, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you could only hear ringing and see white. 

Toji groaned, quickly pulling out of you. Still rubbing your clit to prolong your orgasm, he stroked his cock as he watch you wreath and cry out, your body spasming at the waves of pleasure crashing down on you. 

“Fuck,” Toji cursed under his breath as he stopped abusing your clit to focus on his own pleasure. 

His hand slid up and down his length faster now. And the moment he noticed a glistening trickle spilling out of your cunt, he let out another string of curses. He brought his cock to your clit as he came on your pussy, his white cum soaking your sex even more. You mewled at how warm the fluid was, feeling it drip along your lips. 

The room was now filled with pants and heavy breathing as you calmed down from your high. It took him a while but Toji was the first to move as he let out a deep breath and took a step back. You fluttered your eyes open to see him staring down at you, at his masterpiece, all fucked out and spent. 

Without a word, he turned away and walked off in the direction of your bathroom. You were surprised to hear the water running. After a few seconds, Toji came back and wordlessly scooped you up in his arms, bringing you to the toilet. He set you on your feet and took your dress off of you before pulling the shower door open and nudging you in. 

You were a bit uncomfortable at his silent treatment, wondering if this had made things awkward, especially when he left the bathroom to leave you to wash up. Wanting to talk to him before he left, you took a quick shower and left your bathroom without even drying yourself. You found him still in your room, sitting on the edge of the bed respectfully. He glanced up when he noticed your presence. He raised an eyebrow at your hastiness. 

“You’ll still be my bodyguard, right?” you murmured softly.

Toji hummed and stood up. “For as long as you keep me around.”

You nodded. The both of you just stared at each other, a bit awkward now that the sexual tension had been dealt with. “Are you going to stay?”

He shook his head. “Probably not a good idea. I’ll just see you on Monday.”

You nodded your head. You didn’t want to seem too needy. He was already starting towards the door when you blurted out, “Do you think we could keep doing this?”

Toji stopped in his tracks and faced you. His eyebrows lifted slightly in amusement. “What? Fucking?” 

You couldn't help the blush that crept up on you. But your pride and ego were back now that the heat of the moment was over. “Something like that,” you muttered. 

Toji laughed under his breath. “We’ll see. I only fuck good girls, remember.”

“Toji—!” 

He interrupted your whining with another quiet chuckle. You were starting to think you liked hearing his laugh. 

“Good night, Princess.”

Main story🔞>>

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© chocochipsushi 2023 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

#bodyguard toji #toji fushiguro #toji #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk x y/n #jjk fic #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #toji x oc #jujutsu kaisen x oc #smut

[brackishkittie]

yeah it's still september but it's halloween time for me sooo

walking through a haunted house with abby and getting scared and clinging onto her every five minutes. her laughing and comforting you throughout the house and at the end ✨treats you✨ for being so brave🤭

in for it, abby anderson

— abby anderson x black!reader

synopsis: basically the request. 😭😭

c/n: just nastyyyy bro, car sex, fingering ( r!receiving ), pet names ( baby, babe, doll, sweet girl ), clit slapping, edging, and oral ( r!receiving ).

a/n: this was supposed to come out weeks ago but writers block kicked me in my ass omfg…

layout creds: @nysrage ( go check her out, her work is amazing btw. 🤭🤭 )

word count: 1.6k

it’s october and a cool festival opens up every year for everyone to go to, so you and abby decide to go since you guys already go there as if it’s a tradition. after doing mostly everything in eachother’s lines of sight, abby looks at the new haunted house they opened up and her eyes just light up like a little kid looking at a candy store. “babe look! they opened up the haunted house.” she smiles wildly as she looks back at you. abby knew you liked scary shit, but you had your limits and haunted houses were one of them. you feel a frown spread across your face when you saw it.

“ohh!!…abs are you sure you can handle it?” you ask hesitantly, trying to kinda sway her away from it for now. “..yeah?? why do you think I’m trying to get inside of it?” she grabs your hand when you say nothing and walks you over to the line. “I know you not getting sassy with me abby..” you squint at her but she doesn’t take you seriously. “oh you do NOT wanna see sassy.” she laughs and you just roll your eyes. you guys talk half of the waiting time and before you know it, you’re at the front of the line. “enjoy the house!” the employee smiles at you two and lets you both in. not even 5 minutes of being inside of the house, you cling onto abby’s arm. “jeez..and you were asking me if I can handle it?” she laughs and looks around in awe, “these people need a raise, look at how much effort they put! the little ugly dolls are looking at me funny.” she says as she gets a good look at them. you guys don’t even realize that a person in a realistic ass zombie costume was sneaking up behind you guys because when you two turned around? all hell broke loose the way you screamed bloody murder.

“holy shit..YOUR FACE WAS PRICELESS!” abby starts laughing at you at you and you just frown again, “that’s not funny.” you sigh and look around again, hoping that whatever the fuck that thing was wouldn’t pop up again and scare you. “I’m sorry babe, but look, if you can make it through the rest of this house, I’ll reward you at the end. got it?” she wraps an arm around you and you cling onto her once again. she places a reassuring kiss right on your forehead and leads you through the house once more. “they put too much detail into this place..I don’t like it one bit…” you say while your grip on abby gets even tighter. “baby it’s ok, I got you. remember that none of this is actually real so you’ll be ok. I promise.” abby smiles at you and you just stay quiet, you didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath. “how much more longer do we have in here?” you whine, “not that long baby, cmon you can do it. none of this is real.”

you were ok for awhile, trying your best to keep your cool but the feeling of being watched made your stomach do flips and turns. the only thing that kept you at bay was the fact that you were holding onto your girlfriend, abby. “abby I really don’t like this.” you utter, still looking over your shoulder every now and then. “you’re a brave girl, aren’t you? we’re almost out baby.” she rubs your shoulder and you relax, you don’t feel as tense anymore and not even 5 minutes later, you guys finally make it out of that horrible place. “seeee?? no need to be scared, we made it out in one piece.” abby shoves you playfully while laughing at the face you made in return, “remind me to never ever come with you to a haunted house again..” you cross your arms and abby kisses your forehead once again. “who are you gonna cling onto then, hm?” you paused, she was right but you kissed your teeth, “whatever..let’s just get in the car, they’re gonna close soon and it’s pretty late.” you say to her, she nods and wraps an arm around your waist while you two walk back to your shared car.

“mmfgh— fuck!” you moan out, her fingers deep inside of you, while her tongue skillfully attacks your clit. her eyes never coming off of you, she’s been thinking about getting you like this for atleast half of the whole night. the way you clung onto her, the way your body pressed up against her, the way you just had her head spinning. she was so proud of you, her brave girl going through a haunted house with her and now she just wants to reward you. “abbyyyy..fuck- too much…” you whine, gripping her hair even tighter and bucking your hips, “you can take it, baby, I know you can..cmon doll, you’re brave aren’t you?” she says while she’s still ramming her fingers in and out of you, driving you absolutely nuts. you try to move back but she pulls you back by wrapping a strong arm around your leg, “don’t fucking run.” she mutters. her eyes darkening as she said it, abby looked feral. she slapped your clit and you flinched, biting the inside of your cheek. your clit was so sensitive from all the stimulation and she was aware of that. very aware. abby pulls her fingers out and shoved them into your mouth. “be a good girl and stay still. I won’t tell you again.” you nod and she takes her fingers out of your mouth.

abby slowly rubs at your clit with her thumb, holding and squeezing your left thigh with her hand while she’s holding eye contact with you again. she started rubbing your clit faster and your breathing hitched. “a-abby please it’s too much!” your back arches as you grasp at her arm for support and try to push her away, “so fuckin’ disobedient..” she groans and slaps at your clit again. she shoves her fingers back inside of you and her mouth latches back onto your clit, her tongue swirling around your bud and sucking harder than before, “abby I’m gonna fucking cum! fuckkk!” your hips buck again and as soon as you feel like your gonna cum, abby completely stops. “you can’t cum yet. you didn’t listen, so now you gotta beg for it baby.” she smirks, “sit up and get on my lap.” she pats her leg and you move onto her, and as soon as you did, she pulls your shirt off and immediately starts groping and sucking at your tits. abby looked feral, the way her hand moved down to smack your ass and make its way back over to your ache, she was all over you. as she starts fingering you again, she kisses you sloppily, your lipgloss smudging as she kisses you, and runny mascara tears rolling down your face.

“abby pleaseeee- oh fuck!” you moan out, feeling yourself reaching your high again, “you wanna cum baby? hm?” she slurs, and all you can do is nod as her half-lidded eyes watch you lose yourself from her just shoving her fingers in and out of you. “abby please let me cum..it’s too muchhhh!!” your hand grips at her shoulder and your eyes roll back from all of the stimulation. “go on sweet girl. go ahead and cum for me baby.” abby starts kissing and sucking at your neck while pinching at your sensitive nipples. the stimulation was sending you insane at this point. you look disheveled and completely drained, “I know baby, it’s okay. you’re almost there.” you felt your vision get blurry and your legs go numb as you cummed all over abby’s fingers. “such a good girl. I’ll clean up and get you something to eat on the way okay?..but first maybe get some clothes on because I may have forgotten that we’re in a parking lot…”

tags: @vnus-starr @mariefilms @machetegirl109 🤎

#brackishkittie #abby x you #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby x black reader #abby x y/n

[veethewriter]

Monty x reader! Requested by @ifyouwontlistenwhowill

Summary: reader starts working at pizza plex to earn money for college, works at montys gift shop, Monty slowly starts falling in love with the reader.

Day one: 11:31 A.M.

You stood outside the pizza plex nervous for your first day. I mean your job was easy, just selling stuff at the gift shop for Monty's Gators Golf, handing out any prizes if they had been won by people. People ugh that's the thing you were most worried about, was the large crowd. Taking a deep breath you walked in looking for the person that was supposed to show you around. Noticing someone waving for your attention, you quickly walked over, going through the crowd of people checking into the pizza plex.

The person in front of you quickly introduced themselves, quite cheerful for being at work. He grabbed your hand shaking it, "Hi! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Dave I'm the manager of the side of the building that the gift shop you will be working in is at!"

Smiling nervously shaking his hand back, introducing yourself also, "Hi it's nice to meet you too, I'm y/n."

Dave let go of your hand and smiled, "Well then let's get started with the tour then."

Day 1: 2:28

After having gone through the tour of the half of the building you would be on, you finally got to Monty's Gator Golf. He quickly showed you around the gift shop and how to work the cash register before looking back at you, "Okay one last thing before you can start, I need to introduce you to Monty since you are working in his attraction. You're gonna see each other often."

Before you could respond he gave you a serious look, probably the most serious one you've seen on him all day before saying "I will warn you though, Monty has anger issues. He usually doesn't show it until after hours but still be careful."

Now you were even more nervous than before, I mean you thought it would be easier to talk to the animatronics than other people but one with anger issues you had no idea what would happen. Dave started to walk away so you took that as a clue to follow after him. Finally finding Monty, who had just finished talking to a group of kids about the rules in Monty's Gator Golf. Dave had waited until the kids walked away before walking up with you to him.

He nervously smiled at Monty who had already started basically glaring at him, "Hey Monty I came to introduce you to the new person who will be running your gift shop."

Monty looked at you from over his sunglasses before making a scoffing-like sound and starting to walk away while talking, "I don't care what you do, just do your job."

Dave looked back at you and smiled, "Don't take it so rough, he's usually like that towards most people."

A little upset about how the first meeting went, you just nodded to Dave before he lets you go to open the gift shop.

Day 3: 8:03 A.M.

You sighed as you were opening the gift shop, your first day went okay, nothing really happened. You had your second day yesterday which also was uneventful besides Monty keeping a close eye on you. He didn't seem to want to interact with you though, just make sure you weren't up to anything bad. You were setting up all the stuffed animals using a ladder that had been in the back. Even with the ladder, it was hard to hook the small straps that kept the stuffed animals from falling.

Having to reach up higher, the ladder started to shake underneath you before giving up. With a quick scream and closing your eyes as you fell instead of feeling the ground, you felt metal. You opened your eyes and realized Monty was the one to catch you. He quickly sat you down and growled softly towards you "Be more careful about what you're doing."

Before you could respond Monty had started walking away and some other employees had swarmed around you to make sure you were okay. You thought maybe Monty was nicer than everyone said he was.

Day 11: 4:07 P.M.

You sighed looking at the time, noticing the shop was empty at the time you decided to go ahead and stock up on some small things that were out. Going over the shelves you noticed that the Monty pens were completely out and you knew from this morning you had stocked the last of them that were out in front this morning. Which means you would have to go in the back to grab a whole new box of them.

Now that you thought of it, your and Monty's relationship had gotten a little better, with small conversations here and there but it was mostly with you just talking. He would make small noises here and there to tell you he acknowledged what you said though. Shaking your head, you head to the back to look at the boxes. Only to your disappointment when you noticed the box you needed was at the very top.

You can't use the ladder, in fact you haven't seen that ladder since you almost fell off it that one time and since then all the plushies have been hooked up when you got to work. Climbing the shelf would only make it fall over on you. Standing on your tippy toes you could almost reach maybe a bit- suddenly you felt cold metal touch your back as a hand reached over you to grab the box you had been reaching for, feeling what felt like breathing on your neck for a second before it pulled back. You turned around seeing Monty as you tried to calm down the blushing on your cheek from how close he was a second ago.

As you were about to thank him, he handed the box over to you, "Next time ask for help, no need to get hurt over a box."

You nodded quickly and stuttered to him "Ri-ight thank you again for the help."

He just nodded and left heading back into his attraction. Wait what was he doing back here now that you thought of it, was he looking for you?

Day 26: 6:08 P.M.

The gift shop was closed for the next hour for you to restock items and clean up since they were too lazy to hire extra staff to do that while it was open. As you were cleaning you found a discarded club for Gator Golf. Picking it up you had decided to go ahead and return it but you didn't know where they went so of course your best choice was to give it to Monty himself.

Now you two were able to have full conversations with each other with him actually talking, well at least a sentence or two here and there. You two would talk about small things though mostly about instruments and hobbies. Making sure the gift shop was locked up while you were out you had started searching for him. Looking around you finally saw him watching over everyone near a wall, probably having just gotten back from one of the bands night performances.

Walking over to him you spoke up "Hey Monty, I saw this club at the gift shop and thought I would bring it back to you."

Having heard your voice Monty looks over at you and sees the club that you reached out to hand him but seeing that, he also saw the slightly torn-up bandage that was on your hand, "What's that?"

Noticing that he was looking at your hand, you looked down and remembered what happened this morning, "Oh um I hurt my hand moving around some boxes this morning, just scrapped it a little It's nothing bad."

Rolling his eyes he takes the golf club in one hand before grabbing your uninjured hand with his empty hand. Putting away the golf club nearby and continuing to walk you stop to ask "Um where are we going?"

Growing softly at you in a non-threatening way of course, "To a medic station your bandage is ripped and with you working plus sweating so much you're gonna get it infected if it's not wrapped the right way."

You smiled to yourself as the both of you continued to walk. You knew they were wrong, Monty was just a big softy after all....

Well um, you can tell Monty is my favorite... 😃🤭 Anyways I didn't know what to do with the room thing so I didn't add it but I still hope you like it!

#fanfiction #x reader #headcanon #short writing #vee writes #monty gator #monty x reader #fnaf monty #glamrock monty #fnaf monty gator #fnaf montgomery #montgomery gator #fnaf fandom #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x male reader #fnaf x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf hcs #fnaf headcanons #fnaf fluff #fnaf fanfic #glamrock fnaf #fnaf glamrock monty #fnaf glamrock #fnaf glamrock animatronics #fnag security breach #security breach monty

[mistydeyes]

hey, can i please request headcanons of 141 boys with reader that is a youtuber?

omg yes ofc! i used to (and still am) a HUGE YOUTUBE WATCHER so this was so fun to do :) thank you again for requesting!

vidcon but the uk version

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summary: You're not any regular civilian, you're a Youtuber ;) In all seriousness, here's some headcanons of how the boys interact with your channel and support you!

pairing: 141 x YouTuber!Reader

warnings: swearing

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price - beauty and skincare

you were already big on YouTube when you met John

he can't go into a Sephora without someone mentioning your latest video or TikTok

someone would assume you were an employee based on how you were able to help the fan pick out the best skincare and makeup

he was shocked at the sheer number of brand deals you participate in

he also is in awe at the corner you had dedicated to your ring light and makeup desk with a nice camera set-up

when you eventually move in together, he's just used to the number of parcels you get daily

he will insist on at least giving you some money when you do a beauty haul (even though you tell him you don't need it)

one time he tried to surprise you by picking out some things that you mentioned

now your most popular video is “trying out makeup that my boyfriend picked out”

his only annoyance is when you accidentally stain one of the face towels

eventually just buys a new set meant specifically for you when you wash off a look

you're planning on having a new video where you do skincare on him and finally get at some of his blackheads

soap - gaming

prior to meeting Johnny, you already had a sizable channel

you primarily did long lets plays and the occasional stream

your setup is absolutely gorgeous -i'm talking led lights, two monitors that have the best processing power, pro gaming chair, and posters

it took awhile to curate but it's your baby and you make sure he knows that

loves watching you game and will occasionally keep you company for those long streams

it reminds him of when his younger siblings would watch him game on their early Playstation and X-Box consoles

your subscribers love when he's there though because he has the best reactions

your most popular video? "my boyfriend plays five nights at freddy's ⚠️headphone warning⚠️"

despite having amazing technical skills on the field, his multitasking sucked and he would always forget to check on foxy or overuse the battery

you had a great time editing the video after and emphasizing the jumpscares

he won't subject you to rewatching your videos with him but he likes watching other channels or collars you've done

"This guy is absolute shite" "I know, that's why I don't play multiplayer with him anymore"

he'll be so excited if you ever get invited to a big event like Pax, E3, or Gamescom

you basically have to keep him on track as he loves stopping in artist's alley and looking at all the trinkets and merch people are selling

make sure to bring a huge suitcase because your game room is getting a few new additions

gaz - internet documentaries

think of Internet Historian or Down the Rabbit Hole vibe

your channel is dedicated to internet phenomena like Florida Man or the movement to Storm Area 51

you'd tell the facts of the trend and then add a few funny commentary pieces

usually your videos are 45 min to an 1 hr long so a lot of work goes into it

it's more of a hobby than anything but Kyle always thinks the amount of research you do for it is insane

"Babe I think you need a new laptop" "Why?" "I always know you're about to make a new docu-series because it sounds like a fucking airplane takin off"

once your laptop doesn't sound like its going to blow up, he'll be sure to keep you company as you write down your script

"Did you know that there was a convention for X or X happened?" is how most of your conversations go

he'll always smile and let you give him a spark notes version of what happened

will be the one telling you too sleep and that you can continue editing tomorrow

loves when companies send you things for ad reads

hoards all of the items from Dollar Shave Club and Raycon (his absolute favorite sponsor of yours)

he'll occasionally watch your videos while he's cooking or at the gym

always loves learning something new even if its about a failed furry convention

"I liked your latest video" is such a huge compliment from him because he knows how much effort you put into it

he'll occasionally feed you ideas that he sees while he's scrolling through social media

"You should do something on Hat Man" "WHO??" "Yk the guy you see when you take too much Benadryl, apparently Soap sees him too"

ghost - asmr

tbh doesn’t think much about your channel

you’ll just occasionally leave the room to record or crack some slime in front of a camera

however when your channel is mentioned in conversation, he considers revisiting

“have you heard about this asmr thing?” Gaz asked the group and Soap immediately interjected

“OH YEAH some of them are amazing to watch alone,” he said with a wink

“Like this account-“ Soap wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Ghost snatched the phone out of his hand

“Sorry just couldn’t see it” he apologized and he tried to suppress his disgust that someone else was listening to you at night like that

after that, he takes another look and watches a few of your more popular videos

ofc its your series roleplaying as a nurse or doctor taking care of someone

as well as one where you act like a sleepy girlfriend waking up next to their significant other

he will never say that he watches your videos but you do notice the uptick in views and likes (it's a cute little secret of his)

one time you attempted to ask all these questions about being in the military to help you write dialogue for your latest combat medic series

"People seriously want stuff like that?" "You'll be surprised, not tell me what you usually have in your pack"

he will cringe when you pull your asmr voice on him and whisper in your ear

"Cut that shit out."

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #Johnny mactavish x reader #mw2 imagine #izzie answers #madebyizzie #izzie is writing

[judebelle]

Hey I have a gavi request with him getting glasses, and he's all pouty abt it and its just pure fluff

i'm not cute, i'm sexy! - p.g. x reader

a/n : this req is so cutsie wtf

cw : js super fluffy

pairing : pablo gavi x fem!reader

wc : 800 (sorry this is short lol)

---

you were sat in the passenger seat of the car, fingers swiping over your phone screen. you had been waiting for around 15 minutes for your boyfriend to come out of the glasses store.

pablo had went to the optometrist about a week ago for a check up, and also because he was having trouble seeing things from far away.

he was told that he needed glasses, and boy was pablo upset. he liked how he looked and was worried that glasses would make him look like a “nerd”.

you reassured him and told him that that wasn’t true. you tried to tell him he would look handsome with and without them.

he also needed to pick up contacts since he can’t wear glasses during training and games. but the optometrist told him to only wear them when he wasn't able to wear his glasses.

he was all quiet during the drive to the store. whenever he was in a bad mood, he would usually blast his music. you thought hell had frozen over when the whole car ride was silent.

finally after a few more minutes of waiting, pablo walked out of the shop with a paper bag in his hand. he wasn’t wearing any glasses walking out of the store, so you assumed they were in the bag.

he finally reached the car and opened the door before sitting in the drivers seat. he turned to you with a sigh. “i hate my life.”

you giggled at his dramatics. “put them on, i wanna see.” you bit your lip in anticipation.

“i would but… i’m.. hungry. what do you wanna eat?”

your eyebrows furrowed. what did hunger have to do with his glasses? “stop with the excuses, pablo.” your hand grasped his bicep. “i wanna seeee!” you whined.

your begging had finally convinced mr. stubborn to give in. “fine.”

you squealed in excitement and planted a kiss on his cheek. he fished through the bad and pulled out a leather glasses case.

he turned over to face the window away from you as he put them on. “don’t laugh!”

“i wont, i promise. just turn!”

he slowly turned over with his head looking down at his lap. after a deep breath, he looked up at you.

he had picked out clear full rimmed glasses. they sat low on his nose before he pushed them up gently with his finger. a rosy blush crept up on his cheeks while he tried to bite back his embarrassed smile.

you smiled softly to ease pablo's nerves.

“you look good baby! they look.. cute.”

pablo’s is smiled dropped at your choice of words. “cute?”

you nodded before pushing the front of his hair back admiringly.

“i’m not cute, i’m sexy! this isn’t fair!” he complained before his hands dropped into his lap hopelessly. “my life is over.”

this man.

you laughed at his overdramatic reaction. “you still look sexy, pablito, but you also look cute! there’s nothing wrong with that.” you hand cupped his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek before you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek in hopes of cheering him up.

he still didn’t listen to your reassurances. i told you he was stubborn.

he pouted and turned the key in the ignition. “let’s just go get some food.”

you two had driven off to a drive through to get some wraps and sandwiches. pablo pulled up to the speaker and told the employee both of your orders' since you visited here often. .

as he spoke, his glasses would slide down his nose, so he would have to keep pushing them up. he looked adorable, you couldn’t lie.

once you drove up to the window to pick up the food, pablo let out hushed curses at his glasses while he pushed them up his nose aggressively. “¡estas cosas estúpidas no se quedarán despiertas, dios!” (these stupid things won’t stay up, god!)

you chuckled at his frustration before the drive through window opened, the lady handing him your food.

you thanked her and drove off. after continuing to push up the glasses, pablo gave up and took them off. “i can’t do this, seriously.” you turned to him with wide eyes. “not on the road, pablo! put them back on!”

he, once again, didn’t listen to you and kept driving. his eyes kept squinting at different street signs and lights.

it took him almost hitting a squirrel for him to give up and put them back on with a angry huff.

---

you two had finally reached home. you plated your food and sat at the dining table. you sat across from pablo. his mood had eventually fixed itself as he ate. he must’ve been really hungry.

he was speaking passionately, excited to tell you a story. the whole duration of lunch pablo had kept pushing his glasses up his nose, but he had become accustomed to it now.

“i told pedro to call me later about it, because i dont want him doing anything stup-“

his words were cut short when his glasses finally slid off his face and into the sandwich on his plate, right into a puddle sauce.

you couldn’t help but laugh loudly at your boyfriend who was left pouting and staring at his plate and new mortal enemy.

#pablo gavi smut x reader #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi #pablo gavi angst x reader #pablo gavi fanfiction #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi smut #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi fluff x reader #smut #fluff #angst #football x you #football x reader #football drabble #football imagine #football smut #football oneshot #football fanficiton #football fanfic #football #football fluff #football angst #fanfic #fanfiction #fem!reader #neybelle #judebelle

[vivwritesfics]

Fire Is The Devil's Only Friend

Chapter Three

There was no such thing as making it on your own with a high profile boyfriend. That was why she kept her relationship a secret. But then after a PR fuck up, her boyfriend is forced into PR relationship and she's left on the side lines, missing him

1.2K

Series Masterlist

The story broke on the day her first book was published. Carlos couldn't help but feel rather sick every time she looked at her phone.

But she remained blissfully unaware for the entire day. By the end of the day, after the story had been out for a number of hours, it felt too late. Carlos went to bed that night with guilt plaguing him. His touch was hesitant as she shuffled across the bed, towards him.

She would have liked to find out from Carlos. Not during her first book signing. It was the weekend after her book came out and, as much as Carlos wanted to be there, he was at a race.

He texted her before the race began, just before the start of the signing. The lights went green at the race track as the doors to the book store opened, and people holding copies of her book walked in.

Person after person walked up to her table. She signed the inside of the book with a polite smile and sent them on their way.

That was until a girl in a Ferrari shirt came walking up to her table. She took notice of it right away. "I can't believe you're here instead of watching the race," she said through a laugh as she took the book from the young ferrari fan.

"Oh em gee!" The ferrari fan cried. "You watch Formula One? What team do you support?"

She let out a small laugh as she signed the inside of the book. To A wonderful Tifosi. "Ferrari, of course," she said as she placed her signature on the page.

"Who is your favourite driver? If you don't mind me asking, that."

She shook her head. "That's more than fine. I'm actually a Carlos Sainz fan," she said and slid the book back across the table.

"Oh! I can't believe he's finally taken, though. It feels like he was single forever."

The world stilled around her. Her heartbeat sped up and she gripped her pen so tight it almost shattered in her hand. The Ferrari fan thanked her and took her book as she walked away from the table. Before anybody else could approach she called one of the bookstore employees Iver. "I need five minutes," she said as she stood up from her seat.

The employee placed a sign on the table and directed her towards the back of the bookstore. Through the doors and out into the alleyway was the employee smoking area.

As soon as she was outside, she pulled her phone from her pocket. She couldn't text Carlos, not while he was driving. Instead she took to her personal instagram, the one with thirty followers. Her feed was full of F1 posts. Ever since she met Carlos she began following the sport, filling her private social media with anything she could find.

One of the first posts was a picture of Carlos leaving a night club. She'd been there that night, but she hadn't danced with him, hadn't left with him. It was enough being close to him.

The woman beside him was a stranger, though, photoshopped into the picture. She knew for a fact that she hadn't been in the club that night, hadn't left with Carlos, who drove straight to their apartment, to meet her there and fuck her.

Rebecca Donaldson. It was a name she didn't recognise. A quick goggle search turned up very little information about the woman. The most she could find was articles wondering who 'Carlos Sainz's new flame' was.

But she wasn't Carlos's new flame. Carlos didn't have a new flame. He had her. He'd had her for an entire year now.

Wearing a brave face, she returned to the signing.

Normally, after the race she'd immediately be on her phone, texting Carlos. He couldn't remember the last time he checked his phone after a race and she hadn't texted him.

This time, she couldn't wait to text him after her signing. Congratulate him on a great race and tell him all about it. This was before the signing actually happened.

Carlos checked his phone after the race, ready to read texts from her. But there were gone. He had texts from friends, from family, but not from her.

Carlito 💕💕

Are you awake, cariño?

Read

Huh, that was odd. She looked at the message the moment he sent it, but she didn't reply. A horrible, awful feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

But Carlos wore a brave face. He pushed on with things, got on with it until he could get home to her.

He was quiet on the plane ride back. Those he was sharing the private jet with noticed, but they didn't say anything. Every time he checked his phone, they assumed he was messaging his new girlfriend. He really wasn't.

Carlos made his way straight home. He pushed his key into the door and twisted, pushing it open.

The house was quiet, eerily so. "Cariño? Are you there?" Carlos called.

Nothing.

Grabbing his bags, he started towards the bedroom. "Y/N?" Carlos called as he walked inside. But still, she wasn't there. Dropping his bags, Carlos started searching.

He found her in her office,tapping away at her computer. "Ah, there you are," he said as he walked towards her.

Carlos went to wrap his arms around her where she sat, but she stood. She stood up and walked away from him. "Cariño, is everything all right?"

Her jaw was set, hands crossed over her chest as she stared at him. "Carlos, I'm going to ask you this once. Are you cheating on me?"

Carlos felt the colour drain from his face. "Mi amor, no!" He cried as he rushed towards her. He went to cup her face between his hands, but she moved away.

"Who the fuck is Rebecca Donaldson?"

"Shit," he hissed. He'd fucked up, big time. "Cariño, please, you've got to listen to me," he said. "They threatened me with my seat! I haven't met her, I don't know her and I don't love her."

Tears sprang to her eyes and she sank down the wall. "What the fuck is going on, Carlos? I thought you loved me. I thought you were gonna..." she sniffed and wiped at her nose. "Do you not want to be with me? Is that it?"

This time, when Carlos approached her, she didn’t push him away. He took her hand and kissed her palm. "Ferrari fucked up," he whispered, still holding her hand. "They needed a PR distraction and they chose me. I don't know Rebecca Donaldson, I've never met her," he said. "I love you so much. I want nothing more than to show you off to the world."

She held his face and pulled him close, kissing him. But, when she pulled away, she stood. "Im going to stay with my mother for a bit," she said and walked out of the room to pack a bag.

Carlos couldn't move. His legs shook as he went to follow her. He felt sick to his stomach.

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#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader smut #carlos sainz x you #cs55 #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

My God I Love This Show

I think I've rewatched that final breakroom scene from Jun & Jun episode 2 at least a dozen times since it first aired yesterday, and I need to rave about it in its own post rather than just tags.

That scene is... perfection.

First, for non-Korean speakers, it's important to note they've already dropped into banmal with each other in private (the most intimate and casual linguistic form of address). This establishes them as societal equals, despite their wildly different social positions as boss and employee. It was an intentional choice by Choi Jun at the end of episode 1, when he took off his glasses, leaned over the seated Lee Jun in his office and greeted him properly with "오랜만이야" (Long time no see.) The fact that he dropped into banmal here was likely a bigger clue to Lee Jun that they know each other intimately than the actual words Choi Jun chose.

So in the breakroom scene. (!!!) Choi Jun is radiating confident dom energy and Lee Jun is INTO IT. He begins by making sure Lee Jun wasn't hurt by scalding hot coffee and telling Lee Jun to take off his shirt. But then he does the most batshit dom thing ever and starts removing HIS OWN CLOTHES. He explains its because he has a spare shirt for himself and plans to dress Lee Jun in the shirt he's been wearing all day. Why? Because he has a scent kink! And he just says it out loud. He wants Lee Jun to smell like he's HIS.

He checks Lee Jun out like a starving man and asks, "would my size fit you?" WHICH IS THE WILDEST BLATANT SEXUAL INNUENDO and Lee Jun KNOWS its innuendo because he clutches his pearls with his hand over his heart and replies "don't people say you worry too much?" causing Choi Jun to call him cute. Lee Jun can't help but smile shyly at the compliment, and Choi Jun pounces, immediately switching gears and ordering him to hurry up and take off his shirt. Lee Jun asks "right here?" as if that's the only weird or concerning thing about being told to disrobe, so Choi Jun takes off his own vest. This man is doing everything in his power to both rattle and comfort his cute former idol childhood bestie, and I AM HOLDING MY BREATH FROM THE SEXUAL TENSION.

And then we get the first truly jaw-dropping scene. Choi Jun calls Lee Jun high maintenance (the Korean phrase is better translated as "You're a handful."). Lee Jun bristles and apologizes. Choi Jun steps closer and tells him he doesn't need to apologize; it's a compliment. He LIKES it when he needs to put his hands on someone to care for them and it makes them smell like him; it makes them feel like THEY ARE HIS. The collar caress!! The neck tie grab and pull!!! The audacity of starting to unbutton Lee Jun's shirt for him since he's taking too long!!!! MY HEAD EXPLODING.

Lee Jun freaks out a little and puts distance between them again, so they have another fun little conversation filled with innuendo about repaying favors American style, which Choi Jun says involves less clothing!

And then we get the second jaw-dropping scene right on the heels of the first. Choi Jun says Lee Jun has grown fiestier (he likes them feisty? just a guess), but that he's still "squishy" on the inside. Lee Jun is already looking 10 times more secure in this conversation, unhesitatingly flirting back through the entire next few dialog exchanges. The eye contact! THE MOST PERFECTLY EXECUTED WAIST GRAB!!

The "you can teach me!!!" The way Lee Jun takes that as permission to manhandle Choi Jun right back, grabbing his hands and moving him around like a marionette!!!!

THE NECK GRAB!!!!!

And that final last line from Choi Jun that sent me SCREAMING INTO MY PILLOWS:

Looking at the rolled up napkin in his hand, "Malleable is something soft..." and then looking at Lee Jun's lips like the very thirsty man he is, he finally makes eye-contact again and finishes with, "squishy is... something sexy?" Lee Jun gulps. Cut scene.

MY HEART CANNOT HANDLE HOW PERFECT THIS WAS. From the dialog to the body language to the eye-work to the kink exposure to the RIDICULOUSLY HOT EXPOSED FOREARMS ON CHOI JUN. I am in awe and Korea is FEEDING ME.

@absolutebl this seems like your jam

#jun & jun #jun & jun the series #jun and jun #korean bl #kdrama #asian gay dramas

[matrixbearer2024]

okay hear me out

vox accidentally slips and talks about angel dust like super indirectly he goes like:

Blah blah blah I had a super bad day blah blah blah fuck my life blah blah blah cause val is pissed cause one of his whores- angel I think tried to stand up to him and blah blah blah

and reader is like

wait wait wait ‘tried to stand up to him’? What do u mean? and vox is like trying to make the situation seem not as bad as it looks (he fails epically) and reader gets mad cause how could vox just let his coworker hit his employees??

Muddled Morality

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Vox ranting and Reader nearly tearing him a new one- I love their dynamic and it's actually really funny for me to write our dear (Y/N)'s on-off confused attraction to the bipedal flatscreen. Like it's so evident that they love this man, but at the same time he does something so stupid it totally shatters the rose-tinted filter he'd got going on. They're already running around in circles at this point with Mr TV head's hesitation to act on his emotions and Reader's absolute obliviousness.

A/N: It gets a little angsty towards the end but they'll be okay soon- I feel like this was just another reality check Vox needed to hear from Reader who wasn't really gonna let his shit slide lmao- anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! As always, happy reading!

Providing the tech overlord with some much needed care was one thing-

But you didn't ever pin him to be a heavy sleeper.

Until now that is.

"Vox. Vox. Wake up. Vox."

You sighed when he made a noise similar to a whine and his arms tightened around you slightly.

You'd be lucky to get out of this now without prying him off you.

Your cuddling session was going extremely well and dandy compared to what you had expected.

It just so happened that after a while, your legs were predictably going numb for staying in the same position for too long.

Not to mention that you were hungry.

"Vooooox. Get uuuuup."

You started to poke at his screen repeatedly when he still didn't react, not caring if it left fingerprints or any marks on the glass.

He deserved it for being so difficult to wake up-

When his screen finally lit up once again to show his face, it kind of took a moment for the overlord to process what was happening.

Especially when he just stared at you wide-eyed and confused before all of a sudden tactlessly shoving you off his lap.

"HEY- WHAT THE HELL DUDE!"

So say he'd gone completely autopilot was probably the understatement of the century.

Vox could barely piece any coherent thoughts together when he noticed what position the both of you were in.

It was way too intimate to merely be friendly in his opinion.

And he didn't even know for how long you both were cuddled up like that.

God could his heart just calm the fuck down?!

You gave up yelling at the overlord when you realized he was kind of spacing out.

He refused to even look at you, just pointedly staring at the floor which for whatever reason seemed more interesting at the time.

What the hell was his problem?!

"A freakin 'thank you' would've been enough you know. Either way, I'm gonna go get something to eat. Do you want anything?"

You rolled your eyes when the overlord just shook his head, you'll bring up some food later for him anyway just in case.

When the door finally shut and you had left-

Vox quickly got up from where he was sitting and started pacing around the room.

He just fell asleep on you right?

It was that and nothing else.

You just comforted him after a stressful day-

That was it.

Just very close and very platonic and friendly cuddling-

"Why, I didn't think you would simply sneak in old chap! That's quite improper of you!"

"YOU MOTHERFUCKING-"

Alastor simply laughed when his rival nearly jumped a foot in the air from his arrival.

It was entertaining seeing the ridiculous picturebox struggle with emotions, all the more when it seemed you were involved in it!

He could easily manipulate you both for entertainment and none would be the wiser.

Besides, struggling with feelings?

They weren't children anymore.

How immature!

"What do you want?"

"Oh I was just checking around the hotel as per usual. By the way, (Y/N) didn't seem to be in the bestest of moods during dinner today. Did you perchance have any part to play in that?"

The radio demon only grinned wider when he saw Vox's expression falter slightly.

Was all that irritation towards him simply for bravado?

This was quite an entertaining exchange indeed!

"Oh fuck off, that's none of your business."

"But it is old friend! I try to ensure the happiness of everyone in the hotel, including your darling dear!"

The flatscreen overlord could see through the bullshit already, but his irritation was already bubbling over into rage.

Alastor just had to get on his nerves as always.

"Don't call them that!"

Vox didn't know why he yelled that retort of all things.

True, he called you a multitude of similar petnames anyway-

But to call you his?

That was just a flat out lie.

And he didn't dare to fool himself into believing it.

"Call them what? Don't tell me a simple nickname is winding you up."

"Quit it Al. I didn't leave Vox alone just so you could come in and antagonize him."

Both overlords suddenly looked to you leaning against the doorframe of your room.

They hadn't noticed your presence in their increasingly heated back and forth.

While you were still a little irritated with your techno companion for ignoring you earlier, you found bigger issues with Alastor just snooping in your room.

Who knows what he could've been doing.

"Charlie's looking for you. So could you kindly get the hell out of my room?"

Alastor merely laughed at your grumpiness, waving you off with his signature grin as he melted back into the shadows.

He had enough playing with you both today, maybe another time.

"Little princess Morningstar isn't really looking for him is she?"

"Nope. But he's definitely one creepy fucker and I wanted him out.

Vox would've laughed at your response if he still didn't feel so awkward.

He just couldn't stop thinking too deeply into the situation you were both in earlier.

"Wanna talk about what happened today? You just zonked out on me a while ago. I didn't think you'd be that tired."

You didn't seem to find any issue with anything though, sitting atop your bed and patting a spot next to you.

And people say he's dense-

"It's been an eventful day, in all the worst possible ways."

Your flatscreen companion eventually sat down next to you and sighed.

He was just overthinking everything.

Might as well try and stay distracted.

"Ah. Valentino again?"

"Hah, if only."

You simply listened to Vox as he went on and ranted about his day.

You were astounded to hear about so many things going wrong in quick succession.

It's like Murphy's law had somehow slapped your techno friend in the face.

'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.'

Yeah, that seemed pretty accurate.

"Then he stormed my earlier broadcast throwing a fit and bitching about Angel trying to stand up to him-"

Okay, wait.

Hold the fucking phone.

"What do you mean 'trying'?"

Vox's ranting immediately hit the brakes at your question.

He really shouldn't have mentioned that-

Or at least worded it a little differently.

How was he going to explain this to you???

"Doll, you know I mentioned Val doesn't like it when his employees dish out some attitude-"

"And you also mentioned he can be a huge piece of shit. Angel wouldn't lash out unless he was provoked."

You practically had the overlord cornered, your serious gaze was making him squirm.

It was totally different from the gentleness you'd graced him with earlier.

"Vox."

He'd never heard you mention his name that sternly before.

In fact, you were even starting to look a little angry.

Shit.

"(Y/N), what ever happens in the studio is none of my concern-"

"So Angel can't even save himself if Valentino decides to be an abhorrent bastard for the day?! Don't you have fucking cameras everywhere?!"

It was either your words or your pained tone struck a cord in the overlord.

You knew, it was in the way his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

He was attempting to do damage control, and you were just not having it.

"You know, he comes back covered in bruises after those shoots sometimes. As far as I'm concerned despite being a pornstar he's really not supposed to!"

Vox didn't know what was genuinely worse.

The fact he'd unintentionally upset you because of his actions-

Or the fact you cared so much about Angel Dust.

He'd never felt any remorse towards the spider back then, only growing annoyed with him for taking so much of Valentino's attention away.

Even now, despite visiting the hotel and getting to know the others better because of you-

He still didn't bother understanding or even sympathizing with anyone's situation aside from you or himself.

He didn't need to.

Then again, was there even a need to at the start with you?

"Why- just- FUCK! Why can't you fucking care Vox?! Why is it just me?!"

It's because I love you.

The overlord merely scowled at you lecturing him.

Those few words he couldn't bring himself to say.

The courage had quickly evaporated when you grew upset at his nonchalance.

Right.

He didn't care.

And still you were the exception.

His guilt only grew when seeing the pain in your eyes.

Vox knew you made friends with most of the hotel's residents.

Save a certain radio demon-

But he wasn't aware to what extent you cared.

You really were too good for him.

Too good to be down here in hell even.

You only grew more irritated at your companion's silence.

Returning his glare with your own as your hands were furiously balled at your sides.

It took all your focus not to start hitting and swinging at his flatscreen head.

Well, he deserved it-

And still you chose not to.

It wasn't like you hated the special treatment from Vox-

Hell, it was flattering and even outright cute sometimes.

But the fact he could so easily turn a blind eye to some issues he had the power to stop-

You wanted to beat some common sense and human decency into this idiot.

The two of you sat in silence for a while until Vox suddenly got up and headed to the window.

You were about to scoff at him running away from the situation until he spoke.

"I'll see what I can do. But I make no promises."

You didn't see his face but his voice was barely above a whisper.

The overlord's tone wavering and uncertain but masked with irritation.

Not that you had any time to reply when your friend was abruptly gone in a bolt of blue electricity.

Possibly already well on his way back to the tower to care for his hellish empire.

Neither of you ever had an argument this explosive since you were alive.

And even then it was because of something stupid you couldn't remember.

But it wasn't so different compared to now.

So why was your heart aching unbearably-?

You shook your head and stormed out of your room.

Fuck it.

You needed a drink.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #get off my screen series #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

[queenie-avenue]

Hii! 🌟

So..i want ask for request about CEO ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

What if one day reader is caught sketching the CEO in some fancy clothes? Would he like to wear this for reader?

(Thank you in advance! Hope u have really good day 👁️〰️👁️)

/// sorry for my English kinda bad at grammar (ง’̀-‘́)ง

He'll wear anything you make.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, Adrian Houde

—> he's your muse, you're his obsession.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader has a crush on Adrian, obsessive behaviour, posessive thoughts, snooping, fluff, red flags but they aren't so apparent.

notes: i altered the prompt a bit, i hope you don't mind but thank you for the ask! i'm glad you like adrian as much as i do. feel free to send in more asks! love the cute emoticons btw <3 did not proofread, we die like men.

Adrian strolled about the fashion department, his hands raking across the abandoned tables now that everyone had headed home. He rolled up his sleeves to check the time as he walked past the messy and cluttered desks, the heels of his shoes clacking against the floor.

One might ask, what was the CEO of the company doing so late at the fashion department? Everyone had gone home, clocking off early for the holidays — even the ever-busy fashion team — except him. His blue eyes raked across the table as he searched for your table, and finally, he came across it and smiled.

You didn't have a table before, you cramped alongside the lower level employees but well, Adrian pulled some strings here and there for you to get your own table.

It also made it easier for him to look through your belongings.

"Hm?" He hummed when he saw an unfamiliar book on the table. He had memorised every detail of your table, to the point where he knew where you put your emergency snacks — sometimes even refilling them for you anonymously — but this sketchbook was new.

He knew it was wrong to sneak into someone's belongings, and his grandmother would no doubt absolutely pulverise him for such ungentlemanly actions but you already belonged to him. You didn't, but you would soon.

He was slowly cracking you down, he knew. Adrian could still see the blush on your face when you were caught staring at him for too long.

His nimble hands reached for the book and flipped through them. The pages crinkling in his hands as he gazed at all of the different designs. His eyes slowly widened as he recognised the dimples on the model's face, the tousled blonde hair, the dashing pale blue eyes, and the silhouettes you had crafted just for him. The suits, some dresses, some eccentric, some more subdued, and multiple designs made with styles he had a penchant for.

He smiled, knowing that you had to have been observing him rather closely to be able to craft such flattering outfits for him.

"Hah," he breathed out, feeling his cheeks heat up. "You're driving me crazy." He whispered to himself as he felt his entire body grow hot.

He continued to flip through the pages, taking in the sight of him as your muse. He almost wanted to hop in his car and drive off to your house now just to kiss you but he had to restrain himself.

He was a gentleman; even if he snuck into your belongings. He would wait for a while more. His grandmother had always said that a prolonged courting period was needed, filled with flowers, chocolates, gifts, and, of course, polite flirting.

He placed the book on the floor and snapped a few pictures, making sure to make it look accidental, like he had just stumbled across it and sent it to you.

Adrian. H: Stumbled across a cute little thing on the way to a late-night meeting. Mind if I get it privately made? I'd love to wear something you made.

He smirked, knowing that you would fluster. He just wished you were here just so he could see colour fill your face. He made a note to visit the fashion department during lunchtime just to tease you further. Maybe he'd even wear something akin to your designs tomorrow.

He just wanted to get this courting phase over so he could wrap you in his arms like a snake and never let go.

Your sketchbook was practically an invitation for him to do so.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere ceo #ask #anon ask #yandere blog