#advice from your smut mom

[monstersinthecosmos]

I have no confidence writing smut, so, smut writing advice?

HELLO yes of course, writing smut is my favorite hobby lol. 🥹🥹

I’m gonna break this into two sections, because what I’m about to say up top is more important (to me LOL) so I wanna lead with it, and if you’re still with me by the end I’ll discuss a couple technical things that help me a lot personally.

But first thing I wanna say, and I’m a broken record because I say this literally every time anyone asks me about writing, my 100% absolute Number One Rule is :

Write what you want to read. 

And when it comes to writing smut, what that means is: DO YOU THINK IT’S HOT? IS THIS A DYNAMIC YOU WANT TO SEE EXPLORED? DO YOU WANT THE CHARACTER TO GET OFF IN THIS SPECIFIC WAY????

Because something that I think a lot of fic writers struggle with, especially breaking into smut, is we have shyness about it. And like, it doesn’t matter how polished your fic is, it doesn’t matter if it’s the most gorgeous prose and most satisfying character arc—when you’re writing smut, you have to ask: Does this make me horny? Is this an idea that I find horny? Can I approach it both bravely (by admitting I thought of it in the first place) and sincerely (knowing that people might jerk off to it without judging them)? You absolutely cannot be afraid to share this idea that you had, and I think that’s baked into a lot of us. I think it’s pretty common in our varying cultures and it can feel taboo and vulnerable to talk about. And honestly like, no matter what else you worry about in the writing itself, that first hurdle really is just being brave enough to write it down at all, and if it’s something you want to share or post you have to build on that, as well.

A lot of writing advice out there focuses on like technical things and language and prose and tbh, that stuff doesn’t really matter to me. (I do have a few things I’ll share at the end though!) Like, I think we can all learn and there’s no harm in thinking about our technical style, but I also think that we can’t hold ourselves back just because we don’t feel ready. You have to practice, and no one peaks on the first try. And I think there’s a lot of elitism (even ableism, classism, & racism/xenophobia) in snobby writing circles about skill and language, when I really think that storytelling is so much about being able to communicate. If you can communicate your idea, it doesn’t matter how polished it is. It’s not a contest. 

I’ve read some incredible smut fics that were the SLOPPIEST writing I’ve ever seen in my life and I still admired the IDEAS so much. The writer communicated ideas to me and the filthiest kinks I ever saw in my life, so I didn’t care that they weren’t doing line breaks for new speakers, I didn’t care about the run-on sentences, I didn’t care about the constant tense switches. 

So I say all this to say that like, all writing takes some confidence, some bravery, SHARING IT CAN BE SCARY, but like, YOU GOTTA LOL. The way out is through, babe!!! And it will get easier with practice and repetition, but I really do believe that it takes bravery at ANY level. And I think if we all didn’t have some little voice inside telling us that we could get better, we would have no interest in getting better, and the moment you become OVER confident is when your work stagnates. Like, I’ve been writing & sharing fanfic since I was like 13 years old and I still get really anxious every time I post something! I still find flaws in my writing and I still have goals I’m trying to meet! So you gotta start somewhere, and it doesn’t matter if you’re not polished and perfect. What matters is that you start. And I don’t think it makes a difference if it’s a smut fic or not, like all writing needs this bravery, but I think sometimes there’s that extra barrier with smut because people get squeamish about it.

But like your writing, and your VOICE, is not just the words you’re using and your prose and your sense of style; it’s your IDEAS. It’s your sensibility! It’s the lens you have! Your worldview! Things about characters that you might notice because of your background, that someone else might not notice! So like, marinate in your IDEAS and think again “What would I want to read?” because that’s your TASTE, and that’s your voice. And when it’s time to write smut, you don’t need to make it formulaic to some fandom trope if it’s not sincere. If you don’t like reading about prep and foreplay — DON’T WRITE IT. That’s your take, it’s your taste! That’s your voice !!! 

At every point of your story keep asking “Is this what I would want to read?” And if it’s not, don’t do it!!!! 

So I mean. I think that’s very wishy washy and it’s sort of a non-answer, but I don’t think anything else matters until you conquer that part. At least, that’s how it was for me!!!! And since you asked ME, and this is *my* experience, aka my voice, my take, etc, that’s the answer. If you asked other smut writers they’d likely say something different!

But I do have a few technical things I can advise on, so that’s the second half of this. 

And ALSO in between these two things I also want to mention some GENERAL STUFF that I have written about, because aside from blah blah YER VOICE (qotd!movie tough cookie quote), my other biggest writing advice is like, having the discipline to actually write LOL. And if you’re neurodivergent like I am it kinda helps to like figure out what works personally for you; I listed a bunch of stuff that works for ME in these posts but if one size fit all we wouldn’t be neurodivergent LOL. So like before you can even WRITE you have to like allow yourself time and space to write or it’s never gonna get done in the first place. So here's some other posts I've written in the past and I apologize if I've repeated myself lol --

On burnout & writer's block ADHD Writing Tips!

On Editing! (but really on outlining bc if you outline you won't have to edit so hard!)

OKAY OKAY OKAY sorry for the preamble, here’s some more points:

1. READ SMUT! TAKE NOTES!

“Write what you want to read!” I said, but ! What do you like to read? Read some smut, figure out what you like! Figure out what you don’t like! I have a laundry list of stuff I don’t like, so I try to avoid repeating it in my fics. Learning what not to do is just as important. 

Literally I started doing a thing when I was hitting some walls with smut writing where I copy & pasted some of my fav smut fics into a new document and I just started like, highlighting things that I found effective while I was reading, so that I could kinda study it and see what it had in common. And it helped me figure out what I like! Because sometimes reading it kinda like nebulous or you’re just trying to nut or whatever and don’t really think about stuff like that HAHA so it made me think more deeply about like “oh I enjoy when we mention our feelings” “I enjoy sensory details” etc. So that makes me think about the way I would want to write, ie: copious amounts of feelings and sensory details. 

2. INVISIBLE WORDS & FIRST DRAFT VOCAB

There’s certain words that become invisible in porn, the way people’s names do. It’s the same way people commonly get squeamish about saying a character’s name over and over and wind up using cheesy epithets for no narrative reason lol. Same for words like “cock” “hole” “nipple” “pussy” etc. I think there’s one or two words for the basic parts and it depends a lot on your own preference, like maybe you like the word “cunt” more than “pussy” or you prefer “dick” to “cock”. Make those decisions!

But do NOT get squeamish about using that word over and over. The reader does not care. I guarantee you have read smut fics where you didn’t even notice. It’s an invisible word.  (I s2g go ctrl+f on your fav smut fics to see how many times the author says “cock” you’ll be amazed lol) 

Because when you start overcomplicating it, and start using cheesy floral analogies or something, people notice that! If you’re getting desperate and squeamish to mix up your genital vocab, someone will notice you saying “tight ring of muscle” but won’t notice you saying “hole”. It’s the type of thing that makes the reader stop and go “oh no lol”. AT LEAST, IT DOES FOR ME, SO I DO NOT WRITE THAT WAY. 

Not to say that you can’t pick like, a handful of words you like! I usually rotate a handful of dick words but like, it’s just words I don’t mind, but I don’t go out of my way to say something unique about a fucking penis because the person reading is trying to jerk off and it’s just not necessary. 

On the other hand, I do believe it’s good to mix up sensory and action words. I try not to use the same verb more than once every few paragraphs, so I’ll mix up words like fuck/thrust/plunge/rail. Etc. Also words like heated/blistering/burning. Again, don't go so crazy that you sound bizarre because people WILL notice when it's becoming unnatural, but mixing up the rest of your vocab helps the cadence, I think, which I will always suggest in general for writing. Try not to be too repetitive. But I promise you can say "cock" as many times as you want, it's invisible, no one will care.

Don’t get too stressed about your vocabulary on your first draft, though. I really recommend just banging out the first draft as it comes to you and stay in the zone because you’ll notice stuff like that when you (or your beta if you use one) read it to edit. But thesaurus.com is your friend and you literally can google like “words for writing erotica” and you’ll find tons of lists!!! 

3. SEX POSITION BETA READ

I really really really suggest on your reread for edits to do a SPECIFIC run through JUST to check everyone’s positions and parts. Nothing takes me out of reading a scene faster than someone on their back and suddenly they’re on their knees, or someone’s limbs being somewhere that don’t make sense. After you’ve worried about all the other stuff you’re checking, just go back and look one more time for stuff like this, because it’s so easy to miss, especially when you’re worrying about hunting for typos lol. 

4. PLAN THE CHOREOGRAPHY AND WRITE AN OUTLINE

Do you think I don’t outline my smut scenes? YOU’RE WRONG! 

I have a certain way I like to outline, and like, I know outlining isn’t for everyone!, (and I linked a post talking about it above). Anyway, your fic outline might look like 

-beginning -middle -smut scene -end

Even if you don't outline the whole fic, I find that it really helps to just sketch out what you want the scene to be like so that you have a reference to work from. 

For example, maybe you get to "smut scene" and expand it to:

- they make out on the couch - “I really wanna fuck you right now” - oral  - move to the bedroom - start in missionary - flip the bottom over to do from behind

Etc !!! Do whatever you want. But I think planning those steps out kinda helps to visualize what you want the scene to be, and when you start writing you can take it a point at a time.

And BE PATIENT!!!! 

There’s no reason to rush through. And again you gotta ask like, what would you want to read? Do you like when there’s a lot of attention given on prep? On foreplay? DO YOU HATE WHEN THERE’S TOO MUCH PREP? This is all very subjective and you have to make those decisions. Don’t feel like you need to squash in a sex ed lesson to your porn scene if you don’t want to. OR DO IT, IF YOU DO WANT TO! Personally, I don’t really like ~sexposition~ where I feel like the author is ticking off a bunch of boxes so that Tumblr won’t get mad at them. I don’t want to feel like I’m in a sex ed class. I don’t care if they’re not wearing condoms, I don’t care whether or not you tell me if they showered, I don’t care if anyone douches first. Look, it’s porn lol. 

And for some folks, those details are hot! It’s part of the RITUAL, baby! So INCLUDE THAT if it’s what you like! But this is all so intuitive and subjective; just do whatever you want! It’s your story! You’re in charge!

But I think like doing that planning beforehand can be really helpful when it's time to get down to it because it gives you a guide, and it helps stretch the scene out. I don't rush through scenes when I have an outline, because it forces me to stop and think about each step and give each step its own space. I think sometimes people rush through their smut scenes, which especially gives me blue balls if it was a slow burn, like again thinking about what I would want to read—if I get slow burned I want it to be WORTH IT. I want them to FUCK for like EVER once the dam breaks. 

Another thing, regarding choreography LOL, and this isn’t for everyone!!!, but if you’re someone who isn’t repulsed by watching porn, check porn videos for reference!!! I do this frequently LOL especially bc most of my ships have size differences LOL so sometimes I need to know if certain positions work, like, can they still kiss in this position, etc. It helps me to look at real people. Artists use references, too, so writers are allowed to! 

Do NOT feel pressured to look up IRL porn if that grosses you out LOL but it’s a tool that’s available if you’re into that! I do it all the time. I even can tell you specific videos that I based fics on HAHA. And it can help when you get stuck, if you're not sure how you want to choreograph, literally just watch a video and describe what you're seeing.

5. DON’T FORGET SENSORY STUFF

Not just the sexy parts, but like. What does the blanket feel like? Are they cold? Is the position uncomfortable? Are they getting sweaty?

I like when people tell me stuff like this!!!! I wanna know!!!!! 

I don’t want to just read “They were fucked over the arm of the couch”, I wanna read “The cushion was scratchy on their knees as they were bent over the arm of the couch”.  Tell me that stuff!!! It’s immersive!!! 

6. MAKE IT WEIGH ENOUGH

This goes towards being patient, too, but, think about like, what’s the ratio you want in your story of plot:smut. And it’s okay to have any combination of this, it depends what you feel like writing and what’s the story you’re trying to tell. Because a story could be ALL SMUT, like a PWP, or it could be a sprawling epic with a teeny little smut scene as a treat. But make that decision and try to be intentional.

I don’t like to think about my work in terms of word counts, like I never aim to make the smut scene a certain numbers of k’s or whatever, because I think forcing myself into those boxes is going to make the work insincere, but if you wrote an outline or at least know all the points you want to hit, you can start working through those points and it’ll get said when it gets said. 

But for arguments sake, if you wanna write smut, but you wanna give it a little setup, think about it like, do you want it to be 3k of setup for a 500 word blowjob? Or is it a 500 word intro for a shameless smut PWP? Is it equal? Is the smut and plot intertwined??? Completely up to you, but I think you should decide stuff like that before you start the scene, just so that you have a roadmap of how you want it to go and what you want the reading experience to be. When you’re in the mood to read smut, do you need to bond with all the plot and feeling before you’re interested? Or do you like to just jump in? And once you get to the smut, do you want to spend time with it or should it burn out real fast? 

And don’t get me wrong, because you can like all of those things! We all contain multitudes. I’ve written all combinations !!! LOL. So it also has to serve the story you’re trying to tell. What’s the goal here? What’s the smut for? Is the smut the whole story? The main event? A subplot? Decide that, and be patient when you get to writing it, and don’t rush through it, and make sure you say everything you want to say. Make it weigh enough in your story! 

7. ADD SOME CHARACTER EMOTIONS AND 🔥THE SYMBOLISMS🔥 IF YOU WANT TO

This last bit is just me personally so like, take it or leave it LOL, but personally I REALLY love porn with feelings, and I love hurt/comfort especially when the comfort is SEX LOL. If that’s not you, PLEASE IGNORE, YOU’RE AT THE END OF THE ROAD, THANKS FOR STOPPING BY.

If this IS you, think about stuff like this, too:

Are there kinks in your story? Do they align in some way with the character arc in the story? Is your main character feeling vulnerable and needs to be comforted in a specific way? Are they overwhelmed with making decisions so they want to be dominated so that they can turn off? 

Does the smut dynamic mirror the plot of the story in some way? 

Are the characters using sex to resolve an interpersonal problem? Will this bring them closer? Will it create confusion?

Does the character use sex to deflect from their actual feelings, and are they not completely present emotionally??? 

I like to think about stuff like this!! I think it can really add an extra layer to smut fics that make them SO DELIGHTFUL to me, so personally I always try to infuse this into my own writing. :) I want it to hurt! I want us to think about their feelings! I want to ask what does sex do for the character, how does it move the story, how does it change them??????? 

And stuff like this doesn’t have to be confusing and nebulous, you know? Like you’re the one writing it LOL, just make that decision!!! 

AND IF YOU’RE WRITING AN OUTLINE YOU CAN LEAVE YOURSELF NOTES. Like 

- they make out on the couch (character A is nervous) - “I really wanna fuck you right now” - oral  (character B worries they’re gonna catch feelings)  - move to the bedroom - start in missionary - flip the bottom over to do from behind (character A doesn’t want to look into character B’s face anymore because it feels too intimate) 

And that way you can kind remember to mention stuff like that and keep reminding us of everyone’s feelings.

Anyway okay this is like 3k of fucking RAMBLING, I hope something in here was useful! I think all writing advice is so subjective, it might be so catered to me personally that it doesn’t apply to anybody else LOL, so take what helps and leave the rest!! :D

[gurugirl]

The Babysitter | dad!harry x babysitter!reader

Based on this request (changed some things - hope you still like it anon!)

Summary: The cute babysitter Harry's wife hired has always tempted him, but now that his wife is away for the evening Harry might just give in.

Word Count: 2,011

Warning: smut, cheating, implied age gap (your call on how large), inappropriate relationship (both consenting adults)

|main masterlist|

. . .

Harry was so fucked.

He knew better. A married man on the brink of ruining it all just for a taste of his kid’s babysitter. Truly, outrageously fucked.

He arrived home that day, knowing he’d have the house to himself all night with his wife gone out of town for a work trip. Knowing the cute babysitter would still be there, all doe-eyed and shy smiles. She definitely had a crush on him and he couldn’t stop thinking about that.

All day at work he went back and forth with the idea of it. The whole ‘fuck around and find out’ thing was more compelling when he might be able to get away with it. But it wouldn’t be worth it, he told himself even though he continued imagining what she’d feel like underneath him.

His actions completely contradicted that sound internal advice.

Because when he saw Y/n all cuddled up on his couch, a sweater draped over her shoulders and her bare legs stretched out long he allowed himself to stare for a moment. He shouldn’t have been thinking what he was but he couldn’t stop the blood rushing to his cock. He was going straight to hell for the kind of thoughts that were running through his head right then.

She slowly blinked her eyes opened and sat up with a sweet smile, “Hi. How was work?”

God, the cute, bubbly personality on her, even after just waking up from a nap… She hadn’t been tainted by years of grueling workplace drama and a sad and lonely marriage like he had and he found it refreshing.

“Was good. Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on hers, “Everything go all right today here?”

She nodded and moved her legs off the couch, feet hitting the floor as she nodded, “He’s the sweetest. It was a good day. He kept asking for mom so I think he’s upset that she wasn’t here this morning but I told him she’d be back tomorrow night. Fast asleep now.”

But there was something in the way she was looking at him. Like she was just waiting for him to pounce. Rounded eyes, with that shy smile as she bit the edge of her bottom lip. Like she knew what he was thinking, her own mind filled with the same filthy scenarios.

It was late. Harry always got home late on Thursdays. After dark. After his son was already asleep, and usually it was his wife greeting him.

She parted her lips as she let her gaze lower to just below the buckle on his pants and then back up to his eyes.

“Yeah. We’ll be okay without her for a night,” Harry swallowed thickly as he sat his briefcase down and moved deeper into the living room next to the couch where Y/n was still seated. “What about you?”

“What about me?” She raised her brows as she craned her head to look up at him.

“I mean… you alright too? Still seated like you’re tired. You can stay if you want.”

She blinked her eyes and then did it again, letting her pupils connect with the space at his crotch before quickly bringing them back upward to his face, “Oh… I can go. I’m sorry…”

Y/n stood up quickly but Harry caught her by her arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to go. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Was really helpful having you stay late tonight.”

If she kept looking at him like that, those fuck-me eyes and plush parted lips, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself.

“Oh. I’m glad. Was happy to help you out, Harry. I’d do it as often as you needed me to.”

He grinned and watched her moisten her soft lips when she poked her tongue out and looked up at him through her lashes. If she wasn’t begging for it he didn’t know what this was.

“You gonna stay?”

She nodded, still looking up at him as she tucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

In a moment of weakness, of sheer insanity, he raised his hand up to her face and thumbed at her bottom lip, “What’s going on, Y/n? You got something to tell me?”

She fluttered her lashes and leaned into his touch as she kept her pupils aimed right at him. But then her lips parted again and Harry found himself sliding the tip of his thumb between her lips before she wrapped her mouth around it and he felt her tongue gently lave against his pad.

Now he was the one with parted lips as he watched his kid’s babysitter suck his thumb into her mouth, eyes pinned to his still.

And before he knew it, he found himself fucked in the figurative and literal sense as he had her face down on his mattress with his cock nudged into her so deep she was keening and hissing at the bite of pain his fat length was causing.

“Shhh… be a good girl and keep quiet, yeah?”

“Mmmm!”

It was so good. It was so fucking good. He hadn’t been laid in a couple of months and the babysitter’s pussy was better than he imagined it would be. She was wet for him right away. When he got her very short shorts off her legs and buried his face between her soft thighs she was already so sensitive and dripping, wiggling and moaning like she was just as pent up as he’d been. Like she wanted it just as bad. She’d made a big mess of him and the sheets but he’d deal with clean up later.

Because when he finally pushed his throbbing dick inside of her welcoming pussy it was game over. He had her hips in both hands, tightly gripping the meat at her sides as he buried in over and over again, letting her juice coat every inch and wet his pubes with her fragrance. He watched as he stuffed her with his cock, her cute ass perked upward and she pushed back on every one of his thrusts. So pretty.

Everything was slick and gushy as he plowed into her guts, slapping his hips into her ass. He kept looking at the bedroom door (which was closed and locked) out of habit just in case, but now he was out of his mind as she trembled and drooled against the pillow his wife used.

He slowed his plunges and watched his shaft as he pulled out, “Fuck… got me all creamy, baby. Why don’t you flip over so I can see your pretty face?”

She was shaky as she dropped down to the bed, scooting herself to adjust and then spreading her thighs as he tucked right back inside of her, pelvis dipping against her own.

“Harry…” Y/n quietly breathed as she watched him. He was so thick and long, just like she knew he’d be. She never thought he’d ever step out on his wife but here he was, with his big cock driving into her, making her squelch and stretch wide for him. She almost couldn’t believe it was happening.

Harry groped at her tit, still on his knees as he steadied himself, his thighs working in, “Oh sweet girl…” he panted, quads and glutes flexing with every motion. He picked up her hand and brought her fingertips to his mouth, kissing as he pumped himself through her walls and then dragging his lips down to her palm and then wrist.

“Oh my god…” she whined before draping her arm over her mouth to keep her volume down.

“Who knew you were so filthy? Look at you letting a married man fuck your brains out.”

A muffled moan sounded from her throat as she felt him jerk into her harder, the coarse hair at the base of his dick scratched at her clit before he began to grind his hips against her, adding friction like he knew that was what she was searching for with her hips rising to meet him with every thrust.

“But look at how lucky I am. So pretty… Hot little pussy, fuckin’ drenched, baby. How long were thinking about this, hmm?”

Harry did feel lucky too. Y/n was a hot little thing that he’d had some pretty dirty thoughts about since they first hired her. It was his wife’s choice. Y/n was in her senior year of university with long smooth legs and an adorable shy smile that caught him off guard the first time he saw her. So he always looked forward to seeing her every morning before leaving for work, or in the early evenings when he’d come home to relieve her.

Harry grabbed her other hand, moving her arm from her mouth as he brought those fingers up to his lips to kiss every one of them as he threaded their fingers together on her other hand, never stopping the movement of his hips.

With the back of her hand pressed into the blanket next to her shoulder, she inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath. “Since I first met you…” she admitted.

Harry grunted, running his tongue along her wrist before folding his fingers into hers like her other hand and then pressing it down to the bed as he leaned over her, pelvis grinding against hers, his balls squeezing against her bum. And that was fucking deep.

“Oh yeah? Fuck, coulda been fucking this pretty pussy for the last few months. Making you come for being such a good girl and just for looking so fucking cute all the time.”

She moaned softly, “It feels so good…”

Harry grinned down at her, feeling her start to squeeze and pulse, “It does doesn’t it? Such a bad thing to feel this good. Might be trouble for us.”

“Mmmm…” she panted and then gasped as she was thrown over the edge, walls gripping and milking his cock.

Harry watched Y/n as she fell apart, “There you go, such a good girl, so pretty, baby…”

Harry gritted his teeth as he fucked her through her orgasm.

He was already leaking precome and practically shaking by the time he pulled himself out and pumped his fat cock right over her tummy. He’d have loved to have just come inside Y/n’s pussy but what he was doing was already dumb as it was.

He grunted and sucked in through his teeth, “Oh fuck…”

He’d gotten a little come on his knuckles as he ran his fist down his shaft, letting the last bits drip out onto the girl below him. A pretty sight. She was all fucked out and dazed, tits rising and falling with every breath, his come marking her tummy and her pussy freshly fucked, still soaked.

He was a gentleman, helped her clean up, and kissed her a little bit more before sending her on her way with a playful swat to her ass. He’d have loved to ask her to stay all night but he worried that that would just confuse things further. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone and Harry said it wouldn’t affect her job and that it would be their secret. Though he did hope he’d have another chance to feel her again one day, he didn’t count on it. His wife was returning the following day and Y/n was soon to finish off her last year of college and she wouldn’t be needing a babysitting gig anymore.

Did he regret cheating on his wife? In that moment, he couldn’t say he did. He had fun and it felt so good to have sex with someone who wanted his cock as bad as Y/n did. He only hoped he didn’t get found out and as long as Y/n kept up her end of the bargain (he was sure she would) he figured the whole thing was a win.

He’d just need to keep himself in check around her when his wife was present. But when his wife wasn’t around he couldn’t promise anything.

. . .

PART 2

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 9 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Words 5.1k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

The change was weird. A lasting sour taste in your mouth.

It was sudden too. His withdrawal from your life was instant.

Rather than how it was when you were temporarily sharing his room, he didn't wake you up and say goodbye. You thought that was just a morning after an argument thing, but it lasted. Going into the next week he even changed it more.

He no longer let you share your mornings, you had to relearn to use your own alarm quickly. Your schedules conflicted more than just that as well.

Lunch would no longer work, he switched his patrol times and took on meetings instead of leaving the space open for you.

Dinner wasn't really a thing anymore either. He stopped telling you when he'd be home, and after the first week of him not being home till late, you gave up. Throwing yourself into work as well. Changing your hours so you could sleep in more and get home later. Just to eat some leftovers he packed up for you, before turning in.

Words weren't really exchanged anymore and it was weird. You shared a room, and a bed, yet never saw each other awake.

It felt like a break up. In the simplest of terms. It wrecked you for a while. Felt like you were trudging along as you waited for him like a puppy.

You knew he held grudges but you've never expected him to turn it onto you.

You wanted to mourn the relationship but felt like it wasn't a right you had. He was still your boyfriend, you think. And you talked after you woke him up getting into bed. A quick conversation, but a conversation nonetheless. But the relationship back peddled to way before he got the watch. It felt like how it was after your first kiss in first year. Consuming yourselves with school to avoid the talk.

His mom still called often, nothing changed with how she spoke to you. Nothing changed outside your relationship with him and it was weird. You don't even know if your friends have noticed and it's been months.

It was nearing the end of October, the argument happened in the middle of August.

And none of your friends even blinked an eye. When Katsuki refused an invitation they assumed the normal, not surprised to see you at the bar without him. Mei didn't even notice. When you brushed off your change of work schedule and said he changed as well, she didn't ask another question. Thinking you were only glum because of the negative side of the internet. Fans bashing you at any corner possible.

It didn't bother you much, felt like a fly buzzing around you constantly but it was liveable.

Getting pestered for more interviews, people trying to get an inside look at Dynamight's home life. But you followed Shoto's PR manager's advice and chose to stay out of the limelight. Only interviewing when it was about your work.

Your work was your baby after all. Especially recently, it was hard to get you out of the office before two in the morning. Having more heroes come to you than before. It was exciting to see your career grow, you were just slightly annoyed that it was because of Katsuki that it grew. But a win was a win.

Everyone agreed with you on that, your friends closed down a bar for you, wanting to celebrate how many clients you had. You were getting article after article written about your work, being named as the second-best individual support tech in all of Japan. Because obviously, they'd have rankings for that as well.

A blush instantly covered your face when you walked into the bar, Mei pushing you forward. She dragged you out of the lab for once and convinced you to show face.

Kirishima is the first to tackle you in a hug, letting Mina do the same right after. "Congrats," he patted your shoulder as he pulled you more into the bar.

Most of Class A was there for you, celebrating you. Other pros you met along the way as well. People that you stayed in touch with since high school. Anyone you would want to be there was there.

"You guys shouldn't have," you smiled at the group, it was contagious. Denki had a derpy smile on him while Mina was bouncing around.

Kirishima laughed you off, "You needed it, been stuck in that lab and it paid off." You shrunk in on yourself when called out, you hadn't really been showing up that often to group outings. Not nearly as much as you used to.

"I got your favorite Cake!" Mina skipped towards you as best as she could. The cake was custom-made for you, having only the best flavors.

"It's not my birthday," you felt the need to point out, given the size of the celebration. And the candles that topped the cake.

"Might as well be," Mina pushed, "You're a new person! Officially number 2 in Japan!"

You did feel like a new person, you've changed a lot in the past two months.

"Come on," Mei teased over your shoulder, "Blow out the candles!"

"Make a wish!" Mina cheered, pushing the cake closer to you. And with the people you knew, they joined in. Cheering you on.

"They're gonna melt, y'know," Sero urged you once move.

"Fine," you laughed, feeling lighter than you had in the past couple of months. Thinking of nothing in particular as you blew out the candles, only looking around the crowd after. Noticing the lack of a certain blonde.

Rather than letting your shoulders slump too much, you let yourself fall into the cheer from your friends.

It was how you've done things since. You stopped waiting around for him, for the first time since you were kids. You pushed past him, not looking at every notification on your phone and hoping it was him. It didn't take Izuku this long to move beyond Katsuki, so you don't know why you let yourself take this long. Living behind him for so long.

You were pushed from conversation to conversation, catching up with people you haven't seen in a while and then talking with your closest friends. Being handed drink after drink in the process.

"You've been working a lot," Izuku commented when you finally made your way to him.

"Yeah," you nodded happily, "It's paid off."

He furrowed his brows, "You shouldn't overwork yourself. You haven't had a day off in months."

"Not true, I take a day off every week," you corrected him, not knowing where he got that idea. You took a day off every week, taking time to sleep the entire time.

"But-" he looked so confused, "Kacchan said you're not home, like ever."

"Oh," you understood the confusion now, "I switched my off days."

"Why?"

You shrugged, not really wanting to get into this conversation. Especially not with him and not now. You'd fall apart instantly. The feeling and pressure of your fragile relationship sitting on top of your chest. "Needed a change, you know how it is."

"I'm here for you, I know I'm busy but if you need anything I'm here," he was taking on the concerned best friend role, like usual.

"Z', I'm fine, really," you brushed off his concern, "Better than ever, my career is taking off, that's all that matters."

"That's not all that matter-"

"I need to go thank Mina and Mei again for setting this up," you excused yourself and walked through the slowly dying crowd. Meeting with the two pink-haired girls that were chatting near the food.

"Why do you look so drained?" Mei called out instantly, Mina slapping her shoulder right after.

"Social battery is just nonexistent right now," you lied, picking up a piece of food.

Mina looked around the bar, "It seems like it's just your close friends now, everyone else left by now."

You sighed in relief, you wanted to go home somewhat. Yet you didn't want to go back to him.

"Hey, Mei," you got her attention, "Can I spend the night?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, "Thought your social battery was dead though?"

"Friends don't count," you contradicted yourself and just prayed they wouldn't call you on it.

"Still, you never ask," Mei pointed out.

"I'm a new person," you grabbed another piece of food, filling your mouth so you couldn't be asked anymore.

"If you're mad at Bakugo for not showing up I wouldn't blame you." Mina spoke softly, "Dick move of him honestly."

"He's busy, it's fine," you defended him without another thought.

"No it's not, how many award shows have you been to for him?" Mei joined in. It felt nice they had your back, but it wasn't necessary.

You sighed, "I'm used to it. I'll have plenty more so it's fine."

Mina and Mei shared a look, not wanting to give in and forgive him as easily as you do, but not wanting to put you down either. "You're welcome to stay at mine," Mei finished the conversation.

A small gasp left Mina's mouth, eyes widening. "Bag of dicks is here," Mei groaned.

You couldn't help looking over your shoulder, seeing Katsuki for the first time awake in a while. Seeing Kirishima and Denki crowd him instantly. Greeting him warmly as you stood there. "I need a drink," you twisted your direction to head to the bar. Tonight was going to be a good night, not another about him.

Looking at him was too much, it hurt at first. Knowing your last real conversation was an argument. One where he threatened to take sex away from you, when he actually took everything him away. Just because you didn't want him to die for a stupid reason. It hurt to see everything on his side was fine.

It pissed you off. He was acting the same as you were, sure, but you would have gone to his award show. You would have been the first one there. Yet here he was, the last person to show after most left.

The bartender was quick to hand you a drink, watching and replacing it after you downed it all. You've been steadily drinking all night but a new buzz would help. Help the anger that was brewing over you.

You turned around when you had your second drink, wanting to sip on this one instead. Only getting more upset when he was still talking to his friends. Not even sparing you a glance. You let your head fall at this point, watching your shoes as you tapped your feet.

Any thought other than him would help, this wasn't about him. It shouldn't be.

For the past two months, you've been doing everything alone, and it's shown it's worth it. This was just another event that you had to get through. You'd just have to deal with him standing on the sidelines for once.

You saw Uraraka's white shoes before she spoke, "Do you want to join the group?"

When you looked up you saw that people pushed tables together, all of them sitting down together. How you didn't hear them move everything was surprising. Once you got rid of the shock, you turned back to her, "Yeah sure."

She smiled warmly, linking her arm with yours as she walked to the table with you. Sitting down next to you after you took your spot at the head of the table, next to him, unfortunately. You kept your body turned away from him, focusing on talking with her. The two of you didn't get to talk often after all. But you liked her nonetheless, she was the embodiment of welcoming.

The side conversations easily merged into one big conversation. You looked over the group as you leaned back in your chair. Sero was laughing as Denki rambled, Mei and Mina encouraging the conversation while Kirishima tried to reel it back in. Izuku was smiling fondly at the group, the same as Shoto. It was all your closest friends, it made you feel warm.

"It is not just a high school thing," Denki pointed at Sero laughing, "you're just mad that you couldn't." You were easily confused by his outburst, not having a clue what the conversation was about.

"No Nut November is like a middle school joke," Sero stated back.

"What is that?" Shoto asked, confused.

Denki and Sero started laughing, forcing Mina to explain, "It's a thing guys do, a challenge of not nutting for the full month of November."

"Nutting?" Shoto asked again.

"You're kidding!" Denki wheezed.

"Cumming," Kirishima answered, face cringing at the conversation. Everyone cringed besides Denki and Sero, who were too busy laughing.

"Why would you do that though?" Shoto was trying to piece together the concept.

"Only idiots do," Katsuki cut in. It was the first time you heard his voice so clearly all night.

Not being given a chance to soak in his voice, Denki starts defending the idea again, "You're only saying that cause you couldn't last that long."

"I could," Katsuki bit back, wanting to win at anything challenged.

"Please," Sero started teasing as well, "Bakugo you'd last a day."

"How the fuck would you know?"

"You either get some daily or never," Sero pointed out, "I'm falling on the likelihood of daily, knowing your girlfriend."

"Okay," you slapped your hands on the table, "Enough of that conversation."

Mina booed at you, having enjoyed the guys bickering.

"Thank god," you heard Izuku whisper in relief.

"I think I'm going to head out," you announced, standing up and giving Mei a nod so she knew she should get ready. You were thankful the bar was already nearly clean, no help was needed.

You looked down at Katsuki when you heard his keys, the sound familiar to you.

"Did you drive here?" Katsuki asked you, looking back up at you.

"Uh-" you looked at Mei, "I didn't."

"Need a ride back home?" he offered, standing up next to you.

It hurt to decline him, but you didn't want anything to do with him, not tonight.

"Ready?" Mei joined you by your side.

You looked between the two before settling on Katsuki, "I'm actually going to stay the night at Mei's." Any hope he had in his eyes left, face dropping in the slightest bit. You didn't notice the look he held until it was gone.

He looked like he got his heart ripped out and stomped on, but so did you.

"Look, if this is about me showing up late, I'm-"

A surprised laugh left your lips, it was mean. And the look on his face showed that he felt that it was mean as well. "This isn't about you Katsuki," you put it bluntly. It wasn't about him, tonight wasn't about him. You wanted to keep a good mood, and going home with him wouldn't do that.

You didn't give him the chance to reply before you grabbed onto Mei, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Going through all the goodbyes.

---

Mei and you shared the same horrible sleep schedule. She grabbed some wine as she let you collapse on her couch and turned the TV onto something for background noise the second you got to her apartment.

She handed you a glass before she sat down next to you, beer in her own hand. "I got to ask now, you know that right?"

You groaned, taking a sip of your wine, "Hit me with the questions." Avoidance wouldn't last in a small setting and you knew that.

"What the hell happened between you guys?"

"We're having a rough spot right now," you answered simply, shuffling further into the couch.

"That much is obvious."

"Fine," you gave in, taking a deep breath to give an actual answer, "I haven't really talked to him for two months."

Mei's face drained of all color, "What?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, swirling the wine in your glass.

"Are you broken up?" Mei reached a hand to rest on your forearm.

"No, at least," you thought for a second, "I don't think we are."

"How are you with someone you haven't talked to in months?"

"I don't know," you mumbled.

"What type of argument could have caused that?"

You wanted to laugh out of frustration, looking back on it was painful and stupid to you. Yet you were still so mad. "Y'know how I made him that watch?" she nodded, "Well, he asked me to make the watch for the reasons you thought. And he was fully relying on it. Having his quirk off every time he was next to me."

"Can't that kill you?" Mei asked.

"Yes, so I told him that and he turned it into a massive thing. I asked him to take it off, and he said no, so I told him I wouldn't touch him when he had his quirk off. Now we just don't talk," you explained quickly, chest tightening.

"But you're still dating?" you could tell she was trying to be sensitive to the situation.

All you could do was shrug, "I still share a bed with him, so I'm assuming yes."

"How come you don't talk to him?"

"I tried the first week, but when he changed his schedule around to avoid me, I did the same."

"So that's why-"

"Yeah, it's done a lot of good for me though. I've finally grown a lot more. My career is at a high and it's only up from now. I'm no longer just in his shadow. Honestly, I'm thankful for the fight. I finally feel like an adult. I don't need anyone to get me where I am and it's refreshing," you admitted. A lot of good has come from it, and you weren't going to ignore it.

"But you love him?" Mei asked, trying to make sure.

"Of course, he just isn't my life."

"You're not going to try for him? You have been each other's since you were five," Mei worded slowly.

"I'm not reaching out to someone who doesn't want me, Mei," you looked at her, firm on what to do about everything. It was already settled before but now you've actually said it. "I don't know why it took me forever to realize, I wish I did when Izuku did. I would be a lot further in life."

"You already are far in life, you're not even twenty and your 2nd best support tech-"

"I could have been first-"

"No," Mei shook her head, "I'm sorry to say it, but you're only this far because of him. Because of your friends."

"Mei-"

"I'm not wrong, you've been given endless support. Without that? You would still be fumbling behind everyone else. You can't get anywhere in life solely on your own."

"Well, it wasn't only him," you pointed out. You agreed with her, your friends helped a lot.

"It was majority him," she pointed out.

You rolled your eyes, "Don't you somewhat hate him?"

"I still know he's good for you, and if your entire relationship goes to shit over this, I'm not letting myself be a part of it. Is he an asshole for showing up late? Yes, fuck him for that. Is he a dick for throwing a fit about kissing and not talking to you? Absolutely. But he is also the man who loves you the most, he's been there for you so many times. Are you going to throw that away?"

"I'm not throwing shit away, he is," you defended yourself, tears lining your eyes.

"Your not even trying-"

"I shouldn't have to," you stood up, "I tell him everything while he keeps himself away. I'm fucking done. If he wants me, he needs to tell me."

"What are you doing?" Mei questioned, seeing you grab your things.

"Leaving," you said firmly.

"You don't have a car-"

"I'll walk," you spit out, slamming the door to her apartment as you left. Breaking down when in the elevator. You wanted tonight to be about you, about your success. Yet as always, it turned out to be about him. You thought you'd grown out of being only mentioned because of him.

You walked on uneasy footing until you got out of her block. She was your best friend and she didn't even understand. It made you wish you talked to Izuku.

The street lamps lit up your bag as you looked for your phone. Glancing at the time before you dialed his number. His sleep was fucked up too, so you weren't worried about waking him up

"Are you okay?" was the first thing he said, full of concern. It was 3 in the morning after all.

"No," you choked on a sob, choosing to lean on a wall rather than continue walking. You didn't even know where to walk.

"What's going on? Do I need to get you-"

"I'm safe," you cleared up your throat, "I'm just struggling."

"Why?"

"Katsuki and I are in a rough patch, Mei doesn't get my side on it, and I can't turn to him," you rambled, "I just don't know what to do."

"Just breathe right now, you're going to get worse if you continue like this," he counted for you to follow. Performing his hero script as he calmed you down.

You let yourself sit on the concrete, leaning your back onto a random building as you rested your head on your knees.

"Okay," you whispered into the phone, "Katsuki and I haven't talked in two months."

Izuku was a rambler but he was also a good listener. Letting you get out any detail you needed before even opening his mouth. So you told him everything, leaving out any sex-related things. Telling him Katsuki used the watch to hug you or kiss you, so a truth in the cover-up. He could draw up that conclusion on his own.

"I was just thinking that maybe you'd understand," you finished, "I'm just so tired of reaching out to him."

"I get it," he started, "Probably the only one that does. He locks himself off and just expects you to come chasing for him. And the second you don't, he throws a fit. You should let him, I know it's hard, but he needs to grow up as well. You told him your concern and he locked you out, he needs to be the one to let you back in."

You sighed in relief, "So I'm doing the right thing?"

"Yes, especially in a relationship. It shouldn't be so one-sided with communication. You come a long way in the past months, and he should acknowledge that. I love you both, and I hope you guys work past it, but if it doesn't then it's for the best," he spoke to you like a brother would. You didn't even notice when the dynamic between the two of you flipped. Him going from acting like a younger brother to the older brother.

"Thank you," you sniffled, trying to dry the tears that have been working down your face, "Mei thinks I'm throwing everything away."

"He's the one that pushed you out, he's throwing it away," Izuku pointed out. You hummed in agreement, looking down at your phone.

"Holy fuck," the time surprised you, it was nearing five in the morning, and it was a Saturday. You were thankful that the city wasn't awake yet. "I need to get home."

"You're not home?!" he squeaked into the phone, "Where are you?"

"I don't know," you answered honestly, standing upright and stretching your limbs out.

"What?!"

"I'll start walking home now," you tried to calm him down.

"Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"I'm fine Izuku, I'm maybe a block away from home," that seemed to calm him down. He let you hang up the phone, telling you to text him when you were home.

You were glad to have a hoodie at this point, pulling the hood up to hide your tear-streaked face as you walked back home. Needing the ten-minute walk to calm down. Think for yourself.

While you fully agreed with Izuku, you also saw Mei's point of view. She wanted you happy, and you were happy with Katsuki. You didn't want to break up with him, you loved him fully. But if he couldn't meet you halfway, you weren't going to rush to fill that emptiness he left. You'd rather move on to better things. Maybe find someone who would.

With your head hung low the entire walk back to your apartment, you didn't even notice you were in the elevator until it opened on your floor. Having walked all the way on a full autopilot. Thinking of your relationship that overtook one of the biggest days of your career.

You opened your door with a sigh, throwing your keys on the shelf before turning into the kitchen for some water. Filling up a glass before you walked to the basket of blankets in the corner of the living room.

The second you turned around to walk to the couch you dropped your glass. A shocked scream left your lips when you saw Katsuki sitting there in the dark.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you hissed at him, confused as to why he was sitting in the dark and not in his room.

"I was sleeping," he answered.

"Here?" you shot back, bending down to pick up the broken glass.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Mei's?"

You squeezed your hand in annoyance, only noticing the burn of the cut then.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you turned his concern down, throwing away the broken glass when you walked into the kitchen. Thankful that it broke into big pieces rather than small. You ran your hand underwater as you ignored him.

"You're bleeding," it was clear he was groggy with sleep.

"No shit," you answered plainly.

"Fuckin' c'mere," he moved near you, trying to grab your hand only to get swatted away.

"I can take care of myself," you snapped at him, moving to grab a paper towel, trying to dry up the small cut.

"Think I don't fucking know that?" he asked back, agitated at your reactions to him. You waited for the bleeding to stop before throwing away your trash and grabbing a bandaid to cover the small cut to your finger.

You shrugged, "Never know with you. Never tell me anything. Don't know what you know or don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I-" you sighed, you didn't want to get into it, "Nothing, I'm tired." You walked past him again, grabbing a blanket and getting comfortable on the couch.

"You're sleeping down here?"

"Yeah, go to bed Katsuki," you turned away from him.

"Kats," he said softly, making you turn to face him again.

"What?"

"You stopped calling me Kats, it's only this Katsuki bullshit now."

"Whatever, Katsuki," you dismissed without thinking, turning back over as you tried to forget how he looked just then. It's how he looked at the party, just ten times worse.

"What happened to us?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was clear he wanted you to do the talking. But if he wanted to actually talk, he had to first.

"This," he paused, silence filling the air before he cleared his throat only for his voice to crack regardless, "This isn't what I want."

"You never told me what you wanted," you couldn't help but reply.

"I'm not good at this type of shit," he was angry at himself but you wouldn't fall into this pity party for himself. "I didn't think you'd change your schedule."

"You changed yours."

"I only did that because I needed to think," he defended.

"For two months?"

"I switched it back after but you weren't home, and haven't been since."

"So you couldn't have called? Asked me when I did get home at night? Woke me up in the morning to talk?"

"You could have done the same."

"I always do that Katsuki," you turned to face him, "I'm always the one fucking chasing you. And I'm done."

He choked, "You're done?"

"I'm done chasing after you," you clarified, "I've met you halfway, time after time, you just need to do the same."

Silence buzzed around the living room. The two of you were just staring at each other. Both are equally heartbroken. You looked him over for the first time in months.

"You're still wearing the watch," you pointed out, seeing the gleam of it on his wrist.

"You gave it to me," he replied, "I haven't used it since, by the way."

"Good."

He took a shaky breath in, "I'm so fucking sorry, Brains." You waited for him to continue, "You were right, I wasn't using it just as a crutch. I was completely relying on it." It hurt to hear it from him, you already knew it was true. "I, fuck," he ran his hand over his face, "I went to the doctor too, they said if I used it that much it'd kill me. Having my quirk completely off."

You couldn't be more glad about the fight now, knowing it kept him from killing himself. Sure it wouldn't kill him immediately, but over time it would just get worse and worse for his health.

"Once I found out you were right, I just couldn't bear the thought. I don't feel safe around you without my quirk dampened and now I can't," he admitted, "I feel my quirk just with this conversation. I don't want to hurt you."

"You were late to the party," you pointed out instead, "You never even congratulated me."

He hung his head, "I got sidetracked with trying to get a gift- but I was going to congratulate you at home."

"Doesn't excuse it."

"I know, I'm sorry," he reached into his pocket, "I got this for you though." He tossed the small bag at you.

You gave him an unsure look before opening it, first seeing a sticker of "World's Best Tech" an inside joke between the two of you. He hated the idea of #1 mugs and things like it, claiming he was better than everyone else. The next was just a small necklace, something easy to wear with everything.

"It doesn't make up for shit, and that's not what I'm trying to do with it," he said after you stared at the gift for a while.

"I know," you spoke softly, the gift was thoughtful for your relationship.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, I knew you could do it," he followed.

Tears were hitting your eyes harder than before. Despite claiming you didn't need him. You wanted to hear him say that so bad.

You saw him move to get up when he saw your tears, sitting back down and grabbing his own hands when he decided against it. You patted the seat next to you. As long as his watch wasn't on, you were okay. He rushed immediately to your side, tugging you into a hug before he could overthink.

"I should have talked to you a lot sooner," he spoke into your hairline, leaving a kiss on your forehead after.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I can't be there for you like this," he said softly.

You pulled back from him, "What do you mean?"

"Can't hug you and shit," he grumbled, pulling you back into him. Not wanting you to see his face.

You sat in silence for a while, soaking in his words and the perspective he likely had the past two months. He could have thought you stopped talking to him because he couldn't touch you anymore.

"I'm not mad that you can't touch me, I'm upset that you don't talk to me, in general," you spoke just as softly as he did, wanting to comfort him the way he was comforting you.

He let out a breath of relief, "It's gotten worse without you around."

"What did?"

"My quirk just goes off without you now, just the thought freaks me out enough. Fuckin' annoying," he confessed.

"Is it going to go off soon?" you wanted to be prepared to be pushed away from him. If he did it unannounced you'd likely cry. He just squeezed you closer.

"No," he said quietly, "It's finally calmed the fuck down."

-Next Part-

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[viennakarma]

Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

-

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

-

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and  got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?” 

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her. 

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and  it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around. 

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders. 

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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[ahsxual]

William Afton x Fem!Reader who is his stepdaughter, Y/N being a person that dresses very feminine and a lot of short skirts and dresses. Y/N would have a boyfriend that she learns had cheated on her with her best friend and she goes to her mom and stepdad house for comfort from her mom before quickly, realizing her mom was not home and it’s instead gets cheered up by her stepdaddy 😏

Daddy's Comfort

Genre: Smut & Angst

Warnings: minors dni +18, sad reader, Soft!Dom!William x Sub!Reader, cunnilingus, fingering, Perv!William, married!William, nipple play, praising, William calls reader a slut twice, cheating, age gap (reader is +18), daddy kink, almost getting caught

Word Count: 2,2k

Tagging: @aliceblxck @wolfman-moony

Warm tears streamed down your face the moment you discovered that your boyfriend was cheating on you. And to make things worse, it was with your own bestfriend, the girl you were supposed to trust the most. But oh, how wrong were you. You never saw the bad side of people, because you didn't believe that people could be so cruel and untrustworthy. Whenever you felt down, you would go to your best friend's house to cry on her shoulder, but now that wasn't an available option, leaving you alone with your broken heart and no one to talk to about your pain.

You never liked to vent to your mother about your heartbreaks, feeling embarrassed to be vulnerable in front of her. Your stepfather William Afton, on the other hand, always gave you advice about how boys your age only wanted to play with naive girls and take advantage of their fragile hearts, which was why he was so strict about you having affairs or boyfriends. Right now, as you were heading home to get some comfort from your parents, since there was no one else who would listen to you, you realized how William was absolutely right.

You were hoping that your parents would be home at that moment, comforting you with the right words and the reassuring physical touch that you so desperately needed. However, when you opened the door, you noticed that only your new parental figure was home.

"Hi sweetie! How was your day?" William immediately noticed you weren't well the moment he looked at you. Your red face and puffy eyes weren't fooling anyone, especially your stepfather who was such a intelligent and perceptive man, and who apparently knew you too well.

He was sitting on the couch watching a criminal documentary to which you didn't pay much attention, as your mind was occupied with other thoughts. He was already in his pajamas, so he must have gotten home some time ago. He got up quickly the moment you didn't answer him and instead you just cried on the spot, as his tall figure approached you carefully so as not to elicit any negative reaction from you.

"Hey hey come here, honey. It's alright, daddy's got you now, baby." he reassured you in a soft tone, as he hugged you against his strong frame. You instinctively returned his gesture, the feeling of hugging your stepdad being much better and needed than you expected.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you nodded, allowing him to carry you over the couch and sit you on his lap, while he rubbed your back and grabbed your exposed thigh to hold you closer. You hadn't realized the effect you had on him because you were wearing a short, pink dress with a bow that hung just below your cleavage.

"You were right, William... guys are all the same. M-my boyf-, I mean, ex-boyfriend cheated on me... with my bestfriend! How could they do this to me??" you started crying harder now that you had verbalize what had been haunting you since that morning, but you still felt much better for being able to talk about it with your stepfather. Suddenly, you felt William's hand squeeze your thigh harder, but you ignored that feeling for the moment. He remained silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"Sweetheart, boys your age don't know how to value a woman... Daddy tried to warn you, but you didn't listen. You need to find a real man who can take care of you and who won't break that soft heart of yours. You're too beautiful and young to cry over some idiot, and that's why I don't want you dating anyone. Do you understand me now, honey?" his voice was slightly deeper than before, but once again you let it pass. After listening to his "dad speech" about boys, you just nodded and leaned your head on his neck as you hugged him, looking for some kind of safety and warm physical touch.

"I'm sorry, daddy... I didn't mean to upset you. You were absolutely right... boys my age are real assholes." you stayed on his lap for a while, as he softly stroked your back and legs and kissed your head several times. As time passed, you noticed that his breathing changed its rhythm to a faster one.

"And there's one more thing..."

"What is it, daddy?" you asked innocently, having no idea what he was going to say next.

"You shouldn't... dress like that around men. You know how pretty girls are an easy target for men to take advantage of. You can... drive them crazy and make them do things that they can't... control. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, sweetie?" it was only then that you felt something getting hard under your ass, his thin pajama pants making it obvious that he was getting turned on by your outfit and vulnerable state. You blushed heavily at this and began to tremble a bit from embarrassment and nervousness.

"I'm sorry daddy, I didn't mean to..." you were left speechless, as you had no idea what to say or how to face this awkward situation.

"Do you want daddy to make you feel good?" he asked bluntly, his tone indicating that his intentions were far from innocent.

You didn't know how to react, but what you did know was that you desperately needed him inside you. You stared deeply into his eyes, trying to figure out if his intentions were the same as yours, and as soon as you realized this was confirmed, you simply nodded and spread your legs wide. His pupils were extremely dilated and his stare at your lips was becoming unbearable, while a small smirk appeared on his face.

"My babygirl is so good to me... I promise that daddy will take care of his sweet girl and make her forget about everything that upset her. Do you want that, bunny?" his hand was now dangerously close to where you needed him the most, as you felt your white cotton panties already soaked by his simple touch and voice.

"Yes daddy, please... I need you." you moaned softly, and that was enough to drive him crazy.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked cautiously, yet you could see he was getting desperate and impatient to touch you in such an intimate way. The moment you said yes, his thin lips glued to yours in a hungry, passionate kiss, a kiss you'd never experienced before. You could have sworn it was the best feeling you'd ever felt, until he rubbed his long, skilled finger against your clothed pussy and smeared your cum juices all over your already ruined panties.

"Oh fuck... is this all for me, baby? You're so, so wet... it'll make everything so much easier, you'll see." and that's when you felt him pull your panties aside to insert his middle finger inside your cunt.

You immediately moaned loudly as he curled his finger inside you, hitting your g-stop over and over again, so sweetly. He went from fingering you to drawing circles around your clit as you he kissed you slowly, his tongue dominating its territory inside your mouth. After a couple of minutes, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your first orgasm, before he added a second finger inside you. Just as you were about to cum, he started fucking you faster and harder with his fingers, before bitting your neck and sucking on a purple hickey, making you reach your limit much more intensely. While you recovered, he never stopped kissing your neck and face, making you feel like the most special girl in the world.

"My sweet girl is so beautiful when she cums... What a beautiful sight to behold every day, every second... if only it was possible..." he whispered lovingly as he played with your lower lip. You wanted to please him too, so you took his thumb into your mouth and started sucking on it the best you could while gazing into his eyes.

"Can I suck your cock, daddy? Please, I want to pleasure you too." you were too eager to see what was under those pajamas, the hardness of it already promising that he could destroy you if he wanted to. He chuckled softly at you while shaking his head.

"Not now, sweetie. Daddy needs to taste his favorite girl first. You're the one who's had a bad day, right? So I'm going to pleasure you until you can't take it anymore... You can suck daddy's cock later, ok? I promise you'll see, feel and taste every bit of my cock sooner or later... I'll make sure of that. But right now, it's all about you, bunny." you smiled at his gentleness, and only wished you could have more time alone with him, since your mother would be home soon. Now you understood why your mother married this man after saying several times that she would never marry again.

William grabbed you in bridal style and took you to your room, where you would feel more comfortable and remember it every time you went there or slept. You were giggling in joy in his arms, his pecks on your lips made you feel hysterical butterflies flying around in your stomach. When you reached your bedroom, he gently placed you on your bed before undressing you. Your nipples hardened not only because of how cold it was in the room, but also with desire.

"Would you look at this... my bunny has such a perfect pussy. I can't wait to fuck you so good, princess. You're gonna love daddy's cock inside you. But for now... I'm gonna show you how a real man eats his pretty girl's pussy." his tongue trailed slowly through your wet folds, before leaving soft kisses on your clit. It was driving you insane and you desperately needed to beg him for more.

"Daddy, please... I need more please!" on another occasion William would continue to tease you, but your time was limited and he needed to make you cum again. He began to eat you out more eagerly, until you screamed his name over and over again. His skilled tongue never stopped pleasuring you, his beard and chin all covered in your juices, before you came again on his mouth.

"Just one more time and I'll let you go, baby... Come one, make daddy proud and cum all over my face." he demanded, before pinching your nipples harder.

His tongue didn't stop sucking on your clit, before it entered your empty hole until it reached the sweet spot inside of you. His beard scratched your tights and the slight pain only increased the pleasure you were feeling. A few minutes later, he grabbed your trembling legs and forced them over your chest with one of his strong arms, while his free hand fingered your pussy at a fast pace as he sucked on your clit. That was enough to make you moan loudly from pleasure as you came in his mouth and fingers, your cum dripping from your stepdad's chin as he stood up and looked at you.

It was only then that you heard some keys trying to open the front door of your house and you both immediately exchanged a knowing look. William wiped his chin with his sleeve, before leaning down to kiss your lips. However, you couldn't let him go just yet.

You knew that your mom's routine was to go to the bathroom before greeting her family, so when William was ready to leave your bedroom, you grabbed his arm to turn him towards you. He frowned at you, not believing that you were willing to risk getting caught, before you pulled his pants down and freed his cock.

"Honey, what are you do-" you didn't let him finish his sentence, as you put his long, thick dick inside your mouth and started sucking him off as if your life depended on it. "Oh fuck, you needy little slut... you just can't resist daddy's cock, can you? You're so desperate that you're willing to get caught sucking off your mother's husband. Bad, bad girl..."

And that's all he said, before forcefully grabbing your hair and fucking your throat harder than you thought, which made you choke around him as spit dribbled down your chin onto your exposed nipples. Your mother had already left the bathroom by then, so you had to be quick. You held William's hips firmly and helped him fuck deeper into your mouth, which helped him finish faster inside you. You swallowed every drop of his cum, before showing your tongue to prove that you were a good girl for him by swallowing everything he gave you.

"I had to thank you for making me feel better, daddy. I wanted you to feel good and proud of me too..." you smiled shyly, while blushing and bitting your lip seductively.

"Oh, you little whore... my baby is always surprising me for the better. Next time, I won't be so gentle with you. And this is not a warning... it's a goddam promise." he said with a satisfied grin, before leaving your room with a wink in your way that held a million promises.

[imagines4thefandoms]

Meet the Parents (Derek Hale x McCall! reader)

(smut if you squint)

You were pacing your bedroom floor while your boyfriend, Derek, sat on your desk listening to your rant. 

“Who does he think he is telling me what I can and can’t do,” you exclaimed in frustration.

“You’re father,” Derek answered.

You turned and glared at him saying he was being unhelpful. Derek held his hands up in surrender. 

“I don’t need your advice, D. I just want you to listen to me complain,” you said standing in front of him. 

“I'm great at that cause you complain a lot,” He joked resting his hands on your waist.

“I hate you,” you laughed as you slapped his chest.

Derek pulled you flush against him and tilted your head to look up at him. “No you don’t” he whispered before forcefully kissing you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs and he lifted you up. Derek carried you to your bed and sat down so you were straddling him. 

“This doesn’t seem like you listening,” you joked running your hands through his hair. 

“Oh I’m listening,” he smirked as he bucked his hips into you. 

“Fuck,” you whined at his movement. 

Your hands moved from his hair to his stomach. He let out a growl when your fingers played with the hair on his lower stomach. You let your nails scrape along his skin at you left bite marks on his neck. “Then what do I want,” you asked moving your hands up under his shirt. 

Derek quickly took his shirt off and threw it across your room. You let out a soft laugh when he started kissing and leaving love bites on your neck. While he was bitting you, you gently tugged his hair pulling him off you. His eyes met you and you noticed his eyes were glowing blue. 

“Good puppy,” you teased grabbing his face and smashing your lips against his. 

Derek growled again before ripping your shirt off and dropping the scraps on the ground. He stood up and tossed you on the bed. You looked up at him as he stood there shirtless between your legs. His eye went from blue to his brown eyes and he smirked down at you. 

“I told you to stop calling me a pup,” he warned getting on top of you while putting all his weight on his hands by your head. 

“Make me,” you said rubbing your hands down his back and then the waistband of his jeans. 

You were moving your hands to unbuckle his jeans when your door busted open. “Look just because I’m past the ‘I wanna kill you for dating my sister’ phase doesn’t mean I want to hear you defile her,” your brother said standing in your doorway. 

Derek slowly rolled off you and sat up to stare at Scott. You grabbed a pillow off your bed to cover your half-naked self from your brother and let out a sigh of frustration.

“Defile me, really Scott. What century are you from,” you asked sitting up.

“Besides we are way beyond that,” Derek commented earning a slap on the back of the head from you. 

Scott’s eyes glowed red and his fangs came out. You quickly got out of your bed and shoved your younger brother out of your room. 

“Stop being overprotective, besides I’m older and I had to listen to you ‘defile’ Alison so leave,” you said closing the door in his face. 

“Mom's on her way home,” Scott warned before heading to his room.

FUCK.

You quickly grabbed his shirt off the ground and threw it at Derek. He put his shirt back on with confusion. “Why are you kicking me out. I’ve met your mother,” he asked walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you. 

“Yeah, but that was before you started sleeping with her only daughter. Do you want her first time meeting you as my boyfriend while we’re naked in my bed,” you asked him removing his arms from you. 

“I’d rather be naked in your bed than leave,” he said kissing your neck. 

“Derek Samuel Hale,” you scorned pushing him away. 

Scott banged on your wall to let you know she was pulling up so you quickly pushed Derek to the window. “I’ll call you promise,” you said giving him one last kiss before he climbed out. 

It's been a week since you basically shoved your boyfriend out your window and ever since you would go over to his loft. You were lying in Derek’s bed while he was doing a light workout.

“I could get used to this sight,” you joked putting your book down. 

He shook his head at your comment and got up off the floor. Derek sat on the bed and grabbed the towel he left to wipe his sweat off. “Why haven’t you told your mom about us,” he asked lying across your legs.

“What,” you asked running your hands through his damp hair.

He repeated his question and grabbed your hand to stop your movement. You looked into his eyes and saw that he was serious. He looked hurt like you never wanted to tell her about him.

“Oh baby, because every time I try someone or something comes along and we have to literally fight for our lives,” you said pulling his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. 

“No one is currently trying to kill us,” he smirked. 

You squint your eyes and tilt your head thinking over everything currently going on in your life and realize he was right. For the first time in a long time, everything was peaceful. “Okay,” you said grabbing your phone off his nightstand. 

You called your mom to let her know you wanted to have a family dinner to introduce her to your boyfriend. Derek watched as you laughed when she asked if she was a werewolf. “Yeah Mom but he’s house-trained promise.”

After you hung up the phone Derek pinned you to the bed and let his teeth graze your neck. “What did I say about the dog joke.” 

“That they are funnier coming from me than stiles,” you smiled at him. 

His hands started roaming your body but your hands stopped his movement. “Nope, you have to take a shower. My mom was freaking out over the late notice so we have to pick up the food,” you said giving him a quick kiss before pushing him off you. 

Since Derek carried you over his shoulder to join him in the shower it took longer than it should have to leave his loft. “Do you want to explain to my mother and brother that we are late 'cause you just couldn’t keep your hands off me in the shower,” you asked cockily as he finally got dressed.

“Not right now, but I’m sure I’ll tell Scott when he gets on my nerves later,” he joked as you walked out of the loft.  

You smacked the back of his head before going ahead of him to his car. When you got to your house, you were greeted by more than just your mother and brother. Isaac and Stiles were sitting in the living room waiting for the food.

“What are you doing here,” Derek angrily asked Stiles. 

“I’m family and I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he smirked at Derek. 

You grabbed the food from Derek’s hands and brought it into the kitchen. Mom and Scott were in there grabbing plates and cups chatting. When you placed the bags down you looked back at the living room then back to your mother. 

“Ok first, I get why Isaac is here since he lives here but Scott you know Stiles pissed Derek off,” you said glaring at your brother.

“Derek,” your mother questioned. “You're dating Derek Hale.” 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. You started unpacking and replacing the food while she processed the new information. 

“He’s less of an asshole now,” Stiles said walking in and taking an egg roll. 

“Ok, but I’ve already met him, why all this? Not that I don’t enjoy eating with my kids,” she said rubbing Scotts back.

“He wanted you to meet him as my boyfriend,” you explained. 

Scott and Stiles brought the food to the dining table while you stayed and talked to Mom. You leaned against the counter while she asked you questions about your relationship. 

“So we really like him,” she asked looking at him over your shoulders

“We love him, Mom,” you corrected. 

A smile grew on your mom's face as she looked over your shoulders. You turned and saw Derek staring at you with a huge smile. Scott and Stiles announced they were done setting the table and started to dig in. 

“Boys,” your mom exclaimed heading to them. 

Derek stood at the table and pulled a chair out for you. You watched as Stiles sat down in the chair and Derek leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Stile shot up and quickly went to the other side of the table. You walked over and sat down letting out a small laugh. “What did you tell him,” you asked. 

“I just asked him politely,” he said in a lying defensive tone. 

You just shook your head and started to eat. Your mother tried asking questions about your relationship but Scott kept saying that he didn’t want to know anything about it. Every time Stiles tried to talk you could just feel the aggravation radiating off Derek so you placed you hand on his thigh to calm him down. 

It seemed like Derek was finally relaxed and enjoying himself when your father walked through the door. You let out a silent groan and rubbed your hands over your face. This time Derek rested his hand on your thigh to calm you down. 

“Why don’t we call Peter to join too,” you whispered causing him to smile. 

Your father sat in the empty seat on the other side of Derek and made himself a plate. “Sorry I’m late, there’s a lot of crazy things that happen in this city,” your father said. 

Stiles let out a laugh when your father looked at Isaac and asked how long you had been dating. “Dad,” Scott said shaking his head and nodding his head towards Derek. 

Your dad looked between Derek and you then slowly placed his utensils on the table,

“Weren’t you under investigation for multiple murders,” he asked going all investigator on him. 

“He was also temporarily wanted for the attempted murder of all of us,” Stiles said motioning to himself, you, and Scott. 

Scott slapped Stiles's arm and told him to shut up. “But we were mistaken about it being him,” Scott said trying to save the evening. 

“You’re okay with this,” He asked your mother as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

“Yes, I trust our daughter. And Derek is a good man,” your mother defended. 

The rest of the dinner was full of awkward silences and subtle threats from your father. When it was over you walked Derek out to his car and he just held you in his arms. 

“That was terrible,” you complained. 

“I don’t know, one good thing came out of it,” he said kissing your temple. “I love you too.”

Derek got into his car and rolled down his window. “You wanna go back in or come back to the loft,” he asked leaning over and opening the passenger side door. 

You looked back at the house and saw your dad waiting for you at the door with a look on his face saying ‘We are going to have a talk about this’, so you waved to your dad and got into the car with your boyfriend. 

“At least my mom likes you,” you joked leaning your head on his shoulder.

“All that matters is that you love me,” he said with a toothy grin.

You kissed his shoulder, “Yeah I love you.”

[motomamita]

singledad!eddie × pregnant!female!reader

warnings: smut, +18, mentions of breast milk, breeding kink, no condom, pregnant sex!

Part. 1

Upon hearing the news of your positive test, Eddie was eager and happy to be able to share this new stage with you. However, his happiness faded when you met him at your trailer one afternoon to talk.

Distraught and with Lily playing at your feet, you told him that while you were delighted to take care of Lily, you still didn't feel ready to raise a child of your own. You were too young and Lily already required too much time and energy that you didn't know if you would be able to give to another baby. Eddie lowered his head, watching as Lily played with the laces of your sneakers as she babbled 'mom' at you. Sad but accepting your decision, he lifted his daughter in his arms and began to talk to her, explaining the situation.

"Don't be sad, my little flower. Your little brother or sister won't be able to come this time, but I assure you that soon you will have one to play with..." Eddie spoke sweetly to Lily and, as if she understood his words, pouted and sob.

Obviously that broke your heart. So much so that in the end you surrendered to him and decided to continue with your pregnancy.

You moved into Eddie's trailer, so you could take care of Lily more comfortably and little by little you would accommodate the space to receive the new baby. Gradually you began to adapt to life there, and to be with both of them almost 24/7. Eddie left for work in the morning and returned a little before dinner. Some days he would pick you up and would go to the mall to buy things necessary for your pregnancy.

Eddie was delighted and even seemed to enjoy the purchases more than you. He loved choosing your maternity dresses, your braziers and even the most comfortable underwear for you. While you were inside the dressing room, he stayed with Lily outside the room while he softly sang her a lullaby. Every time you came out to show off how your clothes fit, he would whistle at you flirtatiously and Lily would applaud awkwardly.

Inevitably you managed to fall in love with him. He was too attentive, loving and understanding with you and Lily. He enjoyed accompanying you to the doctor, listening carefully to every word he said and asking a lot of questions about how to cope better with the pregnancy. Sometimes after work he brought with him magazines with advice for the first pregnancy and several classical music albums, because according to him: 'scientists say that the baby can be smarter if he listens to Beethoven or Mozart!'. True or not, the reality is that he did everything possible to keep his family happy.

As the months passed, your belly increased in size and you experienced several signs and symptoms. Your feet began to hurt and so did the desire for strange food combinations. Eddie knew it and for that same reason on the weekends he took full care of Lily so you could rest. He would place your feet in warm water and massage them while he told you the list of names he had been making. He also made sure to leave the cupboard and refrigerator full of candy and other possible foods that you might want such as ice cream, cookies, chips, gummies and even pickles.

As for sex, it had never really stopped. What's more, his desire for you seemed to have increased as the weeks passed, taking advantage of every opportunity he had to make you his. Despite having a little girl in home, Eddie was quite creative when it came to getting between your legs. You could wake up in the middle of the night with his cock inside your pussy, his hands on your sensitive nipples and hot breath in your ear. Or during a quick shower, he would sneak between the curtains, helping you soap your back and taking the opportunity to kiss every sensitive part of your skin. Otherwise, far from the gaze of Lily who was playing in the living room, he would put his face under your dress to taste the juices of your pussy.

That Friday everything was as usual. Lily, who had barely begun to walk, played with holding on to the couch while moving her body from one side to the other to the rhythm of Beethoven. You gave the final details to the table and looked from time to time at the lasagna that was cooking in the oven. The sound of Eddie's truck's engine alerted you both that he was already there. Lily gave a little scream, anticipating her father's arrival.

"Daddy's home!" Eddie announced himself, informing the house. You received it with a small smile, letting Lily be the first to receive it. Seeing him, she began to walk clumsily into the arms of her father, who hugged her tightly. "Good job, Lily!" He smiled, picking her up in his arms and approaching you. "How did my girls behave?" He asked, giving you a sweet kiss on the lips and touching your belly tenderly. "And this little one? Can't wait to get out? Mm?"

"The food is ready." you announced, wiping your hands on your apron.

Eddie took Lily to the bathroom to wash her hands, telling the little girl about his day at work as if she understood something. Once at the table, you began to eat while the music played. You and Eddie helped the little girl eat her food, wiping her mouth every time she spit out a bit of it.

When he finished, Eddie took care of cleaning her and taking her to her crib to sleep. For your part, you picked up the dishes and were about to wash up when you felt Eddie's hands on your belly.

"Leave it, I'll wash them later. The food was delicious, so you deserve to rest, mommy." He speak and then kiss your cheek. You didn't object and left things to go sit with him on the couch. "How do you feel?" He asked, caressing your thighs and letting his rings make your skin crawl.

"Okay, a little tired. As Lily starts walking alone I should have been more careful that she doesn't set the house on fire." you joked, remembering the childrens prank she was slowly starting to get up to. "I missed you." You murmured, somewhat embarrassed by how much you needed him.

"Yeah? How much?" Eddie asked with a mischievous smile on his face, squeezing your thighs slightly.

"So, so much.." Eddie growled, knowing the tone of voice you used when you needed more than a kiss or hug.

Eddie approached and joined his lips with yours in a loud, wet kiss. He brought one of his hands to the back of your neck, grabbing some of your hair while his other hand moved up your thigh to your center.

"Poor mommy, spending so many hours here with my baby..." he murmured, separating himself a little. "Alone and without anyone who can satisfy and fill that sweet, tight pussy.." he massage your pussy over your underwear.

"You're bad, very bad for always leaving me wanting more..." you complain and then moans when he found your clit lightly pinched by him.

"I know, my queen, I know... but now I'm here..." Eddie pulled her hair a little, making you moan. "I'm all yours, use me however you want."

It was a matter of minutes before you found yourself on top of Eddie, naked, riding his big cock. Your swollen breasts bounced with each sit on his hard cock, leaving such an exciting sight for Eddie who watched you with his hands behind his head.

"Come on, mommy. Milk this cock." His words did nothing but encourage you to move your hips faster and making the clash of skin echo through the room. "Fuuck, that's right.. Use me, use me.." Eddie closed his eyes, moaning at the way your pussy rode his cock with ease.

You placed your hands on his chest, digging your nails and trying to stabilize yourself, making his cock go even deeper in you in that new position.

"God.. Look at your tits, they are so big.. And heavy.." Eddie brought his hands to her breasts, making circles on her erect nipples and pressing them lightly in the hope that milk would come out of them. "I promise you that as soon as your sweet milk starts coming out of here, I will be the first to taste it.." you moaned when you heard it. "Uh? You like that? Would you like to breastfeed me?" You bit your lower lip, nodding madly and still moving.

Just thinking about it made Eddie even more horny. He brought his hands to your waist, carefully pulling you towards him to begin penetrating you hard. His hips rose and fell quickly, hitting his pubis against your clit and rubbing your tits against his beefy chest.

"I'm going to fill you with my cum again and again..." he moaned as his balls slapped against part of your ass. "Tell me...Who did this to you? Uh? Who put a baby inside you?" He asked, looking lustfully into your eyes while one of his hands caressed your belly.

"You- It was you.." you managed to say with a broken voice, completely overstimulated. Eddie smiled proudly at your words, changing his thrusts for slower but deeper ones.

"That's right, mommy.. You're so good that your fertile womb took my semen the first time.. Good girl." You moaned at his compliments, feeling your orgasm approaching. "Are you going to cum? Mmh?" He asked sweetly, caressing your face as you nodded your head. "Come on, cum for me..." those words were enough for seconds later his cock was wet with your sweet nectar.

Eddie took care of cleaning you, covering you with a blanket and placing you on his chest. Your head was spinning, dazed and in some sort of subspace. He noticed it, caressed your hair and let him slowly put you back together while you listened to his heartbeat.

"Hey, I have to show you something." He spoke to you after a few minutes. You raised your head to look at him, Eddie reached into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a small box. "Remember what I told you the first time..." he stretched out his words, referring to the time he fucked you on that same couch. "What did I tell you?"

You thought for a few seconds before answering. "That you would make me a baby." You responded confidently and Eddie laughed when he heard you. "And that you would make me your wife" You added, remembering the situation even more.

"Very good.." he smiled at you and brought the small box to your hands. "Well, I think it's time to make it official..." you slowly opened the box and found a beautiful ring inside. "Will you marry me?"

[gurugirl]

Assistance Needed | assistant!reader

based on this request (thank you anon! hope you enjoy!)

Summary: Harry finds himself in an awkward position when you walk in on him in his office just as he's in the middle of something quite improper.

Word Count: 3,053

Warning: smut (oral sex), inappropriate relationship, power imbalance (boss/assistant)

| main masterlist |

. . .

How could you not know the lacy edge of your bra was peeking out from your lovely white silk top? Eyeglasses pushed up on your head while you leaned over the table and held the pencil between your teeth as you pointed to the paragraph in the document that you felt didn’t belong.

Harry stared down at the contract as you pulled the pencil from your lips to speak, “This looks like it doesn’t belong here. I feel like it was accidentally copied from a different contract altogether but we need to remove it.”

He looked up at your pretty eyes, already on his, and stood with a curt nod, “Yes. I think you’re right, Y/n. Once that’s done, print out enough copies for all the partners and we’ll sign them before the end of the day.”

You smiled at him and he felt his face warm. That’s all it took. Your smile.

But that was a problem because he was your boss. He paid your salary. You worked your ass off and you were the best assistant he’d ever had. You were even catching mistakes his administrative assistants didn’t. Sometimes he felt like you knew him better than his mom did. But that didn’t mean he was allowed to pine after you the way he was.

After closing the door to his office when you walked out he sat in his cushy leather chair and ran his hands into his hair. He couldn’t keep this up. His imagination would get the best of him at times but it’d been too frequent as of late. But part of him wondered why you had started wearing the things you were suddenly.

When you first started on, just over a year ago you always dressed professionally but very conservatively. There was no hint of anything particularly sexy or flirty. So Harry had never really looked at you like he had more recently. He always thought you were cute and smart and he was often surprised by how well you listened.

But then it turned into something like a friendship. He would seek you out for advice or to just chat, maybe even vent when the mood was right. He’d text you randomly midweek in the evening, then eventually he’d find himself shooting you a text on a Saturday afternoon, then a Saturday evening. And one day, when he was thinking about you while he was grocery shopping he realized he didn’t just find you refreshing to be around. Nor was he just simply happy to see you and enjoyed your company. No. He liked you. Liked you, liked you.

It really all blew up in his face, though, when you walked into the office one morning a couple of months ago wearing this dress that had his heart stopping and his tongue sliding out of his mouth (yes, just like a cartoon). He felt like a creep. He already knew he was developing feelings for you on some level but when he got a glimpse of you in something slightly more revealing it was like he was 16 again. It was embarrassing when he had to hide the front of his pants because all it took for you to make him hard was to wear a high heel or a dress that was on the shorter side.

Or wearing a thin white silk shirt tucked into a well-fitted pencil skirt and the tiniest peek of lace.

And he decided to do something he’d never done in his life. It’d be fast. No one would ever know and Harry could talk to you with a clear head and it would keep his boner at bay, at least until he left the office.

Scooting in closer to his desk he unzipped his pants and opened up his drawer to pull out tissues before spitting into his palm and smoothing it down his shaft. The relief was instant. He was swollen and already throbbing in his hand, which is why he knew it’d be fast. He could take his time later on at home, but in that moment, he needed to get off before you walked back into his office with the updated documents.

His breaths got deeper as he dropped his mouth open and closed his eyes and thought about your laugh and the curve of your bottom, your lips…

Pumping himself faster he laid one hand flat on his desk as he softly grunted the closer he got to this end. Another glob of saliva over himself made the glide of his big palm even better and he sighed when he felt his balls tighten and imagined your pretty lips wrapped around him, big, soft eyes looking up at him, the front of your shirt fully unbuttoned so he could get a proper look at the pretty bra he knew you were wearing underneath.

He was almost there when he heard a single knock at his door before it opened. You walked in with a folder and a smile on your face before closing the door behind you.

“I printed out copies for everyone. Michelle confirmed that the paragraph was transferred over from the Cota documents.”

Harry scooted himself into the desk and tried to catch his breath and act normal, hoping you wouldn’t see what he was doing or notice anything was off but he’d been right at the edge and his tip was already leaking as you laid the papers down on his desk. So far, it seemed as though you had no idea.

“Everything okay, Mr. Styles?” You suddenly paused and looked at his face. He seemed on edge.

“Yes. Fine. Thank you. I’ll sign these in a few minutes. Just, uh finishing something here.”

You squinted at him and noticed how flushed he was. How wide his pupils were. How dark his pink lips were. And his erratic behavior was a little odd.

“Are you sure? Is there something I can help you with?”

He looked up at you from his spot in his cushy chair and noticed the flirty grin on your face (was it flirty or was he just losing his mind?). The edge of your mouth quirked up as you slid your gaze downward to the space where the bottom half of his torso was just hidden underneath his desk.

“I don’t think that’s…” he inhaled, trying to calm his ragged breaths and will his erection away.

But instead of you stepping back and heading to his door to leave you cocked your head and sauntered to the side of his desk as if you already knew what he’d been doing and were determined to catch him in the act.

See, you’d been aware of his growing interest in you. And when the texts he’d send you on the weekends turned into flirtatious banter well into the evenings you decided to test out your theory. The first time you wore a dress that was just slightly shorter and tighter than normal with high heels that showed off your legs you realized he was checking you out.

So you did it again and again until you were positive it wasn’t just in your head. He was attracted to you. And it was so wrong of you to feed into it the way you did but it was hard not to enjoy the attention because Harry Styles was quite the specimen. Handsome and tall and witty… he was sexy, you’d always thought so.

And it was quite bold of you to assume anything but that day, you were feeling bold. Everything had been working for you since you woke up. Your outfit was banging (if you did say so yourself), your lipstick was staying put, you’d gotten the perfect amount of sleep, and your coffee order had been exactly to your preference. But what had you feeling extra confident was the double take Harry did when you stepped into his office that morning with his coffee.

“Mr. Styles,” you placed your hand on the edge of his desk and leaned down closer, “Tell me what you need.”

He blinked in surprise and swallowed, “I… what?”

Sliding your hand closer to the edge of the desk where he was you bit your lip as your shirt draped open slightly and you saw his pupils drag over your lacy bra.

You looked down at your cleavage and back up at him, “What? Do you like it?”

You watched him swallow again, a thick lump bobbing in his throat, “Do I like it?” He furrowed his brow and looked from your bra to your eyes, “It’s pretty.”

A grin took over your expression as you looked back down at your shirt, “Want to see more? I don’t mind.”

“I can’t. I’m…” he inhaled a shaky breath and looked down at his lap before pinning his eyes back to yours, “I’m your boss. This is inappropriate.”

You shrugged and pushed yourself back up, “I understand,” and turned to walk out. If he didn’t want to take it further you’d certainly not push it. But you knew he was up to something under his desk and you had a feeling what it was.

“Y/n wait a moment, please.”

You looked back at him and placed your arms over your chest with a soft smile, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you serious that you don’t mind?”

Shaking your head you released your arms, letting them fall to your sides, “I mean… this is embarrassing but I sort of wore this on purpose. Thought you might like it. So if you wanted to see more, well it’s for you anyway.”

“For me…” he repeated your words quietly as he considered his next steps.

“Yes. I’ve been dressing for you. I know I shouldn’t because, like you said, you’re my boss but… I don’t know.”

“I am your boss. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t be.”

“Like you were doing just before I walked in?”

His jaw clenched and he looked back down at his lap with a nod before turning his gaze back to yours, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. I think about you too, you know.”

“Probably not like this.”

“Like what? Were you… Mr. Styles, were you touching yourself under your desk?”

He was like a deer caught in headlights. Eyes wide and scanning as he shifted uncomfortably, “I was. I apologize, I…”

Stepping forward you shook your head, “Don’t apologize. When I asked you if you needed something I hoped you’d let me, you know…” you breathed out a laugh and shrugged.

“You wanted to… help me? Like…” his brows scrunched together as if he couldn’t believe where the conversation was headed.

“Yes. If you wanted. We can pretend nothing happened and I’ll leave right now but I would love to– assist.”

He swallowed again, the gulp sounding in the quiet of his office, “Fuck,” he cursed and looked down at his length. He felt like such a pervert but here you were offering your assistance. When he looked back up at you, you’d already made your way back to his desk, eyes wide and hopeful.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Y/n. I don’t want to take advantage of you in that way.”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. If anything I’d be taking advantage of you. I’ve been hoping it’d come to this and that you’d need me to help you. Whatever you want. My hand, my mouth…”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. His pretty assistant was standing there waiting for the word. You wanted it. He knew it would be a big mistake but he nodded despite his better judgment, “Okay. I’m already hard and I was pretty close when you walked in so it won’t take long. I’m not gonna make you use your mouth but if you wanted–“

“I would like to use my mouth if you’re okay with it,” you placed your glasses down and began to round the desk to be closer to him when he moved his chair back and you saw it. Ruddy tip, thick from root to crown, precum pearled at his slit and slowly dripping down the impressive length. It looked heavy. His cock was almost as gorgeous as he was.

“You poor thing,” you knelt down next to his chair and slid your hands up his thighs, “I want to make you feel good, Mr. Styles. Is it okay if I suck you off or would you rather me just use my hand?”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into his chair, “Fuck… fuck…” his cock twitched as you moved in, perching yourself between his thighs and waiting for his answer.

“If you want you can use your mouth. It’s up to you. I’m not in the position to be picky really, am I?” He laughed his green eyes on yours again.

You smiled back at him and let your nails scrape over the material of his pants before you allowed yourself the indulgence of wrapping your palm around him and he hissed, his head falling into the back of the chair again, but this time he kept his eyes opened as he watched you.

You licked your lips and smeared his precome down his shaft before fixing yourself on your knees and spitting over his head, “You can come in my mouth too,” you added before dipping down and tonguing at his slit for a taste of what was to come. He smelled clean and neutral. The precome was only slightly salty and bitter.

But the moment you took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his crown he gurgled a moan and placed his palm on the back of your head.

Smooth strokes of your mouth up and down, your tongue cradling the underside of his cock as you sucked and hollowed your cheeks. He was quite girthy and long. You clenched your thighs as you took him deeper, wondering what he’d feel like tucked into your cunt, pressing through your already clenching, slick walls.

“Oh fuck… Y/n… shit…” he let curses fall from his mouth as you lightly gagged around him, your drool starting to make a bit of a mess on his pants, “Fuck me… such a good girl. Oh my god…”

He was delirious. It was just what you wanted; to have him mumbling nonsense and praise and to have him shivering… soon he’d be pouring into your throat.

You bobbed over him, his chair squeaking as he tensed his thighs to keep the bottom from swiveling and you felt pressure on your head as he instinctually attempted to keep you in place with his hand. Your sinuses burned as he rutted up into your mouth, a gagged moan coming from the back of your throat as he throbbed and fucked his tip further back, “My god, Y/n… holy shit, such a good fucking assistant, aren’t you? Gonna take my come down your throat? Yeah?”

You moaned and let your blurry eyes slide up to his face and he groaned when he made eye contact with you. It was dirty and sexy, and completely improper for him to be balls-deep in his assistant's mouth. But fuck it was pretty. You were pretty but with your lips wrapped around him, drool slipping from your mouth and down your chin, and watery eyes blinking up at him, the scene was lewd.

He pulled you up so you could gasp for air, strings of saliva connected to his cock and your lips as you heaved in a breath and he wrapped his palm around your neck and pulled you in, his lips pressing against yours.

You were already slick in your panties but now this was making you dizzy. You moaned and pumped his cock slowly before he whispered against your lips, “You okay still?”

“Yes. So good. Let me finish you off.”

So he released your neck and you immediately encased his cock with your warm mouth again, sucking and bobbing and moaning wetly until he was quivering and thrusting his hips, hand pressed over your head once again as he began to pump hot, sticky cum into your mouth. You gulped him down and curved your tongue along his length as he let out a hoarse groan.

It was sloppy. You’d drooled a lot and you were sure your mascara was running down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. You’d risk being a bit of a mess if you could have him like this. You’d take what you could get of your handsome boss.

Harry moved his hand away from your head and you swallowed the last of him down as you pulled up, letting your tongue lick any missed cum, suckling at his tip before sitting back and looking up at him with a smile.

He was breathing hard as he reached for your face, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” you laughed softly and pushed yourself to stand. “Think I need to clean up a little before I step out of here.”

Harry tucked himself back into his pants and laughed, “A little. I like the raccoon look, though.”

You opened up the cabinet next to his desk, the door had a mirror on the inside as you dapped tissues at your eyes, “You only like it because of what it represents,” you grinned. “Anyone else would be confused and worried about me if they saw me like this.”

Harry watched as you cleaned up and noticed you kept squeezing your thighs together, “What about you, Y/n? Need anything?”

You huffed a laugh, still feeling flustered and on the edge of crazy for doing what you just did, “Nothing I can’t take care of myself. Besides, there’s no time right now. You’ve got a conference call in a few minutes and I need to run these documents to the other guys before they leave.”

He stood up, following you to the door and stopping you before you could step out, “Will you come find me before you leave today?”

You bit your lip and nodded, “I always do, don’t I?”

Harry pushed a laugh out through his nose and nodded, “You’re right. You do. See you in a while then?”

You opened the door and smiled at him, “Of course, Mr. Styles.”

. . .

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[miazetomer]

Heartless | Rafe Cameron x pogue(ish)!fem!reader (Part X)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol use, drug use, takes place during season four, the usual

Summary: You were back on Kildare after two years. You were able to finish your business degree at UNC Chapel Hill in just two years after earning enough college credits in high school. But, you came back as a force to be reckoned with. You had your own very successful development company which just so happened to be Cameron Development’s newest competition. Two years later and you’re still finding ways to get under Rafe’s skin.

prev next

♡♡♡

When Rafe woke up the next morning and saw you lying on his chest, he thought he had died and gone to Heaven. He didn’t remember much of last night, but he had flashes, bits and pieces of memories.

When you woke up though, you had completely forgotten for a second that Rafe was in your bed. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and your legs were all tangled together. You shot up and scrambled to the foot of the bed in a panic, before you remembered that it was just Rafe. He was drunk last night, refused to go home, and that’s how he ended up in your bed.

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s just me.” Rafe said sitting up, an attempt to calm you down. You ran your hands through your hair and took a deep breath as you came to your senses.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.” You tried to keep your voice down, but you were shouting at him at the same time. “We need to get you back to your house before my family wakes up. They cannot know you slept here, it’s gonna open a whole can of worms with my mom.”

“Hey, Mom, wants to know-” Your little brother, William, said, coming into your room. “Oh, gross, I’m gonna tell Mom you have a boy in your bed.” William peeked around your shoulder and when he saw Rafe his jaw dropped. “No way, are you guys getting back together?”

You sighed and dropped your head into your hands.

“No, he just couldn’t go home last night, because he was too drunk.” You answered. Your brother was fourteen now, you figured he could handle the truth. You remember what it was like for him when you and Rafe broke up, you kind of thought William took it harder than you did.

Rafe was like the older brother he never had. He would play video games with him when he came over, showed up to all his basketball games, gave him advice about girls, even though you were certain it wasn’t gonna work.

“You did what?” William said when you told him you broke up with Rafe. “Go over there, tell him you’re sorry, and get back together!”

“That’s not how it works, Will.” You sighed, putting your laptop back into your backpack.

“So you guys aren’t getting back together?” Your brother asked, his shoulders dropping a little.

“No.” You answered.

“Never say never.” Rafe muttered at the same time, earning a ‘really?’ look from you.

“Mom!” Will called as he ran down the stairs and you ran after him, trying to catch him before he could say anything to anyone. But he reached the kitchen where your mother was before you could. “Mom! Rafe and y/n are getting back together! He’s in her bed right now!”

“No we are not!” You shouted as you entered the kitchen.

“What is Rafe Cameron doing in your bed?” Your mom asked, crossing her arms.

“Mom, I’m twenty years old, I can have a guy in my bed if I want.”

“What is Rafe Cameron doing in your bed?” She repeated.

“He just needed a place to crash last night that’s all.”

“Sweetie, I like Rafe, I really do, but do you really think it’s the best idea to get involved with him again? I mean do you forget what you were like after you broke up? Because I certainly didn’t. You couldn’t get out of bed, you couldn’t eat. I mean it was so bad JJ called me because he didn’t know what to do.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we aren’t getting back together, Mom.” You muttered before walking back upstairs.

“Everything okay?” Rafe asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Everything’s fine.” You said, a little snappier than you intended. You slipped on your Birkenstocks and looked over at Rafe. “We gotta get you out of here before Doug comes busting in and drags you out by the ear.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, he’s not exactly the biggest fan of you.”

“What? I thought he liked me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.” You said patting his chest. You watched as Rafe picked up his stuff. “Come on, let’s go before you cause anymore trouble this morning. I’m sure you have enough of it waiting at home for you.”

You walked downstairs with Rafe following closely behind you. You sighed and thanked God that the downstairs was empty.

“Thanks for letting me crash here last night.” Rafe said when you reached the front door.

“No problem. But, please, next time you get blackout drunk at the bar, don’t come pounding on my door. Oh, and I told Sofia you passed out in the living room so if she asks, tell her that.” You sent Rafe a smile before closing the front door behind him.

♡♡♡

You huffed as you walked up the steps to the Cameron Estate, your heels clicking against the concrete. Hesitantly you knocked on the door.

“Oh, hey, y/n.” Sofia said with a small smile when she opened the front door. “Rafe’s not here right now.”

“Oh, I know, I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch, my treat.” You smiled down at the girl, holding the keys to your car up.

“Oh, sure. Let me just grab my purse really quick.” Sofia walked back inside and you picked at your manicured nails, thinking about how you needed to get them done. When Sofia walked back outside your eyes immediately went to her bag.

“Is that the Dior Saddle Bag?” You asked pointing to her bag.

“Oh, yeah, Rafe just got it for me the other day.” Sofia smiled as the two of you moved towards your car. “Do you have one?”

“I have all of them.” You muttered, unlocking your car, allowing the two of you to get in.

“Wow, that’s so cool.” Sofia said, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m sure you have a great closet.”

“You should come over and see it sometime. I have a bunch of stuff I don’t wear anymore if you want them.”

“Oh, sure, thanks.”

You pulled up to the restaurant and got out of your car, locking it once Sofia closed her door.

♡♡♡

“Thank you.” You said to the waiter with a smile as he poured wine for you and Sofia. “Let’s get into the reason why I invited you to lunch today.” You leaned back into your chair and crossed one leg over the other. “How much did Hollis offer you to convince Rafe to take the deal with her?”

“W-what are you talking about?” Sofia stuttered out.

“Well, I mean Hollis paying you off is the only conclusion I can come to as to why you would suddenly be interested in Rafe’s business.” You said, cocking your head to the side as you spoke to Sofia. “So, how much did she offer you?”

“Twenty-five thousand.” Sofia looked down at the table, you assumed guilt was starting to come over her.

“Twenty-five thousand?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “You’re willing to risk Rafe’s entire business for twenty-five thousand dollars? You’re a lot cheaper than I thought you would be. Look, it’s whatever.” You sighed and pulled a stuffed envelope out of your purse. “Seventy five thousand dollars, cash, and you convince Rafe to back out of the deal.”

Sofia went to grab the envelope and you slapped your hand on top of it, preventing her from grabbing it and put it back into your purse

“You’ll get this after Rafe backs out of the deal.” You stood from your chair and fished two hundred dollar bills out of your purse before tossing them down on the table. “I’ll call an Uber for you.”

♡♡♡

You sighed as you walked into your house, tossing your keys in the bowl, when you heard your family laughing in the kitchen. As you walked further into the kitchen you saw your business partner, and ex-boyfriend, Mark, sitting at the counter talking to your family.

“Oh, hi, sweetie.” Your mom said with a smile. “How was lunch?”

“Just fantastic.” You mutter, clutching your purse a little tighter.

“Hi, y/n.” Mark walked over to you with that stupid charming smile he always had on. “Have a place we can talk?”

“Of course.” You said with a polite smile.

You led Mark to the backyard and closed the sliding door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you practically threw your purse down on the outdoor dining room table. You sat down and crossed one leg over the other, your arms following suit.

“Well, you weren’t returning my calls, or my texts, or my emails, so I figured I would come see you in person instead.” Mark answered, sitting across from you.

“There’s a reason for my avoidance of you.”

“I know, that’s what I intend to find out.”

You met Mark when you were at UNC. He was the same year as you, but he was two years older. You were immediately attracted to him. Everything about him was perfect: his hair, his body, the fact that he came from wealth, he was from the Outer Banks, his sense of humor, his work ethic. Everything about your relationship was perfect. You never fought, he was always paid when you went on dates, he showered you in gifts: jewelry, clothes, handbags, whatever you wanted he got, you two even lived together for a time. He was even the perfect business partner. He always came through on pitches, he always produced the best partnerships, he always made the perfect deals. Everything about him was perfect. That’s why you ended things. You didn’t want perfect, you wanted someone who would challenge you, someone who got under your skin, but also knew you like the back of their hand, who could be kind to you, and made you laugh. You wanted Rafe and Mark would never be Rafe.

“How was Tokyo?” You asked, wanting to keep control of the conversation.

“Well, you saw the offer and the deal. You know it went perfect.” He answered. Your development business just bought an entire apartment complex in Tokyo, intending to turn them into luxury apartments with the best tech.

“Congratulations on taking OBX Development international.” You smiled.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. I mean, it was your idea after all. Remind me, where are all the places we’re building now?”

“The Outer Banks, South Carolina, Southwest Florida, Miami, Los Angeles, El Paso, Texas, and now Tokyo, and hopefully after this next offer I’m working on Kildare.”

“All those places in just under a year. How do you do it?”

“Insane connections and a good last name.” You answered with a smile. “I know you’re not here to talk business, so how about we actually talk about why you’re here.”

“I already told you. I’m here to find out why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been talking to you about work, so you can’t say I’ve been completely avoiding you. But I think you know why I’ve been avoiding ever other single one of your messages.” You sighed. “You want to talk about what happened and what went wrong and honestly, I just, don’t.”

“I just want to know what I did that was so bad that you packed up in the middle of the night and came back home.”

“Nothing, you did nothing wrong. Which is exactly the problem. You did nothing wrong, you never did anything wrong. You were absolutely perfect. That’s when I knew I wasn’t the girl for you anymore, Mark. It was like as the days went on I just started hating you. I mean, you never even had a hair out of place. It wasn’t fair to you to stay in a relationship with you, because I knew I would just end up breaking your heart and I didn’t…I couldn’t do that.”

“So, you thought the best way to break up with me was to flee? In the middle of the night? You thought the mature way to end a relationship was to leave in the middle of the night without a single word?”

“I thought I was sparing you.” You said quietly, looking at your hands.

“Spare me? You thought you were sparing me? If anything you just made me more upset than any conversation we could’ve had. I mean, did you think you would just leave in the middle of the night and never see me again? We have a business together!”

“I wasn’t—That wasn’t my plan.”

“Then what was your plan, y/n?”

“You would stay in Charleston and I would come back to Kildare and we would only see each other when necessary, only speaking to each other when it pertained to work.”

“How was I supposed to know that without you talking to me? I’m not a mind reader y/n!”

“I—I don’t know, okay? I just thought maybe you would let me go in the night and we would just never talk about it.”

“We spent two years together and you thought I was just gonna let you disappear into the night without a word? I actually convinced myself that you were the woman I was gonna marry one day.”

“You think that wasn’t on my mind either? I tried staying as long as I could. I tried to convince myself that I could fall back in love with you. But, I just realized that the more time went on, the more I was hurting you.”

“How long? How long did you stay, knowing you couldn’t stand me, before you decided to leave?”

“I don’t know, a couple months.”

“Why did you stay so long?”

“I thought I was doing what was right.”

“You should’ve left the second you started having doubts or at the very least, talked to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You said quietly.

Mark sighed and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.” He muttered, buttoning up his suit jacket.

“What?” You asked, raising your eyebrows, your face doing very little to hide your shock.

“Oh, you thought I was just coming for the day? I’m here until I leave for Europe.”

“That’s not for another month.”

“Then, I guess you better get used to having me around again.” You watched as Mark walked back inside.

You waited a little bit until you were certain Mark left and grabbed your purse from the table, heading inside. You stomped upstairs to your room, ignoring your mom as she asked if everything was okay. Slamming the door to your room, you sighed and tossed your purse on your bed. You made your way to your closet, there was only one thing that was going to calm you down at this point. You dug through an old box and found your old bong and at least three ounces of weed. You grabbed a bottle of water and your lighter and made your way out to your balcony, groaning when you saw Rafe already standing out there.

“Everything alright?” Rafe asked, leaning against his balcony railing.

“How much did you hear?” You asked, filling the bong with the water and packed it.

“Enough to know you’re upset.” He shrugged.

You lit the bong and brought it to your lips, inhaling sharply.

“I’m fine.” You exhaled.

“Do you want me to beat his ass for you?” Rafe’s offer made you laugh.

“No you probably shouldn’t, he’s still my business partner, I don’t need you scaring him off.”

“Please, you and I both know you could run that business without him.” Rafe scoffed at the suggestion that you actually needed Mark.

“Maybe, but he does handle like half the shit I don’t want to deal with.” You shrugged and set your bong down on the table.

“Sofia told me the two of you went to lunch today.” Rafe said, looking down at his hands.

“She say anything else?”

“Just that the two of you had a good time.”

“Well, she certainly had a good time.” You mumbled, playing with your bracelet. “How’s the deal going with Hollis?”

“Oh, I decided to back out. I realized what you said was true. We don’t know what kind of game she’s playing.”

“Did Sofia tell you to back out or did you come to that conclusion on your own this time?”

“No, I made the decision last night. The clarity dawned on me sometime between leaving the bar and when you were lying on top of me.”

“Wow, you actually came to a sound conclusion without your girlfriend, way to go Rafe.”

“You’re mean when you smoke weed.” Rafe said, his face dropping.

♡♡♡

You sighed as you sat in the café waiting for Sofia. She had agreed to meet you here when you told her you needed to speak with her. You were sipping on your latte when she walked and sat down at the table you were sitting at.

“I know you didn’t talk to Rafe.” You sighed and pulled the envelope out of your purse, setting it down on the table.

“So, why are you still giving me this?” She asked, looking down at the envelope.

“Because I felt like donating to charity.” You said before you stood up.

“I don’t need this you know.” Sofia called out as you started to walk away. You turned back to her and chuckled lightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, you’re running on borrowed time with Rafe. Trust me when I say, you’re gonna need that.”

[prettyfastcars]

you're wrong but you're so much fun | Lewis x Reader

Summary: With your mom and his dad dating, of course you would be spending Christmas and New Year under the same roof as Lewis. As annoying as your ‘stepbrother’ was, you often found yourself unable to resist his charm. But enough is enough you decided, you were done with him acting like he was superior. So you found yourself a guy to casually date for a little while, to distract you, but also to help you win whatever game was going on between you and Lewis. And the latter was not happy at all when he found out about the other man in your life. 

Themes: stepbrother!lewis, smut, jealous!lewis, bondage, mild degrading kink, dom!reader

a/n: if you want, you can read part 1 and part 2 !! Also, I’ll see you after new years now, bye bye <3

“Who were you on the phone with last night?” 

You weren’t even done filling your plate up at the breakfast table when Lewis hit you with the accusatory tone. 

Both your parents were in the cabin this morning. Maybe the kitchen if they hadn’t moved since you last saw them just minutes ago. You could hear faint whispers of their voices and laughter, so chances were that they could still hear you and Lewis. 

However, since it was just you and Lewis at the table, of course he would resort to being mean and a bully for no reason. 

“A friend.” You replied, “Why?” 

Lewis sighed, “Because your bedroom is right next to mine and I can’t sleep if you’re giggling all night.” He sounded like the brat you thought he was. 

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes, “I’ll giggle quietly from now on.” You paused for a moment then added, “Although I don’t remember you minding me being loud that night when you comforted me during the thunderstorm, or the other day when you were giving me fashion advice in my bathroom.” 

He glared at you. “Shut your mouth.” 

You smirked at him. Even threw in a little wink. 

— 

Lewis ignored you the whole day. But that was until your mom suddenly asked you at lunch, “Hey honey, when can we meet that boy you told me about?” 

The silence which followed was heavy. 

You answered, “I don’t see why you need to meet him,” You said, purposely ignoring the confused look from Lewis, “We’re not seriously dating, it’s just… you know? A casual, temporary thing.” You ended by shoving food in your mouth. 

Lewis cleared his voice and tried to act as natural, calm and not confused as he asked, “Where did you meet this boy?” 

“Online,” You answered, and gave him a few details he didn’t ask for. “He’s staying at a nearby cabin with his friends so we’ve just been casually talking.” You added, “We have plans to meet up soon but our schedules just aren’t aligning.” 

You locked eyes with Lewis after that. You could hear your mother saying how it would be a good idea to invite the boy over when you would be having a bonfire soon, but you barely paid attention. The look on Lewis’ face, the realisation that he did not in fact control everything you do was priceless. 

You had the upperhand in this game for once, and you loved it. 

The two of you didn’t interact much after that. But you could feel Lewis’ eyes on you the whole time you were around each other. For some reason, even when you were in different corners of a room, he would still glare at you. 

Neither of you ended up even remotely close to one another that night. Which was good because he was getting on your nerves with all that staring. 

However, the following night, Lewis walked into your room all ready to piss you off some more. Maybe even to remind you that you can’t just be messing around with some random boy. But then he froze the moment he entered your room and shut the door behind him. 

There you were, standing in front of the full-length mirror next to your bed, wearing nothing but dark green, lacy underwear, and a matching excuse of a bra. See-through all of it, looking like it was some sizes too small for the amount of skin that was on display. 

But that wasn’t what bothered him. No. What bothered him was that you had your phone in your hand. He also noticed the polaroid camera on the bed. 

He saw red for a brief moment. His brain short-circuited. Fuck. 

Meanwhile you were the opposite of ashamed or embarrassed when you saw him. Having him in your room at this time, wearing nothing but his usual grey sweatpants, meant that your parents were out with their friends. 

Which means Lewis probably thought he was gonna act like he owns and controls you again. But you were ready this time. You’d had enough. 

“Oh hello there.” You said, nonchalantly as if he didn’t just walk in on you basically taking nudes. You refused to seem inferior to him anymore. He wanted to play this game? Fine, but you were determined to win this round. 

Lewis finally blinked, breaking out of whatever reverie he was in, and said, “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You turned to face him, confidently. He tried to avoid looking at you but then he gave in. Eyes roaming all over your body. You shivered for a moment, physically feeling his stare. But then you refused to let him win again. 

“You really should knock before coming into a lady’s room, Lewis.” You spoke with fake defencelessness. “Now look, you’ve caught me all vulnerable.” You pouted a little, knowing you were pissing him off. 

“You–,” He stopped talking and sighed, shaking his head. He looked at you, then at the phone in your hand, then at the polaroid camera and the photographs on the bed. “Stop this shit, alright? Else I’m gonna tell your mom.” 

You chuckled. He sounded like a kid. “Oh Lewis,” You cooed, “I’m a grown woman with a job, who earns her own money.” You stated, “If I want to take pictures of myself in lingerie that I bought, I don’t see why anyone, least of all you, should have a problem with that.” 

Lewis finally moved away from the door, stepping further into your space. Getting gradually closer to you he said, “Right.” He admitted. “I don’t have a problem with you taking pictures of yourself, but…” He leaned closer, you stood your ground even if seeing his broad shoulders, big muscles, tattoos made part of you want to roll over and offer yourself like a soft puppy for him to play with. “Who the fuck are these pictures being sent to?” 

You gave him a smug look, “That’s none of your–,” 

He cut you off by grabbing you by the throat and pulled you closer, squeezing just a little. You’d be lying if you said your body didn’t instantly react to that. You felt the need to clench your thighs together. 

“Oh I think it is.” He spoke calmly even though there was a fiery jealousy in his pretty brown eyes. “You think I haven't noticed?” He questioned. “Texting all the time, smiling at your phone, even using your phone at the dinner table.” He listed all that he had noted. “You’re gonna stop talking to that guy.” 

You scoffed, even though he had a hand wrapped around your throat, you sassed, “You can’t tell me what to do, big bro.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Can’t I?” 

You persisted, “No.” You whispered, “I am done letting you boss me around.” You caught the slight frown on his handsome face. Gods… why did he have to be so handsome? 

“Is that so, little sis?” He teased, pushing you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed. “You’re gonna talk back, now? Hmm? You’re gonna argue with big brother?”

That mocking tone of his was pissing you off. And he was much stronger than you so the only way you could overpower him would be if you caught him off guard. You moved when he least expected it. You twisted the two of you around and pushed him down onto the bed instead. 

Lewis frowned when he fell on his back on your bed. He went to get up but you were already straddling him at that point so he couldn’t get up. He didn’t want to either. This was new, he had never had you be on top of him before. 

You wrapped your hands around his ridiculously muscular, attractive neck this time, pinning him down onto the bed. Lewis was partially confused but partially turned on. You could feel it. The erection in his pants pressing up against you. 

You stared down at him, ignoring the way his hands felt free to touch and rub and caress your skin. Ignoring how good it felt, you said, “I’m done letting you treat me like I’m some petulant little girl you need to keep in check.” 

He smirked, “Well you’re acting like one right now.” He said, grabbing onto your hips, “Just let me–,” 

You cut him off, “You talk too much, you know that? And your hands wander too much as well.” You thought about it for a moment, then came up with a plan. Glaring down at Lewis you said, “Stay put.” You warned as you went to get off of him. But seeing his smirk and knowing he would try to get the upper hand again, you had no choice but to grab his hand and guide it in between your legs. 

Lewis frowned, mumbled a quiet “Fuck…” when he felt your warmth, your wetness. All for him. His fingers felt free to feel around down there. You let him, for now. 

“I said, stay put.” You repeated. “Be a good boy, and only then can you keep playing with this. You hear me?” You whispered, smirking at the look on his face. He was surprised of course, but he was into it. 

So he rolled his eyes and dropped back down onto your bed. Folding his muscular hands behind his head, he waited. You got off the bed but then stood and admired his physique for a moment. 

Golden skin. Tattoos on display. Braids untied. Muscles bulging from places you didn’t know the human body had muscles… Lewis of course didn’t mind your ogling. He loved the attention. 

You forced yourself to move upon seeing the smug look on his face. Who does he think he is? A handsome man with the body of a Greek god, that's who. 

You rummaged around your drawers until you found what you’d been looking for. And when you brought it over to your bed, Lewis began chuckling. 

“Aww what are you gonna do with that? Tie me up with a pretty bow?” He taunted, looking at the white ribbon strips in your hands. 

You smirked. “Did you know I know how to do shibari ties? You’re lucky there’s no actual rope around.” Lewis’ smile dropped when you climbed on top of him again. You chuckled, “Scared, big bro?” You teased. 

For once, he didn’t fight back. Mostly because he was also lowkey excited to see where this was going. 

You moved up his body, straddling his chest as you grabbed his wrists and tied them together with the white ribbons. Once secured, Lewis let out a breathless chuckle when you then went to tie his wrists to the metal headboard. “You’re insane,” He commented. “You really think I can’t get out of that?” 

“I’d like to see you try.” You scoffed, confident in your skills. “The ties are strong, but if you struggle too much, the silk ribbon will surely burn your skin. We don’t want that, do we?” 

Lewis glared at you, soft lips parted as he breathed slightly more heavily. 

You even added a little bow to complete the look. “There,” You said, satisfied with how strong the ties were. Not tight, but definitely locked. “You wanna see how it looks?” You grabbed the polaroid camera which was on the bed and took a picture. The photograph came out and you waved it around, blowing on it. Taking your sweet time and ignoring the gorgeous man under you. “That’ll take a while to develop, but trust me, you’ve never looked better.” You winked at him. 

“You’re gonna regret this, little sis.” He whispered dangerously, hissing in pleasure as you dragged your nails lightly up and down his exposed torso. Tracing his abs and his tattoos with the tip of your finger. Running your hands all over his chest. “Damn you.” He spoke through gritted teeth as you dug your nails in his sides playfully. 

You reached down to lower his sweatpants, and as you did, his cock stood proud and tall. Already leaking at the tip and you had barely touched him yet.

“Think you can always have your way, don��t you?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “Walking into my room whenever you feel like it, with that pretty face and sinful body…” You leaned down to kiss that compass tattoo in the middle of his chest. 

He let out a breathy laugh, “So you do think I’m pretty.” 

You looked up and glared at him. “Don’t make me gag you to shut you up, Lewis.” You warned. 

He smirked, scoffing. “Yeah right.” 

Part of you wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

“You know what? I don’t wanna hear you talk.” You got off of him and quickly took your underwear off before straddling him again. His cock remained hard, untouched and leaking. Looking irresistible. But you needed him to shut up first so you balled up the dark green material and shoved it into his mouth. 

Lewis laughed as you did, fully prepared to spit it back out. But that was until you grabbed the remaining ribbons and tied it around his head, keeping the balled up thong inside his mouth as you tied yet another bow at the front of his now gagged mouth. 

You picked up the polaroid camera again and took another picture of him. “Smile,” You taunted, capturing him tied up with white bows and gagged. “So pretty,” You murmured as you put both camera and photograph aside. 

He looked up at you with unrestrained lust in his warm eyes. He wasn’t fighting back as hard as you had imagined he would, you noticed. 

You smiled triumphantly as you rolled your hips against him, feeling his hard cock against your wet inner thighs. “Oh fuck…” You whispered, smiling when you heard his muffled groan. You could feel that familiar tingle in between your legs. And you were ready to just fuck him but, you wanted to mess with him first. 

You gave him a soft kiss on the bow right on top of his mouth, he struggled against the knots at his wrists, but you ignored him and reached down to wrap your hand around his cock. He groaned, closing his eyes and thrusting up into your fist. 

You lazily stroked his length, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you kissed your way down his neck. You kissed his skin leisurely, not rushing even though he was squirming under you, his moans and groans muffled. 

“You see how nice it is, when you shut the fuck up and stop being mean to me?” You teased, biting down on his neck while your hand moved up and down his dripping cock. You liked the sounds of his muffled moans. He was somehow more vocal now that he was gagged. 

Lewis groaned and opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes were darker, his gaze more intense and he tried to thrust his cock into your hand but then gave up because each time he did, you would just let go of his length. So he just took whatever you gave him.

At one point you checked in with him, asking, “Does anything hurt?” You pointed at his tied wrist and mouth. He glared at you with annoyance and desire in his eyes and silently shook his head. “Good,” You gave him another soft kiss on the nose before continuing. 

You released his cock, kissing down his body and bringing your mouth closer to where he desperately needed you. You smirked when you felt him squirm even more when you kissed him on his hip bones and all over his lower abdomen. 

You heard him groan, a muffled “Please…” escaping his mouth. 

You giggled at the sound of that, “Oh what’s that? Was that a ‘please’?” You watched him for a moment. Watched how he rolled his eyes at you, thrusting his hips up just trying to get you to touch him. “You’re learning your manners already, I see.” 

Then without any warning, you took him into your mouth, all of him. Slowly. Lewis’ loud, muffled moans filled the room. You sucked on his tip, your tongue teasing him as you felt your body tingling with need too.

You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, as he tilted his head back. He looked even more ravishing, completely at your mercy for a change. It made you feel powerful. 

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. You slowed down, not wanting to make him come just yet. You licked his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. Lewis moaned, his voice muffled still, making him sound needy and desperate. 

You dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip very lazily, causing him to thrust his hips up. You were driving him crazy and you loved it. 

Lewis moaned even louder the moment you pulled your mouth away, lifted up and sank down on him, your wet warmth wrapping all around him making him groan. Your walls clenched around him, making both of you let out guttural moans. 

You leaned in and kissed his closed eyelids, cupping his face in your hands as you slowly rocked back and forth, feeling him deep inside you. “Fuck… why do you have to feel so good, huh?” You chuckled when he tried to pull against the white ribbon strips, but all in vain. “Guess I did successfully tie you up with a bow, didn’t I?” 

You heard a rare whine from him. He sounded so vulnerable, and desperate that it made you speed up as you rode his cock. Your walls gripping him tightly and making him get louder and louder each time. You watched him whine and smirked at his helplessness. 

“Not so cocky now, are you?” You teased. “Beg for it, come on.” You said more sternly, whispering against his mouth, lips hovering above the white bow. “Oh what? You can’t?” You laughed, “You can’t even beg, can you?”

Lewis groaned louder. His desperation was quite clear. And he began to thrust his hips up trying to match your pace. But you messed with him even then, you slowed down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you sped up when he least expected it.

Soon, Lewis was just a moaning mess under you. Cock throbbing inside you, moans muffled, his hands just gave up trying to break free from your ties. But fuck he was a vision… 

Lewis got loud, growling as you teased him, riding his cock perfectly. There was nothing else he could focus on in that moment. 

You eventually gave in. “Are you ready to come for me?” You asked, looking deep into his eyes. His pleading stare told you he was. “Go on then, come inside me, big bro.” 

He was so close anyway that he came right after. His moans begging you to slow down when you kept riding his sensitive, throbbing cock even after he came. His heart raced, he was breathing hard and fast as you came as well, clenching around him violently. 

You caught your breath for a minute, then quickly untied his hands and pulled the thong from his mouth. You leaned in to kiss him, slow and gentle this time. “You did so good,” You murmured against his soft lips. “Who knew you’d be such a good boy the moment you’re tied up?” 

Lewis kissed you back lazily. Quiet, for once. He didn’t have a sassy reply this time. His hands hesitated to wander this time, only barely brushing against your thighs. 

You kissed his warm, damp chest, murmuring, “If you want us to keep doing this, you’re gonna stop being mean all the time, alright?” You looked up to see him watching you with a strangely calm look on his face. 

“Fine,” He muttered, like it was an inconvenience to him. 

You scoffed, “Look at you pretending you didn’t like being tied up.” He avoided your eyes immediately and you couldn’t help but laugh. But then you remembered… 

Straddling him once more, you reached for the polaroid photographs. “Aww,” You cooed, showing them to him, “Look how pretty you look, white bows and all.” 

Lewis just groaned and shoved you aside. You laughed as you landed beside him on your bed. You expected him to get up and walk out of your room but he stayed put. Processing, maybe. 

“Here,” You handed the polaroids to him as you tangled your legs with his upon turning on your side to look at him, “Keep them.” 

Lewis reluctantly took them then sighed and said, “I hate you.” 

You checked the mental scoreboard and there it was, a first win for you. “I know you don’t.” You winked at him. 

[dollfacefantasy]

Rookiepillz: Here We Go Again

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: almost a year after the rookiepillz incident, you and your now-boyfriend play some video games together. he's got a special strategy to help you win.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief cockwarming, daddy kink, rookiepillz

word count: 1.8k

a/n: finally. rookiepillz has come back to tumblr. the most anticipated come back of the century in my book. i just needed something silly as a break from school. we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming momentarily. part 1 is here.

“ANOTHER GOJO!” you yell at your tv, flinging your controller to the other side of your couch. You feign a growl and look up at your boyfriend who’s lap you were laid up on. “Another fucking Gojo killed me. Can you believe this? It’s like a curse or something.”

He chuckles right next to your ear and kisses your temple. “You’ll get the win soon. You placed third that time, that’s not bad,” he tells you as you ready up again.

He was one to talk considering he planned and acted out a whole revenge scheme on you when he placed second. But hey, look at the two of you now. Snuggling on the couch, you wearing one of his shirts, playing video games in his lap while he gives you little smooches and whispers sweet nothings to you.

Sure, he used to be your stepdad, but he’s your man now. Sure, he dated your mom just to get back at you for beating him in a Fortnite match, but he also gave you the best dick of your life. And plus, he was pretty sweet when he wasn’t being a total asshole, so who are you to complain?

His arms squeeze around your waist, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, inhaling your scent as you beat on some innocent player in the lobby for having the default skin. He smiled as he watched your eyes light up with glee. He took in every word you said about how dropping at the pool house was the best strategy. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Yeah, he had fucked your mom as part of a long revenge plot over losing a victory royale. Yeah, he did humiliate you by spanking you and then revealing said revenge plot in the middle of fucking. But it’s only cause he knew you’d be his girl in the end. He was just having some fun with his sweetheart, right?

He half-watches you running around the map, giggling when you drive a car off a cliff or start doing the weeknd emote. A smile breaks across his face whenever you kill someone because you lightly tap his forearm and go “Look! Did you see that? I gottem.” And then he’d whisper to you, “mhm, that’s my girl” before planting another kiss on your cheekbone.

But what really got him going wasn’t the precious moments of joy or the sweet expressions of tension when you started losing health. No. What really fired him up was your rage. What could he say? It reminded him of nearly a year ago when he’d pulled you over his knee, the fire that had burned in your eyes. A day he’d never forget. 

All he had to do was be patient for your match to start winding down. Once that notification came up that said there were only 25 people left, that red monster inside you would start rearing its head. The “motherfucker’s” and “god damn it’s” would start flying, and in no time at all, you’d be wearing that adorable pouty expression.

Like right now. He watched your character explode into a pile of loot. You slammed the controller down on your laps and crossed your arms, sinking back into his embrace. “That’s such bullshit. At least it wasn’t Gojo again,” you grumble.

Fuck, it got him hard.

“I think I know your problem, baby,” he says. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. The one piece of certain leverage you had over your boyfriend was that you were a better Fortnite player. Whenever he gave you unsolicited advice on your playing, you made sure to bring up the fact that you had beaten him before.

“You’re getting so frustrated, y’know. I think you gotta calm down a bit. Let yourself relax so you can think and focus better. And I think I have a way you can do that,” he says.

“And what would that be?” you ask, tone growing softer as you start to catch on.

“How about you relax on daddy’s cock? I know you can only think straight once you’ve been filled up,” he purrs. His hands smooth up your stomach to your tits, coasting over your nipples that were already starting to harden out of instinct. Because if there was one guaranteed piece of leverage he had on you, it was that special word that you’d seemed so averse to just a few months ago.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you answer. It felt shameful that he could get a rush of arousal from you with just a simple word said in a particular tone.

You stand up, still working the controller as another match starts up. He tugs down your shorts for you, grinning like the madman he was at your lack of panties.

“Look at you all prepared,” he coos and kisses your hip, “You knew you’d be getting a treat from daddy today, hm?”

“Lucky guess,” you respond as he guides you back down. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs. He lines himself with your entrance and pulls you down until he’s bottomed out. You whimper and bite your lip, locking your eyes on the tv to focus.

For the beginning, he really does just let you sit there, nice and full. And maybe he was sort of right. You feel pretty calm so far. Everything is less stressful when, in the back of your mind, you’re noticing the way he twitches within you or the small grunts he lets out when you tighten around him.

You were so warm and tight. Felt just as good as the first time, and fortunately for you, there was no bombshell plot twist waiting around the corner. His fingers rub little circles on the outside of your thigh.

“What do you think? Is it helping, babydoll?” he asks.

“Mhm, thank you, daddy. Fits just right,” you say.

He chuckles at the cute way you say it. You work on sniping some people, he tests out rolling his hips. You sharply inhale but don’t protest. So he does it again. His cock slides through the warm embrace of your walls, kissing your favorite spots deep inside. You still seemed focused enough, so using his hands to hold you in position, he begins thrusting upwards.

Your breaths become longer and shakier, but you will yourself to maintain focus. The number of players was dwindling fast. He was bouncing you on his cock which normally left you empty-headed in seconds. But you needed this victory royale. You really were his girl.

He lets out a groan, leaning back against the couch cushions with his head tilted back. It wasn’t like he needed the win this time. He could let go. And so he did. He pistons his cock up into you faster by the moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Daddy there’s only two other people,” you whine in a plea for mercy.

“Almost there, baby,” he grunts. You honestly didn’t know if he was referring to your game or how close he was to cumming.

You don’t have time to think about that though because the circle is closing. You grit your teeth and grip the controller with all the focus you have left.

“Daddy, c’mon, I could win,” you whimper.

“I know, princess. You got this, pretty girl,” he mumbles while his eyes flutter. His abdomen twitches as he feels himself gearing up for release. “Tell you what. If you win this one, daddy’ll make sure you get a special reward later on.”

Now it is absolutely on. You can’t lose this. That’d be even more humiliating than the original rookiepillz incident. You’re dashing around the map as your boyfriend pumps in and out of you. It’s a difficult task, managing to hold off your release and try to win.

But soon enough you spot your targets. At the same time, it seems that Leon is reaching his. “Oh fuck, baby. So fuckin’ good. Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like,” he whimpers from behind you.

He bounces you, and you know your own peak is imminent. But you see the other players, and in an absolute miracle, you down one and then the other. The tv flashes gold with your victory as your body seizes with the white hot pleasure of release. Simultaneously, he unloads inside you, firing rope after rope into your tight cunt.

He fucks into you a few more times before actually coming back down to reality. You’re coming down too, melting back against his chest. He’s stroking your face when his eyes catch on the tv.

“Holy shit, you actually won?” he asks. His tone gives away that he’s actually impressed. and that’s your ultimate victory royale.

“Mhm, all for you,” you tease and lazily kiss his cheek.

“God, baby. Making me feel like the luckiest man alive right now,” he replies and reciprocates your small gesture of affection.

The two of you cuddle for a bit longer. You’re finished with the game, having finally gotten the win you wanted. And like always, he was such a sweetheart after, giving you kisses and praise, holding you close, even cleaning you up once he got up. Unfortunately, he had to go into work today, so it wasn’t long until he had to leave. He makes sure you’re content before he says goodbye with a kiss to your forehead.

Later that night though, you were alone at your place just as Leon was at his. You get a text. His contact lights up your lockscreen with the message “Get on Fortnite?”

You smile, hopping on your couch and turning on your console. You text back a “yeah hehe :)” He facetimes you, and you beam when you see his face, something you would have never thought possible when you met him. While you wait for everything to turn on and connect, you ask him about his day and how he’s feeling. He answers softly, heart melting at your interest.

To your surprise, when the game finally loads up, you have a gift. From rookiepillz himself.

“Leon…” you say excitedly.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb at first, “Just open it.”

So you do. You burst into laughter as Gojo appears on your screen next. “You’re so funny. I love you,” you giggle. It slips out so casually, he’s not even sure you registered what you’d let slip. He lets it go for now. He would tease you about it later. Right now, he was just so enamored with you.

As you prattled on about wanting to be the skin with the blindfold on and how he should get one for himself so you could match, he realized something. He’d lose every Fortnite match for the rest of his life if it meant he got you. His own personal victory royale.

[solarsturniolo]

Pugs ‘N’ Kisses // M.S. // PROLOGUE

By Natalie 💋

Summary: Matt has always been the one person you can count on. Whether it be for advice or a holiday event, he always knew how to take care of you. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you.

Other Parts: Chapter One,

Warnings: Smut / Stalking / Voyeurism / Cursing / Obsessive Behavior / Possessive Behavhior / Minors DNI

You never really thought much of it.

Ever since you became friends with him, Matt had always been a sweetheart to you. Opening doors for you, kicking his brother’s ankle if he tried to take the booth seat, driving you everywhere you could possibly want to go; no matter the circumstance, Matt was always someone you could rely on, and he made that clear. He invited you to any outings that he and his brothers attended. He spent hours helping you build that matching furniture set for your bedroom, insisting that he could do it all himself for you. He made himself available for you whenever you needed him. 

Matt made an impression on everyone in your life, and a good one at that. He would help your mom set the table on nights when he was invited for dinner, and he would happily do the dishes once everyone was finished. He was a schmoozer, a charmer. From asking how her day was to empathizing with her frustration with whatever meaningless squabble happened at work with Theresa that works in the next cubicle over. He knew just the right questions to ask and just the right emotions to express on his face. He’d send you a smile across the table, reminding you that he still had his attention on you. One time you were almost sure that he winked at you, something the group chat heard plenty of that evening once he had left, though after some evaluation you assumed it must’ve just been a trick of the light.

After dinner, your mother would always insist on putting a movie on for everyone to watch. A desperate attempt to make you all seem like a normal family in front of your guest, though anyone with half a brain could see through it. You would try to weasel out of it, but Matt would just smile and tell you ‘I don’t mind,’ which was all you needed to give in. Halfway through, every single time, your father would notoriously begin to critique whatever had been put on. It was very easy for Matt to get on your father’s good side, all he had to do was agree with everything he would bitch and moan about. ‘The quality is garbage,’ he would grunt, and Matt would reply ‘It’s like it was recorded on an iPhone 4’ to which your father would laugh and playfully punch his shoulder. ‘This kid knows what’s up,’ he’d approvingly remark, spending the rest of the film making little jabs at the movie with Matt following him up in agreement. 

The biggest impression he had made, and the most important in his eyes, were your friends. Of course your parents’ approval mattered, but they didn’t know the real you, not the way your friends did. Granted, it took a lot of work. They were certain that he and any other human with a dick and balls were bad news. Fair enough, he thought. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, he knew it would take a lot of time and effort. But you are worth that. It had taken almost a year to get your friends one hundred percent on the Matt bandwagon, but he really sealed the deal on your birthday. 

He greeted you at your house that afternoon with a gorgeous floral arrangement in a beautiful glass vase. He knew your friends would be over, he was betting on it. They all watched with envy glossed over their eyes as you admired the beautiful arrangement, and while you were happily distracted, to not take the attention off of you on your special day of course, he brought in three much smaller bouquets; one for each of your friends. From that moment forward, everyone was team Matt. Your parents and friends would ask about him regularly. “When is Matt coming over again?” “You and that Matt boy still friends?” “You should invite Matt!” 

It felt good. Being liked by all of the closest people in your life was important to him. It gave him leverage, access to more sides of you than just what you showed him. He got to see your girly side with your friends, and he got to see your more domestic side with your family, though his favorite side of you was when you were with him. Just him. Not him and your friends, not him and your parents, not him and his brothers. Him.

You had to admit, that was your favorite side of yourself as well. Something about him, maybe it was his aura, maybe it was his horoscope chart, or maybe he was just the first decent guy you had ever gotten close with, but something about him made you feel at ease. He didn’t give you butterflies, instead he made all of the noise and static go quiet. Your hands never shook as long as he was holding them. Your body never felt cold as long as he was next to you. It was a weird feeling; A good feeling, but weird. You had never felt this way about another person before. 

Matt felt the same way. Any day that he got to spend with you was a good day. Any day that he got to speak to you or see your face was a good day. Any day that you made an appearance of any kind became a good day. Summer nights running down the beaches of Cape Cod, rainy days cooped up in your bedroom listening to your favorite vinyl records, late nights sending Game Pigeon games back and forth for hours. It didn’t matter what you did together, it only mattered that he got to do it with you. 

The only thing that mattered to him was you. 

a/n: Welp…good luck yall. @flowerxbunnie and I already planned out this entire story.

Tags: @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @mattsbratt69 @oversturn @simplysturn @soursturniolo @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @sturnioloskies @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chris @tillies33ssss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @breeloveschris @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @mattsfavwh3re @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @xtravrgnoliveoil @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @leah-loves-lilies @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @lacysturniolo @sara2233445

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time. 

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body. 

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard. 

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously. 

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate. 

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone. 

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon. 

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands. 

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room. 

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down. 

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers. 

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you. 

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes. 

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table. 

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking. 

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen. 

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately. 

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…” 

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before. 

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.” 

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment. 

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside. 

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to. 

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement. 

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you. 

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders. 

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him. 

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good. 

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. 

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay. 

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did. 

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit. 

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax. 

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him. 

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face. 

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions. 

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[s-brant]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Nancy and Y/N are best friends. The problem is, Y/N and Steve have been secretly hooking up for weeks, and when Nancy asks for advice about possibly getting back together with him, Y/N doesn’t know how to feel.

“wow genuinely your steve fics are so good and seem to be super well thought out i’m literally scared that a prompt i send won’t be good enough!! i dont know i want to say “we shouldn’t be doing this” sex w steve because i’m a whore for it”

7k (18+)

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, exhibitionism, praise kink, very slight dub-con if you squint due to wording but not really, it’s also just assumed reader is on the pill, and strong language.

This is wrong.

She knows that she shouldn't be thinking or feeling any of the things she is at the moment, but, when she looks up from her spot on the floor in the Wheeler's basement to find Steve staring at her, she cannot ignore the butterflies that stir to life in her stomach. Those pretty brown eyes of his are quick to avert back to the task at hand, but, for the short few seconds that they lock eyes, his lips twitch with the urge to curl up into a smile at her.

The thing is, Y/N and Steve have been secretly fucking for a few weeks now. In her defense, she didn't actively seek him out for the sake of having sex with him.

It was dark and rainy that night, and she was caught up in the storm on her bike as she pedaled home from cheer practice, eyes nearly shut from the wind that blew up the street at her face. The uniform she donned all afternoon was drenched from the downpour, and her hair stuck to the sides of her face as well. It annoyed her that she was two miles from home and her useless mother couldn't be bothered to part with her boyfriend to drive to get her, sure, but she tried not to let it bring her down.

Then, out of the gloom that hung over Hawkins, the headlights of a familiar BMW came up over the hill in the road to shine in her face, and she knew it was Steve before he even had the chance to slow to a stop and roll down his window to talk to her. If anyone else did this—even him a few years ago when he'd been the king of Hawkins High School—they'd come off as a creep, but it was Steve. Her best friend Nancy's sweet, if not a little clueless, ex-boyfriend who babysits her brother and his best friends. There was nothing to worry about.

He asked incredulously, "What are you doing out in this?" The doors to the car unlocked with a click. "Come on, I'll take you the rest of the way. You're gonna get sick."

So, she went. Her bike barely fit in the back of the car, and once she slammed the door shut, he wasted little time in driving off into the rainy night.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I was gonna go ask Nance if I could crash in the basement. My mom didn't answer, and when she doesn't answer, it's probably not a good idea to come home unless I want to walk in on something that'll make me wanna bleach my eyes. Learned that lesson the hard way."

The sound of his melodic laugh filled the car, then, when she just stared at him, the amusement fell from his face.

"Oh, you're not kidding?"

It was her turn to laugh.

"I wish," she said, cutting him a sidelong glance before setting her sights back on the road ahead. "She and her weirdo boyfriend literally demand that I don't come home on nights he's over. Apparently, it's their constitutional right to fuck on the kitchen counter, I don't know."

There was a dip of silence in which neither of them said a word after that.

In his peripheral vision, he could see her fiddling with the hem of her soaked cheer skirt awkwardly as she avoided looking at him at all costs, and, suddenly, something changed.

Y/N had befriended Nancy shortly before their breakup, so he hasn't been in close proximity to her many times. Seeing that they've been broken up for a year, he doesn't have a reason to interact with her except for when he's picking up or dropping off the kids from the Wheeler's house when she's hanging out there. But, that night in his car, she was acting strange around him. Strange in the way that girls used to act around him all the time back when they hoped and prayed for a chance with the most popular guy at school. He didn't understand why she was behaving in such a way now, though. The way he saw it, he was a loser who couldn't even get into college like his other classmates and worked at Family Video.

What he didn't know, however, is that she didn't think he was a loser at all. If anything, her view on him then made a complete turnaround compared to when he was dating her best friend. When she got stuck with him and the kids last year at Joyce Byers' house and watched him go head-to-head with Billy in defense of Lucas, she knew a small part of her heart would always belong to Steve Harrington. She was the one to clean the cuts lining his face, as well as the blooded nose caused by the beating he took, and place bandaids from under the Byers' sink on each one of them. After that, she didn't see him again outside of fleeting glances in the hallway and through the windows of his car parked outside the Wheeler's place until recently.

He said, trying to keep his cool with the smoking hot girl he never noticed last year due to his Nancy-induced heartache sitting in the passenger's seat of his car, "I just dropped Dustin off at Mike's and Nancy was on her way out to see Jonathan."

She asked, "How about your place, then?" and the rest was history.

It wasn't even a half hour later that she was laid back on his couch with his head buried between her thighs and a hand gripping a fistful of his hair as she panted for air amidst the build-up to her orgasm. Then, after she woke in his bedroom and snuck out of the front door before his parents could notice her presence in the house, it wasn't long before they crossed paths again...and again and again. She'd wait around the back of the school where she knew Nancy wouldn't see for him to pick her up from school after his shift at Family Video, and they began to develop a routine of swimming in his pool, having dinner together since his parents couldn't be bothered to hang around with him, and having sex before he had to drive her back home in time to do her homework before bed.

As far as she was concerned, they were just having fun and not labeling whatever it was that was going on between them. Steve, on the other hand, was already imagining how her name might sound with his last name attached to the end of it.

Now, as they're sitting in Nancy's basement and helping the kids with the projects they waited until the very last second to start, he's still fantasizing about all the things he wants to do with her. Not just sexually, either. He's been trying to work up the nerve to ask her on a date for the past few days, but every time he tries, his nerves get in the way. That voice in the back of his mind sings its doubts, telling him that she'll never want him in the same way that he wants her. No one has ever wanted him to be the one, so why should it start with her?

When Steve gets up from the couch to pay for the pizza they ordered to the house, Nancy casts a look over her should at him to ensure he's too far to hear and scoots closer to Y/N while the kids are engrossed in their own conversations.

She whispers, "Can I tell you something? It's about Steve..."

Anxiety tightens the muscles of Y/N's chest as she tries to keep her face schooled into a mask of neutrality. Although she feels like the truth is written across her face every time she comes into the presence of her best friend, she is outwardly as calm as can be. She doesn't know whether or not she should take pride in the skill she's acquired in lying since she and Steve began hooking up.

What else can she do except nod?

Nancy goes on in a hushed tone, "I've been kind of having these...feelings for him again lately. Feelings I haven't had since we were together before. And I love Jonathan, I do, but I guess I'm just worried about what I'm missing. I just don't know if I made the right choice now that these feelings are back." As soon as the words leave her mouth, she shakes her head and shuts her as if that'll take them back. "That was so fucked up of me to say, I'm sorry."

The news sinks home inside of her like lead weighing her down at the bottom of her stomach. Part of the reason she hadn't bothered entertaining the curious side of her that wondered if Steve felt anything more for her in the quiet moments after they had sex, when he'd linger on top of her for a few seconds longer and murmur his praises into the warm curve of her neck, was because she'd be confronted with the issue of her best friend being his ex. Granted, they weren't best friends for the majority of the time they dated. She was more of a post-Steve thing, but that isn't the point. The point is, her own moral code, as well as girl code, dictates that Steve is strictly off limits. But, if that's true, why does she want him so badly?

But because of this, she cannot do anything other than force a reassuring smile on her face as she reaches for her friend's hand and whispers, "Thoughts aren't inherently bad or good, they're just thoughts. Everyone has doubts to themselves, but I think it's important to remember how well you and Jonathan work together. I mean, he was the reason you left Steve in the first place."

The words she doesn't speak aloud but feels clawing at her from the inside begging to be released are something along the lines of, Please, don't drag him back just to break his heart again in another year. Don't steal him away if you don't really want him. But, she can't say that, not because it isn't her honest opinion regardless of her current relationship with him, but because Nancy would know based on the waver in her voice that something is going on between them.

To her mortification, her words don't appear to help the difficult debate waging war on Nancy's mind. If anything, it muddles things further and creates more discourse.

"You're right, you're absolutely right, but..." Of course, there's a but. "What if my instinct is trying to tell me something and I'm ignoring it?"

There's a drawn-out pause, then—

"Maybe just wait and see how you feel for a few more weeks before you say or do anything. It might just be one of those things that comes and goes, y'know?"

Nancy is quick to nod, setting her focus back on the partially painted piece of cardboard belonging to Max's unfinished project. For another minute or so, Y/N can't do anything but focus on her out of the corner of her eye, worry stirring to life within that the happiness she's experienced in the past few weeks will be taken from her the second Nancy decides to talk about the feelings she's having.

Steve isn't hers, so why does she feel this nagging possessive instinct whenever she imagines her friend acting on the feelings she just admitted to having? She never realized until now, but she doesn't think she can share him. Whether that means they will soon need to have a talk about their arrangement and how the feelings she's having are getting in the way of it being just "fun" or not, she isn't sure, but she knows one thing.

She needs to find him.

Y/N sets down what she'd been working in favor of standing from her spot on the floor, knees tucked beneath her bottom on a stray cushion, and offers up a placating smile when multiple faces around the room perk up to see why she's leaving.

"Where are you going?" Mike asks.

"Bathroom," she says. "Be right back."

With a quick, worried glance at Nancy calms her nerves instantly. There's no suspicion present on her friend's face. If anything, she's too focused on the task at hand, as well as the difficult debate going on within her head over the whole Steve versus Jonathan thing that has existed since junior year of high school, to notice or care about her sneaking away to "use the bathroom". It allows Y/N's racing heart to slow momentarily as she ascends the old staircase to the Wheeler's basement and enters the main level of the house. Slowly, carefully, she shuts the door to the basement behind her to keep any conversation she may have with Steve as private as possible.

The bright array of cozy lights strung up around the Christmas tree positioned in the corner of the living room passes in her periphery on her way to the front door where she sees Steve talking to the pizza guy with one hand casually propped against the open door. She assumes it must be an old friend, perhaps someone who used to be on the varsity basketball or baseball team with him back when they were in school together, but it matters little to her who they are at the moment. The only thing she can think to do is stake her claim before it's too late. Or, at least, have one last good night with him before Nancy takes him back.

She waits with her back leaned up against the staircase railing and watches him take the stack of three boxes from the delivery man after handing him the cash as payment.

"Alright, have a nice night, man," Steve says.

The man lifts a hand to wave goodbye over his shoulder as he's turning to walk off in the direction of his parked car, and, with that, the front door swings shut. When he turns around with the pizza boxes balanced precariously in one hand, it's difficult not to flinch and drop them all to the floor at the unexpected sight of her standing there.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me," he says after a second is taken to steady himself, one hand pressed over his chest as though to soothe his heart after the drastic shock it received. When she remains quiet, he furrows his brows, continuing, "You're really quiet right now. It's actually kind of creepy." His voice then quiets as a new thought comes to him. "...Unless it's a weird sex thing, then I might like it."

All she does is allow her lips to curl up a bit at the ends in a slight smile before she turns to walk down the hallway to the kitchen. The living room is being used by Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler to watch a popular movie Steve so kindly held aside at Family Video for them when they asked Y/N if he could do so. And, of course, since she was the one who asked, it was delivered right to Mrs. Wheeler the second he arrived tonight.

In fact, the exact words he said, although quietly so anyone at the store couldn't hear, when she asked was, "Sure. Anything for my girl."

My girl.

As she walks through the entrance to the kitchen with her back to him, she picks the two words apart over and over again. Particularly, she gets stuck on the first one. My. It lights a fire in the pit of her abdomen, desire flaring to life at the memory of him casually declaring her as something that belonged to him. My. A possessive word. One he had been comfortable in using. The question is, would he be comfortable with it the other way around? The voice in the back of her head can't help but wonder...

Is Steve hers?

He keeps eyeing her up suspiciously throughout the process of setting the pizza boxes down on the kitchen island one by one and checking to make sure they're what they ordered before the delivery man pulls out of the driveway. Once it's confirmed that they are, in fact, two plain cheese pizzas and one pepperoni for Max and Dustin, he pauses to call her odd behavior into question again.

Steve asks, "Okay, you're really starting to freak me out. Are you okay? Did I do something?" She doesn't allow her face to give away any of her true intentions as she walks around the island, making sure in her peripheral vision that there's no one around to see them as she approaches. "If I did something, you can just tell me—”

His sentence is cut off at the end by her kissing him to shut him up.

It's a surprise, sure, but it doesn't take him any longer than a second or two to realize what's happening and react accordingly. As if it's an instinct as natural as breathing, he kisses her back with an urgency that brings a flushed color to his cheeks and settles both hands on her hips to tug them closer. The warmth of his fingertips touching the stretch of bare skin between her slightly too-short sweater and jeans draws a barely-audible noise from the back of her throat. But, he hears it. He always picks up on those little things about her, whether they be sounds, expressions she makes, or anything of the sort.

The kiss is cut short a second or two later out of fear of someone walking in, but his hands refuse to stray from her hips when she pulls away with a look in her eyes he knows all too well. Her pupils are blown wide with lush, glazed-over in a way they never get outside of moments such as these, and he knows straight away what she wants from him.

He asks, "So, it was a sex thing?"

Finally, she can't help but break her act of stoicism and offers him a bright smile.

"Shut up and follow me."

"What about the kids—"

The sharp tug of her hand wrapped around his wrist brings him away from the kitchen island, bringing him along in every step she takes toward the entrance to the hallway. She doesn't bother to look over his shoulder when she next speaks. Instead, she gives his hand a reassuring squeeze to get the same sentiment across as the words leave her mouth.

"They think I'm in the bathroom. And, for all they know, you could be outside talking to the pizza guy," she offers.

It's settled, then.

Still, in the time it takes her to drag him down the hall and up the staircase behind her, Steve can't help but check over his shoulder multiple times to ensure Nancy, Robin, the kids, or Nancy's parents didn't see them leaving to go up the stairs. The last thing he expected tonight was for her to pounce on him like a feral animal and drag him upstairs to have her way with him in a house filled with people. They've done it in risky places before, like on the break room table at Family Video and his car parked at Lover's Lake, but they've never done it in a place as risky as Nancy's house.

Despite the mild confusion it causes, whatever it is that has gotten into her, he prays it never leaves. It isn't unusual for her to initiate sex with him. Hell, half the time, she's the one who leans in to kiss him first or calls to ask if he's home, but he has always been the one to initiate in situations like these. It was his idea to fuck her on the break room table just like it was his idea to bend her over the hood of his car at Lover's Lake last week.

Every door they pass and briefly pause at is a no-go. Mike's room? Absolutely not. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler's room? Never. Holly's room? That would be the most deplorable thing either of them has ever done. So, when they reach Nancy's half-open bedroom at the end of the hallway, Y/N has no other choice but to pull him inside and push him up against the shut door.

In between the eager, open-mouthed kisses she gives him, he murmurs, "We shouldn't be doing this. Nance will literally murder us if she finds out."

She shakes her head into the kiss and pulls back, breathless, to say, "Then, we're gonna have to be quiet, huh?" before promptly reconnecting their mouths.

His face lights up at the mischievous tone her voice takes, and he can't ignore how his cock starts to strain against the tight denim of his Levi's at the mere thought of fucking her while everyone else is unaware downstairs. She can feel him smirk against her lips, his chest jerking with the sound of him chuckling to himself at how this girl has him wrapped around her finger.

And there it is. With a conflicted feeling of acceptance, he finally realizes he's falling in love again.

As soon as he realizes that this is real, that they're truly about to do this, Steve takes control of the situation in a matter of seconds. His hands make quick work of tugging her sweater off of her body. Her arms rise to make the task easier for him as he frantically undresses her and tosses the knitted fabric onto the floor behind the locked bedroom door. When she's free of the confines of her warm sweater, she then reaches for his shirt and rips it off with the same frantic nature he had with her. There's a time and place for unhurried, slow sex, but this is not one of them. By her estimation, they have five minutes to spare before their friends notice their absence and begin to question their whereabouts.

He hefts her up into her arms with his hands grasping the backs of her thighs to bring them around his hips, but right before he can set her down on the bed, she shakes her head.

"No, Steve, the headboard hitting the wall will be too loud."

This earns a scoff from him.

Though he'd never be dumb enough to bring up his ex while he's about to have sex with her, Steve is as familiar with Nancy's room as she is, if not more. After all, he snuck inside a handful of times and had to get creative so as to not allow her parents to hear what they were doing while they were asleep across the hallway. Her headboard does bang against the wall, that she's right about, but her mattress doesn't creak much, and if he puts a few of her pillows between the wall and the headboard...

He tosses her down onto the bed with ease and crawls up to meet her where she lays with her head cradled against one of the pillows. His hand reaches to the side to grab the other one and maneuvers it between the wall and headboard, then grabs one of the many decorative ones to do the same on the other end before coming back to her.

Ignoring her previous statement entirely, Steve asks, "You're real cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

The button and zipper to her jeans come undone with a few deft movements of his fingers, and she can't help but grin up at him in spite of her fear of getting caught as he pulls her pants and underwear down her legs in one smooth motion.

There's something better to her about being called cute or beautiful by him rather than the typical "hot" label guys have thrown at her. Don't get her wrong, being called hot is flattering in circumstances of one-night stands or even random compliments from those she likes, but having the guy you like call you cute or beautiful in a moment of heady desire is different. She knows by the way he said it alone that she isn't just an easy fuck to him. He genuinely likes her, and that's not something she ever expected to happen seeing that he used to be a well-known jerk as well as her best friend's ex-boyfriend.

He hardly has the chance to undo his own jeans and shove them partway down his thighs before she's tugging him down onto her with a needy plea for him to fuck her. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as he kisses her, his tongue invading her mouth without warning, and uses one of his hands to guide his cock through her sticky folds. When his tip rubs against her throbbing clit, she can't help but whisper more desperately, urging him to get on with it.

"Steve," she says, a sharp gasp escaping at the feeling of his tip against her entrance, "Please"—her hips press up to sink the tip of his cock into her a little more—"Need you."

Usually, he'd be the insufferable little bastard he always is and retort something like, "Yeah?" or "Tell me what you need from me," for the sake of getting her to blush for him, but they have already used up at least a minute of their time before things become suspicious, so he gives her what she wants without protest.

She cries out beneath him when he sinks into her with no opportunity for her to gradually adjust to his thick cock. Her fingernails dig into the soft skin of his shoulders with enough force to leave crescent-shaped marks indented into him. Before she can think to make another noise again, though, Steve's hand is covering her mouth.

His eyes have gone wide, and the smooth motion of his hips stalling for a second as he listens for anyone coming up the stairs before he pulls his hand from her face. Somewhere to the right of her body, he reaches to grab something she cannot be bothered to look at.

He says softly, "Gotta be quiet, baby," and stuffs the shirt Nancy left on the bed into her open mouth.

Y/N doesn't even have the chance to be shocked or turned on by the fact that he gagged her with his ex-girlfriend's shirt—while they're fucking on her bed—because he starts to move the second he's sure her noises won't get them caught. Well, at least, the noises coming from her mouth. As for the sound of their bodies smacking together, as well as the wet squelching sound that accompanies it from how wet she is, whether or not anyone hears that is left up to chance.

His arms are braced against the bed on either side of her head, caging her in and forcing her to look at him while he ruins her. It doesn't take much for her to feel that fire in the pit of her belly flare up. All it takes is the feeling of him pushing in and out of her, the spare hair at the base of his cock brushing against her clit on the upstroke, and she's melting in his arms.

Seeing Steve above her is like seeing every one of her wet dreams come to life. Sometimes she does dream about him. Whether it be when she's alone in her bedroom or sleeping beside him on nights they're both too exhausted to stray from his bed, she'll wake on the edge of climaxing with her hands balling up the sheets into a fist. When she's alone, she'll take care of it herself. When she's with him, she'll roll over and start nudging her face into the curve of his neck, peppering kisses there until he begins to stir from his sleep.

The sound of her muffled moans coming through the makeshift gag encourages him in his efforts to press himself deeper inside of her on every thrust. One of the hands beside her head grasps one of the posts of Nancy's headboard for leverage while the other slips down between their bodies to press down on the lowest point of her abdomen. When he puts pressure there, it intensifies the pleasure felt from the steady rocking motions he makes into her, and she can't help but buck her hips up to meet his thrusts.

The heel of his hand presses down right above her pubic bone, leaving his fingertips in a perfect position to rub her clit for her. He knows they have very little time, so he doesn't bother trying to get her to come from penetration alone like he often does when they're alone in his empty house while his parents are out. Before him, she never even knew that was something her body was capable of. That's not to say every other guy before him was terrible in bed, but there's a reason he gained a good reputation with the ladies in Hawkins. The first of which was that he had, as she already knew from girls who gossiped about hooking up with him, a big dick. The second and most important reason of all was that he knew what to do with it.

The sight of her breasts bouncing, although hindered slightly by the bra they couldn't be bothered to remove, brings him closer to his end quicker than he expected. He'd like to think he's experienced enough to spend more than a minute and a half fucking a girl before he feels himself getting close, but, with her, one would think he's a touch-starved virgin with how easy it is for her to work him up.

His forehead drops down to press against hers as he mutters, "God, you're fucking perfect," with the words pitching up into a whine at the end from how she clenches around him.

Just when he thinks he can feel her tensing up and writhing beneath him with the build-up to her orgasm, someone knocks on the bedroom door.

He goes as still as death, and Y/N, too lost in a world that solely consists of Steve Harrington and nothing else, looks up at him with her brows scrunching in confusion until she too hears what drew his attention away from her and caused him to stop.

"Y/N?"

Her eyes go wide at the sound of Nancy's voice, her hand coming up to rip the balled-up shirt out of her mouth in time to respond to her. But, of course, Steve would never let her off that easily. As she opens her mouth to speak, he starts to thrust into her again—slowly, deeply—and it takes everything she has not to whine his name as he rubs her sensitive clit in lazy circular motions to interrupt her train of thought. With the careful pace set and the pillows preventing the headboard from hitting the wall, the bed's constant shifting doesn't make enough noise to alert Nancy of what's happening inside.

She clears her throat and calls out before he can snap his hips forward into hers again, "Yeah? What's up?"

The doorknob rattles as though the person behind the door is trying to get in.

"Why is the door locked?"

Y/N looks up at Steve with pleading eyes that beg him to cease this torture and allow her the time to respond, but he doesn't. He just dips his head down to kiss at her neck, careful not to leave a mark behind, and leaves her to fend for herself.

"Um," she says, voice a tad louder than she intended from a particularly hard jerk of his hips, and rushes to cover up the accidental outburst, "I figured I'd change into my pajamas for the night. If we're gonna be eating a lot of pizza I don't really wanna"—a whimper is choked back at his fingers speeding up their movement on her clit—"be uncomfortable in my jeans."

"Oh, okay. Well, we're all downstairs whenever you're done." There's a dip of silence, as though Nancy is hesitating before saying what comes next, then, "Have you seen Steve? Dustin was looking for him when he came upstairs. None of us can find him."

Under his breath, he murmurs in annoyance with his hot exhales puffing against her ear, shaking his head, "Henderson."

Of course, Dustin would be the one to send Nancy upstairs in search of him when he's seconds from coming inside her best friend.

Her cock-drunk brain takes a delayed few seconds to conjure a believable alibi for the man fucking her into the mattress right now as she claws at his back and bites down on his shoulder to stifle the moans that try to escape the back of her throat. As Steve grows more and more confident with his ability to ramp up the pace and depth of his thrusts without the bed making too much noise, she starts to unravel rather quickly. She can sense it building in the bottom of her belly and starts shaking her head at him as if he can do anything to get Nancy to go away.

She has to concentrate all of her energy on keeping her voice steady as she says, "He said he was going out to get some soda for the kids 'cause he heard El asking Mike if you guys had some. He was just going to the store for it, so he'll probably be back in like ten minutes."

The second the last few words leave her, she tips over the edge, and his hand comes down to smother her mouth to prevent any noises she makes from echoing in the small room. Neither of them acknowledges whatever parting words Nancy offers before she retreats downstairs to the kitchen for dinner. Steve is far too preoccupied with watching and, more importantly, feeling her come beneath him.

The euphoria rushing through her has tears falling from her watery eyes as she embraces the intense high with her arms clinging around his waist for support. Now that he hears Nancy bounding down the steps, every one creaking beneath her shifting weight, he pounds into her with no thoughts present in his head other than those relating to her and the climax he chases with little care for how the bed begins to squeak beneath them.

"Steve," she cries out with tears slipping down her cheeks.

He brushes her hair from her face in a soothing, repetitive motion and whispers, "Such a good girl," as he pins her to the bed with his weight and uses the remaining scraps of energy left in him to slam his hips down against hers with a ferocity she can hardly cope with in her sensitive state. It doesn't take any longer than a few seconds for him to be tipped over the edge along with her.

His eyes are squeezed shut on instinct when he spills into her, hips jerking haphazardly, but she's quick to remedy that.

"Look at me," she whispers with a hand closing around his neck to force his head up, and he obeys without hesitation.

And, of course, she was right to tell him to do so. As soon as he meets eyes with her, the explosive pleasure felt in the span of ten or so seconds it takes for him to ride it out is heightened to a degree he rarely experiences it at. Even as it begins to slip away from him, he keeps rocking into her at a slow pace until the dying undulations of his hips give way to an exhaustion he can no longer ignore.

He pulls out of her, careful in his movements to mind her sensitivity, and falls onto his back on the empty space atop the mattress beside her. The second he leaves her, she's quick to tug her discarded panties back up her legs to avoid staining Nancy's bedding with his cum.

His hair-smattered chest has a thin sheen of perspiration over it, a drop of it rolling up and down with the rapid rise and fall of his panting breaths. Y/N watches its path as she turns onto her side and scoots closer as subtly as she can to savor the warmth emanating from his body.

Steve doesn't even pretend not to notice her sneaky attempt at cuddling up to him. He stretches his left arm over her head and uses the other to scoop around her waist, bringing her in to rest her head on his shoulder how he knows she likes to. They don't have much time to spare, but, for the next half minute, they lay together in the afterglow and pretend they have eternity to waste away together.

Breaking the silence, he groans and rubs his eyes, saying, "Shit, now I have to go get soda for the kids."

The sound of her giggling brings his attention over to the pretty girl laying with her head on his shoulder. Her hand trances circles in the layer of sweat shining on his chest, playing with the hair growing there whenever she becomes bored with her designated pattern of tracing every once in a while.

"Sorry about that. I couldn't think of anything else," she says softly.

He just shakes his head, then presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"Don't worry about it."

She's the first one to leave the bed to search for her discarded clothes, and once she gets up, he doesn't have many reasons to continue laying there other than the fact that he gets especially tired after he comes. Still, he forced himself to get up out of bed after pulling his pants back up into place and zipping them up.

Together, they redress in silence and listen to the sounds of the younger teens shouting at each other and laughing in the kitchen below them. It brings a soft smile to her face to imagine everyone having fun together after all of the heartache they've shared as a group.

"What are you smiling for?" Steve asks.

Her head snaps up from where it had been craned down to search through her backpack for the pajamas she mentioned to Nancy not long ago.

She shrugs.

"I just like hearing them have fun. They deserve it after everything they've been through."

The conversation drops back off into silence again after this, and he can't help but smile to himself as he thinks over what she said, trying not to look up and watch her redress while doing it like a creep. It's only another minute that passes before they're both fully clothed again—he in the same outfit he was wearing prior to their impromptu fuck, she in the pink matching pajama set he's seen her wear a million times. Once she runs her fingers through her hair a few times, it looks as though nothing out of the ordinary happened during her trip upstairs.

While he waits for her to fold up the clothes she changed out of, sitting on the edge of the bed, a nagging curiosity compelled him to ask her, "Not that I'm complaining, but what made you so..." He trails off for a second, trying to find the right word for it. "Horny. We could've just gone on a drive to the store together and pulled over if you asked."

For the first time since she dragged Steve upstairs, the words Nancy said to her in the basement come back to the forefront of her mind. This time, however, it doesn't haunt her as much as it had before she came to find him. There's a lingering sense of insecurity, but after what just happened, she has a good feeling he's been over Nancy for a while. If he weren't, he probably would've freaked out and stopped when she knocked on the door, but he hadn't. Instead, he decided to keep going for the sake of teasing her and acted as though his ex wasn't even standing on the other side of the door.

Y/N avoids making eye contact with him at all costs when she finally answers.

"Um," she says, "When you went upstairs for the pizza, Nancy said something to me about wondering if she made a mistake breaking up with you, and I guess I got a little...jealous..."

Before he can even take a breath, let alone process everything she said and come up with a coherent response, she continues rambling out of fear of what he'll say when he responds. Part of her still fears that he'll end whatever it is they have for the sake of rekindling what he had with Nancy.

"I know we aren't—like—dating, obviously, but I haven't been with anyone else since we started doing this, and if you wanna get back together with Nancy, I won't get in the way. I promise. If that's what you want, it's fine." She starts to pace back and forth in front of where he sits, dumbfounded, on the foot of the bed. "I just—I like hanging out with you, and I guess I like you, and the idea of seeing you with anyone else makes me go nuts, so—"

This time, it's his turn to shut her up with a kiss.

She was so caught up in her improvised speech, she didn't even see him standing up from the bed until his hands were cupping her face to pull her into a desperate kiss. It doesn't last any longer than a moment, but, fuck, it makes her even weaker in the knees than she already is from getting fucked by him a few minutes ago. Her hands shoot out to grasp onto his biceps, squeezing hard to keep herself upright, and he reciprocates by allowing one of his arms to cocoon around her back to provide her additional security.

When he pulls away, she starts to chase his lips, and he must fight the urge to smile hard enough to make his cheeks ache at the sight of it. The hand cupping her face moves to tuck her hair behind her ear, then drags his pointer finger along the edge of her jaw until she opens her eyes to see him staring at her.

"I don't want Nance, I want you."

Heat rushes to her cheeks in response to his honesty to add to the flush already present there from the strenuous exercise they endured together. And he loved it. He relishes in how bashful and skittish his unabashed desire makes her. Typically, she never lacks confidence in their time spent together. She was the one who suggested they go to his place that first night when he found her biking home in the rain. She was the one who dragged him upstairs demanding they have sex. Yet, now, she's turning all shy on him.

She tries her hardest to play it cool, though, shrugging and saying through a smile, "Good," before taking his hand to drag him over to the window he used to use to sneak into Nancy's room.

It's the same window she uses to sneak into her room on nights when Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler say no to their daughter's pleas to have her friend over, so she's quite familiar with how easy it is to enter and exit from. Thank God he has his wallet and keys stowed in the pockets of his jeans. If he left them downstairs, he could always go out and window and come through the front door pretending he "forgot" them, but that wouldn't be the most believable excuse considering how long he's been gone.

Seconds after she opens the window, he's crawling through with a fumbling awkwardness that ends with him bumping his head on the side of the house with a soft, "Ouch!" muttered into the cold night air.

When he's finally settled on the other side of the window, standing on the roof of the garage with his hands gripping the window sill, he takes another few seconds to look at her.

"I'm gonna miss you tonight. I didn't know you were sleeping here," he says, not wanting to leave just yet.

To this, she simply bends down, pokes her head through the window, and kisses him goodbye. Her hand grasps the hair at the base of his neck to guide him into it, and he returns the enthusiasm immediately, rising onto his tiptoes to deepen the kiss as if doing so will make the short time they're to spend apart easier somehow.

Their lips are still brushing when she pulls back to whisper, "I'm coming over tomorrow night, remember?"

He pecks her lips again, then pulls back, saying, "It's a date."

Throughout the ordeal of Steve jumping down from the roof and landing on his feet in the driveway with a muffled groan, she watches with a goofy smile on her face from the bedroom window. The look he shoots over his shoulder at her to check if she saw him stumble on the landing only widens that smile, and she knows he's blushing in embarrassment without the porch light being on to light his face.

It's only when he drives off in the direction of the nearest store that she shuts the window to keep out the cold that's raising goosebumps on her skin and turns to lean against it with a sigh. It isn't an exasperated one or even a sad one. It's a sigh caused by disbelief and joy. It doesn't matter that he's her best friend's ex at the moment. They'll find a way to break the news with as little fallout as possible when the time comes.

The only thing that matters to her at the moment is that he wants her.