#i did this a while ago but wanted to wait until i had the full version up somewhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lvrclerc · 1 month ago

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✶ 15 YEARS IN THE MAKING

summary: oscar's home race is a big deal. however, what's even bigger is the realization that he has been in love with the childhood friend waiting for him at the finish line since the day he met her. it only took him 15 years, a thousand missed opportunities and a so-called mistake to realize it.

F1 MASTERLIST | OP81 MASTERLIST

pairing: oscar piastri x childhood bff!f!reader

wc: 11.3k

cw: aus gp 2025, unaccurate aus gp 2024 for plot purpose, use of y/n, slightly inaccurate timeline, kinda bittersweet/angsty at some point, otherwise fluff + hea

note: need to cradle that man in my arms and kiss him on the forehead, special mention to @cntappen who wanted yearning oscar, hope ur satisfied 🙏 i lowkey hate this but we carry on

soundtrack: ♫ something, somehow, someday - role model

OSCAR ALMOST DROPS his mug when Hattie tells him the news. “She’s coming to the race?”

His sister nodded, shifting from one foot to the other like she didn’t quite know where to put herself ─ which was uncharacteristic of her ─ and the first things going through Oscar’s mind were Did she know? How would she know? Did she tell her? “I texted her about it ‘cause she always comes to Melbourne. I was just curious. She said she’d be coming if she was welcome with us.”

His head was spinning. Gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, Oscar chose his next words with calculated precision. “And you said…?”

“I mean, Mom said yes, obviously,” Hattie shrugged. “She loves Y/N. And she said it’s been a while since you two saw each other, might do you some good with stress and all that.”

Of course, his mom would say that. You had always been a second daughter for her, welcoming you in her home as if your place had always been next to Oscar on the living room couch. Hattie had been as enthusiastic as her, if a little confused at first, about who had developed such an attachment to her quiet, nonchalant brother. Ever since you and Oscar were children, as soon as he told his mother about the new girl next door who cut short his remote-controlled truck training on the playground, you had been included in every Piastri family dinner.

Because you were Oscar's whole world, his personal sun, the second you stepped into view ─ it would have taken someone mute, blind, and deaf not to notice it. He was just a planet, a satellite, orbiting around you in search of meaning.

Had been. Until almost a year ago.

And nobody knew except for him.

So Oscar swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Okay, sure, that's cool,” he let out a breath. “I missed her.” The words pained him, as veracious as they were. He didn’t simply miss you like you’d miss someone you hadn’t seen in a while ─ Oscar missed you like an amputee would miss a ghost limb. The kind of pull that tears someone from the inside out, and he only had himself to blame for the ache.

If Hattie suspected something was off, she didn't say it. She chose to scrutinize him instead, eyebrows scrunched in a silent question he answered with a vague smile, as always. She spoke about how you hadn’t come to visit in quite some time, how he rarely updated them on how you were anymore, how you blossomed in your life, but the words went in one ear and out through the other.

Because you were going to the Melbourne Grand Prix, the start of the 2025 season. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing you again, not after the fiasco of the same Grand Prix, a year ago.

Guess he didn’t have much choice.

Oscar Piastri is eight when he meets you for the first time.

He was given his first remote-controlled truck for Christmas and ever since then, rare were the times he spent his full days at home. The playground, with a lot more ground than playthings for children, was a five-minute walk from his house ─ perfect for practicing, he thought. His newfound gadget made him develop a fervency he hadn’t known before, an obsession for speed. He knew Australia had championships for remote-controlled racing, his dad told him so. He wanted a part in it like he never wanted anything in the world before. Except maybe the truck.

But before he could hope of entering, he needed to get to a certain level and that meant practice. So to the playground (or park, park was a cooler word) he went.

Today wasn’t an exception. Vacations had started not so long ago, the sun was high in the sky and Oscar’s knees were raw from being dug in the gravel for so long. His thumbs were branded by the print of the remote in his hand, sweat beaded on his forehead, hair sticking to it, and maybe his vision was blurring a little. But Oscar was nothing if not determined, so he kept going as his truck narrowly avoided obstacles he put in place.

Until a water bottle replaced the self-made circuit in his visual field.

Oscar's eyes slowly trailed up in exasperation, expecting one of his younger sisters or his mother dotting on him, telling him to come back home. Instead, his breath caught a little.

You stood there, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow around you, turning the loose strands of your hair into something almost otherworldly. Oscar had never believed in angels ─ never really thought about them at all, actually ─ but at that moment he wondered if maybe, just maybe they existed. Your sundress, once pristine, was rusted with dirt, the hem brushing against your scraped knees, blood dried in uneven patches. But you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you smiled ─ as if scuffed knees and torn dresses were just a natural part of being you.

His wide, brown eyes glided from the lukewarm bottle to you, in wonder and shock alike. Your palm was smudged in playground dust, but Oscar barely noticed ─ his gaze caught instead on the way light tangled in your hair, your eyes sparkling with something bright, untamed, unstoppable. You spoke up. “You look like you’re gonna faint. Take it. Drivers need water, right?”

Your voice, soft, shook him out of his trance: he hesitantly took the bottle from your hand, and your fingers brushed against his. Red colored the tip of his ears. He swallowed, hard, bringing the bottle to his chest. You offered him another smile in return, and Oscar felt his heart flutter.

“My name is Y/N.” Before he could even think about protesting ─ about telling you that, actually, he hadn’t asked ─ you plopped down beside him, legs folding underneath you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your shoulder bumped against his, a casual, thoughtless kind of closeness that sent a foreign heat to the back of his neck.

Then just as he was processing that, you turned to face him- too close. Way too close.

Noses. Your noses nearly touched.

Oscar went rigid. Did you know nothing about personal space?!

You pointed behind him, at the house right next to his, visible from the park. “I live right here!”

“...No, you can’t.” Oscar finally said, frowning. He was trying to be as polite as he could muster to be in those conditions. His mom would kill him if he wasn't.

“Why?”

“Nobody lives here.”

The aggressive neutrality of his voice, a timbre unique to him, didn’t deter you in the slightest. On the contrary, it seemed like his reticence to your presence made you beam brighter at him. “That’s because we just moved here, duh. See that car? It’s my mom’s.”

The indifference in Oscar slowly turned to confusion, or as close as it could get to curiosity. There was indeed a baby blue car parked in the driveway he never saw before. For as long as he could remember, which was not a lot, it was always vacant. Until today, apparently. “Oh. We’re neighbors, then.”

Your smile widened, eyes practically shining in excitement. “That’s so cool! I was scared I was gonna be the only kid here.”

Oscar barely heard you, too busy staring at where your arm pressed against his. Was it normal? Were other kids just… this close of each other? Because he wasn’t used to it, not at all. “... How old are you?”

“Eight!” You practically bounced as you said it.

“Me too.”

Your face lit up. Oh no.

“That’s even better! We can be friends! Best friends, even!”

Wait, what.

Oscar blinked, his mind screeching to a halt. That escalated fast. Weren’t there supposed to be multiple steps before deciding to be lifelong friends? Had he missed something? “Uh─”

“What’s your name?” You asked with renewed enthusiasm if it was even possible to add to that.

“... Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

“Nice to meet you Oscar Piastri from next door!” You held out your hand and, much to his surprise, Oscar took it. Hesitantly, awkwardly, yes, but he still did. The strange, unfamiliar feeling tugging at his stomach wouldn’t let him do otherwise. “I like your truck,” you continued, fingers still wrapped around his like you didn’t even notice. “Can I try it?”

Oscar was way too focused on your palm still sitting in his to process your words. Was he supposed to pull away first? “I… I don’t─”

“Or I could watch you! I don’t mind. I was watching you in the tree back there anyways.”

Oscar blinked. It explained the stains and the scratches, he thought. He still couldn’t believe that there was a whole girl like her in a tree, spying on him, and he had been so caught up by his remote-controlled truck to even notice it. Just as if you could read his thoughts, a sheepish look made its way to your face, lips pursuing as you finally ─ finally ─ let go of his hand. “Mom doesn’t like when I do that,” you admitted as if it were a secret. “But it’s fine. I can wash the dress.”

He stared. There was… something about you, Something about the way you sparkled even when you sat still, the way your presence felt bigger than your little body. He swallowed, nudging the controller toward you before he could regret his decision. “Try.” His voice came out weird. “It’s boring to watch.”

The twinkling in your eyes was worth every crash that came after this. You were struggling, and hitting every obstacle he skillfully steered away from. Each and every hit was accompanied by a giggle or an exaggerated groan but even though you were terrible, as Oscar tactfully noticed, it still looked like you were having the most fun you had in years.

When he had to go home, you walked him to the door with a spring in your step, occupying the conversational space with random facts about the world. Something about how octopuses had three hearts, how clouds weren’t actually as soft as they looked, and how the color yellow made people happy. Oscar didn’t say much, he never really did, but he contentedly listened.

And then, just as the door swung open, before he could even process the way he wanted to stay a little bit longer, you turned to his mom with all the confidence of someone who had already decided the outcome. “Can Oscar come back tomorrow?” His mom barely had time to blink, but Oscar already knew─ it was over.

Because the moment she said yes, the second the fierce little girl beside him claimed more time with him like it was hers to take, it was sealed. After that, it came as naturally as breathing. Oscar and Y/N. Y/N and Oscar. Never one without the other. You led, he followed. And, somewhere along the way, the rest of the world stopped mattering.

You were a constant in Oscar’s life, a lifeline he clung to without realizing he had reached for it in the first place. He got into karting at ten and nothing─ not his dad's last-minute pep talks, not the hours of practice ─ could calm the way his hands trembled on the steering wheel before his first race. His fingers curled on it, hands trembling and grip tight, knuckles aching from the pressure. What if he wasn’t actually good? What if he messed it all up? What if─?

And then, there you were. Signature grin, messy ponytail, a tiny hand sign scribbled in clashy, colorful letters: GO, OSCAR GO!! The words were surrounded by questionable doodles ─ stick-figure cars with lopsided wheels, a few stray hearts in the margins like an afterthought. “I came to watch you win,” you said, like there was no other possibility. After that, the race was just a race.

The moment you dropped a chaste kiss on his helmet, all nerves settled. When he passed by you, you brandished your sign high in the air, a beacon, the only thing he really needed to see. He won that race with his head held high and in the middle of celebration ─ his mom hugging him tight, cheers echoing all around ─ he silently dedicated his victory to you.

Because when he scanned the crowd, your eyes were the easiest to find. Because nothing ever felt better than the feeling of you running in his arms right after.

And just like that─ childhood blurred into early adolescence in a flurry of incandescent polaroids: late afternoon on track, whooping as Oscar made his laps, stolen moments on the swings at the playground between school and training, a thousand shared snacks, juice boxes, whispers, a million inside jokes and secrets. Summers spent side by side, laughter tangled in the air like something meant to last forever.

Years of Oscar and Y/N. Y/N and Oscar. No space between. No questions about what you were to each other. Not yet.

But Oscar Piastri is fifteen when he leaves you behind.

He had been offered a seat in Formula 4. The words came in a rush, tumbling from an ecstatic Chris Piastri and an equally thrilled Nicole Piastri, their voices nearly overlapping in excitement. Oscar heard them, he knew what they were saying and yet his mind refused to catch up. He sat there, cereal spoon dangling in the air, milk dripping back in his bowl.

The world around him blurred─ static in his ears, something like disbelief flooding his veins. He had wanted this. Trained for this. But now that it was real, it was as if his body had forgotten how to move. So you did it first.

Your arms wrapped around his neck without a second thought, squeezing tight. A hug that made it impossible to do anything but exist in the moment. He unfroze: the weight of your warmth, how you clung to him without any reservation, it yanked him back. His hands had found your back, gripping instinctively. It hit him all at once: Formula 4. His dream was real. And you were here, like always.

Until you wouldn’t be anymore.

Everything slipped past Oscar in a blur: he applied to a boarding school and got accepted in the same week, his parents were already looking for a house nearby, and his mom searching for job opportunities ─ in Brighton, England, closer to where he would be practicing. A thousand kilometers away from Australia, a thousand memories away from you.

One thing you learned in your years of friendship with Oscar was that he wasn’t much of a talker. He wasn’t big on the expression of feelings either ─ he showed affection softly, when he thought people wouldn’t notice. But you did, and you never planned on doing anything about it because that was just how Oscar was: reserved, hesitant in his tenderness. So the conversation about his departure never came ─ it was just a weight, hanging in the air of your every interaction, untouched. He didn’t want to venture there, to face how he wouldn’t wake up next to you anymore after another sleepover, how he would have to learn how to exist without you at arm’s reach. The lack of you was already digging a hole in his chest, and it was one of the main reasons he said no to your proposition of a send-off party.

But Oscar knew you too, too well, so he was only half-surprised when he turned on the light of his house after training and discovered the crowd of your shared friends amidst colorful balloons and cakes. You stood out in all of them when you offered him the smile that was uniquely his, and Oscar’s chest almost collapsed.

The party was fun. He got goodbye gifts ─ trinkets, plushies and books he knew he’ll lose sleep over. He didn’t dance to the music, but enjoyed watching people lose themselves in the soft light of his kitchen from the sidelines. Some friends cried and some friends didn’t ─ he side-hugged them all, never letting them too close except for a select few, and he accepted the heartfelt speeches with reassurances that he will come back during the summer, without a doubt.

The night slowed, party leftovers forgotten on the counters, and the house was quieter now that most of the guests had filtered out. Only a few stragglers remained inside, their voices dimmed to an unobtrusive murmur. But Oscar, the supposed star of the show, was hesitating in the threshold of his front door ─ because you were outside. And wherever you went, he followed.

You were sitting on the front door steps, arms wrapped around your knees, bathed in the dim glow of the porch light. The soft hum of cicadas filled the space as Oscar sat beside you. He knew he should say something, anything. Thank you for the party, even though he swore he didn’t want one. You were right, because of course, you were. Or finally address what was begging to be talked about ─ he just didn’t know how. Because sitting right here, with you just a few inches away, he realizes this is it.

This is the last night before everything changes, and he can’t do anything about it. So he stays silent.

“You’re freaking out,” you say. Not a question. Your observant eyes flickered to his face, gaze soft in the way that makes his breath catch.

Oscar exhales sharply, tipping his head back against the wooden railing. “Am not.”

You give him a look. The look that always calls his bullshit. “Alright, I am.” He swallows, voice quieter. “A little.”

A pause. And then─ a nudge. Your knee bumping into his. A small, familiar thing, but somehow it unravels him. His eyes are burning, and he can’t pinpoint why. “You’ll be fine, Osc’’,” you affirmed, as certain as the sun rising tomorrow. “As long as you don’t forget about me.” A quiet laugh escaped you.

And Oscar could feel it, the thick air between you, pressing against his throat and sitting on his tongue. How could he ever forget about you? You were sitting so close, staring at him as if tucking him in some secret place inside of you. Oscar hated it, so much that it finally slipped─ “I don’t want to go.”

It came out quieter than he expected. Your lips parted slightly, brows furrowed, and Oscar felt like he said too much and not enough at the same time. Because he did want to go, but what he meant was, I don’t want to go if it means leaving you, I don’t know how to exist without you in my orbit. What he really meant, he couldn’t understand what it was no matter how hard he tried.

He forced out a chuckle, shaking his head. “I mean─” Oscar cleared his throat. “I do. Obviously. It’s just─ It’s gonna be weird.”

“Yeah, it is,” you murmured, flushing against his shoulder. “But we’ll make it work.”

Oscar looked at you, really did. The way the light caught the edges of your face, the night breeze playing with your hair, how you existed so beautifully and effortlessly, as you belonged in all the places he had ever loved. The words almost slipped out: You could come with me.

It was right there, clawing its way up his throat.

Yet, something stopped him. Because it wasn’t fair. Because he didn’t know what it meant. Because he didn’t know if he was asking like a best friend or something else, and he didn’t know what to do with the way you were constricting his chest, how you pressed against his ribcage, demanding more. You looked at Oscar and he looked at you ─ he swallowed it down, staring at the playground far in front of you.

And the moment passed.

Oscar left the day after, and the empty house was now the one next to yours.

Your hotel room was eerily quiet.

You were never known for silence ─ all your life, people had repeatedly told you about the overwhelming space you occupied, how loud your laugh echoed, how you never quite knew how to fold and pocket yourself to be less. Growing up, adults meant it in an endearing way. Now, you realized just how much the words stung, even if you never took them as insults. But here, in the uncomfortable coldness of the room you rented for the week-end, everything was quiet: no music, no you talking to yourself. Nothing.

It felt unnatural ─ like something was missing. The one thing that always reassured you about the room you took up.

It left you restless, and your hands trembled a little as you finished applying the last layer of mascara on your lashes. Maybe it was just nerves ─ after all, it’s been a while since you’ve been on a race and hung out with Hattie, Edie, Mae, Nicole, and Chris. Ever since you moved out for university, the city of Melbourne and all of the memories it held always managed to make you a bit anxious.

However, deep down, you knew. It’s the fact that for the first time in over a year, you were going to see Oscar.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror as you dropped your makeup next to the sink. You couldn’t decipher your own expression.

Hattie texted you out of nowhere, and even though it wasn’t unusual for you two to talk from time to time, it surprised you a bit when she asked you if you were going to the Grand Prix. It shouldn’t have, she didn’t know ─ or maybe she suspected something, but you still said you’d be coming. So Nicole was on her way to pick you up and take you to the same spot you’ve been occupying since 2023, and you’ll have to sit and act as if everything was alright, as if her son was the best friend you grew up with and didn’t become an acquaintance overnight that you occasionally exchanged “good morning”, “good night”, “happy birthday” and “how are you doing?” texts with.

Because ever since that fateful night after the Melbourne Grand Prix of 2024, something shifted between you and Oscar. Something that had been weighing on you both for years, waiting, waiting, waiting- until it finally cracked, only to narrowly miss you. And now? You didn’t know his weekly schedule, and you couldn’t remember the last time you complained about your teachers to him. You and Oscar weren’t quite strangers, but you weren’t you anymore either.

Because whatever had been waiting that night never had a chance to be resolved. And maybe it never would.

You shut your eyes, your breathing quickening dangerously. No. You weren’t going to think about that right now. It’s fine ─ you’re just here to watch a race like you always did. Just another race. It didn't have to mean anything more than that, did it? You’ll cheer, you’ll congratulate him, and you’ll leave. Even if it was his home race. Even if it was in the same city you laughed in his backyard, held hands running in the streets, stayed awake at ungodly hours of the night tangled together, the city you had both known and lost each other.

Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting─ what you even wanted this weekend to be. All you knew was that you desperately wanted to grasp at the last semblance of normalcy that used to be between Oscar and you, and if that meant showing up at the Melbourne race and praying for his car to see the checkered flag in pole position like the deepest parts of your heart weren’t screaming for him, so be it.

When Nicole called you to tell you she parked her car, you took a deep breath and walked to the elevator, carefully ignoring the sickening feeling of your stomach reminding you that, in Melbourne, there was no simply ignoring the past anymore.

Oscar Piastri is twenty when he tells you the news.

Five years have passed ever since he moved out of Australia, but no matter how the years stretched between then and now, racetracks and podium dreams, Oscar always made sure of one thing: that he’d come back. Back to his neighborhood, these streets, the quiet buzz of familiarity.

And back to you.

Time had tried its best to pull you apart with different schedules, different time zones, and places, but you two were still an unstoppable force. Y/N and Oscar. Oscar and Y/N. No matter how late the flights, how long the race weekends, how exhausting the training, he always called ─ even if it was past midnight, or he had to wake up in three hours, or he could barely keep his eyes open. Because your voice, distant and barely audible through the crackling of a bad signal, was home. And you always picked up.

Oscar missed it. He made friends in boarding school, a group of laid-back guys who filled the late hours with video games and terrible jokes, making his new world a little less foreign. He enjoyed their company, sure, but none of them were you. None of them could look at him and already know what he was thinking, like the syllables were etched in your bones, and they didn’t tilt their head up at the sky on a rusty swing set, taking him with them, and spun the world into something bigger. God, he missed that. He missed you.

Even though, sometimes, he wondered if you missed him just as much.

Obviously, since Oscar left, you had to build something for yourself in the space he left behind, and it only became more concrete when you enrolled in a university away from Melbourne. He tried to be happy for you when you did. But then you would tell him about a friend group he didn’t know the faces of, threading into the places he used to be and the places he’d never been, the ones he couldn’t visit with you like the café near your 10 a.m. lecture on Fridays.

Sometimes, only sometimes, when he allowed himself to feel a bit more than he should, the scraps of emotions he usually denied himself ─ he was scared he didn’t belong in the new sphere you’ve constructed for yourself. That he was a dusty polaroid in a wooden box, waiting for the day you’d tuck him away.

But that had to be wrong. It had to be. Because the second your eyes found his as he stepped out of the airport, it was like nothing had changed. Like the months apart, the missed calls, the milestones he couldn’t be there for ─ none of it mattered.

The way you looked at him, like he was still your Oscar, the boy you always had known and always will, it made up for everything.

You had been there when Oscar graduated from Formula 4 to Formula 3. You had been right by his side when Formula 3 turned to Formula 2 the following year. Whether it be by phone or in person when the good news coincided with both of your trips to your childhood neighborhood. Your excited screech, your lips on his cheek twisting his stomach and painting his cheeks red, he figured it was just common sense for you to learn he’s been promoted a third time in person. He wanted to see your reaction.

Whenever you and Oscar came back, your mom would welcome you with open arms in your old home. There were only two bedrooms, one that was your mom’s, which used to be awkward for him before it became a common occurrence for you two to share a bed. Both your parents had forbidden it, but quickly gave up when you used to find a way to sneak into Oscar’s bedroom and keep him awake. Their resolve vanished entirely when they noticed quiet, untroubled Oscar started getting on it as well.

So there you were, twenty years old in your childhood bedroom, sharing a bed too small for your height. The window was half-opened, the air thick and unmoving, letting in the last shreds of sunset that danced across your skin in soft, golden streaks. You were facing each other, which allowed him to see your eyes flutter, heavy with exhaustion, your breathing slow and even as if the mere act of being near him was enough to let you rest.

Oscar flushed at that thought. You had spent hours driving just to come and get him, to fall in bed beside him, limbs tangled, words fading into the quiet comfort of home. Just to be here, with him.

He wanted to wait. Until your eyes were wide open and you were awake enough to react like you always did: in screams and hugs and plans of the future. But the warmth curling in his chest wasn’t allowing him to keep it from you any longer.

“I got a seat in Formula One,” Oscar announced in the silence of the room.

“What?” Your voice was hoarse from tiredness, but it didn’t stop your sharp gaze from snapping to his. Your lips parted, just barely, an inhale caught in your throat, and Oscar gets distracted.

He shouldn’t, not now, but─ he can’t help it.

How many times had he seen you like this? Sleep-heavy, warm with exhaustion, curled up beside him. Too many to count. Not once had it felt like this, like something heavier rested on his shoulders.

He repeats with a little difficulty, forcing himself back to the moment. “I got a seat in Formula One.” He swallows before precising, “Not Alpine. McLaren.”

You blinked. Once, twice, your brain catching up with the weight of his words. Then, before Oscar could brace himself, you were moving.

You crashed into him, as much as you could in the position you were, tucking yourself against his chest in the semblance of a hug. The pressure was nothing, still, the air was knocked out of his lungs. “You did it!” You whispered-yelled against his shoulder, voice trembling with emotion. “Oh my god, Osc’. You did it. I fucking knew you would.”

Of course, you knew. You always knew before Oscar did, before he even started believing in it himself. A scoff, wet with feelings, escaped him as his shaky fingers hovered over your ribs, processing the situation. You pulled back, just enough to look at him, pupils blown wide. The palm that wasn’t resting on his chest slipped up, featherlight, to cup his cheek. Oscar almost flinched. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but─”

“Don’t even start,” you interrupted him. “You’re going to be in Formula One! In McLaren! That’s huge, and─”

Realization hits you like a truck. “Oh my god, Daniel Ricciardo.”

Out of all the things that could have ruined the moment, Oscar wouldn’t have expected it to be Daniel Ricciardo. “Yeah,” he deadpanned. “Everyone loves Daniel. We get it. My mom said the same thing.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped you, and you shoved him a little. “Come on, it’s a shock for me!”

“It’s also pressure, but thank you so much for your consideration.”

“I congratulated you two seconds ago!”

“I’m sure Daniel would love your condolences even more.”

By that point, you were a giggling mess beneath Oscar’s hands, so much that the sound successfully got a few huffs out of him as well. The pressure of the news evaporated at each new chuckle out of your mouth, and the room was finally big enough to breathe.

Laughter died down, reduced to heavy intakes of air between half-sentences, and that’s when Oscar realized.

Your fingers, gently brushing over his cheekbones, nails grazing his skin. His palms capturing your sides as your thigh rested between his legs. He wasn’t pulling you in, clinging to you like he always did ─ instead, he froze. His heart was stuttering too fast, too loud, in a way that had nothing to do with the news he’d just shared and you simply stared at him, eyes sparkling, as if he handed you the World Driver’s Championship trophy right here and there. Waiting for something.

The heat of your body, your usual proximity, the soft cotton of the sheets did nothing to help the blood boiling in Oscar’s veins and thoughts spiraled in a blink, of what it would be like if he just let his hand roam a little lower, if your breath swept over his lips.

Words lodged themselves in his throat, just like they did when he was fifteen, sitting on his porch. But this time, he knew. No pretense, no excuse. He was twenty years old, not a child anymore. He knew what these words were and what they wanted to be.

You could come with me. You could come to my races. You could stay. Stay with me.

His chest squeezed. His fingers twisted. His mouth stayed shut.

Because you had a life here. A life that, lately, felt like it had more and more spaces he didn’t fit into. What was he supposed to say? Drop everything? Follow me? Give up everything you built and choose me?

Oscar Piastri wasn’t a wishful thinker, he didn’t ask for things he wasn’t sure he could have ─ and he wasn’t sure he could have you. Not because he didn’t want to, he desperately wanted to, but because he still didn’t understand it. He didn’t get why you put that ache in his chest, the weight in his ribs. Why it was more painful to be away from you, to see you live without him, than his old friend group ─ he put the fault on nostalgia, but it wasn’t it. He had spent years trying to figure it out and still ─ still ─ didn’t have the answer.

So he did what he’d usually do when meaning escaped him.

He buried it. He’ll take a look at it. He’ll figure it out later.

“Being in F1,” he cleared his throat. “It’s going to be harder, with the schedule and all that. But I promise─”

“You don’t need to,” you cut him off and Oscar noticed the light slightly dim in your eyes, then coming back like nothing happened. “We’ll make it work, we always do.”

You pulled back again, taking your hand with you and letting the cold air replace your touch. Somehow, Oscar knew he did something, but once more he didn’t know what. Instead, he let himself believe the moment was nothing more than what it had always been. Nothing more than you, his best friend, happy for him.

But as you fell asleep, the distance put by you larger than it ever was before, even by just a few millimeters, something inside of him whispered─ liar.

Oscar got in his car, and yet his mind was as far away from it as it could be. Walking out the garage, he had seen his entire family cheering for him, his mom dropping a good-luck kiss on his cheek, and he should be grounded in the moment. He should be basking in the cheers of his home crowd and the familiarity of Australian air opening his season, but he couldn't. Because there was no sign of you.

He had thrown a glance at Hattie, a silent question, and she simply shrugged. Oscar didn't know what that meant: if you excused yourself for a moment or didn't come at all. Which one he was hoping for, that was the question.

And so the formation lap started. The car was feeling good, great even ─ Oscar had done well during the testing rounds and free practices, even landing second place in qualifications right behind Lando. His chest had swelled with hope that maybe, just maybe, he could take on his home race. He brushed the podium last year, how far could he be from taking it with both hands this time?

He could hear his race engineer checking last minute details, the impatient buzzing of the crowd, the motor of his car warming up and flaring to life. It was a sound, a rhythm he could recognize eyes closed.

As the lap concluded, cars finally ready to live through 58 rounds, a streak of hair caught his eye.

If he could decipher the metre of a Grand Prix with his eyes closed, Oscar knew he could recognize the pattern of you before you even came into view. It was brief─ almost a blur, but it was more than enough.

Through the haze of rain-slicked asphalt and the relentless roar of the engine, he caught you. Standing with his family against the edge of the garage like you belonged there, which you did, hands clasped tight against your chest like you were the one in the car, navigating the turns for him. Your hair, wild from the wind, dampened by the drizzle, framing your face. God.

You came.

After everything, you were really there.

For him.

Oscar pulled his car in P2, but the flickering red lights above him did nothing to calm his racing mind. You always watched his races like this: lived through them like they were your own. Somehow, that made it easier. The loneliness of battling against your own, the relentless push forward. You made it lighter, less suffocating. You always have been. And you were ready to watch him race again, after everything. His chest twisted, his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

And even in the current circumstances, Oscar wasn’t thinking about the race. Not at all.

For what he wished could have been the first time, but wasn’t, the car was filled with the thought of you.

Because it hits him. Like a crash, full speed, sparks flying. Why missing you hurt so much. Why, after a year of unnatural distance of swallowing down whatever had possessed him that night in Melbourne a year ago, he still felt like something lacked.

Oh.

And before he could process it all, it was lights out.

Oscar Piastri is twenty-two when he fucks it up.

The Melbourne Grand Prix didn’t go so badly, but it didn’t go well either. Oscar had been so close to getting a podium on his home race, and watching his colleague, his friend, receiving the applause of his home crowd left a bitter feeling in the back of his throat. He cheered and congratulated, because he was a good sport and genuinely happy for Lando, but the uneasiness didn’t leave him when the cameras turned off.

It was a sticky heaviness in his ribcage, glued to it like molten plastic, tightening with every half-smile and “good jobs” aimed at him. He should’ve been happy, ecstatic. But he just wasn’t.

So he forced himself to go out to celebrate anyway, even half-heartedly. He didn’t want to look like the asshole he really felt like, so he nodded at conversations he wasn’t listening to, let the bass drum against his skin in a club he didn’t even want to be into.

Oscar lasted maybe an hour.

The flashing lights felt too bright, the press of bodies too wrong for his current state of mind. The scent of alcohol curled in his nose, sharp and sour, and something in him was teetering to break the last agreeable bone in his body. As he got out of the club, he thought about how he wanted to be anywhere else but here, suffocating in his own unjustified frustration.

The only place he wanted to be was with you.

He barely had time to see you before he got whisked away by his team and interviewers. He wanted to tell you about the race, about what he thought, because you were the only one he enjoyed being listened to by, the only one it didn’t feel awkward. No matter how much he tried to shove things down, to ignore whatever it was that had been thrumming under his skin- you were still the first person he reached for. So before he could really think about it, he’d already dialed your number. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know─ Can you hear me? Yeah? Alright. I know it’s late but… can you pick me up?”

And of course you did. Because you were Oscar and Y/N. Y/N and Oscar. Because no matter where or when─ when Oscar called, you always came.

Your car was in front of the building not even ten minutes later, and he got in. His favorite music on the aux, he smiled at the attention, easy conversation started flowing between the two of you as you drove to the driveway of your house. You didn’t ask why he left. You knew he’d talk about it when he wanted to, if you pressed on the issue he would only close up more ─ get sarcastic, avoidant.

So you both sat on your front porch, the night silent around you, still warm from the heat of the day. “... don’t think he'll be able to walk home tomorrow,” Oscar commented.

“He got third and he's still getting shitfaced like that?” You asked with a disbelieving laugh. “Wonder what will happen for his first pole position.”

“I don't even want to think about it,” he sighed. “His PR team is gonna have a field day.”

“Wonder what will happen during yours, to be honest.” You bumped your shoulder with his, something so casual that still sent the familiar shivers down his spine. “What kind of celebration are you going to pull in Australia, huh?”

The simple sentence was cold rain on Oscar’s newfound relaxation. He knew you didn’t mean it like that, you never would, but his shoulders tensed up and his gaze drifted away from yours. “Yeah, well, at the rhythm it’s going, maybe we’ll have a party when I retire.”

You threw him a glance, the kind that knew what was lying behind all of his barriers, behind the sudden phone call. Oscar let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the material of his jeans.

“Is that why you asked me to pick you up?” You ended up asking, voice soft. You weren’t trying to pry too much, and he silently thanked you for it. For everything, really.

“I didn’t want to be there,” he answered.

There was nothing more to say: Oscar was bitter and that was the end of it ─ or maybe not, but he didn’t want to get into it tonight when the feelings were still raw, painfully open to see. Yet, your hand found his, stilling the restless motion of his hand against his thigh. Slowly, deliberately, you wove them together. Your palms, warm and steady, rested above his knee. “Then why’d you go? We could have done something. Just the both of us, y’know.”

This time, Oscar looked at you.

And it was all too much. Worry laced in the edges of your expression, the subtle scrunch of your eyebrows he would have missed if he didn’t know you as well as he did, your hand in his ─ steady, grounding. It belonged there, he thought, it always did. You cared about him, that’s what scared him at first ─ because you were sunlight, not the kind that burned but the kind that warmed. The constant, unwavering glow of a beacon that guided him, never pulled him under.

And yet, there he was. Drowning in the mess he tried to push away for so long and was coming back full force, with a simple touch of the hand.

Oscar had two drinks earlier, and it made everything too sharp, his emotions too messy. His tongue a little too loose.

“I thought if I pretended hard enough, it would go away.” He didn’t know if he was talking about the race anymore.

You scooted closer, as if sharing a secret, but the closeness was too intimate for the situation. “What would?” You asked in a whisper.

Oscar’s breath hitched at the way the streetlamps caught in your hair, how your eyes searched his. There was a shift in the air, in the barely-there space between the two of you, in the way your fingers refused to let go of the grip it had on the other.

He should let go.

But your lips parted, ever so slightly, and Oscar allowed his gaze to dip to them. He kissed girls before, he even had a few short-lived relationships, but none of them ever felt right, like they belonged in a lasting manner in his life. They always felt like placeholders for something else, something more, less of a daunting feeling in his guts. He never really told you about it ─ it had always been an unspoken rule in your friendship, without knowing why. Now, he had a sneaky, unnerving suspicion.

Oscar kissed girls before, but he never kissed you.

He didn’t know if it was a mistake. He didn’t know if he should cross that line, but God he wanted to ─ he only knew that he wasn’t sure of what was waiting for him on the other side of it. His heart hammered in his chest, so hard he was afraid you’d hear it. You leaned in, imperceptibly, and your warm breath brushed against his lips. If he let himself, just for a second─ one tiny, irreversible second─ he would kiss you.

He was close. Too close. Feelings were too many. He needed to tell you before something could happen.

“Come with me,” Oscar blurted out, in a murmur along the shape of your lips, a plea in the leftover space.

And just like that, he felt the moment slip away from him. Your eyes, now sharp, snapped to him in a swift movement. And that’s when he knew. That wasn’t the right thing to say or do.

“What?” Your voice was quiet, laced with disbelief. Confusion swirled in your pupils, wondering if you misheard or if he misspoke.

Maybe he had. Maybe this wasn’t how it was supposed to come out- not here, not now, not like this.

“I- Uh…,” Oscar stammered. “Come with me. Stay. For the next races.” Please.

You pulled away, and the lack of you in his space caused his head to spin, his heart still beating violently against his chest, this time in panic. What did he do?

“What are you asking me exactly, Osc’?”

The question of the day. Because what was he asking, really? To be there for the few days in between flights and training and traveling and pretending his world wasn’t moving too fast for him to catch his breath? Sit in the stands, waiting for him to make up his mind about something he had been wondering about for the past fourteen years? Because what did he mean, and why couldn’t he understand?

It wasn’t fair. Not to you.

He swallowed, throat tight with something he couldn’t name and suddenly the night was too cold to stay outside anymore. Oscar forced out a weak chuckle, like it was just some stupid joke as if the word hadn’t crawled out of his chest on their own. “I meant─” He ran a quick hand through his hair. “Ha. Never mind. Forget it.”

And this time, when the light dimmed in your eyes, it didn’t come back. You won’t forget it. Because you saw right through him. Still, you didn’t push ─ every time you did, disappointment crawled over you like insects. After a beat of silence, one that felt like a lifetime, you exhaled, something fragile flashing across your features before you masked it with a tight-lipped smile. He hated it.

You nodded. “Sure.” Just that. Oscar didn’t know what he was expecting. No questions, accusations.

But that was almost worse, you let him get away with it, with the almost, with all of it.

When you both went to sleep that night, it was the first time in forever you didn’t sleep in the same bed. You pretended to have a headache, said you’d join him once it settled down. Oscar fell into slumber alone.

For some reason, it felt like losing.

Saying to have known love at eight years old would have to be a lie, but Oscar knew you jump-started his heart the minute your laugh echoed in his ear at that playground, fifteen years ago.

He had been pathetically doomed from the start.

From the first glance, to the first laugh, to when your fingers grazed his when you took the controller to his truck ─ a touch so small that had burned itself into his memory like a brand. He was too young to understand what it meant at fifteen when he sat beside you on his porch. Too blind to recognize it at twenty, lying in your childhood bedroom and hands fisting the sheets to stop them from reaching for you. Too scared to act on it last year, close enough to touch and closer than you had been in years and he still let the moment pass him.

The truth was simply this: no matter what, Oscar had always known. Maybe not at eight, maybe not at fifteen. But deep inside, he had always, always known. And he had spent every year since then trying to ignore it.

Not anymore. He couldn’t ─ not when he messed it up last time. Not when he was on the verge of losing you for good.

Oscar Piastri loves you, like a madman, and he needed to tell you like someone drowning needed air.

But to do that, he’d have to get out of the patch of grass he got himself into first.

The track was slippery due to the rain, and a simple mistake could lead to tragic circumstances: this was one of them. Oscar was stuck in the grass of the circuit after a turn he took too narrowly. He lost his P2, the one of his home race he had been searching for since last year. The scream of frustration he let out had earned a pained groan from his race engineer, and to make it worse, he was apparently already written as Out.

But that wouldn’t happen. Because Oscar didn’t go after things he knew he couldn’t have ─but he knew he could have this race. He could finish it. He wouldn’t DNF.

And after he’d be done with it, he’d go after you.

So he dragged himself out under the cheers of his home crowd, an ecstatic buzz in his ears. The last of the laps passed in an angry blur: Oscar was driven by sheer determination, rage even, he could barely remember overtaking Hamilton, fighting his way to P9, and grabbing as many points as he could have in his situation. He could do it.

The race ended in a flurry of applause, some of them surprisingly directed at him. Oscar tried to get out of his car as fast as he could but under the special circumstances of his race, he knew getting past the journalists and commentators was going to be almost impossible. And it was, because as soon as he put a foot on paddock ground, he was swarmed by microphones, cameras, and flashing lights, waiting for every tear to turn into a headline that people would twist and shape.

A few hours passed by the time he was finally able to reach his family. After the regular hugs and reassurances, one of the first things his mom said was: “That’s too bad you just missed Y/N, she had to go back. I wish she could have stayed, she always knows what to say to you,” with motherly little taps on the cheek.

Oscar felt a hole opening in his chest. “She left?” He asked, trying to muster as much nonchalance as he could.

It wasn’t very efficient, as Nicole gave him the kind of look you’d give to a kicked puppy. “Yeah, she did.” Quickly, she added, “She didn’t go back to her hotel, though. I asked to drop her off and she refused, saying she had somewhere to be.”

It was as vague as it could possibly get, maybe because you didn’t want Oscar to seek you out. But he needed to, he had to get it off his chest before your relationship could worsen ─ and he couldn’t do that by text or calls, for the little you exchanged over the past year. He had to know if the little gap you almost crossed on that front porch meant something and could have been something if he hadn’t fucked it up. If it was too late for it to become something now. And knowing you, you’d be gone by tomorrow morning.

Oscar dashed.

He got into his car, drove too fast under the intensifying rain. There was no time to waste for him. What he was thinking about was a long shot, an extremely long one for a non-wishful thinker, but if today put you in the same state as him ─ there was a chance, a small one, that you’d be there.

When he pulled into your childhood neighborhood, his drenched windshield made the road and its surroundings almost indiscernible. But right before the little street leading to both of your houses, he passed by that old, worn-down playground that somehow stood against the test of time, with its rusted swing set and old dirt roads. But his breath didn’t catch on that, no.

It caught on you, sitting on the lower branches of the tree you spied him on at eight.

Oscar had never parked so hastily. He never ran so fast, soaking the McLaren hoodie he put on in a rush before going out. His hair stuck to his forehead and when he reached the dry soil underneath the tree you were hiding on. Arms around yourself, staring in the empty, like you were holding yourself together.

He hesitated momentarily, and all the fears plaguing his mind the past years came rushing back. What if it was too late? What if all he’d get was a final goodbye?

Then you turned, and your gaze found his in the settling dark. All doubts vanished at the same moment ─ he’d rather regret saying too much and grasp at the chance of something than live the rest of his life in silence, drowning in the regrets of saying nothing at all.

“Y/N,” he called, a little strangled, arms dangling at his side.

“Oscar?” You frowned, jumping the small distance separating you from the ground. “What-? How’d you know─?”

“I… guessed.”

“Oh.”

Silence. The incessant rhythm of the rain filled the space as you both stared each other down. Waiting. What was he supposed to say now? “So… uh. How are you?”

Your eyes widened, and a scoff escaped you. “How am─?” You crossed your arms on your chest, staring at Oscar like he had grown a second head ─ and maybe he had, because he couldn’t even try to think straight. “I’m good, Oscar. Great. How was the race?”

“It was─” He stopped, swallowed. It felt plastic, strange ─ the distance, the iciness. Both of you knew you weren’t really inquiring about the race, you knew him better than anyone and probably guessed how it felt already, and he wasn’t really inquiring about you.

It was the first time you saw each other after last year, and everything felt more real. Heavy.

“Did you forget how to talk, Osc’?”

Osc’. You haven't called him that in a long time.

A nervous chuckle escaped him. You were so far and so close at the same time, hair frizzy from the dampness, knees scratched from your recent climb ─ he missed you, you were right there and he still missed you, because you were slowly slipping through his fingers. The last bit of his resolve crumbled.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Oscar never showed too much emotion. But here he was, drenched by the rainfall, eyes open and raw. And you didn't know what to do with that. You shifted on your feet. “For what?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, frustration bleeding into the gesture. “You know what for.”

“That’s not enough. Not anymore.” Your voice was laced with barely contained emotions, strangling you.

He knew. Oscar stepped forward tentatively, just once. Enough to make you look up at him, and he held your gaze even as it twisted with the kind of hurt he never wanted to be responsible for, but had to be faced with. Because he had. And he had to own up to it ─ so everything spilled out.

“I fucked up, last year. Big time.” His voice cracked. He couldn’t care less. “And I know- shit, I know I’m probably too late. I should’ve said something back then, but I didn’t know how or what or why.”

“I was scared. Not just of ruining things, even though it was a part of it, but of─ of what it meant. I didn’t understand, Y/N. I didn’t get why you were the first person I looked for in a room, why I felt so goddamn lost when I moved out and you weren’t there anymore, why seeing you living your own life without me was─ I don’t know, I guess I’m selfish or something.” His throat burned. “And that night─ here, last year─ I should’ve known. Fuck, I think I knew long before then but I was just so blind. When I asked you to come with me, and we─ I should’ve known why. I did. I just─ I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Oscar let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “But I did anyway. I messed it all up because I couldn’t make up my mind, and I don’t blame you if you don’t─ if you can’t─”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

The rain pattered against the dirt and the surrounding pavement, unrelenting, like both of your heartbeats. Oscar’s fingers twitched, aching to reach for you ─ but he wouldn’t do it. Not unless you let him.

Finally, you spoke. “You’re the biggest idiot I met in my entire life, Osc’. You’re so stupid.”

Your voice was teary, but you didn’t cry. You weren’t angry. You weren’t turning away. You simply stared at him, lips parted ─ barely smiling, but it was there.

Oscar blinked rapidly, taken aback. “I know,” he admitted, his voice a whisper, “but I love you.”

There it was. After fifteen years, there it was: the plain truth, out in the open for you to see. What he spent his time running from, what he should have told you so long ago.

You didn’t react. Your eyes widened, a sharp inhale went through your mouth and you stared, frozen in place. Oscar panicked. “I understand if you don’t─ I mean, after everything, I get it if─ Or, or maybe I misread, but─”

“Say it again.”

Your voice was authoritative. Hopeful. And this time, a tear slid down your cheek. His heart skipped a bit. “I love you.”

And Oscar Piastri is twenty-three when he kisses you for the first time.

Your hands grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt, pulling him to you. The crash of your lips against his was sudden, but it didn’t take Oscar long to find a rhythm ─ not when it made so much sense, not when it felt so right. Finally.

A shudder rippled through him, something snapping back into place. It was messy, desperate ─ years of missed chances spilling out at once. You exhaled against his mouth and Oscar felt it everywhere, in the way his fingers trembled when he cupped your cheeks, how his knees almost buckled when you got closer, in the way his world narrowed down to just you. His mouth against yours. Fuck.

You pulled away, just for a second. “Osc─”

“Not yet,” he rasped. And he captured your lips a second time, choking out any other words.

How had he gone so long without this? Without knowing what it was like to have you like this?

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. Desire, want, love, all of it blurred in the way his fingers wove into your hair, when he slowly brought them down to your waist, pulling you against him, hungry, greedy.

If he wanted you to come with him so badly the past few years wasn’t because he needed you at his side ─ he still did, but that wasn’t the gist of it. Now that you were falling apart against his lips, hands making a mess of his rain-drenched hair, he knew he had wanted you next to him because he wasn’t allowing himself to have you. He had wanted you in his chest, curled beneath his ribs, a part of him so irrevocably that no miles, no years, no silence could ever pull you away.

And now, he had you. Shit, if that wasn’t like ascending to heaven felt like, he didn’t know what would.

You put a hand on his chest, slowly, and when you separated Oscar found himself longing for more, for every instance he passed on. Yet, the wide smile on your face stopped him ─ because you looked perfect like this, bright and open, taking up space. That’s why he fell in love with you.

“I love you too. So much,” you said, and the words softly blossomed in Oscar’s chest like spring. He dropped his forehead against yours.

“Me too. I love you. You don’t even know,” he breathed out, his lips slowly dropping a kiss on your forehead. “It feels so good to say it. To know.”

You grabbed the string of his hoodies, toying with them as you’d usually do, but every single one of your actions sent another wave of heat in Oscar’s neck when he remembered what you tasted like. “You could’ve felt good about it earlier, y’know.”

He arched a teasing eyebrow at you and you giggled. “I’m sorry, but the realizing-i’m-in-love-with-my-childhood-best-friend didn’t really come with an instruction material. The confession either.”

“You were pretty dramatic, true, with the rain and the running,” you laughed. “It was gonna be pretty easy for me last year, honestly. Until you bailed.”

Oscar groaned, and his head dropped on your shoulder. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Oh yeah, you’re in for a long ride, Piastri.” A long ride. That sounded amazing.

Realization hit him at full force, harder than a crash. “Wait, what do you mean last year?”

Your hand went up, wiping a raindrop dripping down his cheek, and the look you gave him was overflowing with fondness. “I mean that before you tried to kiss me, that night, I would’ve told you I’ve been in love with you ever since I started spying on you at the playground.”

“You…?” Oscar’s mouth dropped open. Had he really been that blind? How many signs had he missed, exactly? “How─”

You kissed him. A quick, hard peck on the lips, but that was enough to shut him up and get him to melt against you once more. “Let’s not talk about it here. I’m cold, and I think it’s the type of discussion that’s too long to have outside,” you said, slipping your hand in his. “My mom would love to make us coffee, if you want.”

Oscar sighed at the familiar feeling, fingers tangling with yours in a well-known pattern. He missed the both of you, and now he got to have it in a better way. “You’re sure? I’d love to, but is your mom─”

“Don’t even worry. She’s been calling me Mrs. Piastri for years now, I think the news will move her to tears.”

So you runned back to the porch of your house where you’d sat years ago, drenched in the deluge but happier than you’ve ever been. Oscar loved you, he knew now. And you loved him back, it was worth the rain, the missed opportunities, the hesitation and the heart wrenching confessions that will follow as you sit down.

You were worth the vulnerability, Oscar thought when you crossed the threshold. You were worth everything.

A year later, Oscar is standing in pole position for the Australian Grand Prix of 2026.

Qualifications went great, keeping the fastest lap position for all rounds. He was confident in his capacity ─ last year had tested his patience and goodwill, but he only came out stronger, more resilient.

The home race curse was a popular saying in Formula One, and sadly he fell victim to it ever since he put his feet in a McLaren in 2023. He had hoped to win the Melbourne race, to bring back the trophy under the cheers of his home crowd and the screams of his family ─ but this year wasn’t for hoping: if there was one thing you taught him, it is that hoping never achieved anything. Actions did. And he was going to win the Australian Grand Prix.

You were standing in your usual spot, orange headphones on, all in smiles and shouts. Hattie next to you playfully shoved an elbow in your ribs to get you to quiet down, which only made you louder. Oscar was persuaded he could hear you above the sound of his race engineer. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe the thought of you swirled around every mechanism of his car like it always did.

Today marked one year since you and Oscar got together. Since the kiss, the realization, the heartfelt confessions above a steaming cup of gingerbread coffee in the middle of summer because your mom affirmed it was a big occasion before leaving the two of you alone. And the fifteen years it took for you to finally get to that point were a painful obstacle of unsaid and what ifs, taking a few months to finally get out of the way, and plenty of awkward conversations ─ but how beautiful was the other side of it.

Devotion and love, gentle and kind. The impulsive dates, the good morning kisses when Oscar had enough time to come and visit, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back, “Oscar Piastri’s partner” on the screen when the camera was pointing at you during races, the weekend getaways.

Oscar noticed the large, varsity top hung on you, a bright orange with the large number 81 written in white. Just underneath, the words Mrs. Piastri were written in a similar font. You had it custom-made a few months into the relationship, simply because the comment about your mother the day he kissed you became a regular inside joke between the two of you.

It made Oscar’s heart flutter every time you wore it.

He observed the red lights above him, flickering out one by one. He thought about it: how the fifteen years of being apart made every day spent with you seem like too little, how he couldn’t get enough of you and how he didn’t want to.

Suddenly, Oscar couldn’t wait for the race to end. Because he was going to keep his P1 with his skills and the speed of his car, and brandish the trophy high on the podium for the country who raised him. Because after, he will rush out in your arms and kiss you until the air in his body runs out. Because he had a girl to get, and plans to make.

Because even though it was only a year spent together, Oscar Piastri is twenty-four when he decides he wants to marry you, and he was not about to wait fifteen more years to make it happen.

©DRGNSFLY 2k25 ─ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

#ᯓ my writing.ᐟ #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #op81 #mclaren #oscar piastri imagine #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fic #op81 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #op81 x you

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drunk-person · 6 months ago

Text

The Promises We Make

Pairing: King!Aemond Targaryen x lover!reader

Summary: She was supposed to be his. Not that filthy bastard. He knew her first. He loved her first. Only to they give her hand in marriage to Jacaerys Velaryon. But now the war is won, and as the new king Aemond can have whatever he wants, and he wants her. He wants to fulfill the promise he made to her outside the sept all those years ago.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, forced voyeurism, consensual exhibitionism, fingering, oral sex F and M receiving, anal sex (very little, but it's there), possessive sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, mentions of murder, Aemond murdering more kin, bastardophobia, Jacaerysphobia, no description for reader.

Word cont: 4.800k

A/n: My little contribution to Halloween "very evil laugh here". To my Aemond wives: This is basically the dirtiest, slightly darkest thing I've ever written, I'm blushing as I post it. Let's go!

Before

The sept was full of people to watch Prince Jacaerys' wedding, he waited anxiously next to the septon for the bride's arrival while slightly moving his hands.

The door opened and Lady Y/n walked in, at the same moment everyone turned to look at her. Y/n smiled beautifully as she struggled to walk down the hallway, feeling her legs still wobbly and slightly damp.

Her eyes burned as they met Jacaerys' and her smile grew even wider. Her steps became more confident, and when she reached the end of the walk, she stopped in front of the septon, still with that smile on her face.

Jacaerys watched her, visibly confused. They had met about three moons ago and the wedding had been arranged. Until then, he hadn't thought she was so eager to get married, since she barely spoke to him usually. But there she was, eager to marry him.

Interlude

Things had never been so bad. His mother and brothers had perished, and from what he could tell Daemon had also found the stranger, only he was left, the last one to survive. Jacaerys did not know if this was a gift or a punishment.

He could have fled, gone to the free cities and been free now. But he was no coward, he was a Targaryen and would not back down. But courage did not help him much when his uncle's men captured him and brought him to the black cells of the red keep.

Aemond Targaryen. Not content with the title of kinslayer after murdering Luke, he sought even deeper immoralities.

He murdered one by one all the ratcatchers at Aegon's command while they begged for their lives. He killed Rhaenys and exposed the charred remains of the queen who never be, to the kingdom after her victory. He personally beheaded each of the remaining ones who swore fealty to Rhaenyra. He burned the riverlands until only ashes remained on the ground without caring if there were innocents there. He personally exterminated House Strong from end to end, sparing no nobles or bastards, women or children.

At the end of the war, when everything seemed lost, he guided his uncle, Daemon Targaryen, into a trap. From what little was known, Aemond Targaryen lured him to Harrenhall Castle, where, separated from Caraxes, he ambushed him in a dark corridor and before the Rogue Prince knew what was happening, he was dead.

And now with the death of Aegon, who had finally succumbed to his wounds and died shortly after murdering Rhaenyra. Aemond had lost his title of one-eyed prince and kinslayer in favor of a new one.

King Aemond Targaryen, the cruel.

Now

The cell was opened with a loud noise and Jacaerys turned to see two guards enter the cell and drag him out without further explanation. And he just followed them without question, but he began to frown when he noticed that he was being taken to the bedroom wing of the fortress.

-Where are you taking me? - He asked, but received no answer.

The guards took him to one of the rooms, tied him to a chair with a thick rope, and without saying a word to him, left him there alone.

A little while later, the door opened behind Jacaerys, who felt the back of his neck shiver. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and suddenly all sounds seemed to become quieter. There was no need to look back to know who had entered the room.

A low murmur left no doubt, Aemond had ordered him to be taken there.

-Enjoying your stay, my Lord Strong? - He asked in that cynical and cruel voice that made Jacaerys's blood boil in his veins.

-Velaryon. - He growled through his teeth, and Aemond just hummed as he gently curved his lips.

-No, it isn't. And we both know that. But now I don't need to pretend that you're nothing more than a bastard dressed as a prince walking around the court. - Aemond had a deadly voice as he spoke.

-What are you going to do? Murder me tied up like the coward that you are? Just like you did with Luke?

Aemond laughed as if Jacaerys was telling a joke.

-Please don't try to boost your own ego, we both also know that you wouldn't last even a breath in combat against me. - When he finished, Aemond was serious again.

-I'm not going to kill you, at least not yet. - His cruel voice sounded through the room.

-So what do you want from me? - Jacaerys glared at him angrily. - If you expect me to bend the knee, forget it, I will never do it.

-I don't need bastards to bend the knee to me, their false loyalty doesn't represent any value to me. I'm already the king. - He walked while mocking Jacaerys.

-But there are certain things that need to be put in their proper place. There are some promises I made that need to be kept because after all I am a man of my word.

Jacaerys did not understand a word of what Aemond was saying, and came to think that he had finally lost his mind. Until then there was a knock on the door and he said the words that changed everything.

-Come in, my dear.

The door opened and then closed behind him, soft footsteps sounded against the floor and to Jacaerys's horror when the person finally entered his field of vision he discovered that the one who had come through the door was Y/n, his Y/n. He clenched his fists, locking his jaw, trying to free himself from the chair. Aemond approached her and passed the back of his right hand gently across her face as she closed her eyes.

-Get away from her. - Jacaerys shouted in fury.

-I could. - Aemond just laughed as he addressed him again. - If she wanted me to stay away.

-She never wanted you, my dear bastard. It was always me. - Aemond's mocking smile almost tore his cheeks as he caressed Y/n's neck with his fingertips, his stomach tingling with contentment as he saw her sweet, soft skin shivering with his touch.

-Lie. - Jacaerys practically shouted as he stared at Aemond with cold eyes.

-I'm going to show you the lie. - The king said, suddenly becoming very serious, his eyes flashing in the direction of his bastard nephew.

-Take off your clothes. - He ordered Y/n who hesitated for a second because she was in front of Jacaerys.

-Aemond… - She blushed visibly looking at his hands.

-I said take off your clothes. - He murmured the order very seriously as he gently caressed her chin.

She then obeyed, and looking only at Aemond she removed them piece by piece little by little, becoming completely naked. The look of pure desire he gave her made her press her thighs together tightly as she bit her lip, momentarily forgetting that Jace was in the room.

-Come here, my love. - He called her, extending his hand and Y/n immediately went to meet him eagerly.

-Always so obedient to me. - He said, stroking her hair as she practically rubbed her head against his hand.

Jacaerys watched this without reacting. Y/n had never obeyed him, she seemed like a wild horse. She wouldn't let him touch her, she was never willing to sleep with him, she was cold and cruel no matter what he tried, the few times they lay together she hadn't even moved in bed, or completely removed her clothes, seeming to do nothing. the slightest matter of being there. And now here she was obediently naked before Aemond as she melted into his touches.

Aemond moved his hands down to her nipples and squeezed them languidly, making her open her mouth in a soft moan, while she leaned towards him, silently begging for more. He then brought his mouth to her left nipple, sucking and kissing it, making her moan softly for him as he caressed his hair, pulling his mouth closer and closer to her.

The king then brought his right hand to the top of Y/n's thighs and smiled mischievously against the flesh of her breast, still with the nipple between his teeth, as he felt the moisture that was there.

-Always so wet for me.

He then had an idea. And releasing Y/n, causing her to let out a groan of frustration, he positioned a chair in front of Jacaerys a short distance away.

-Sit here, my dear. - He waved his hand, and Y/n, even hesitantly, did so.

-Now I want you to open your beautiful legs for me, and rest them on the chair. - He spoke in that soft voice and Y/n felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair for doing that in front of Jacaery, but she did it anyway.

Aemond stopped behind her and slowly ran his hand down Y/n's body, caressing her breasts, her belly until he reached where he wanted. And then he opened the lips of her pussy, exposing her to Jace. The wetness dripped from inside her uncontrollably, wet like Jace had never seen.

Aemond smiled mischievously as he gently caressed her folds, spreading more and more of the fluids that ran from her pussy, making her moan and gasp.

-Just look at her, Jacaerys. - He said maliciously. - Melting for me, so wet.

-Has she ever wet herself like this for you? - He said, slapping Y/n's pearl, making her scream as she threw her head back.

-That's enough! - Jacaerys shouted, fuming with rage at seeing his wife in that situation.

Aemond just laughed darkly as he inserted two fingers into Y/n's intimacy, who threw her head back in pleasure with the movements he made.

-Oh my dear Lord Strong, this will only end when I have fucked each of her delicious holes in front of you and taught you how a lady likes to be treated.

As he said that, he squeezed that spongy spot inside Y/n, making her beg for his name in pure desperation. Her moist flesh pressed against Aemond's fingers, begging for more contact, begging to be filled.

-Always making such sweet sounds for me, sweet girl. - Aemond whispered close to her ear, making Y/n gasp squeezing the back of the chair with that voice sounding so close.

With an almost evil smile, gently licking his lips, Aemond turned around, lowering himself between her legs in front of the chair and without warning, pulling her by the thighs, leaving her wet and warm pussy very close to his face.

-Raise your hips a little for me, my dear. - He asked in a firm voice and she did it at the same moment, needing his care more than ever. - Good girl.

Without waiting another second, the king took her moist folds into his mouth, tasting her with desire, eliciting screams and gasps from her lips, which for Aemond were as sweet as that pussy.

-Oh Aemond… - She sighed his name between degrading moans of pleasure as he sucked her pearl and played with her using his tongue, while his long fingers hit that specific spot inside her that made her scream every time. - More, please, more.

Aemond laughed in pure malice against her, making her feel even more pleasure, her soft walls contracting against his fingers as her whole body began to spasm slightly, Y/n's moans became louder and more debauched as she tangled her hands in Aemond's silver hair, practically rubbing herself against his face as ecstasy took over her body, screaming the king's name in desperation as she reached her peak and collapsed against the chair, feeling boneless. The body giving slight spasms as Aemond teased her sensitive pearl with the tip of his tongue even after the intense orgasm.

-Who do you belong to? - Came the firm question in Aemond's laconic voice as he held her by the hair to face him, now standing in front of the chair.

-To you, my king. - She sighed, staring at him.

-Then get on your knees for me like the good girl I know you are! - He growled, still holding her by the hair, making Y/n moan with contentment as she got up from the chair with her legs still slightly shaking.

As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of Jacaerys again, momentarily even forgetting that he was there, and with a mischievous smile she knelt in front of the chair where Aemond was now sitting.

-You know what to do, Issa jorrāelagon. (My love). - He murmured with a sickly side smile to Jacaerys who was about to vomit, while delicately stroking Y/n's locks of hair.

-Yes, my king. - She sighed, nodding eagerly. Without needing to hear anything else, she guided her hands to the laces of Aemond's pants, pulling them avidly, overcome by the desire to please him too.

Her hungry eyes shone as she finally placed them on Aemond's already hard and leaking cock, caressing his hardness with a lewd smile on her lips. Y/n ran her soft hands all over his length, from the base to the tip, leaving a gentle caress with the tip of her thumb on the slit from where that pearly liquid slowly flowed.

With an even bigger smile when she heard the king grunt softly, she finally brought her lips to the tip of his cock, slowly sucking only that part until her cheeks sank, moaning at the same time as he felt the strong taste of his pre-cum on the tip of his tongue.

Breathing deeply through her nose, she lowered her lips as far as she could, sucking and licking him with praise. Taking her mouth off and taking a breath, she only lowered her lips to his balls and kissed and sucked them hard while she moved her hand back and forth on his member, eliciting grunts and gasps from his trembling lips. Without warning, she lowered her lips once more to his cock, making him growl and tangle his hands in her wild hair.

-I'll fuck your mouth. - He growled, giving the first thrust against her lips and Y/n did her best to nod, feeling her eyes water. Aemond grunted lightly with his hands tangled in Y/n's voluminous hair while she sucked his cock hard, kneeling between his legs more like a whore than a lady.

-That's enough. - He growled, feeling his body tremble slightly with agonizing pleasure on the edge of the abyss, making Y/n remove her mouth from his cock and look at him with those doe eyes shining with tears, as if she hadn't just sucked him like a whore, her lips still full of saliva and pre-cum.

-Come here, sweet girl. - He pulled her to sit on his lap with a sideways smile, leaving a hungry and wet kiss on her lips, feeling her moan and rub her hot, wet mouth against him hungrily. For a moment he almost forgot about Jacaerys' presence in the room, so lost in the softness of Y/n's lips and pussy.

Until he heard the sound of wood hitting the floor and looked at his nephew over Y/n's shoulder, letting out a laugh when he saw him writhing in his chair, his eyes burning with fury as he tried to free himself.

-I thought you were stronger than that, my dear nephew. - Aemond murmured mockingly as he firmly squeezed Y/n's ass with both hands, making her moan and throw her head back, rubbing herself even more against his cock.

-Aemond please…- She sighed without caring about Jacaerys. - Please…

-Please what, my sweet? - He asked, laughing, kissing her neck roughly as he looked cruelly at Jace, waiting for Y/n's answer.

-Fuck me. - She begged him without any shame, grinding on his thighs and rubbing her wet folds against his hard, leaking member. - Please fuck me, my king. I'm yours.

-Did you hear that, bastard? - Aemond growled, serrated his lips and then biting Y/n's neck, making her scream for him. - It's me she wants!

With these words, he brought his right hand to the friction zone between the two of them and with a smile of satisfaction, guided his own hard cock, leaking inside her, making her moan with satisfaction as she descended on him.

-Yes… yes… yes… - She sighed in joy, feeling him stretch every corner of her to the edge, scratching the leather of his jerkin, hungry for more contact, hungry for more of Aemond.

-My girl is so needy. - Aemond hissed, slamming his hips against hers firmly, making her scream. - Always eager for my touch, always begging for me.

-Harder, Aemond. - She moaned between sighs as she nodded her head, going crazy with each bite the king left on her neck. Going up and down on his cock, riding him harder and harder, feeling goosebumps covering her skin with the sensation of pleasure that only Aemond could give her. - Please… please…

Growling with pleasure, Aemond tangled his left hand in her hair and pulled her against him, taking her lips in a wild kiss full of greedy bites, while lifting her hips from the chair harder, making her tremble above him and grip him even tighter.

Pulling her lower lip into a bite, he trailed kisses down her neck to her breasts, sucking and caressing them with his tongue, drawing even more pleasure from Y/n, who threw her head back lost in pleasure, finding her husband's glazed eyes watching the scene, looking like he was about to vomit.

The pleasure in her core multiplied. She liked the feeling. She liked seeing the humiliation in Jacaerys' eyes as Aemond took her. Y/n liked the feeling of knowing that he was feeling even more humiliated than she felt every time she was forced to endure his touch.

Feeling Y/n's walls contracting around him, Aemond guided his hand to her sensitive pearl that gently brushed against his pelvis with synchronized movements and caressed her even harder, making her scream and tremble above him, rolling her eyes in pure pleasure.

-Who do you belong to? - He growled breathlessly into her ear, feeling on the verge of his own orgasm.

-You, my king! - She practically sobbed amidst her moans, burying her face contorted with pleasure in the gap between his neck and shoulder, still riding him with trembling legs. - You. Only you.

-Look closely, you bastard. - Aemond growled, rolling his eyes in pleasure as he fucked Y/n with abandon. - I want you to see how well she cums on my cock.

With a loud moan of Aemond's name, Y/n came all over his cock, shuddering and convulsing as she collapsed on him, squeezing him so hard that she practically ripped the orgasm out of the king, who grunted and bit her shoulder, feeling the pleasure tear him apart as his seed invaded her hot pussy.

The two of them stood still for a few moments, panting and immersed in pleasure. The only sound in the room was their uneven breathing. Jacaerys could very well be dead in all that silence. Little by little, Aemond felt his cock slowly come back to life as Y/n's pussy spasmed around him, driving him completely crazy.

She whimpered against Aemond's neck, feeling his now semi-erect cock still buried deep in her sensitive intimacy. Aemond cooed softly at her as he stroked her hair.

-Are you okay, my dear?

She nodded at him as she stared at him with a tear-stained face.

-Can you hold one more for me? - He asked, tucking a strand of Y/n's wild hair behind her ear.

-Yes. - She sighed, throwing her arms around his neck and panting when she felt Aemond harden beneath her again.

-Then be good, go to the bed and get on your hands and knees for me. - He murmured with his lips pressed against Y/n's ear, while firmly squeezing both of her ass cheeks.

Y/n stood up and gasped as her body disconnected from Aemond's and with wobbly legs she walked slowly to the bed, not sparing even a glance at her husband still tied to the chair. Aemond's seed ran down her thighs along with her own fluids and with a sigh she knelt on the bed making every effort to stay steady, with her legs aching after sex.

Aemond walked to the bed and opening the last drawer he took the bottle of oil and Y/n moaned with contentment already knowing what was coming. He positioned himself behind her and gently kissed each of her ass cheeks before spreading them, exposing her wrinkled hole. She sighed at him and leaned her body even further forward just as she knew Aemond liked, her gaze meeting Jace's at that moment with a smile of pure satisfaction as she saw tears running down his damn face.

Y/n then felt the first finger soaked in oil entering her ass and sighed as she buried her face between the sheets. It didn't take long for Aemond to insert the second and then the third while making slow movements with his hand. He brought his other hand to her swollen clitoris and gently stimulated it, making her sigh and moan with the double stimulation.

And when he removed his fingers she waited anxiously for what was to come, the feeling of pleasure taking over her body as Aemond invaded her ass with his cock slowly.

-Seven hells. - Aemond moaned as he sheathed himself completely inside her. - Always so tight back here.

He then slapped Y/n's ass making her moan and began to fuck her hard against the mattress while she moaned desperately. Aemond pressed her pearl again leaving her a mess of moans and gasps for him as she begged for more. She no longer had any strength in her arms and collapsed on the bed, only with her hips raised as Aemond held them and she tried to keep them in the right position with the little strength she had left in her body.

-Whose cunt is this Y/n? - Aemond growled as he pinched her pearl between his fingers making her scream and spasm on the sheets.

-Y-yours Aemond. - She whimpered at him with tears of pleasure running down her cheeks.

-And whose mouth is this? - He murmured leaning down and kissing her in a way that could be passionate and dirty at the same time.

-Only yours my king. - She moaned between kisses.

-And whose is this tight, delicious ass? - He asked, slapping her left cheek, fucking her even harder while stimulating her clitoris with his fingertips.

-Yours. - Y/n cried and moaned. - Only yours, Aemond. Only yours. Always only yours my king.

Jacaerys could no longer look, could no longer feel repulsion, all of this was too much for him. Y/n was his, it was not supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be the king. Y/n was supposed to be his wife. Tears ran uncontrollably down his face as he saw his wife being degraded in the worst and most repulsive way before his eyes.

-Cum for me one more time Issa jorrāelagon. (My love). - Aemond spoke with his body glued to hers as he sped up his movements, and shortly after Y/n came with a moan and collapsed on the bed while Aemond came deep in her ass with a guttural moan and bit her right shoulder.

-I love you. - She said with a tired smile as Aemond pulled out of her and kept his own intimacy in his pants.

-Avy jorrāelan tolī, issa jorrāelagon. (I love you too, my love). - He murmured softly only for Y/n's tired and sleepy ears, as he left a wet kiss between her shoulder blades.

Y/n had never said those words to Jacaerys, had never even come close, had never even told him that he was tolerable. And a tear of pure hatred and betrayal ran down his face. He saw her in bed falling asleep covered in sweat with Aemond's seed dripping down her holes while Aemond smiled victoriously at him.

-What did you do all this for? - He asked with a choked voice trying to keep it steady, feeling the bile about to make him vomit after seeing one of the greatest atrocities of life happen in front of him. - You already had her now.

Aemond walked slowly towards Jacaerys with confident steps and a smile that was a mix of victory and malice.

-No my hateful nephew. I always had her. She was always mine. And you always trying to steal what is not yours dared to put your filthy paws on her perfect body! - He hissed with his eyes burning with fury, leaning over the chair and staring at him deeply.

-On your wedding day she came to me crying and begged me to take her virginity so that she would not have it stolen by you. - He smiled at the memory in an almost melancholic way. - And I did as she asked and fucked her, while she was still wearing that wedding dress, before you had even seen her in it.

-When she entered the sept, it was with my seed dripping down her thighs, just like now. - Aemond laughed victoriously as he watched Jace shake his head in pure shock and sadness.

-She never wanted you, she came to me every chance she got and begged me to give her the pleasure she knew only I could give her. - He hissed angrily, his voice low and deadly. - She told me she felt disgusted every time she needed to feel your touch against her skin and that she would kill you in your sleep if she could.

If Aemond had told him this a few hours ago, Jace would have denied it, said he was lying, but now… there was no denying the facts. Not after the torture she had subjected him to. Not after seeing his wife being sodomized by his uncle while she cried and begged for more beneath him.

-And now… - Aemond said, approaching with a sick smile as he pulled the dagger from his belt. - I will fulfill the promise I made her years ago.

And with his eyes still glazed over from the nightmare he had been forced to watch, Jacaerys waited silently for the stranger, who was certainly coming to meet him in the form of Aemond Targaryen.

The promise

-When my brother is king and I am your hand, I will take you for myself in front of that filthy bastard, and when I finish giving you pleasure, I will cut his throat and take you as my wife. - Aemond whispered softly against her jugular, very close to her ear, making her skin crawl.

And with that promise, Lady Y/n entered the sept to marry Prince Jacaerys with a smile on her face.

The future

Y/n felt free, she felt light, she felt like the most beautiful creature in all the kingdoms. The maids were preparing her wedding dress, beautiful as only something royal could be.

The council warned Aemond about the fact that marrying the wife of Prince Jacaerys, who had consistent rumors that the king himself had slit his throat, would not help improve his already low reputation. But he did not care. And ignoring all opinions, he set the wedding date as soon as possible, because he was sure that his seed had already taken root now with the absence of moon tea.

And today, finally, the most important day of all had arrived. She would finally be Aemond's, Aemond's and his alone, no more unwanted touches, no more pain, no more tears. She would be his alone. And that was why she smiled as they arranged her clothes. Shortly after they had finished dressing, combing her hair and putting her shoes on, all the maids left her alone in the room. It wasn't long before she heard a light knock on the door. Frowning, she went over and opened it, finding a young page standing there with a yellowed piece of paper between his fingers.

-The king ordered this to be delivered to you my lady. - He said, giving her the paper, bowing and then walking away.

Y/n smiled even wider if possible, and when she opened the paper, she thought her heart would explode with pure happiness.

"I'm thinking of you, see you in the sept.

A.T."

She pressed the letter to her chest with a sigh of joy, and then safely put it away in her bedside drawer.

Lady Y/n, soon to be queen, entered the sept with a smile from ear to ear, but this time it was for all the right reasons.

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neeeooon · 2 days ago

Note

heyyyy! Could i request a oneshot of karasu meeting ur guys’ future kid? Like that one series u did a while ago and put out a poll for the oneshots but karasu didnt win. So im formally requesting it now🙏

YES thank you for the reminder 🙏

three's my favorite number

karasu tabito x fem!reader. karasu and reader are divorced. oneshot takes place over several years. kid has a name for plot. fluff, cussing, continuation of karasu’s part in this post

“hey, kid.”

taichi slowly looked over his shoulder, chin grazing the strap of his blue lock backpack as he looked up to meet karasu’s eyes. his own sparkled as he gasped, “really?! you’re my dad?! for real?!”

you hated how your chest fluttered at your son’s excitement, and the guilt that hit you afterward was almost as intense. taichi told you all the time how badly he wanted his dad to come home, since the story you ran with was that his father was on the other side of the world doing great things that required all his time. it wasn’t exactly a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the truth.

before you could stop him, taichi spun out of your grasp and darted over to karasu. he threw his thin arms around the man’s legs and squeezed. “will you live with us, now?”

to your surprise, karasu’s smile didn’t melt at the question. he flashed a fatherly grin as he knelt down to match his son’s height, eyes sparkling. “not right now, buddy. but i do wanna see ya more.”

“i want that, too!” taichi flung his arms around karasu and wrapped his legs around his father’s waist when the man hugged him back and stood to his full height.

so much for talking to strangers, you mentally sighed as you rubbed your forehead. you weren’t ready for this yet. you planned to wait until taichi was older before introducing him to your ex-husband. now it was too late. he was already attached.

karasu read your expression easily, even after years apart, and his smile faded at the corners. he carefully set your son back down and ruffled his hair. “why don’t you run along now with yer ma. i’ll catchya another time, sound okay?”

taichi looked conflicted as he turned his head between you and karasu. then, he approached his father once more and held his pinkie up. “promise?”

karasu knelt down once more and wrapped his pinkie around his son’s before they pressed their thumbs together. “promise.”

☆ 🤙

you were surprised after opening your door at 7 in the morning to find your ex-husband there with coffee and doughnuts.

“tabi? what are you doing here?” you caught the nickname slip-up too late, and karasu smirked slyly at you.

“haven’t heard that one in a while, hun.”

you whacked him with the back of your hand but didn’t shove him out as he stepped into the house. “where’s the kid?” he asked after putting the goodies down, and you pointed at the ceiling to signal that he was upstairs.

karasu’s took a seat as you awkwardly shifted your weight between both feet. “listen…”

he shook his head. “we don’t need to talk about the past. i’m here now. i wanna be here.”

you swallowed thickly. you still didn’t know if you wanted him there. you had a good thing going with your son; a nice routine and a near-perfect schedule. karasu’s return tore a hole in all of that.

“i just—“

“dad’s here!” taichi screamed as he bolted down the stairs. karasu knelt in time to catch the boy when he flung himself at him and positioned taichi on his hip. “how’s it goin’, kid?”

you hated how soft your son’s smile made you. it took up his entire face as he rambled on and on about toys and school to karasu. to his dad. you shook your head.

"i brought some goodies," karasu said as he turned his body to show the treats off to taichi. your son threw his arms over his head and cheered. karasu glanced back at you with a grin. "yeah, yer mom never buys sweets for ya, hm?"

"ta—" you caught yourself and frowned. "karasu."

"she never does!" he put his lips to karasu's ear and cupped his hands around it. "and her rice is too squishy."

you felt scandalized, betrayed, as the boys giggled at your expense. flicking your hand at them, you spun on your heel and marched to the fridge. "fine. since clearly you both hate me, you can have him, karasu."

karasu's head fell back as he laughed, but taichi's eyes widened. "w-wait, i didn't mean it! love your rice! you make the best rice!" you kept your back to them, but could hear taichi shuffling around in your ex's grip. not a minute later, two little hands were tugging your pant legs. "mama, mama! please don't go away. can't we all stay together? three is my favorite number!"

"i thought your favorite number was six."

"nuh-uh! it's three!" he smacked a hand to his chest. "one!" then he pointed at karasu. "two!" and finally, taichi rubbed his face against your leg. "three!" damn this kid, you thought with a wobbly smile. you locked eyes with karasu, and something familiar sparked in them. your heart skipped a beat. damn him and his stupid, adorable face.

sighing heavily, you leaned down to pluck him up and hug him to your chest. "well, you know what? three's my favorite number, too."

☆ 🤙

you sat back against the couch, your five-year-old curled against your side, his feet on your husband's face. brushing your fingers through karasu's freshly washed hair, his head in your lap, you felt his lips against your swollen stomach and smiled.

with taichi's help, you'd been able to sit through a full conversation with your ex-husband, and he managed to worm his way back into your heart. of course, you were hesitant. you didn't want him to change his mind and leave, especially considering how quickly you'd run after a misunderstanding, but he proved himself time and time again that he was here to stay.

carefully, you tipped forward and pressed a kiss to your husband's temple. he shuffled, startling you slightly, and cracked an eye open.

"ya know," he whispered, and you furrowed your brows at him. "four is my favorite number."

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bunnyhugs77 · 1 year ago

Text

Mr. Take Your Bitch

Pairing: Idol! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Content Warning: jk is a little cocky, player! jk, reader gets flustered so easily, jk is such a tease, smooth talker jk, clubbing, ft bts, interviews, reader is small (like 5'1), insults, alcohol consumption, infidelity, readers boyfriend is an asshole, mentions of smoking, impulsive jk, what happens in vegas stays in vegas, messyyy, suggestive themes, sweet gestures.

Other Content: hair pulling, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), squirting, missionary, jk splits reader in half, big dick! jk, doggy style, dacryphilia, praise and degradation, cream pies, minor possessive jk, unprotected sex (be better than them), recording.

"How do I look?" Sunny tosses the perfectly sculpted curls in her hair once more, pouting in the dressing room mirror, making sure that not a strand was out of place.

"For the eighth time, you look great, as always." She stands, her red off-the-shoulder top accenting her white pencil skirt and perfect figure, she really did look gorgeous. "Great isn't enough. This is the first time I'm interviewing THE BTS. I need to look perfect."

"You do. I promise." You reassure with a comforting right hand on her shoulder while you center her necklace with your left. "Y/n, we need you out here to help set up." Your manager cracks the door open to call for you briefly before leaving.

"I still cannot believe you dragged me into this coffee girl job just for you to get close to Namjoon." Sunny's full lips stretch from ear to ear showing off her million-dollar smile, "What's so wrong about me wanting you nearby for emotional support? But at least I got you a job out of it, 3 weeks ago you were on the brink of poverty.'' Her arms crossed and you had to admit, she did have a point.

"What was the whole point of this again?" You simply had to ask, remembering the midnight phone call Sunny surprised you with about a month ago when she landed the Hybe interviewer position.

"Remember the story I told you about, in Junior year, me and this boy from math camp snuck out 6 miles away with fake IDs and got shitfaced at the nearest bar then hooked up but I never got his name and he was in the middle of signing my journal we were interrupted and I never saw him again until-"

"You saw Namjoon's face on a billboard in Seoul, and you took this opportunity to get close to see if it was him or not. Yes, I remember now, it's all coming back to me." You finish her story for her.

"Exactly, and-"

"--Y/n, sometime today would be great." Your manager interrupts once again and you leave, apologizing frantically for making them wait, not wanting to lose this job. It actually paid pretty well considering all you did was make drinks.

Walking out of the dressing room, ignoring the buzz in the back pocket of your jeans as you followed your manager to the coffee cart offset. Although from here you had a perfect view of where the interview would take place.

They set it up to be very stylish and modern with BTS albums and concept photos placed strategically around the set within the camera shot. Along with a small coffee table, one chair on one side where Sunny would sit and seven on the other side.

It almost gave you chills to think about. The fact that in a few moments, the most popular boy band in the continent would be sitting right there. All seven of them, including the tempting one.

The one who makes you stumble over your words every time he comes down to the first floor to get a coffee even though there's a gazillion other places to get something to drink in the building.

Every time you see him, he's displaying a new style. Sometimes he comes down stacked with complex layers of clothing and covered in jewelry, or with nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, although the latter was possibly the worst of your few interactions. He's just so handsome, it made you want to squirm.

That day he was saying all the right things, yet saying nothing at all. Asking you simple questions like when you started working here, and if you liked coffee, meanwhile all you could mutter was an embarrassing 'yes'. What exactly you were saying yes to? You may never know.

You turned your back to the set and focused on making the pre-ordered drinks the members had sent down with their manager beforehand. By the time you turned back around Sunny was sitting in her place, anxious but ready.

You've been best friends since the 6th grade. She's incredibly outgoing and sociable, a balancing contrast to your more introverted nature although you could be a little extroverted with some alcohol in your system.

She was born for this job, you're sure she'll kill the interview. She mentioned that she'd bumped into a few of the members since she started working a month ago, but not Namjoon.

She definitely underestimated how hard it would be to 'bump' into a man who is guarded by security constantly and extremely busy, not to mention rarely in the country.

Hoseok was the first one to walk in, looking sharp as ever in casual attire but he he made it look incredible. Next was Jimin, and you noticed the way Sunny's eyes nearly widened when she finally saw Namjoon walk in behind Tae.

Finally, they were all inside and all greeted Sunny with a friendly hug and you can see she enjoyed her hug with Namjoon a little too much. Somehow finding something small to laugh about with him as they pulled away.

With an empty cup in your hand, you watched the most handsome group of men you've ever seen, file into the room and take a seat. "Go set these down before cameras start rolling." You feel a tap on your shoulder from another worker.

Did you zone out?

You placed a firm hand on your chest, taking a deep breath before placing a sturdy grip on the handles of the cart and bringing their beverages over. 'One foot in front of the other' you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the feeling of their gazes turning to you as you got closer.

Unable to look any of them in the eyes as you set down their drinks on the table saying the name of each one so they know which one is theirs.

You could feel his gaze on you whilst Sunny got to witness it first hand from where she sat. The way his jaw slowly clenches with each passing moment, watching you with dark, intense eyes. In that moment, the world around him blurred, and all that remained was the captivating image of you.

It was while you were placing down the final cup that you felt bold enough to finally look up from the table, glancing at Jimin who was talking to Hoseok on his right. Slowly your line of sight inches up and over his head to Jungkook who was sitting on a taller chair behind him.

He was looking right at you.

And that was more than enough for you to return to the cart and retreat to your station. The boys reached for their cups as the countdown to the interview began.

You watched with engaged eyes from the sidelines as the interview began, going through basic introductions and standard questions, you were listening along to the jokes made along the way.

It seemed they were having a great time out there, but you couldn't focus on all of them for too long. You wouldn't be doing your duties as Sunny's best friend if you didn't watch Namjoon's every move; including how he seemed to be the first one to answer almost any of her questions.

The questions were flying by and the discussion was so entertaining to watch but it was over before you even registered it. Sure, cameras had stopped rolling but they were all still talking.

You felt another buzz in your pocket, finally deciding to check.

Daehyun: Are you still mad? It's been 2 days, you're being dramatic. 12:02 pm

Daehyun: Why aren't you answering my texts? 1:12 pm

Daehyun: Fine. Keep ignoring me. Real mature, Y/n. 1:13 pm

You scoff at the messages.

Unbelievable.

Your boyfriend has left you astonished. Again!

You put your phone back on silent, secretly wishing you'd never checked it in the first place. Muttering under your breath about what a jerk he's been to you lately but you stop yourself. Because he's still your boyfriend, and sure, he fucked up a few times, bad. It doesn't change the fact that you're in a relationship with him.

If you could even call it that.

You've slept together twice. Well- 1.5 times if you wanted to get specific. The second time was so bad that you simply had to stop it altogether and make up some excuse so that you didn't hurt his feelings.

Shaking him out of your head and focusing back on your task at hand which was collecting the empty mugs from the table. Repeating the same process as before, avoiding all eye contact, but this time you didn't look up.

You didn't bother because you already knew he was watching you.

You were intimidated but you weren't oblivious.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!" You hear her from around the corner before you see her running towards you at your coffee station on the first floor. Sunny was practically bursting. You would think that she had captured the sun between her hands but it was something that would take your life for a spin, but you didn't know that yet.

"You're interview went so well!" You slip in your comment first knowing that once she says whatever she has to say, it'll go on for years.

"I know right! After you left to pack up, I was still talking to the guys and they really seemed to like me so they invited me and any +1 I want to invite on their weekend in Vegas trip tomorrow night! All expenses paid for!" Jaw-dropping wasn't the word. Knee buckling may be a better fit as you had quite literally stumbled and dropped a mug, thankfully it didn't break.

"No. No no no." You say, backing up and her entire demeanour deflated like a devastated puppy. "Why not?" You lean in close, whispering, "Because Jungkook is gonna be there--" She interrupts you, practically exploding with emotions. "Oh my god, he wants you so bad. Did you see the way he was looking at you?!" She whisper shouts.

"I know!" you plain shout out, realizing your volume needed adjusting and leaning forward onto the counter. "But he's Jeon Jungkook and I have Daehyun-" The most disgusted look runs across Sunny's face.

"I cannot believe you are even comparing the two right now. You said it yourself, one is Jeon Jungkook, and the other is Daehyun, a man you should've left in the dust months ago." Here we go again, you sigh.

"C'mon Y/n. He's an asshole, he's childish, he's bad in bed and honestly, the list should end there but no, he humiliated you in front of your family and he was caught in your sister's dm's on Christmas!!"

"It's May for god's sake and he's still stressing you out, and seeing you stressed makes me stressed. So why don't you come tomorrow, I'll keep you away from Jungkook if it comes to that, but please, you need to let loose a little and forget about him for just the weekend." She begs.

She could see you were starting to consider it.

"Please?" She pouts, giving you those same puppy eyes that convinced you to work here in the first place. "Please don't look at me like that, stop." You try to avoid her sorrowful gaze but It's like it intensifies to a point where you just can't look away, nor can you deny.

"Fine, fine. Okay, I'll go."

Considering you only just found out you were leaving the country yesterday, you think you did pretty good packing light but efficiently.

That's what you were thinking as you stepped behind Sunny onto the empty private jet. She'd already made arrangements to sit beside Namjoon.

She was crazy but you had to give the girl credit, she worked fast.

You weren't taking in a single thing, part of you was still in disbelief you had even seen the boys up close and personal yesterday.

This would all sink in for you in 5 years and then you'll be hit with a numbing regret of not doing things differently.

Or maybe it'll sink in for you right now, Jimin's full head of brown wavy hair is the first one you see to pop up on the plane and he flashes you a kind smile, taking a seat beside you.

He introduces himself as if you and half the world don't already know him but you engage anyway, giving him your name and the rest is history.

The flight was 11 hours so there was a lot of ground to cover between the two of you for the first 6 hours. Jimin was just such an easy person to open up with, any time you said something crazy you felt like he would have an even crazier story of his own to share.

He'd told you all about his first impressions of the guys to his first scandal that the label somehow managed to cover up because even you were in shock. It would have been over for him.

Then it was your turn, telling him about your exhausting boyfriend since it all started seven months ago.

"On Christmas?!" He shouts, "Why are you with him again?" You groan, "God you sound just like Sunny!"

The two of you were clearly enjoying your conversation while Sunny worked on getting Namjoon to talk a little bit about his past, trying to see if he really was the boy from all those years ago, but he seemed occupied reading his book and she wasn't going to interrupt him any longer. She sighs softly, looking out the window, watching the clouds fly by like art.

Meanwhile, at the front of the jet, Jungkook typed away on his laptop, sometimes blurbing some possible lyrics, but mostly keeping himself busy with a thousand rounds of Tetris. He tuned out the sound of your angelic laughter with his headphones, but it couldn't stop him from glancing to the back of the plane where you sat with Jimin every so often.

Only about an hour left before you landed and you really needed to pee but Jimin was in the way and fast asleep. You looked around, it seemed that everyone was fast asleep, but you really had to go.

Lightly tapping Jimin and asking him to let you through, he moves, half awake, just giving you enough time to pass before going back to his original position.

You exited the bathroom, nearly falling to the ground in horror when you came face to face with the man you'd nearly forgotten was on the jet. He smiles that classic bunny smile that the fans go crazy over.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He says it so sweetly, and in this hushed tone due to the late hour of the night it was making your head think things. Things that you should not be thinking about.

"You okay?" Checking in, seeing that you seemed to have zoned out mid-conversation. Shit. You were doing it again. "Y-yeah." You hated speaking to him it made you feel like you couldn't speak at all. He was just so tall, and his eyes were so big and endearing and-

"Really? Cause it looks like you've got something on your mind." It comes out in such a way that brings heat to your face, suddenly hyper-aware that everyone is asleep, and the two of you are out of sight in the narrow hall of the bathroom.

"Yeah, just excited for tomorrow." You lie, you felt sick to your stomach. He made you sick to your stomach. He gets a little closer, now close enough for you to be able to smell the soft cologne on his clothes. "What's got you so excited?"

It felt like you were watching yourself fall from the sky, it was slow but graceful, but you knew once you hit the bottom, things would get ugly. So you grew wings. "My boyfriend. We're planning on Facetiming tomorrow." It was like a repellant, the way he stepped back.

"Oh, that's nice." He mumbles and you take this opportunity to run back to your seat, hopping over Jimin and strapping yourself back in your seat, shaking your head over and over again.

This was a bad idea. You should not have come on this trip.

"She has a fucking boyfriend." Is the first thing Jungkook says to Yoongi and Jimin while the three sit in the back of the taxi that is en route to the hotel. Yoongi wasn't listening, still half asleep after only waking up 30 minutes ago. He would need a repeat of it all tomorrow.

"Pfft. Barely." Jimin mumbles. Triggering quite possibly the fasted head turn known to mankind, Jungkook looks at him with intrigue, "What do you mean by that."

"He's an asshole. Like a literal piece of shit, but she's still with him for whatever reason. It's gotta be Stockholm syndrome." Jimin shrugs. "But you can't tell her I told you this, I think she's pretty cool, so before you get your dick wet, think with your head first."

Yoongi hums in agreement with that one statement. He may be asleep but he knows a good statement when he hears one.

Jungkook did think. He thought about you all night. From the cab to the hotel, until he fell asleep and again when he woke up. Sure, you had a boyfriend, but it sounds like you shouldn't be with him, or at least deserved someone better.

The morning sun seeps through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the lavish surroundings. You and Sunny share a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the incredible experience that awaits. Or at least that's what Sunny thinks.

Instead, you retreat under the covers of your bed with an unpleasant sound. "How could I let you bring me here." Your voice is muffled and scratchy from it being the morning still. "Because you love me." She runs from her bed and jumps onto yours.

"Should we get room service?" She proposes and you slowly pull the covers down, revealing an interested expression. "Who's paying?" You ask. "Who cares! It's not us." She springs up and bounces for the phone.

By the late afternoon, you'd gotten an invite from Jimin, inviting you guys down to the pool, it was reserved just for them. "We're going, this isn't up for debate, Y/n. You said you would relax on this trip, so it's my job to make sure you do!" She pulls out the violet two-piece you'd packed in your luggage and shoves you into the bathroom, throwing the clothes in there with you after and shutting the door.

"I hate you y'know," you say from the other side of the door.

"You'll thank me one day, Y/n. One day."

There was a roar of cheers from the guys as the two of you walked into sight, the sun was beaming down on you and you were glad you brought your sunscreen.

Jungkook tried to be respectful to the sham of a relationship you were in but what was he supposed to do? You looked so hot in your bathing suit, you were so small but you still had curves in all the right places.

He just wanted to break you in half. Pin you down and-

A splash of water hits him in the face, "Stop eye fucking her and act like you've been neutered for once." Yoongi warns, swimming away before Jungkook could retaliate.

Jin calls Sunny into the water, and she just about jumped in while you were working on unwrapping your new bottle of sunscreen. Jungkook uses this as an opportunity. Looking down at the white shirt that was now soaked through, sticking to his abs he slowly steps out of the water.

Looking you right in the eyes as you shook the bottle. Now you were staring but you didn't care. You were looking at the son of Adonis, or maybe the god himself.

In the warm glow of the poolside sun, Jungkook emerged from the sparkling water, droplets cascading down his glistening skin. The pool's rippling surface bore witness to his athletic grace as he approached the pool chair where you reclined, still shaking the bottle.

His steps were confident, each one leaving a trail of water on the tiles beneath his feet. As he neared, he held your gaze with an intense, playful glint in his eyes. The air between you became charged with a magnetic energy, and a sly smile played on his lips.

With deliberate movements, Jungkook reached down to the hem of his white shirt, clinging to his sculpted physique. The fabric peeled away, revealing the contours of his toned abs. Beads of water followed the curves of his body, accentuating every defined muscle.

As the shirt came off, the sunlight caught on the droplets clinging to his skin, creating an ethereal effect. The sensual eye contact between the two of you intensified, creating a moment suspended in time. The poolside ambiance seemed to hush, allowing the connection between them to take center stage.

Your fist clenched, the sunscreen blurted out of the bottle, some landing on the smooth skin of your thigh but most hit the chair.

Jungkook's expression hinted at a playful confidence, acknowledging the allure of the moment. Your little accident told him all he needed to know. You wanted him.

Even if you didn't know it yet.

Wiping desperately at the sunscreen that had landed on you, a bigger hand comes to help. Gently rubbing the soft flesh of your thigh, Jungkook was crouched to your level with nothing more than a sincere smile as he helped you with your sunscreen.

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water as you watched him from beside yourself. Unable to believe what was happening. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, and other places but you shook your head.

"Wh-what-" Jungkook looks up to you, moving his hand away. "My bad. I didn't mean to overstep, I just noticed that you'd spilt some of your sunscreen," He inches just a little closer so that you looked down at him from where you sat on your chair. "I'd hate for it to go to waste."

That mischievous tongue of his makes an appearance briefly as it swipes over his bottom lip before retreating; leaving behind glossy plump lips. It's not what he says, but how he says it.

Almost as though he wanted you to break.

You hated how he made you feel without saying anything out of the ordinary.

"You have to be shitting me," Yoongi curses to no one in particular as he watches Jungkook lean up towards you from where he was floating in the pool on the flamingo inflatable.

"You've gotta admit, the boy's determined." Jin adds while Hoseok shakes his head, "He just doesn't know when to give up."

Opening your hotel room door to see Jimin leaning against the wall waiting for you. He looked incredible in his black button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair swooped to perfection.

"About time." He kicks himself off the wall as you scoff, "Don't blame me, blame the dress." Your freshly manicured nail points to the red, velvet dress that left your chest exposed before it went under the halter neckline.

There was so much skin offered to anyone that looked at you. You looked absolutely stunning. The way the dress clung tightly to your curves was almost ungodly but made you seem even more angelic.

Twirling on your toes slowly to showcase the full rotation of your outfit and Jimin failed to suppress his gasp. The back- Your back was completely exposed safe for where the halter crossed behind your neck.

"You look hot, and I'm not just saying that." You grin, leading the way to the elevator and waiting for it to come up.

While you were watching the elevator screen, Jimin was watching you. Not lustfully or anything since he really did see the two of you becoming close friends in the future but his gaze was full of.. fear?

Jungkook was going to eat you alive tonight, and he was willing to put money on it.

The man has been able to show limited amounts of self-control since the trip began, and his little shirtless stunt at the pool earlier that day was proof.

The elevator dings and the doors open.

You step in, hearing your phone vibrating from within your maroon chain side bag. Digging through your various lipsticks, mini perfumes and hair pins you finally grab your buzzing device.

Daehyun: When did you go to Vegas?? and how did you get there? 4:33 pm

Daehyun: Baby, I'm sorry. I mean it. Stop Ignoring me. (now) 8:12 pm

You sigh, scrolling through your messages sadly. "Am I being too hard on him?" Jimin leans over to look at the messages, his face turning sour at Daehyun's messages. "I bet you he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for."

The elevator doors close, and Jimin presses the star symbol for the nightclub on the first floor where you would meet the others.

Shaking your head repeatedly, "No. That's impossible. He knows, Jimin. Trust me." He doesn't seem convinced in the slightest,

"Okay. Since you're so sure-" He snatched your phone from your grasp, his fingers moving at the speed of light and you panicked, reaching for the device but he held it high. "Jimin No-!"

"I said 'What are you apologizing for'. I won't send it if you don't want me to. But It seems like he's only apologizing because he knows he's in the wrong, but doesn't know what for."

The elevator dings, going down floor by floor, the silence slowly creeping up on you, "Send it." You say, and his thumb hits send.

The doors open.

You and Jimin step out into the club. Before you sprawled a vast expanse of vibrant colours. Neon lights adorned the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues that danced in rhythm with the music.

The dance floor, surrounded by elevated platforms and VIP booths, was the epicentre of the vibrant spectacle. Mirrored ceilings multiplied the dazzling display, creating a sense of endless sin.

"Do you know where they are?" You ask while Jimin leads the way into the crowd of hot bodies and blasting music, he glances down to the text from Tae, "Tae said they're in section 9." Maneuvering your way through the swarm of people until you meet up with the others.

Jimin walked up the steps first, the group's cheers blending in with the roars coursing throughout the rest of the club as he joined them with you closely behind, the cheers continuing for you with whistles once you reached the platform.

"Oh shit!" Sunny curses, rushing to your side to shower you with compliments. "I guess being 30 minutes late pays off, you look great." Tae welcomes you with a side hug and an invitation to sit beside him.

"You need to cool it." Jin pulls Jungkook in by the collar so that he could hear him over the music. Jungkook finally pulls his hungry gaze off of you and looks to his elder.

"You're making it way obvious, and obvious is not what you want. She has a boyfriend. There are hundreds of other girls here, find someone else." He lets him go and Jungkook shakes his head.

How Jin even found out that you had a boyfriend didn't phase him. The seven of them were as close as brothers, it was hard for him and Jimin to keep anything to themselves.

Hundreds of girls but they weren't you. He couldn't just switch it on and off. This wasn't as fun and playful as it once was before, he was starting to get addicted to the thought of you.

"You have any pre-rolls on you?" Jungkook leans over to Namjoon who was deep into a conversation with Sunny. Namjoon reaches inside the pocket of his blazer, "Never leave home without them."

"Great. I need a smoke." Jungkook huffs, standing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. God you looked so fucking fine in that dress, it made him crazy, sick to his stomach.

He's Jeon Jungkook for god's sake.

The concept of want is so unfamiliar to him. Any girl he wants could easily be in his bed the same day, but you-- he shakes his head bitterly-- you were giving him a hard time, all over what? some lame-ass boyfriend.

"Namjoon you comin' ?" He looks over his shoulder to see both him and Sunny standing, "Mind if I join?" She asks, "The more the merrier."

You watched as the three of them disappeared into the bustling crowd vanishing out of sight. "Where did they go?"

Tae leans forward looking at where the trio had just walked through. "Probably went to go ball up." Tae shrugs, "Which means it's time to really get this night started. First round on me."

It wasn't until three shots later when Jungkook had finally come back, this was the first time you really got a good look at him. He was wearing nothing but a black jacket that had the most delicate body chains striping across his abdomen, giving you a clear view of his sculpted abs and-

Your phone buzzes.

You: Why are you apologizing? 8:13 pm

Daehyun: Because you're upset. (now) 9:27 pm

God, Jimin might be right. He doesn't have a clue.

You: Do you even know why I'm mad? 9:27 pm

Daehyun: Is it because of the nudes I sent Soo-Min? I was drunk, I promise. It was a mistake. 9:28 pm

You gasp. You had no idea what he was talking about. You were referring to him standing you up when you told all your family that he would be coming. You never knew this had even happened.

You: What the fuck are you talking about? 9:29 pm

You: I cannot believe you right now. 9:29 pm

You: Stop fucking texting me. 9:30 pm

You weren't even sad or disappointed. You were used to him letting you down constantly. "Looks like you need another shot." You look up from the screen in your lap, making eye contact with ringed fingers wrapped around a shot glass with your name on it.

You take the shot in your own grasp, looking Jungkook in the eyes as you down it. Your face wincing a little at the burn in the back of your throat but you were beginning to feel that exciting warmth in your chest.

The strobe lights turn red as Chris Brown's Take You Down begins to play through the loud speakers all around the club. "Wanna dance?" He offered you his hand, your brain was a little hazy and your cheeks were flushed but Jungkook was too hot to resist.

"Love to."

The two of you walk off to the dance floor with the rest of the crowd.

Taehyung looks to Jin who looks to Hoseok who looks to Yoongi.

Yoongi sighs, shaking his head slowly taking another shot. "It's out of my control. Once they step on that floor, their fate is sealed."

It's true, the moment Jungkook's hands were on your hips that swayed to the music you knew you were screwed. You had every right to be apprehensive about going on this stupid trip in the first place, but deep down you knew it was inevitable.

This very moment was destined from the start.

"You look fucking perfect tonight." He whispers in your ear from behind you, subconsciously pushing your hips back on him and Jungkook could swear he's never wanted someone as badly as he wanted you at this very moment.

"Says you," You spin in his hold, now face to face.

His grip on your hips tighten, body unable to maintain its façade for much longer. Your hair was up in a bun tonight, showing off the industrial piercing he never even knew you had.

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, and not just physically. He wanted to be able to sit with you over a cup of coffee and talk about everything and anything.

His tight hold on you prompted a breathless whine to escape your lips but he heard it. "Stop it." He says and your eyebrows scrunch, genuinely confused. "Stop what?"

"Stop tempting me. I'm trying to be respectful." Astonishment wipes over your features. "You're telling me to stop? It's been you all along, making me trip over my words, and being so shirtless and hot all the time, making me forget I have a boyfriend." He chuckles.

"So you admit it. You think about me too?"

You step back.

"Yes, Jungkook. I cannot stop thinking about you and that's my problem. I need to get you out of my head." Your mouth was saying one thing, but with the way he was looking at you, your heart wanted him between your legs.

The almost forgotten feeling of lust finally coursed through your veins. It'd been so long since you'd gotten any action, you needed this.

But you couldn't.

He steps towards you, even closer than before. You could feel his firm body crowding against your own. The way he towered over you made you feel dizzy. He leaned down, ensuring that you could feel his warm breath on the shell of your ear when he spoke "Tell me you don't want me and I'll walk away."

You don't want him. you lie to yourself.

Trying to put these thoughts into words, your mouth opens.

"I need you, Jungkook." Finally admitting it.

There was no going back now, his lips crashed against yours with nothing less than an animalistic desire. It was fast-paced and messy but you loved it.

The dam finally broke.

You kissed with more than your lips, his hands on your waist, squeezing tight as he rolled his hips into you with the rhythm of the music.

This was so so wrong, but it felt so right.

The way his tongue rolled over your bottom lip with such skill made your thighs clench, you could only imagine the things he could do with it--

"Y/n!" Sunny screams your name from behind you, not even processing what you and Jungkook had just been doing while Namjoon was busy enjoying the music behind her.

You turned around, a little breathless and bothered after being disrupted but you were immediately occupied with analyzing Sunny's appearance. For starters her hair was ruffled and looked like it'd been put through the wringer, her lipstick (what was left of it) was fading and a little smudged.

And last that you checked she was wearing lashes when the night began but they were nowhere to be found. "Sunny where did you go-- Oh my god- Did you and Namjoon-" Her non-stop nodding causes you to clasp your hand over your mouth.

"It's him! He remembers me!" The two of you have your moment, squealing before Jungkook whispers in your ear. "Meet me at the elevator in 5." Sunny actually does catch on this time.

"Oh my god!? Are you gonna-"

You think about it, "I don't know!! Should I?! Daehyun just voluntarily admitted to sending nudes to Soo-Min god knows when and-" Sunny groans. "Leave him, for the love of god y/n stand up!" She yells.

"I can't just leave him he's my boyfriend, and it wouldn't make me any better than him." Sunny's eyes roll. "It won't be cheating if you plan on breaking up with his ass tonight. Just hurry up and decide, Jungkook's waiting for you." She winks and it gives you butterflies.

He was waiting for you.

The moment you turned the corner of the hallway, you saw Jungkook waiting outside the elevator as he said he would be, finally pressing the button. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he laughs internally to himself at the double entendre, knowing Jungkook's track record, this has never been an issue for him.

The two of you step inside the elevator, it would be a long ride up to the 21st floor, the two of you did your best to stay to your respective sides of the elevator until there was a crowd of people that entered as well, pushing you into him.

Completely oblivious to the way your ass was pressed flush against his crotch, he looks up to the ceiling, wondering what he'd done in his past life to deserve this kind of punishment.

A beautiful girl pressed up against him but he couldn't do anything. As the crowd moved, so did you he hisses and your body stills, finally aware of what you were doing.

On the 13th floor the elevator empties completely, leaving just the two of you and you try to move away from him but his grip holds you in place. "Didn't think you'd be running from me so soon." You'd never heard his voice like this. It was deeper, bass full of wants and desires,

He spins you around, he had you cornered.

Looking up to him with that doe gaze of yours. His index finger gently rests under your chin, your gaze was practically begging him to kiss you, but in case he was hesitating you nodded just a little, permitting him to open your lips with his.

This kiss was a lot slower and deeper than the one before. It was soft and sweet, but slowly turned into a full-blown make-out session by the time the elevator made it to the 21st floor.

He leads the way to his room at the end of the hall, beside Hoseok's room.

Jungkook worked on unlocking the door while you chewed on the tip of your acrylic. Were you really about to do this?

"I'm going in my room, and you don't have to follow, but I'm leaving the door unlocked." He says, disappearing behind the door. Looking over your shoulder, your room was 4 doors down.

You could still back out now, it wasn't too late.

All you would need to do is have a long talk with Daehyun.

You scoff, even his name irritated you. Your heart knew things weren't going to work out between the two of you once you got back home, regardless of whether you slept with Jungkook or not.

He's broken your trust far too many times, and besides, Sunny was right, he is an asshole.

You walk into Jungkook's room and make sure to lock the door behind you.

"That's my girl," He purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before gracing you with a heated kiss, the kind of kiss that made you stumble as he walked you back to the door.

"Hope you put that phone on dnd." He whispers, kissing down your neck, skillfully managing to take your hair down at the same time. You looked like the epitome of sin, hair falling over your shoulders as if it fell from grace while your neck was littered with hickeys, your plump bottom lip tugged between those perfect teeth of yours.

Your dress was the first thing to go, he loved it on you, but it served its purpose, and it did it well. Soon his jacket was finally off revealing his muscular build that you'd seen in the fan cams but it couldn't compare to the real thing.

You kissed him back desperately as your legs were wrapped around his waist while he made his way to the bed, dropping you down to your back watching the way you bounced.

Your perfect tits are the first victim of his passionate affection. Leaving tender kisses on the soft flesh, "Jungkook-" you gasp feeling him wrap his lips around your nipples, tongue working hard to push you towards that edge that you'd been inching closer to since you got in here.

He groans as he feels your hands roam over his back, anticipating the feeling of your nails scratching his skin. Finally moving down from your breasts once they were covered with his kisses and hickeys.

You could feel yourself practically soaking through your under, not to mention the way it was sticking to you. "Looks like someone's worked up," he teases, slowly peeling you out of your ruined underwear.

"What's got you so hot and bothered, is it your boyfriend?" You sit up so fast almost getting a head rush and he laughs. "Jungkook." You say and he gives you a look of lust. "What? Say it baby, use your words. Tell me who makes you this wet. Is it me or him?"

You press your legs together, unable to believe that this was turning you on more. "He couldn't turn me on." He looks up to you with wide eyes. "Is that so?" Nodding your head slowly, letting Jungkook gently push you back down to the bed.

On his knees he takes a deep breath at your core, a guttural sound rumbling in his chest as he was face to face with your dripping core. "So you're saying it's me?" he asks, letting his tongue run a flat stripe against your soaked folds.

"YES! It's you Jungkook please, stop teasing, please I can't take it. I'm already so close." You beg, body thrashing around enough for him to pin your legs over his shoulder and to keep you still.

You were stroking his ego, telling you you were already so close and he's barely touched you. Your boyfriend must've been shit in bed, and he was determined to make it up to you. He was going to show you what you've been missing.

Finally eating you out to his heart's content, ignoring the way your feet continued to move frantically over his shoulders he lapped up at your core, flicking his tongue over your clit until your body spasmed uncontrollably. "I'm-" Unable to even finish the sentence before you were blinded by an earth-shattering orgasm.

It ripped through you like a storm and came squirting out of you just like one too. "You've got to fucking kidding me," Jungkook murmurs to himself and you froze. Was he mad?

He stands up, "Of course the hottest girl I've ever seen squirts on my tongue. Good fucking hell, Y/n. It's like you want me obsessed with you." Who was he kidding, he was already obsessed.

He picked you up so carelessly, bringing you to the balcony where it overlooked the Las Vegas strip. You could see the hotel's illuminated pool and all the car lights as they zoomed on the highway far in the distance.

"Hope you're not scared of heights."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of being so high up, but it was all forgotten once your leg was propped up and you felt your folds being prodded open by the fat head of Jungkook's cock.

"No- fuck! Wait." you cursed feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of his size nearly causing you to fall but he held you steady against the railing, bulging biceps on either side of your body, caging you in safely.

Jungkook knew better, this should be the last place he should be doing something like this but with your pretty ass right in front of him it was such a beautiful sight, and the scenery was cool too.

"It's too much," you pant, arms bracing yourself on the fence that kept you from falling 200 feet below. "It's only the tip baby, you sure you can take the whole thing?" You pause in thought, you needed him, all of him. "I can take it. keep going." You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every nook and cranny of your womb.

It felt like he was in your lungs, you were knocked breathless, and he didn't move. Your body went limp in his arms, exactly what he feared would happen. He quite literally split you open, but you were determined to take it.

You clawed at the railing desperately, looking for any kind of relief from what you were feeling. "Deep breaths baby, I'll go slow." You nod, eyes squeezed shut as his hips slowly roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in.

"Oo-oh. fuck. Jungkook, keep going." you moan, head falling onto your hands; feeling what was once pain morphs into an addicting, sweet pleasure, over time his pace picks up until he was fucking into you with no remorse.

Even if no one could see you from this high up, they sure as hell could hear you. The way you cried out his name like a prayer over and over while Jungkook's brain was short-circuiting with the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds it created.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this, huh?" He angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace even though you've already come twice now. Your body jolts with each snap of his hips.

You shake your head, but that isn't enough for him, flipping you around so that you're facing him, he pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Use your words Y/n. You're my smart girl, look me in the eyes and tell me that your boyfriend could never fuck you like I do." Your eyes snap open, "He c-could never fuck-!" Jungkook slowed down his thrusts to something so much deeper, your eyes rolled and Jungkook nearly came just at the sight.

"Shit, I'm gonna come." He pants, and with a few more erratic thrusts you feel his warm cum fill you up. He slowly lets you stand but your legs fail you immediately. Scooping you up in his arms effortlessly he brings you to the bed, clearly not done with you.

That's how you found yourself on the brink of your third orgasm while Jungkook plowed into you from behind, obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock.

Your arms had given out long ago hence why your cheek was smushed into the sheets of the bed while you whimpered like a whore. "God you should look at yourself," He laughs almost maniacally from behind you.

Feeling himself approach his climax, "Jungkook- please!" you cried out, the friction only adding to the stimulation, "m' gonna-" you try to get back up on your arms but you couldn't move.

"I wonder what your boyfriend would say if he saw you like this,'' A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he reaches for your phone that was forgotten somewhere on the bed, hitting record.

Pulling you up onto your arms, tugging your hair by a makeshift ponytail, the flash highlights the various bruises all over your body left by yours truly. The audio was picking up his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the room was quiet enough you could probably hear the welt squelch of your cunt sucking in his length with each push.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cry out, coming once more and your body goes limp, Jungkook ends the recording and tosses the phone to the side while he chases his own high finishing soon after you.

He pulls out slowly, "Y/n, baby? Are you with me?" He taps your cheek gently, and your eyes barely open, "I think you fucked the soul out of me," He dares to flash you a nervous smile as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

"That was one hell of a trip." You mumble to Sunny on the phone as you wheel your suitcase down the hall to the door of your apartment where there was a big bouquet of flowers.

"Oh my god," You say, crouching down, wincing a little as you did to read the card. "What?" Sunny asks and you explain what you were seeing.

"Do you think they're from Daehyun?" You scoff, "Fat chance."

You open the envelope to read the card aloud,

'To the hottest girl. We should get donuts sometime, I heard you like them cream-filled ;) Text me sometime xxx-xxx-xxx. -J.K'

Sunny squealed in your ear.

"I'll call you back." You say, dialling Jungkook's number.

"Hello?" He answers.

"You got me flowers?" You couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face, and he could hear it. He closed his fridge and leaned on the counter, "You like 'em?"

Holding the vase in your hand you take a deep sniff, "I love them."

He shakes his head. "This is so sad. You're too easy to impress. Let me treat you better than that jerk, Y/n." Your mouth falls open-

"How- What?"

"Jimin mentioned the details to me but don't get mad at him; it doesn't change the fact that the guy is an asshole." You sigh.

"I know."

"So?" Jungkook starts, waiting for you to say something.

"I think you mentioned something about cream-filled donuts. When and where?"

He smiles.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jungkook fic recs #bts one shot #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #btssmuts #bts scenarios #fluff #bts smut #smut

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eldulcopatato · 26 days ago

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"Keep It Cute, Keep It Quiet"

pairing: george clarkey x fem!reader

warnings: none!

summary: When George's lack of transparency about your relantionship and frustration by online rumors about him and Cinna finally pushes you over the edge, deciding you're done being his secret.

word count: 700

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵˚₊

You and George had been together for seven months.

Private, not secret. That’s what he always said.

He didn’t want to deal with “people being weird,” didn’t want to give the internet too much. You understood. You didn’t love it, but you got it. You were patient. Supportive. Chill.

Until Inside happened.

It started with harmless clips.

Cinna joining the group. George greeting her with that goofy smile. Them vibing, bouncing off each other’s jokes, becoming lowkey inseparable.

You didn’t say anything. You knew George. You trusted him.

But then came the TikToks. The fan edits. The comment sections that became unhinged.

“they’d be so cute together 😭” “george & cinna have serious main character energy ngl” “he never looks at anyone like that i’m sorry 😭😭” “they BETTER be together off cam”

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. They were just shippers. Parasocials. But it kept getting worse.

Because even after the show, George and Cinna started streaming together. Frequently.

Usually with the group—Jason, Millie, and the other contestants. But sometimes? Just them two.

You’d pop into the stream chat, lurking silently, watching them mess around in different games. She’d say something flirty—probably as a joke—and George would laugh.

Too loud. Too fond.

“george and cinna streaming alone again??? they are not hiding it anymore omfg” “if they start matching profile pics i’m throwing myself into the sea”

You asked him about it once.

He just blinked at you. “What, me and Cinna? Babe… she’s just a mate. You know that.”

And yeah, you did. But that didn’t stop it from stinging every time she popped up on your FYP. Every time you saw a new fancam titled “cinna making george blush for 2 minutes straight”.

And the whole time… You were just in the background. A ghost.

Until that night.

You were lying in bed, scrolling, and came across another viral tweet.

“i’d bet money george and cinna are a thing, they’re too comfy around each other”

Something in you snapped.

You opened your camera roll. Found a photo from two nights ago—taken after a long dinner date. You’d been straddling George on the sofa, jacket half off one shoulder, messy hair, his hands all over your waist. You were kissing him. His jaw, slightly tilted up, eyes closed.

It was hot. Obvious. Intimate.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

Then added the caption: “not just comfy x” Posted it straight to your Instagram story. No tags. No explanations.

You locked your phone and tossed it aside.

It took about 45 seconds for your phone to explode.

Twitter? In shambles. TikTok? Full of scream edits and breakdown videos. Instagram? DMs blowing up. People were analyzing your bracelets, zooming in on George’s hands, comparing hoodie strings to old footage.

“WHO IS SHE AND HOW DO I BECOME HER??” “CINNA STANS WE LOST 😭” “she ATE. she WON. no crumbs left.”

You didn’t even hear from George until ten minutes later.

George: ??? George: babe what did you just DO George: you know everyone’s going mad right???

You finally replied.

You: well now they know George: you mad at me? You: you think?

Typing… typing… George: i didn’t mean to make you feel hidden You: you didn’t mean to. but you did. George: come over. please.

You showed up at his flat an hour later.

He was waiting at the door, hoodie on, hair messy, expression wrecked.

“You posted that ‘cause of Cinna?” he asked quietly.

You stared at him. “You think I wanted to watch people ship you with someone else every day while I stayed invisible?”

He stepped closer, hands sliding around your waist.

“I should’ve posted about you months ago.”

You didn’t reply. Just stared.

Then he kissed you. Soft, slow, apologetic.

“Can I post something now?” he whispered against your lips.

You smirked. “You better.”

An hour later, George uploaded a blurry polaroid to his grid.

You, in his lap. Laughing. Kissing his cheek. His arm curled around your waist. Caption: “she’s not just comfy x”

“REAL RECOGNISES REAL” “i forgive him for hiding her bc she is CLEARLY the one” “ngl i respect the reveal game. they held onto that like champs.” “cinna shippers i am so sorry 💀 the girlfriend had RECEIPTS”

#george clarke #george clarkey #george clarke fics #george clarkey imagine #george clarkey x reader #george clarkey x y/n #uk youtubers #ukyt #george clarkey x you

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davinawritings · 3 months ago

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His Pretty Girl

Hello! This is a commission for one of my Werewolf's Mate members on Patreon! I hope you enjoy!

Request: Male hybrid cat x female reader. I want to have the guy to be mostly humanoid. So like cat ears and tails or whatever else comes to mind. Just like no like full on cat head or paws. And I want him to be a yandere. Reader- shy and introverted. Other than that you have full creative freedom.

Pairing: Male Cat Hybrid X Fem Reader

Summary: Simon quickly became your best friend but he wants more. He wants you to belong to him and only him and is willing to do anything to have you. He has waited long enough so he finally puts his plans into action to make sure you are all his.

Word Count: 2,547

Warnings: Yandere, Manipulation, Smut, Creampie, Very Brief Talk Of Oral

Simon had become attached to you from your very first meeting at freshman orientation. In his eyes, both of you choosing the same college had to be fate. He adored how shy you were when he first approached you to introduce himself. The way you gave him a soft smile but could barely meet his eyes when he spoke to you just made him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

While you both became best friends fast, he knew he needed more. Simon wants you to be his completely, mind, body, and soul. He wants you to want him and need him more than anyone. You are so perfect for him—so sweet, shy, and beautiful. He has spent the last two years becoming inseparable from you, but now it is time for more. He needs you to be entirely his.

His first step brings him to now, with you crying in his apartment. He knew it was wrong to alienate you from all of your childhood friends, but he needs to be the most important person in your life. He’s not happy that it’s causing you pain, but it is necessary for your future together.

You lay against his chest while he reclines on his couch, sobs escaping your soft lips as you cling to him. His pointed ears twitch at the sound of your sadness, gently purring to try and calm you down. His tail stays wrapped around your plush thigh firmly as a comforting gesture. He lets you release all your built-up feelings, his large hands rubbing up and down your back.

You had come over about an hour ago, tears already pouring down your cheeks. It didn’t take him long to pry the reason out of you between sobs and gasping breaths. You had been texting your friends back home, but they all seemed to be icing you out. None of them would respond to your messages. You had no idea why they would suddenly stop speaking to you, but Simon knew why.

Two weeks ago, when you slept at his place, he had gone into your contacts and blocked all of your friends. He knew it would hurt you, but he would make sure that he stepped up and showed you that he was the only person you needed. He was ready to do anything for you and be the only person you needed. So he kept you in his arms and cooed soft words in your ears about how amazing you are.

His words are comforting and calming as he reassures, “I know, darling. It’s okay. Let all your tears out. I’m not sure why they won’t talk to you, but you did nothing wrong, pretty girl. I’m here for you. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll never leave you like they did, darling. You will always have me”. He smiles as your sobs finally start calming, happy with the way you are clinging to him.

He waits a few more weeks before making his next move. He waits until Tuesday night when you close the small bookstore where you work. All your coworkers take one night each week to take the closing shift, making it fair for everyone. Simon waits and watches while you do all the closing duties. He makes sure to stay hidden as you lock the door and start going to your car, ready to go home for the night.

He waits a few extra minutes to be safe before walking up to the door and opening it. Last week, he made an imprint of your work keys, the one for the shop’s front door and the key for your locker. He quickly had copies made, and now he had access to everything. He moves around, trashing the entire store, ripping pages out of books, and knocking over the shelves. Simon then moves to the register, smashing it with a large book. He quickly takes out all the cash before dumping the coins all over the floor, making an even bigger mess.

He makes sure not to harm or break the door, leaving it untouched and unlocked as he makes his way out of the store. He quickly stops at the local grocery store and picks up some of your favorite comfort foods, knowing you will need them tomorrow.

Wednesday evening rolls around, and Simon is waiting for you to arrive. Your shift should have started at two and ended at seven, but he is sure you will be in his apartment before then. He is proven correct when he hears his apartment door open, and you come running to him. The tears are already falling as you cling to him. He runs his hands through your hair in a soothing manner, asking gently, “What happened, pretty girl?”

You sniffle and explain, “I got fired Simon. Som-Someone broke into the bookstore last night. They ruined all the books and stole the money in the register”. You take a deep breath, and he uses the opportunity to ask, “Why would you get fired for someone breaking in? That isn’t your fault”.

You release a sob and explain, “They said I left the door unlocked and that’s how the person broke in. I tried to tell them that I know I locked it but they wouldn’t belie- believe me. They said the lock wasn’t broken, and none of the windows were broken, so I must have left it unlocked. I swear I didn’t, Simon. I always make sure to lock up on my night. Now they fired me, and I don’t have a job, and I only have a couple of months’ worth of rent in my savings, so I need to find a new job within the next few weeks- and I… I…”.

Simon purrs softly and pulls you closer to his chest to calm you as your sobs begin breaking up your words again. “Everything will be okay, pretty girl. You don’t need that job anyway. I can help take care of anything you need until you get back on your feet”, he says, his tail rubbing up and down your leg affectionately.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck, and you cling to him even more, whispering out a “Thank you” as he puts your mind at ease. He places a kiss on your forehead before saying, “Go ahead and get comfortable on the couch. I’ll grab some snacks, and we can have a movie night”. You give a slight sniffle before giving him a shy smile, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek before running off to his couch to get comfortable. He smiles as he watches you run off, his cock twitching in excitement, almost as if it knows how much closer he is to claiming you completely.

He only waits a few days before acting on the third part of his plan. He knocks on your landlord’s door, an unmarked folder in his hands. Your sleazy landlord opens the door, but Simon cuts him off before he even has a chance to speak. “Listen, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to double the rent for the woman in apartment 2C. You tell her the new price starts immediately, and she has to pay or get out by the end of the month, which is in exactly three days. If you don’t do that, I will send copies of these photos to the cops”.

Simon doesn’t hesitate to pull out several photos of your landlord dealing drugs outside your apartment building. He watches the landlord’s eyes go wide as he flips through photo after photo, each showing clear photo evidence of his crimes. His voice wobbles as he asks, “So I kick the girl outta 2C, and you swear these photos disappear?”. Simon gives a simple nod, which is enough for the landlord to agree. Now, all Simon needs to do is wait; luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.

That evening, you come crying into Simons’s apartment, practically collapsing in his arms. Tears flow freely once more as you lean on the only person you have in the world. He pulls you onto the couch once again, keeping you wrapped tight in his arms. He releases soft purrs to calm you as you explain you have to be out of your apartment in three days because your landlord raised your rent. Your tears come faster as you begin panicking.

His ears twitch slightly as your cries pull at his heart. His voice is soft as he says, “Don’t worry, your pretty little head. You can live here with me. I’ll take care of you”. He has to physically bite the inside of his lip as you stare up at him with glossy eyes, a look of love and adoration on your face.

You calm your breathing slightly before asking, “Are you sure, Si? It doesn’t seem fair for me to just move in with you. I only have a little bit of money in my savings, so I can’t pay you much for rent, and I don’t even have a new job yet.”

He affectionately strokes your cheek as his tail moves to wrap around your upper thigh, its favorite place to be. He gives you an innocent smile and replies, “Of course, I’m sure. Haven’t you realized that I love you more than anything in the world, pretty girl? No one loves you as much as I do. Plus, now we get to spend all our time together. It will be even better. I don’t want you to worry anymore, okay? I can and will take care of my favorite girl”.

This time, he can’t suppress his grin as you nuzzle your face into his neck, curling your body into his own as much as possible. Simon lets his hands roam up and down your back, happy you don’t stop him when his hands roam lower than they ever have.

He can already feel his cock hardening as you say, “Thank you so much, Simon. I really can’t express how grateful I am to have you in my life. When everything goes wrong, you are always there to take care of me”. Simon pulls you closer, once again promising to always be there for you.

Over the next few days, Simon helps you move into his home, insisting that you both share one bed. He makes sure to cater to all your needs and make you feel loved and safe. He’s overjoyed when you genuinely seem to only focus on him. No more plans with other people, no more leaving him for hours to go to work, and no more interrupting phone calls from childhood friends and family.

He lets you adjust for the first few weeks in his home, but he quickly grows impatient. The need to make you his completely is building with each day. As you both lie in bed, he finally decides to put his last plan into place tonight.

The moon is high in the sky as he shifts around in his spot on the bed, occasionally letting little sighs escape him. It doesn’t take long for you to ask what’s wrong. Simon puts on his best-embarrassed face and tells you, “It’s nothing. Just get some rest. I’m okay”.

His cock hardens as you shift closer to him, placing one of your hands on his chest and pleading, “Please tell me, Si.” He pretends to be embarrassed again as he tells you, “It’s just that you are so pretty, and having you in my bed… well, it just kind of got me a little… you know… worked up”.

He can see when you piece together what he is trying to say. He watches, slightly amused, as you become his sweet, shy girl again. He knows his pretty girl is too nice to leave him to solve his problem by himself, especially after all the recent events.

Simon can feel his tip leaking precum as you say, “I can help if you want.” He pretends to be nervous, telling you you don’t have to. You immediately say, “I want to help. Si, you have been so good to me, especially these last few weeks. It’s my turn to help take care of you. Please let me take care of you”.

He nods and can’t hide his eagerness as he quickly slots himself between your soft thighs. Tomorrow he will spend hours worshiping your body and licking your cunt, but right now, all he wants is to feel you wrapped around his throbbing cock. He strips you both of your clothes as fast as he can, needing to feel your skin against his own.

His tail caresses your upper thigh, causing you to shiver. He grins at the sight, knowing just how much fun he’ll have teasing your body every day. He pushes your legs up, placing your legs over his chest. Grabbing his cock in his right hand, he rubs it along your puffy slit, making sure to tap the head on your clit. Precum drips from his tip as you release little mewls and whimpers.

Your slick starts to coat his cock as he continues rutting against you, his cock sliding between your lips. He continues until you beg for more. Your begging is like music to his ears, hearing how much you need and want him. He lines up with your weeping cunt, taking a moment to admire the sight and tell you how beautiful you look like this.

With one hard thrust, he enters your tight pussy, finally feeling you wrapped around him where you belong. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as he sets a slow but hard pace. He wants you to feel every inch of his cock, every ridge and vein. He leans down, kissing you with a burning passion. His tongue caresses your own, and he groans in delight. Your legs press to your chest, and you are at his mercy. He grins as he feels your cunt start fluttering around his length.

Simon’s thrusts slowly pick up speed as he gets closer to his own high. Your nails dig into his skin and leave little crescent-shaped marks as you arch your back and cry out. Your pussy clenches down on his cock hard and triggers his release. He moans as he feels rope after rope of cum filling you up. He keeps thrusting despite the overstimulation, wanting to fuck his cum deeper inside you.

He slows to a stop and takes a moment for you both to catch your breath. He reluctantly pulls out, smiling softly at your little whine. He kisses your lips briefly before saying, “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m just going to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back”.

He makes quick work of walking to the restroom and wetting a washcloth. He returns and gently wipes you clean before wiping himself and tossing the rag into the hamper. He climbs back into the bed and pulls you into his chest. He purrs quietly as you curl into him, already dozing off.

Simon finally feels at peace, knowing his pretty girl is all his. There’s nothing that will ever take you from him now.

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tbgblr2 · 1 month ago

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Home Videos

As its mothers day in the UK, I couldn't let the day go without a story of someone becoming a mother. So here's one I saved up from a while ago from a roleplay I did with @allkindsofpreg. Hope you enjoy it.

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Some people would call it… unconventional, but it’s just the way we are. My phone is streaming birth videos to the tv, one after another. You give a little grunt. I look over and you give me a weary smile. We started our video marathon four hours ago after the third hour of contractions, both of us confident that this was the real deal. We had watched countless babies being born and right at this moment you were sitting on a towel, your trousers and underwear discarded, your fingers rubbing tight little circles on your clit as we watched the mother pull her legs back. You pull your top up and expose your belly, the fabric scrunching up under your breasts. I lean over and wrap my arm over your shoulder, my other hand reaching down to follow the route of your fingers. Your head lolls back as you sigh, the contraction finally passing.

“They make it look so quick,” you grumble, leaning heavily against the headboard as another head crowns and pops free on the tv.

I chuckle and move my hand to cup your firm stomach. “Movie magic, love,” I assure you. “We can edit ours to look that way too if you want.” The idea of going back later and rewatching the birth of our child together sends a shiver of excitement through us both. “Could maybe speed things up though.” My hand moves up to brush your nipple and you arch into my touch.

With some assistance, you get your legs folded underneath your ass and get to your knees. I follow. Your belly presses into mine and you loop your arms around my neck. Our lips find each other and my other hand reaches between your legs, the long, lazy strokes causing you to pant and moan along with the woman on the screen.

You don’t pull away as your core begins to tighten, just move to rest your head on my shoulder. Your hips sway in time with my movements until you're practically riding my fingers. I can feel when you stiffen, and gently nudge you back into rhythm. “Keep it loose. Just relax and let the baby move down on its own.”

“So heavy,” you mumble against my skin, and my grip moves to lift your belly. The relief is instant, gravity no longer pulling constantly at the small of your back, and you pull tighter against me. “Thank you.” you hum in acknowledgement, but it’s soon drowned out by your string of curses as the contraction crests.

“Fuck, shit, ow, ow ow ow.” You sink lower and lean forward, hips widening and belly lowering to rest on the bed. From here it’s easy to see how much I'm enjoying this, and you almost laugh when my hard cock twitches in response to your panted breaths.

“Done?” I ask, eyes questioning as you straighten up with a smile.

“It’s only just beginning my love.” A particularly wild scream draws our attention back to the playlist and your hand instinctively searches your own opening as the woman struggles against a massive bulge. “Check me,” you plead, desperate for some sense of fullness as you wait to be where she is. My palm cups your pussy, and all you want to do in that moment is fill it with the head of our child.

I move to get behind you, as you shuffle your elbows forward and hitch up your ass to give me better access. “I’d better remember this position for next time, seems like a perfect height for my hips…”

You turn your head, blowing out a breath in turn as you grunt “don’t think about next time… right now I’m thinking this time”

“I know baby you’re doing really well” I say automatically in response, all the while my fingers were cupping your opening. You grunt an acknowledgement and prompt me with “you were checking” as I giggle “yes dear!”

You suck in your breath as you feel my fingers slip in and probe deeper, feeling around. “You’re… you’re doing very well baby.” My obvious skirting around the number and tone has you picking up on it. “How much?” You gasp, puffing out the breath you were holding.

I try and sound cheerful “you’re at 6, almost there” I say. We both know you were at 5cm 2 hours ago and hadn’t really progressed.

You grunted a ‘damn’ as you elbow walked back and with my help got you back upright.

I glanced over to the four cameras we had placed over the room to record things, all were still blinking their lights showing they were still recording.

“Do you need to do anything with those?” You ask, pushing your top back above your bump and rubbing circles against the skin.

“No, not yet, they can do 6 hours each on the cards. If needs be and we get to 5 hours I’ll make sure I swap them over before anything spicy happens”

We started recording when we set the movie marathon away 3 hours ago.

“So speaking of spicy” you say coyly… “it sounds like we need to get things moving.”

I smile and run my hands down the length of your thighs. “You just want me for my sperm,” I tease. We’d read that it could help soften the cervix, and you’re desperate for anything that might speed things up.

“Mm,” You hum unapologetically and crane your neck back to look at me. “Kind of how I got into this mess in the first place, yeah?”

I lean forward and capture your lips in a kiss, then gently lower you down so you’re lying down on the bed facing away from me. Grabbing a bunch of pillows to nest and wedge around your awkward aching body, we manage to get your belly supported and knee propped forward and up enough to give me adequate access from behind. I wrap my body around yours, kissing down your neck and shoulder as my hand caresses down your curves, inching lower and lower until it finds your clit. I start torturously slow, effectively distracting you through several more contractions.

“I’m close,” You warn, and I nip playfully at your skin to keep you from tumbling over the edge just yet even as my fingers move rougher, faster. You whine in protest when I stop, but the stimulation quickly reappears at your opening. I drag my stiff cock up and down between your folds and you're already so wet it doesn’t take much before I’m prodding, pushing, thrusting.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan as I bury myself deep inside you. Your ability to move is limited, so you’re at my mercy as I slide in and out, in and out, adjusting the angle slightly each time until I find the one that makes you gasp and shiver and beg, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?”

You can only whimper as your own fingers find your clit. Another contraction is building and you know I can feel it too as I struggle to hold back from release as your internal muscles clench and spasm around me. My pace quickens and my arm wraps around your belly, giving me a bit of leverage to hit just a little bit deeper and sending us both over the edge.

The pleasurable muscular contractions from the orgasm mingle with the painful ones from labour, heightening both sensations and causing you to cry out. You intertwine your fingers with the ones I have moulded to the curve of your stomach and pant harshly until the vice loosens. There’s a new persistent twinge in your back and your other arm is beginning to go numb.

“Maybe you should stand for a bit - help the baby move down some?” you manage, panting from the exertion all the while.

I give you help to get up, your “oooh” of appreciation towards letting you straighten your back echoing in my ears. We position ourselves face to face, your arms wrapped around my shoulders loosely and my hands holding either side of your bump as we begin to sway with each other, the next contraction building. We rest forehead to forehead as I whisper to you “keep it going you’re doing great”. You don’t respond straight away, focusing on the pain until it finally releases, and you blow out a breath. Then, with a grin, you tilt your head back and look me in the eye as you say “you’re running down my inner thigh.”

We both burst into giggles as I rub my knee up and down your inner leg, moving it side to side to separate your knees, sure enough I feel the wet sloppiness against my skin.

“Will just have to break your waters and wash it all away” I reply.

“Don’t you dare, this baby comes when this baby comes” you groan as the next contraction picks up. Just before you go inward and focus on the contraction you whisper “though I think it might come pretty soon.”

We dance around in circles for the duration of the contraction, my eyes checking back on the tv screen. The lady on there is squatting down pushing hard, not making a sound other than occasional grunts as she pushes. “Staying upright seems to work for her, perhaps we should give it a go.”

It’s harder than you expect to stay on your feet, the full weight of gravity adding to the strain and pressure in your back, hips and legs. But I'm always there to support you and the freedom to pace and sway and bend and squat is easily worth the effort.

You lean forward, pressing your palms into the edge of the dresser as another contraction begins to build. I come up behind and trace my fingers up your sides to cup your breasts. I give them a gentle massage and the pain ratchets up a few notches in response. It takes your breath away in a high pitched moan and your legs widen out of instinct, though it does little to alleviate the mounting pressure.

“It feels like I’m about to pop,” you manage to make out with a little bounce and sway, as if that might have any effect on your waters. “Come on, baby, I know you must be ready to come out.” The only response was a sharpening of pain that had you doubled completely over.

“Hey, remember the woman on the tv,” I whisper, a gentle suggestion.

You turn your head and again am faced with the mother in a deep squat struggling hard against her child’s large head. You nod, and I help lower you so that your ass is almost to the floor. Your knees flare out to the side, your hard stomach rounding out between them like a huge bowling ball. You ride out the rest of the contraction this way before returning your eyes to the screen.

“Pretty soon there will be a head between these legs,” you say, your hand reaching back to search for mine.

I find it and kiss your cheek. “Very soon, my love,” I assure you as I help you back to your feet.

You turn to look into my eyes - they are a mixture of excitement and adoration and lust. You take one of my hands and position it between your legs. “Here is where the head of the child we made together will be. My legs wide open for you, just like they were on the night of conception, skin bulging into a tight dome, hole burning and stretching, being born right into our own hands.” This is our idea of dirty talk and it mixes with the desperate whines of the birth video and my fingers once again dance and stroke between your folds.

You don’t want to move as the next contraction picks up, so you grab onto my shoulders as ripples of sensation flow through your body. I know you so well that I somehow bring you to the precipice once again and your body clenches at the same time the contraction peaks and there is such a massive release that your knees buckle and you would have certainly fallen to the ground if I didn’t catch you.

When you come down from the high after a few breaths, you notice that it’s not just my hand that’s wet, but your legs and the floor as well. “Either that was one hell of a squirt, or my water just broke.”

The splash you just released was audibly loud, but lost on you as you gasped at the same time. My ankles and feet were soaked, caught in the splash back but to my inexperienced eyes it certainly looked like your waters had broken. The next contraction came fast - much sooner than any previous ones leading up to it, and based on the howl you made, was certainly more noticeable. Your fingers clamped down on my arms, my biceps feeling like you were trying to rip them out of place. I grimaced as you continued to yell at the unexpected intensity. My hands found a way to either side of the small of your back and you fell into the embrace, your forehead burying into my chest as you screamed into it. Finally after the longest 30 seconds of your life you managed a sniffling gasp, the contraction over.

“That one was hard?” I enquired. You just nodded, eyes filled with tears. Finally you gave a shuddering sob and said that the waters being gone meant you felt the full weight of the baby, with no cushioning… and with gravity adding to it… it hurt, bad.

We agreed we would get you down onto your hands and knees on the bed and see how the next one felt. It took a few moments of clambering to get you repositioned but eventually you settled as you gave a warning “it’s starting again.”

Thankfully this contraction wasn’t as painful - not sure if it was simply because of the fact you knew what to expect or indeed not being upright did help, but you vocalised with loud moans and groans whilst rubbing your belly, your weight supported on one hand and your knees. I pulled your hair back and tied it into a ponytail as I kneeled next to you, one hand wrapped over your shoulder, the other on top of your hand rubbing the belly, and my lips kissing the side of your neck.

Shortly after the moans and groans subsided as the contraction let go. “That sounds like it helped?” I asked.

You nodded, still certainly feeling more and more pain compared to before your water broke. “I feel the head behind my pubic bone” you say, your voice shaky. “It’s moving down.”

“Ahh” I say, racking my brain to think of something we had watched in a preparing for birth video. “I saw something about putting your knees together and lowering your ass to the ground, that opens the pelvis.”

You nodded as you rested whilst you could. I looked at the clock in the room, muttering under my breath.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Cameras need to be played with.” I said. “Can you believe we’ve been at this for 5 hours now?”

Your head turns toward me “Yes!” you yell, mentally recounting the aches, pains and orgasms you’ve experienced so far.

“Don’t go anywhere” I say as I scramble up to swap the cards and check on batteries for the cameras. The ones in three corners of the room were straightforward, but the one we mounted above the TV unit - intended to give a nice wide angle shot of the room and hopefully catch you pushing - needed to grab the steps from the corridor. As I set them up you ploughed your head into the pillows and groaned, yelling at me to hurry back, the next contraction building.

I fiddled and fumbled with the camera, pulling out one of the SD cards and dropping it in my haste to put the other one in and start recording again. I glance down and couldn’t see it, mentally noting that I’d have to look for it when everything was over.

Jumping down off the steps I rush back over to you and catch a glimpse of your pussy exposed on the bed. Where it had been smooth before it was now noticeably bulging - your gasping cry announcing “I felt a pop I think the head got past my pelvic bone.”

The contractions are relentless—long, intense waves that crash over you one right on top of the other. You couldn’t move from this position if you wanted to, and I support you the best I can but your whining moans are constant.

“Too fast. It’s too fast.” You keep repeating it over and over, as if your labouring body would pay any heed to your concerns. But an invisible force has hold of you, and it seems to be reaching up inside, clenching and squeezing a battering ram slowly but forcefully against a hole far too small for it to pass through.

“What can I do?”

You don’t have the mental strength to turn your head to look at me, but you can hear my concern in my voice. You give my hand a little squeeze to let me know you’re okay. “Hot compress, please.”

I check the bowl of water we had prepared earlier for just this situation. The water wasn’t quite as hot as it had been, but squeezing out the facecloth inside it still felt warm to my fingers. The cloth was warm and comforting on your aching pussy and you press back further into my palm. Perhaps it slowed the descent to a more bearable pace, or perhaps it was enough to give you some illusion of control over the primal roiling in your body; either way, you were able to come back to yourself and focus on your breathing, on my touch, on the incredible, if terribly painful, sensation of our child’s head moving through your hips.

It takes a good half hour for the contractions to begin to slow again, and once there’s actually enough space between them for you to rest, you sigh deeply and slump over onto your side.

Your face is red and damp and lined from being buried in the pillows for so long, but I'm there with a cool washcloth this time, placing it on your forehead and giving you an adoring smile.

“Well that was intense,” you say with a chuckle, reaching out to brush your fingers against my jaw.

I take your hand, twisting it to kiss your palm. “You’re doing amazing, mama.”

The word sends a thrill through you, and you reach around your belly to the space between your legs. You’re surprised at how different it feels, the soft mound of your lips domed out by a harder object trapped behind them. You try to slip a finger inside to see if you can touch the head, but the angle and your current physical limitations make that difficult.

“Can you feel it?” You ask, finally giving up your own efforts.

I give you a quick peck on the lips before sliding my fingers into the spaces you couldn’t reach and stop just shy of the base. “Oh, baby. Hi, baby,” I coo, and your eyes well up.

“You’re touching our baby right now?” I nod in response.

The next contraction begins to build and the force of it alone pushes my fingers a little further out. “Won’t be long before you do too. Feeling the urge to push yet?”

You were going to say no, but your body answers for you as it curls in on itself and you let out a strangled, surprised yelp and bear down into your first real push.

“I can’t help it” you gasp as you come up for air after the involuntary push. “My body just won’t refuse… I can’t NOT push.”

I scramble around to sit next to you and rub your back as you gasp and once more bend forward, gritting your teeth, scrunching up your face and putting in the effort. In between contractions I dash out to the bathroom and bring a dish with a washcloth, ring it out and lay it on your head.

I lean back and grab the tv remote, turning off out little movie marathon… looks like it’s time to make our own.

Another two pushes like that and you’re panting. Finally though it seem to have released you from its grip, giving you some respite.

You collapse back, breathing deeply, my eyes drawn to your heaving breasts, moving up and down with your laboured breathing.

“That hurts more than I could have imagined” you say to me, in between your breaths. “I need something to take my mind off it… something top drawer.”

I know exactly what you mean and jump up off the bed, scuttling around to your side. I slide open the bedside drawers and pull out your pink vibrator - your favourite.

I flick it on - the buzzing sound coming on announces that the batteries are charged - and get back into my position.

“Hurry, hurry… I’m pushing… I’m pushing!” You trail off the last syllable lost to an anguished moan. I turn the vibe to low and rest it on your clit. The effect is immediate. You jump at the added sensation and let out a howl. Thinking I have hurt you in some way I pull it away rapidly and you practically hiss at me “don’t you fucking dare take that away until I say so.”

I gently lower it back onto your bud and press lightly, your howl turning into a moan of pleasure. “Faster, the contraction is ramping” you say as you hold your breath and push, my finger rubbing the control button with an audible increase in the vibrations.

Your hand darts out to the side and grabs me, the other gripping the sheets. Your vice-like grip clamps down at the first part of me you grab, wrapped firmly around my cock which had been hardening since watching the show.

I gasp in surprise—and maybe a tiny bit of pain—and you force your hand to loosen, to stroke, to tease. The contraction still has you in its grip, but there’s an undertone of familiarity in this mutual pleasuring. It gives your mind something else to focus on even while your body moans and tenses and struggles and heaves.

When the pain begins to recede, you take over the operation of the vibrator and I scoot to the end of the bed. I hastily prop you up with a mound of pillows and position myself between your knees. Your ass is practically hanging off the bed as you wrap your legs around my hips, pulling me closer. I press my palms into the bed on either side of you and lean forward over your belly to give you a deep kiss before pressing my cock against your pussy.

There is no longer enough space in there for both me and the baby, but you're wet with arousal and birthing fluids and the vibrations from your toy send shocks of sensation through us both. I begin to slide slowly through the rift between your folds, coating the length of me. As the lubrication increases, so does my speed and intensity, desperate to maintain that delicious friction.

Another contraction begins and I pause, eyes a bit glazed and breathing heavily but nonetheless more concerned with your pain than my pleasure. You uncross your ankles to let your knees fall open and pull back on your thighs, tossing the vibrator to the side for the moment. You throw your head back and push hard, biting back a guttural groan at the intense pressure that comes with it.

While all your focus is on pushing, I can’t help but be mesmerized by the feel of the baby’s head bowing out your skin as you push. My hips are still flush with yours and it presses against my dick. After several more pushes the contraction dwindles and I pick up where I left off with renewed fervour. I'm practically on top of you when you jam the vibe back to its intended location, hips pumping and jerking furiously and releasing increasingly enthusiastic grunts.

I finish first, but immediately click up the vibration intensity up to the max as my mouth goes to your breast, licking and sucking and nipping until you come tumbling over the edge after me.

The nipple play brought on another contraction quicker than expected and you wail in surprise as your loosened muscles allow the head to surge forward quickly with the next push.

“Uhhhnghhh,” you moan, helpless against your body’s instincts. “Oh, oh, ngh!” You try to catch your breath, but your abdominal muscles won’t release. “Fuck, babe. Fuck. Fuck!” You’re almost panicked now, your knees reflexively trying to snap shut.

My firm but tender hands keep them in place as I remind you, “Slow, love. Gentle pushes now. Your body knows what it’s doing.”

If it did know, it wasn’t sharing that information with your brain, but you nod anyway. You let out an almost meditative hum, and the controlled release allows you to draw in a long deep breath.

“That’s my girl,” I say approvingly, giving your leg a little squeeze.

When it’s finally over, your eyes find mine and there’s a hint of excitement in them. “What is it?”

“I saw the head on that last push,” I reveal with a grin. Your hand automatically reaches out to feel but I shake my head. “It’s gone back in now, but it means you’re so close, babe.”

You pout and flop back into your nest of pillows. “I want to see too,” you whine, somewhat petulantly, and it gets a chuckle out of me.

“I thought you might feel that way, and I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you that I think might help.” I get up and rummage around in one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a small camera and flicking the tv on as I walk back to the bed. I position the lens right in front of your pussy and then flip the switch to turn it on. The tv suddenly lights up with a big screen projection of your bulging, gaping hole. “Now you can stand or squat or sit or be on hands and knees and you’ll still be able to see exactly what’s going on down there.”

“You’re… you’re recording this feed too, right?” You ask, transfixed as you open your legs wider and use your fingers to tug at the stretched skin to see if you can see anything in there.

I prop up a ring light and flip it on, adjusting it until it illuminated the area perfectly. “Of course.”

“Good,” You gasp, setting your eyes on the large screen,” because the next contraction is starting.”

You grunt as the contraction rapidly picks up, trying your hardest to focus on the screen and not close your eyes. In front of you is a crystal clear, 42 inch high definition image of your lower half, and you are suddenly in awe.

The picture is so clear, you see the rivulets of my previous load dripping down between your legs. I grab the washcloth and wipe the mess up, as you grunt and moan a hurried “get out the way” in between contractions.

As I whip away the cloth, we’re both taken aback by the large scale image of your slightly parting lips, and the white mass in between… you squeal, the revelation magical to you, and watch as the head slips back as the contraction fades away once more.

“That… that was something” you pant, trying to recover your breath. “But I need you to help me.”

I nod, giving you a kiss as I move to kneel down between your legs, as you rush to stop me.

“No!” You squeal when you realise I’m blocking the camera. In my haste I hadn’t realised.

“Get behind me… I need to…” and once more you pulled your legs back and held your breath, this time eyes closed in concentration.

I climb up onto the bed and squeeze in close behind you, scattering your pillow nest around the room as I get into place. I get onto my knees, and rock back onto my haunches as you flop back against me at the end of the push, your breathing ragged as you gasp for air.

My hands wrap around under your arms and rest cupping your breasts, where once more I start to massage the pronounced nubs, resulting in wet fingers as your milk starts to flow around them.

As the contraction rapidly builds, I look over your shoulder and stare at the screen, my eyes wide at the image. “Look, look baby… you’re doing it, you’re doing it.” I’m full of enthusiasm as I see more and more of the head peeking out, and finally your lips going from flesh coloured to puffy and red as they stretch to accommodate the mass behind them.

Your hands rush to instinctively cover your opening as you whine about the burning as you push but as you lower your fingers once more we see the results of your work - the teardrop shape of the head in place - the previous white skin back to a more satisfying pink colour visible between your lips as the pressure is finally released on the head and you get a moment of respite.

You use the precious time between contractions to catch your breath and massage your opening. It’s strange, exploring this intimate part of yourself that’s so familiar and yet, at the moment, entirely unrecognizable. It’s round and heavy and stinging, and there’s a patch of skin right at the centre that’s not your own.

“There’s our baby,” You sigh, resting your head back against my shoulder and stroking the small patch of exposed head with the pad of your finger. “Can’t wait to finally meet you.”

Your hand moves higher as another contraction starts, pressing into your clit as the skin beneath presses painfully outward. You push and the dome distends out impossibly far, but the crown remains stubbornly small. You don’t want to force anything before your body is ready (or, frankly, obstruct the view), so you stay this way, relaxed and removed from the pain, and let the reflexive force of your muscles do most of the work for the next few contractions. I help by keeping your knees pulled out and back as you groan and tense and hiss and shake, helping with the stretching in the quiet moments between.

There’s a much more circular, but still quite small, opening that our child is trying to force its way through when some primal desperation kicks in. Why is this taking so long? Why are you not opening up enough? What if the baby won’t fit? It already hurts so much, what if you can’t handle the rest of the birth?

You are anything but calm when the next contraction comes and your sudden panic - strangled whines and restless thrashing - takes me by surprise.

My eyes immediately go to the tv screen, but all seems just as it was to me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You can’t put it into words. You just grip my thighs in an iron fist and throw everything into a wild push. The head surges forward and you scream as your hole stretches violently wider in one quick motion.

“Whoa, easy, easy!” I scramble for a warm wet cloth and leaning over your shoulder, press firmly against the modest crown. You try to squirm away from the counterpressure - at that moment you want nothing more than for this to be over with as quickly as possible - but of course I'm pressed up against you from behind as well; there’s nowhere for you to go. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and you’ve got this.”

You shake your head and attempt another monumental push, but this time I’m ready. In fact, I have to press so hard against your efforts than when the contraction is over and you finally stop pushing, the head goes most of the way back in and when I pull my hand away, you're back at a teardrop.

“No, no, NO!” You yell, taking me by surprise. I stroke your hair, telling you it will be ok but you just shake your head.

“It’s so hard… I just want to push it out but my lips won’t let it.” You’re frustrated, in pain, tired and getting a little too grumpy for your own peace of mind, so sigh, shaking your head and taking a deep breath, trying to get your focus back.

“You’re doing so well baby… just pant when it gets tight if you feel your pushes aren’t doing anything - let your body do some of the work.”

You nod, taking another glance at the tv as the contraction builds. Your eyes close and you mutter under your breath “come to mummy” as your lips bulge and your fingers trace circles around the tiny peak of skin between your legs.

I watch as the head bulges out again, your red, flared lips hugging it tightly. Once more you reach a peak of pain and start to yell as I remind you “pant, pant.”

You gasp, realising how much on autopilot you were acting and do just that, huffing giant gulps of air. The head stops retreating when you let go of the push.

“Baby’s on its way!” I cry out, you can’t help but have a giant grin on your face as the contraction finally releases you.

You’re fascinated by the way your pussy looks like this. There is still pain there—of course there is, with the amount of bulge there is right now—but there’s also hope, excitement, awe, maybe even a bit of arousal. You remember the promises I made when we were trying to conceive, promises to fill you up with a big baby and then watch as you struggle to push it out. And now you’re doing just that.

Another contraction starts and you begin to pant along with my coaching. The head pushes out further, but your hole doesn’t get any bigger. You hold your breath in an experimental push, but it just has you crying out and I suggest you go back to breathing and moaning and letting your body do the pushing.

You can’t disagree, but it’s so much more agonizingly slow this way. It’s probably another twenty minutes before there’s a noticeable size difference, and by then the pressure is unbearable.

“I have to push. I have to- I have to push!” You yell as the next contraction begins to build. It’s not a decision so much as a warning and your body trembles with tension and anticipation.

“Just wait until you absolutely can’t keep from pushing for another second.” Your breathing picks up to an unsustainable pace and your vocalizations reach new heights and your feet are off the bed, knees pulling back of their own accord in preparation. “Go for it babe,” I urge.

And you do. You give a mighty roar, but you're doing it. You swallow your fear of the pain and the chaos and you train your eyes on the taut round ‘O’ on the screen. At the slightly downward angle of the camera, you can see just how distended and round the head is behind your opening. With another push, it’s like you can see the whole outline of it and once again it doesn’t seem possible, but it is. I tell you over and over again that not only is it possible, but it’s happening.

It takes another few contractions of full on pushing when the animalistic part nearly takes over again. The slowly building fire is suddenly a full-on inferno between your legs and you slam back into me as if trying to retreat away from your own body, head thrown back in a silent scream and a few tears of pain falling down your cheeks as the fading contraction does nothing to douse the flames still raging on between your lips.

“It’s crowning now,” I tell you, since your eyes are closed.

“Mmhm,” You manage weakly, though when you look at the screen you find that it’s still not quite to a full crown. “Maybe… maybe I need a new position.”

“Do you want to squat, let gravity do a bit?” I ask, and you nod your head without uttering a word. Knowing that time is very much against us in between contractions, I lift you up under your shoulders, a difficult task as you’re unable to help pull yourself up from your position, but with a strong tug, and your legs scrabbling under you in their wide-open gait, we manage to get you upright.

The weight between your legs is immediately noticeable with the added effects of gravity causing you to yell as the next contraction picks up. Your hands grab onto my arms, the only thing keeping you upright right now, as your head pushes back into my shoulder, your roar loud and free of any inhibition.

I can no longer see any sign of the head glancing down between your breasts and belly so look frantically at the screen - your back arches back toward me as you push, trying desperately to move things along, but perhaps more importantly, that results in your crotch poking forward, still on display on the screen.

Your pussy is stretched tight, the head bulging out, the baby’s forehead starting to appear.

I think back to the videos, most of them showed the head shooting out soon after it crowned, but for you, it was moving with an agonising slowness, but it was moving. I’m sure with the next contraction it’ll get past the nose and ears, and surely that would mean there are no other protrusions keeping the head in place.

You scream in frustration as yet another contraction passes, you sag your weight against me. You’re panting heavily, exhausted at the effort.

“You’re doing great baby, almost there, maybe on the next push” is all I can offer by way of encouragement.

Nothing can compare to the fullness you feel. There is so much weight still pressing at your back, in your hips, and of course behind your opening. You can see it on the screen, the way your skin is drawn out taut and tight and so thin that you can see the ridges of the baby’s features just below the surface. The pressure built up behind is almost unbearable, and you’re panting desperately just to keep from pushing before it’s time, before your body is ready.

You moan when another contraction begins to take hold and I tighten my grip on you as your knees bend and you sink into a deeper squat.

“Mm, please come out, baby,” you beg, waiting for the urgency to build. “Hmmm. Oooooh. Ngh!”

The pressure peaks and you bear down hard with it. The dome bulges out comically far as your abdominal muscles war with your tight pussy. It retreats a bit when you release your breath, then pushes out again when you do.

“Do you want me to help ease the skin back?” I offer after another fruitless contraction.

You shake your head, determined to deliver the head without intervention. You stay in a deep squat this time, not risking losing any progress, and I settle onto my knees behind you—I’m more steady, plus the camera angle is better for both of us this way.

I nuzzle into your hair and kiss your neck. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

“I’m tired and it hurts,” You pout. I hum in sympathy, but my eyes never leave the screen and you can feel that I'm hard again. “At least you’re enjoying this part.”

I kiss you again. “You know what those sounds you’re making do to me. How hard you’re working and how beautifully you’re opening up. All for our baby. Can’t help it if I’m excited.”

You know you will be too, watching this back. But right now, another contraction slams into you and you tug your knees back as far as they’ll go. You're shaking with exertion, but finally there’s movement and you howl as your skin stretches over the nose. The movement stops when you release your push and I urge you to keep going.

“Baby’s almost here, you can do it! Pushpushpush!”

With considerable effort, you suck some air into your lungs and hold it there, putting your chin to your chest and heaving another massive push. A desperate high-pitched squeal escapes you as you cross the mouth and chin, but you manage to hold onto the push until finally…

“Head’s out! Oh my god, the head’s out. You did it, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Fluids leak out around the head as I check for a cord. The baby turns in my hands just before another contraction picks up—now you just have to get through the shoulders.

You’re stunned, the feeling of the “pop” resonating around your entire being as you felt the head come free. You’re panting, waiting for the immediate urge to push to finish all the hard work and effort you had put in today, but your body wouldn’t let you.

You relax, waiting for the contraction to build. Taking a moment you reach down, whilst simultaneously looking at the view of the head resting between your legs. It looks so… calm, considering the effort leading up to it.

Your hand strokes the baby and you mutter under your breath “I can’t believe it”

You can’t keep your elation in check. All of the last few moments passed in only a heartbeat in real time but for you the moment lingered for what seems like minutes. You snap out of it when I land a kiss on your forehead and join your hands holding the baby.

Suddenly the peace is shattered as the next contraction builds. You push, effort renewed, you go deeply inward wanting things to be over, but the hoped for release doesn’t happen. You expected the shoulders to slip out.

Another push, once again no movement. You start to fret a little, you yell with the next push “come out!”

I’m started at the exclamation as I look down between your legs and we see the baby’s hand poking out from under its chin. The next word summarises the moment perfectly… “fuck!”

You give a mighty heave, and panic slightly when progress halts and the pain ratchets up unbearably. You scream, partially in frustration but also very much in agony, and I immediately drop to my knees for better access to what’s happening between your legs.

“Wait, stop, stop pushing!”

The urgency in my tone is the only thing that could give you pause in that moment, and you look down to see a small trickle of red down your leg and absorbing into the pad beneath your feet. You try panting to keep from pushing and squeeze my shoulder. “Did I- shit, did I tear?”

I’m quiet for a moment, my hands gently supporting your skin and holding the baby firmly in place. “No, no I don’t think so,” I finally say, giving you a bit of a nervous smile. “But you’ve gotta go really slow now to stretch around the arm and the shoulders.”

“Right. Slow.” You glance down at my awkward crouched position, and yours is not much better. “Maybe I should try lying down again.” That had certainly slowed down progress before.

Bracing yourself with one hand on the mattress, you lean down onto your hip, then fully onto your side, keeping your other knee flared out and open as I adjust to accommodate the baby’s head. You grab a pillow to support your belly. You shift restlessly when another contraction starts and pull your leg back towards you.

“Easy, controlled pushes now,” I remind you, giving the inside of your thigh an affectionate stroke. “You’ve got this.”

You nod, more to yourself than to me, and slowly contract your abdominal muscles. Your breath leaves in a low hum with the effort as your stomach squeezes and compresses. You can feel the pressure build up behind your opening, but much like before, nothing progresses further into the world.

Several more contractions later and you’re starting to get tired and discouraged. “I don’t care about tearing anymore, I just want this baby out,” you whine, close to tears.

I run my free hand up and down your shin comfortingly. “You don’t mean that. And besides, you’re doing great.” When I see you grab your knee and curl forward again, I say, “Alright, this is the one, I can feel it.” you have your eyes squeezed shut, but I lean forward to brush your cheek and point your chin toward the TV. “Just look at how beautiful you are, how amazing your body is.” You’re stretched so impossibly wide and the head is so big, it really is a miracle the delivery has gone as well as it has so far. “You were made for this; now just let it happen.”

With your eyes on the screen, you join your hand with mine under the baby’s head, and push.

Your grunt starts low in your chest and builds and builds as you apply more and more pressure between your legs. I lean to the side so the overhead camera gets a good view - as the hand and shoulder slide out from between your legs. You’re obviously aware of it as you let out a joyful whoop of success.

“Keep going baby” I offer as you once more grunt and heave. I adjust my arms to support the weight of the baby as its second shoulder slides out, then suddenly without warning, once all the things blocking it leaving were removed, the baby’s torso and legs shot out, taking both of us by surprise.

Your eyes shot wide open. “It’s over?” You gasped.

“We have our baby… a daughter” I smile as I lift the - surprisingly large - baby up between your legs and lay it on your chest. Tears are flowing freely from your eyes now, the sense of success and relief washing away all of the last few hours.

I take a glance around the room, all camera lights were still blinking. I give a thumbs up gesture to be captured for posterity as I get up and move to your shoulders to coo over the baby who is now crying up a storm.

“Can’t wait to see how the video comes out.” I grin.

#birth kink #fpreg #birth #labor kink #pregnancy

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 months ago

Text

Good Graces (NSFW)

Synopsis: You and Joe have been together since his start at LSU and his transition to the NFL. The picture perfect couple who everyone thought would be together forever. It wasn't until a shift began to take place when you began to question if the two of you were truly meant to be. But when you least expect it, the relationship ends, and soon Joe realizes the mistake he made.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested by: @a-moment-captured 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Looking into the mirror in your bathroom in your newly purchased condo, you started applying a face mask as you thought about how just weeks ago you thought that you were going to spend forever with someone that you had loved through thick and thin and the ups and downs all for him to pull the rug out from beneath you and send you catapulting into an abyss of sadness.

The tears had been off and on since that day and in order to give yourself somewhat of a piece of mind, you tried to make sense of it.

But even then, more than likely that would make you cry even more.

The two of you were the picture perfect couple that complimented each other well in every aspect. Having been together through his time at LSU and him moving onto the NFL as well as him supporting your career as a sports journalist, the world was at your feet.

Until it wasn’t.

There started to be a shift, especially after his season ending wrist injury and it was a feeling that you couldn’t quite shake. You had been supportive as always and helped him in every way that you could, but the feeling in the pit of your stomach remained. The two of you even stopped having sex and it was like every day you were just going through the motions. Knowing that this was the person you wanted to be married to, you proposed the idea of going to couples therapy and to your surprise he actually agreed.

It had gotten better, at least for a short period of time and you were happy to have your Joe back.

Except you didn’t have him back and the night of your anniversary was when you found out.

This was the night that you just knew he was going to propose so of course, a good amount of time was spent on your nails, your hair and your outfit that was ultimately picked out by Joe. He told you to be ready at a certain time so that the two of you can head to the restaurant for your reservation. It’s not like the two of you hadn’t talked about marriage before, and how many kids you both wanted, etc.

You still remember the last thing he said to you before the two of you left the house as you were admiring yourself in the mirror while adding jewelry for the final touch. Joe came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you as he rested his head on your shoulder and looked at you through the mirror making a smile appear on your face.

“I knew I picked the perfect dress for tonight, you look gorgeous.”

Once at the restaurant, you noticed that the two of you went into a section that was closed off which you figured was for the best so that you two could have privacy without the prying eyes of the public. Everything seemed to be going well and the two of you had just finished dessert when Joe had caught your attention.

“Y/N, I have something that I need to tell you.” Joe said which you thought was somewhat odd. He almost never called you by your full name unless he was being serious.

This was it, you were getting your ring and would officially be becoming Mrs. Joseph Lee Burrow. You had been waiting for this moment for so long and it was only right that it happened on your anniversary.

“Sure, babe. Go ahead, I’m listening.” You had your eyes on him and he took a deep sigh before saying anything else.

“I think we need to break up. This isn’t working for me anymore.”

It took you a few seconds for your brain to register exactly what he had just said to you, but once it did you had a look of disbelief on your face.

“Excuse me? What? What are you talking about? What isn’t working for you?”

“I feel like we’ve grown apart and we don’t want the same things out of life anymore.”

“That is utter bullshit.” You told him without backing down and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Y/N, this isn’t meant to hurt you, but…”

“Let me cut your ass off right there because what do you mean this isn’t meant to hurt me? You tell me to dress up, get my hair and nails done all for you to break up with me and on OUR anniversary? Un-fucking-believable.”

“I…”

“We talked about marriage and having kids and I have been with you through fucking EVERYTHING. Who was there when you won the Hesiman? When you entered the draft? When you blew out your fucking knee your rookie year? So, this is the thanks I get? Really? That’s the best answer you can come up with?” You asked him and he sat there and looked at you as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Who is she? Because there has to be someone else. That’s the only other logical explanation for this.”

“There isn’t anyone, I never cheated on you. Ever.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I believe that. But at this point, it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

“Believe what you want, but I’m telling you the truth. I’m not happy anymore and I haven’t been for a long time.”

Hearing him say that broke your heart and it took everything in you to not erupt in tears at the table.

“Well, I guess I should go then, huh? Thanks for dinner and ruining our anniversary.”

“Y/N, it wasn't my intention to ruin anything. But I needed to be honest with you. Let me at least drive you back.”

“No need. All my stuff will be out of our… well now it's just your house by midnight and take my name off the deed.”

That was February 14th, 2024 and you were still feeling the effects months later. Once the news broke that the picture perfect couple of the NFL was no more, your Instagram comments were flooded on the daily with people claiming that you used him and now he could finally get someone who deserved him and deserved him back sending you further into a deeper depression.

While on the other hand, there were men and women in your comments begging to give them a chance.

You disappeared for a while and moved back to your hometown of Atlanta spending a good amount of time with your parents and trying to focus on moving forward. Your parents felt some type of way about the break up and how he did it, but you told them that there was nothing to do but move on. Obviously, your parents had also grown close to him and thought of him as their ‘bonus son’ and they were literally waiting for him to pop the question.

The question that never came.

During that time, you started your own clothing line that focused on all 32 teams in the NFL from shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, hats, gloves, and more. Your best friend Sage had been trying to keep your spirits up during the summer and had treated you to a 14 day cruise where you could truly disconnect from the world around you.

After you and Joe had ended your relationship, your friendship with both Ja’Marr and Justin seemed to end as well. All four of you were extremely close at LSU, but all in all you get it. The only reason you knew them was because of Joe and he had been friends with them first, except for Justin. But it still hurt nonetheless. Many calls and texts would go unanswered by the both of them to the point where you had just given up and moved on.

The new season was approaching and you were extremely nervous because you knew that crossing paths with Joe was bound to be inevitable. But you were going to hold your head high and remain professional. In the end, it was his loss and he would have to live with the decision that he made. The first game of the season that you would be covering was the Ravens vs. Chiefs and you were currently packing a bag in order to catch your flight later that evening.

Sage was supposed to be helping you pack, but instead she was helping herself to your newly stocked wine cabinet.

“Sage! Isn't that your third glass?” You asked her as you were packing up your toiletries while she made herself comfortable on the couch that was situated in your bedroom.

“And it’s almost gone so I'll probably need a fourth.” She replied as she shrugged her shoulders.

“I need to put a lock on that cabinet when you come over.”

“I think I'm more nervous than you are for this season.” She confessed and you looked at her confused.

“What for?”

“Uh? What do you mean what for? The person who broke your heart is an NFL quarterback last time I checked. And you are an analyst who has to interview players all the time.”

“And? That isn't going to stop me from doing my job. I worked hard for everything I have and a little break up isn't the end of the world.” You told her and you weren’t quite sure if you were trying to convince her or yourself. At this point, it was probably both.

“Bestie, this wasn't a little break up. You cried everyday for two months straight.” She told you as she finished off her third glass and mumbled the last part.

“Please don't remind me. Why are we talking about him anyway? No point in dwelling on the past and what could have been.”

“You’re right, sorry. It doesn't matter and you're going to be amazing as always.”

“It’s his loss and he will never be in my good graces for as long as he still walks this earth. How could I possibly forgive him for what he did?”

“Oh…”

“Oh, what?”

“So, you mean to tell me if he were to walk through that door right now and beg for forgiveness you would tell him no?” She asked and you stopped what you were doing to come and sit down next to her.

“Sage, I thought that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him…”

“We all did to be quite honest…”

“And when he broke up with me out of nowhere, that was a type of hurt that I never ever want to feel again. And I damn sure don’t want my future son or daughter to end up going through what I did. And it looked as if he didn’t even care and wasn’t even sad about it. I think that was what hurt me the most. He swore up and down that there wasn’t anyone else and I honestly don’t know if he was telling the truth now that I think about it.”

“But… okay to me the entire thing just didn’t make any sense. The two of you had been together since 2018, fell off a little bit, went to therapy, we think we’re in the clear and then he just goes and breaks up with you on Valentine’s Day out of nowhere?”

“And it was our anniversary.”

Sage sighed and looked down at her empty wine glass before looking back up at you.

“Well, you know what they say…”

“And what is that exactly?”

“He was obviously just a placeholder for your actual husband and now you just have to find him. And you still never answered my question.”

“What was your question?”

“If Joe were to walk through this door right now and beg for forgiveness, would you be willing to accept it and the two of you start fresh?”

“He has to prove to me that he even deserves to have a second chance and then I’ll be able to decide.”

—

Joe was feeling confident about the new season and coming back from his wrist injury that cut his season short the previous year. It wasn’t quite where he wanted it to be and he could tell that he didn’t throw the ball the same, but he was a lot further along than he had been.

He had worked the absolute hardest he had ever worked in his entire life after the injury to get back to at least 95% of where he had been before it happened. At first it started off with you being by his side and when he decided to end things between the both of you, he was on his own. Which he admits was hard for him to adjust to seeing as he hasn’t had to do it since the two of you met in 2018.

When he had really sat down and thought about the relationship between you and him, he could honestly say that he loved you, but he wasn’t in love with you anymore as hard as that was to actually admit. But he needed to be honest with himself and stop stringing you along because he knew in the end that it wasn’t fair.

He had tried everything that he could think of to make it work between the two of you since the last thing he wanted was to just throw those precious years away, but he couldn’t hold on any longer and figured that the relationship had run its course and now it was in his best interest to let it go, not only for his sake, but also for yours.

When the relationship was no more and when the news of it broke, it seemed like you had fallen off the face of the earth. It was known that you would also cover the NBA during the NFL’s off-season, but after it happened you weren’t doing coverage of games anymore. Not that he cared how you were spending your time now, but it just happened to be something that he noticed.

One thing this season he was honestly dreading–well not exactly dreading, but he knew that it was probably going to be awkward was you having to interview him after games if the Bengals had won which you did with every quarterback on each of the winning teams. But, he’ll worry about it once the time came and for now was going to focus on trying to make this season the best one yet.

Looking down at his phone, he saw that it was his mom calling and he quickly picked it up to answer it.

“Hey mom.”

“Hi, have you and Y/N gotten back together yet?” She asked all in one breath, making Joe sigh and roll his eyes. This conversation would happen weekly, only for his mom to be disappointed because his answer hadn’t changed.

“No, my answer is still the same from last week and I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“Well, when are you going to talk to her and beg for forgiveness for being stupid? Because that was stupid of you, I miss my daughter.”

“We just grew apart, that’s it. We’ve been together since we’ve been in college and sometimes that transition to the real world works and sometimes it doesn’t.” He answered as he was trying to decide what to make for dinner.

“It was working just fine until you went and ruined it. Blindsided that poor girl.”

“Seriously?”

“Just being honest, don’t get mad at me because you decided to let an amazing girl go. She was with you through everything and you don’t just fall out of love with someone like that overnight.”

“Mom, I’m not doing this again with you. We’re over. We’re done. And you need to accept it.”

“Fine, I’ll just get your father to talk about it with you and I’ll probably never accept it to be honest. I was over here ready to plan for the wedding and then you tell me that you two broke up? Yeah, no. I’m still going to wedding plan for when you two get back together. I have so many ideas already.”

“Mom…. that probably isn’t going to happen.”

“Last time I checked, you couldn’t see the future so I’m holding out hope. But put it this way, whoever she does marry I know for a fact that I’m going to be invited to the wedding. I’m just hoping that you’ll be the groom waiting at the end of the aisle for her.”

Liked by nfl, y/nsbabydaddy, sagethegeminii, robinburrow, and 762,903 others

y/nsanders: oh hi. long time, no see. we are back and live for Thursday Night Football 😘

sagethegeminii: ultimate baddie of the NFL 😍

y/nsbabydaddy: Joe dumb as FUCK. How and WHY would you let her get away?

nfl: glad to see you back and always happy to have you

Joe had a text come through on his phone as he was getting dressed to head out to the field. The regular season had officially started and the Bengals were taking on the Commanders at home and he was hoping that they would be leaving the stadium with a win.

He glanced at his phone to see that the text was from his mom with a photo attached. Once he fully opened the message, he saw that it was a picture of you and his breath hitched. Purple had always been one of his favorite colors that you would wear, but pink was always number one. He immediately got a frown on his face once he saw what his mom said underneath.

Mom- And this is what you gave up, remember that. But good luck, today! Love you! Call her after the game. I know you miss her.

Noticing Joe's face, Ja'Marr quickly asked him what was wrong.

“You good bro? Why do you have that look on your face?” He asked as he sat down to lace up his cleats.

“My mom asks me every week when me and Y/N are going to get back together and she definitely just sent me a picture of her. I'm guessing it's her latest one that she posted on Instagram.”

“She’s still on that? It's been months.”

“I know and she doesn’t have a problem telling me how stupid I was to break up with her. I can't help that I wasn't in love with her anymore. She shouldn't be holding that against me.”

“It’s probably going to be a while before she does. I mean think about it, yall were together for six years and she saw her as her daughter.”

“I guess but I can't think about this right now. But have you talked to her?” Joe asked and Ja’Marr shook his head no.

“I uhh… it just felt awkward if I did. I mean the two of you aren't together anymore, so why would I? She did call and text a few times after it happened and then she just stopped.”

“Oh…”

“You were my friend first and I don’t know… I just felt weird about it.”

“That’s fair, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable so that was probably for the best.”

“Apparently Justin hasn't talked to her either.”

Hearing this surprised Joe because Justin was how the two of you actually met. You and Justin had been friends first and once he brought you around Joe and Ja’Marr that was all she wrote. The two of you were extremely close and he just hoped he wasn't the reason that a riff had possibly formed.

But deep down he knew that he probably was.

“I just…. I hope she's happy.” Joe quietly said before slipping on his helmet.

It was now the beginning of the following week and it was 5:45 in the morning when Joe pulled his Porsche into Paycor stadium. He was never one to really browse social media, but something told him to check Instagram and once he did, he got a feeling in the pit of his stomach.

There Justin was.

And you were hanging off of his arm.

It almost looked as if the two of you were on a date and Joe didn't like that one bit. As he closed the app, he then placed his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants before getting out of the car and grabbing his backpack. A few moments later, Ja'Marr pulled in next to him and quickly got out so that they could walk into the building together.

“I thought you said her and Justin weren't talking?”

“Huh? What are you talking about? Good morning to you too by the way.” Ja'Marr said as he turned his nose up at him.

“Morning, now EXPLAIN this.” Joe said as he opened his phone once again and shoved it in Ja’Marr's face.

“Well, that's what he told me the last time I talked to him. But my thing is that what are you so upset about? You aren't together anymore and you're the one who broke up with her. On Valentine’s Day might I add. And did you forget that they were friends before she dated you? It's probably nothing and your ass is paranoid for no good reason.”

“I'm not upset, I just….” Joe started to say, but then trailed off which led to Ja'Marr raising his eyebrows.

“You miss her no matter how much you don't want to admit it.”

“No!”

“You do and I don't know why you can't say that you do. You are literally having a temper tantrum over her going to dinner with someone who isn't you. Every chance you get, you bring her up when she probably isn't thinking about you. Maybe we wouldn't be having this losing streak if the two of you were still together.”

“What!?”

“Just saying. She was always the good luck charm.” Ja’Marr told him as he held his hands up in defense as the two of them finally started to walk inside.

Joe had a blank look on his face and Ja’Marr spoke up again.

“I know for a fact that you're miserable without her even if you are trying to put up a front right now. So, when you told me that you weren't in love with her, I felt it was bullshit.”

“No it wasn't and no I'm not!”

“Okay, if she was in front of you right now at this exact moment you're telling me that you wouldn't be begging for her to take you back?”

When Joe was quiet, Ja'Marr knew that he had his answer.

“Maybe your mom has been right this entire time and you just didn't want to admit it.”

A few more weeks had passed and it was now Thursday Night Football that would be taking place in Baltimore with the Bengals going against the Ravens. Joe knew for a fact that you would be there as an analyst, and his stomach was honestly in knots.

He couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous and honestly couldn't wait for the game to be over and done with. And not to mention that this was the game last year that he suffered his wrist injury in.

But, he had to do his best in order to remain focused.

As soon as he ran onto the field with the rest of the team, he spotted you.

And you looked absolutely gorgeous.

Just like he knew you would.

You were sporting a bright smile and the pink outfit you wore complimented your skin well. He knew that for a fact you did this on purpose.

“And there she is. Our good luck charm so hopefully we come away with a win.” Ja’Marr muttered as Joe just sighed.

“And she's wearing pink.”

“So?”

“She knows that pink is my favorite color on her. She did that on purpose.”

“You really do give yourself too much credit. I mean what if that was the outfit her stylist picked?”

“Oh, you mean her stylist Chanel who also knows this information?” Joe replied sarcastically as Ja'Marr rolled his eyes.

“Once again, this shit was your fault. She never wanted to break up with you. So deal with it.”

“How many times are you going to remind me?!”

“As many times as it takes for you to grow some balls and beg here to take you back. 90s style, on your knees, wearing leather in the desert in 100 degree heat.”

“That…. That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“I’m telling you it’ll work, but I did my part and gave you advice. Do what you want.” Ja’Marr told him as he held his hands up in defense.

The game had now gone into overtime and Joe's extra motivation was winning so that you would interview him. The win was so close, he could taste it. He also planned to ask you when the cameras stopped rolling if you two could talk.

Not about football.

But about the two of you.

He had a strong feeling that you were probably going to say no, but he had to at least try.

Another reason for him trying to talk to you was to get his mom to stop harassing him about trying to fix things between the two of you. Because she probably wasn't going to stop until he did.

Maybe she had been right this entire time.

Joe's plans of talking to you were crushed as he looked at the scoreboard from the bench glaring back at him. He looked to his left to see you smiling at something Richard Sherman said and threw his helmet before starting to make his way towards the tunnel to the locker room. But what he didn't see until he turned back around was Ja’Marr jogging up to you.

“Y/N.” You heard from behind and turned around to be met with the face of Ja’Marr as you were interrupted from walking towards Erin Andrews in order to say hi to her since the night had now come to a close.

You gave him a blank stare before he spoke up again.

“I don't have much time and need to head to the locker room, but maybe we can catch up soon. You still live in Cincinnati, right?”

“No and for what? Why would I live in the same city as the person who broke my heart? Nothing left for me there anymore.”

“Because we're friends and I get that. That was a stupid question.” He answered as he was shifting his weight back and forth, clearly nervous about what you were going to say to him.

“Are we friends? That's news to me considering that friends actually answer each other's calls and text messages and don't ignore them especially after a break up.” You replied which earned you a sigh from Ja'Marr in response.

“I know and I feel bad about that.”

“You only feel bad because I'm standing in front of you right now, otherwise you wouldn't care. But I get it. You were his friend first.”

“Y/N, that's not fair. Just… I'll call you so we can talk.”

“Did your best friend put you up to this?”

“No, and he doesn't even know I'm talking to you right now.”

“Hmm, you sure? Because the way he is shooting daggers in the back of your head right now says otherwise.” You told him before he turned around and was met with the sight of Joe looking at him from the tunnel.

“Have a good rest of your night Ja'Marr.” Was the last thing you said before walking off as he did a light jog towards the tunnel headed to the locker room. As soon as he reached Joe, the questions started firing off at a rapid speed.

“What did she say? No wait, what did YOU say? Was she looking at me? Is she mad at you? Because I know she's probably still mad at me.”

“I… bro… can you breathe for a second? I'll tell you later.”

“Later? How much later? Does she want to talk to me?” Joe shyly asked as he was now fidgeting.

“Uh, negative. And later as in I'll tell you on the plane later.”

–

Ja'Marr was sitting in his game room while he dialed your number to see if you would answer when he got the alert of someone being at his door.

He quickly opened the app and saw that it was Joe. Closing it just as quickly, he pulled up his text messages and told him to come in and that he was in the game room. The goal wasn't to call you until later, but Joe hadn't shown up at the time he had originally told Ja'Marr and didn't quite know what to expect.

Because now he was bound to hear the entire conversation.

As soon as he heard your soft voice say “Hello,” was of course when Joe made his presence known and took a seat on the couch next to Ja'Marr.

“Um, hey. Honestly, I didn't think that you would answer. He told you and he could hear a scoff coming from your end.

“You asked to talk, so go ahead and talk.” As soon as Joe heard your voice, his eyes went wide.

They both looked at each other and Joe attempted to reach over and take the phone, but Ja’Marr smacked his hand away, making Joe glare at him.

“First things first, how have you been?”

“Okay I guess. Had to get used to a new normal and I think I've finally adjusted.” You proudly told him as you sipped on your smoothie.

“So where are you living now?”

“I moved back home to Atlanta after everything happened and I have a really nice condo down here. Maybe during the off season, you can come and see it.”

“I'd like that. Have you talked to Justin at all?”

“Ja'Marr, stop bullshitting me. You saw the pics didn't you? And then your best friend asked you if you knew anything about it, am I right?”

“I uh…”

“I've been around you for how many years? I think I know how all three of you operate by now.”

“Justin had told me you two hadn't talked in a while and that's why I wanted to ask. Usually it was when you saw one, you saw the other.”

“That was the first time that we talked since it happened. He apologized to me because I told him that it felt like he chose to be friends with that person instead of me so it felt that my friendship to neither of you was important.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is what it is at this point. Whatever.” You replied as you brushed him off.

“I know it's bad if you don't even want to say his name. And I'm sorry for making you feel that way.”

“Say it for what? I don't have a reason to. And I appreciate the apology. Even if it's months late.”

Joe once again attempted to take the phone and mouthed to Ja'Marr ‘Let me talk to her.’ And once again shook his head no.

“Ja’Marr?”

“Oh, huh?”

“You okay? You seem a little distracted. I called your name twice.”

“I'm fine.”

“Yeah, I know you didn't hear me because I said I've been on a few dates.”

“WITH WHO!?” Joe immediately yelled and Ja'Marr looked like he was damn near ready to tackle him.

It was quiet for a few seconds when both Joe and Ja'Marr were looking at each other anticipating what you would say since they both knew for a fact that you knew Joe's voice like the back of your hand.

They looked at each other, down at Ja'Marr's phone and then back at each other once more.

“I know that voice anywhere. You mean to tell me that he's been listening this entire time and is there with you?!” You asked Ja'Marr who was very close to kicking Joe out of his house.

“I…”

“Y/N! Just talk to me… Please.” Joe was trying to plead with you, but you weren't having it.

“Joseph, you must have lost your fucking mind if you think that I'm going to talk to you. And Ja'Marr I should have known your ass would do this.”

“But I didn't! Joe just….”

“I have things to do so bye. Do me a favor, both of you? Don't call me again.”

Once you hung up, it was silent in the room before Ja'Marr finally broke it.

“Your ass literally had ONE JOB. To stay quiet. And you couldn't do that?”

“I can't help that I miss her.”

“Oh, so now we admit it? A little late for that.”

From that day on, Joe consistently called you at least once a week and it was right after Thanksgiving and Black Friday when you had finally given in and responded to a text that he had sent you.

Ex- Boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- Y/N, you left your LSU sweatshirt here. Do you want to come and get it?

You- Throw it away

Ex- Boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- But it's one of your favorite ones. And I obviously can't fit it. Oh and I found one of your earrings.

When you saw the photo come through on your phone, you sighed.

It was the one you had been looking for for months.

You- You bought them for me and so I don't want them. Throw them out too.

Ex-boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- I'm not throwing those out. They were expensive as hell. And it's your favorite pair.

You- Give them to the girl you cheated on me with

Ex-boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- I NEVER cheated on you and I'm going to give someone one earring?

You- Or so you say and I don't care what the fuck you do at this point.

Ex-boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- You can literally go through my phone and I can prove I'm not lying

You- Do you really think I'm that dumb? It's been months and you have had plenty of time to delete whatever evidence was left.

Ex-boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- I know you aren't dumb and I’m not lying. You also left this here.

It was another picture and it was your favorite lingerie set that Joe had bought you.

And of course it was pink.

Ex-boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- I figured you probably wanted it

You- I'm coming to get my things and then I'm leaving.

Ex-boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- What day are you coming?

You- When is your next off day?

Ex-boyfriend that was meant to be my husband- Wednesday

You- I'll be there around 3 pm.

Wednesday was finally here and Joe being excited was an understatement. He knew that it was a long shot, but he filled the fridge as well as the pantry with your favorite food and snacks just in case.

Sure enough the doorbell rang at 3 pm as promised and Joe just about sprinted to the door in order not to delay seeing you any longer. Once he opened the door he tried to contain his excitement, but failed miserably.

“Hey.” Joe greeted you as you just stared at him before greeting him as well.

“Hi, let's make this quick. Where are my things?” You said as Joe then moved to the side to let you pass by him to get into the house.

You were trying to quiet the butterflies in your stomach as you walked past him.

“Wait, can we please talk? I mean I have you here, so…” He replied while rubbing the back of his neck which was a tell tale sign of him being nervous and you turned around to face him.

“I don't have time for this. I told you that I needed to make this quick.”

“Where do you even have to be right now? And you would have probably kept dodging my calls if I even attempted to do it that way.”

“Very far away from my ex-boyfriend is where I need to be and you have a point. Besides, I told your mom that I would see her while I was here.”

“Wait, what!? So, you'll go and see my mom, but won't talk to me?” Joe asked and you crossed your arms.

“Last time I checked, your mother isn't the one who broke up with me. Far as I'm concerned, she's still in my good graces while you sir are far from it. Very far actually. At this point, you are galaxies away from it. You like outer space so I know you'll get that reference.”

“Just give me ten minutes. Twenty if you’re feeling generous.”

“I'm not feeling generous, but you probably won't let me leave anyway until I do so I might as well.” You sarcastically commented as you went to sit on the couch in the living room with Joe coming to sit next to you.

“Okay so… I miss you and breaking up with you was probably the stupidest thing I've ever done.”

“Joseph…” You started to say as you pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath.

You literally just wanted your clothes.

That's it.

“Let me finish. I… I know it's been months, but I haven't been sleeping properly and it seems that everything around me is also turning to shit. But, you were always there for me and you were my number one supporter, no matter what. Even when I look back on some situations, I probably wouldn't have considered myself the best boyfriend and that wasn't fair to you. I honestly have no idea why I thought breaking up with you was a good idea. But at the same time, it got to the point where I felt like I was living with a roommate and not my actual girlfriend because I had given up and took you for granted. You were the one who kept trying, but I honestly couldn't see it getting any better in the future for us.”

Silence hung in the air for at least a minute before you deeply sighed once more.

“I honestly thought that you were going to ask me to marry you that day, but instead you broke up with me.” You quietly said as Joe then nodded his head before you said anything else.

“And out of all the days to do it? Our official anniversary and Valentine’s Day?” You added while looking at him.

“Definitely not my best moment.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“But that's why I'm apologizing now and trying to make this right.”

“Let me ask you this. Why do you think that you deserve another chance?”

“Because I need to show you that I can be the boyfriend that you deserve. I’m going to make sure that I treat you like a priority and not put you on the backburner because of whatever else that I have going on. And I definitely came to the conclusion that you were right.”

“About?”

“Telling me that it was bullshit when I said that I wasn't in love with you anymore.”

“Hmm, funny how that played out, huh?” You replied without looking impressed by Joe's explanation.

“I promise you that you won't regret it. Giving me a second chance I mean.”

“I need to think about it.”

“And that's fine. Take all the time you need. But I can grab your stuff for you so you can be on your way. It's upstairs.”

“You can't pack a bag to save your life, no matter how simple it is. I'll go get it.” You told Joe and hopped off the couch before he could protest. As soon as you walked into what was once your master bedroom, there the bag was sitting at the end of the bed.

You unzipped it to see your sweatshirt, the earring in a small jewelry box, and your lingerie as Joe had promised. What you didn't expect was your neon green vibrator as well as your rose toy to be underneath everything.

As you were playing with the rose in your hand, you heard Joe's voice behind you.

“I figured that you would want those back too.”

“I was in such a rush to get all of my things that I completely forgot about them.”

That was when Joe came closer to you and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“But I know for a fact that as many times as you make yourself cum with your vibrator that it'll never be on the same level as me.”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm, what?”

“Then prove it.” You whispered and Joe immediately turned you around to face him. One hand went around your waist as the other reached up to stroke your cheek.

“You sure about that?” He asked while a smirk started to form on his face.

“If I wasn’t sure then I wouldn’t have said it.”

—

“Right there, stay right there.” You moaned out and Joe abided by your command while also placing the rose toy on your clit at the same time.

Your right hand went over your mouth as your orgasm hit you and obviously noticing, Joe then slid out and stood up from the bed to gaze at you before he pulled you by your ankles to the bottom making you yelp as he began to use his tongue to pleasure you.

The hold that he had on your hips was tightened as he felt you squirming and came up for air while also scolding you to stay still.

“You told me to prove it, but I can't do that if you keep moving. Stay still, baby.” He told you before going back to his previous task.

After some time had passed there seemed to be a pattern with his movements and then a sudden realization hit you.

He was spelling his name over and over again with his tongue over your clit.

Not just his first name either, but literally

Joseph

Lee

Burrow

Joe was marking his territory as you felt that you were going to absolutely lose it.

“Shit, oh my gosh. Fuckkk.”

At this point, your eyes were closed but when you opened them, you looked down to see Joe staring directly at you with his gaze not faltering for a second.

“Take your eyes off me again and I won't let you cum.”

Listening to directions, you did as you were told and your hands found a way into his hair. The tugging on it that you were doing was an attempt in order to keep him as close to you as possible.

Feeling that you were close once more, you began grinding against his face as Joe began to suck on your clit.

Not even thirty seconds later, you squirted all over his face and could tell that the sheets underneath you were definitely ruined. As you were trying to move away from him in an attempt to recover, he pulled you back and still continued to eat you out making you scream in protest.

“Fuck, Joeyyyy I can't take it.”

“You can and you will. Give me one more, just one. I know my pretty girl can give me one more.”

Hearing him call you ‘pretty girl’ sent you completely over the edge and you damn near fell off the bed before Joe caught you and pulled you back.

As soon as he let you catch your breath, he peered up at you and smirked.

No words were spoken as he immediately flipped you over onto your stomach and you knew what was coming next.

“I thought you said one more!?”

“Well I lied. Arch your back for me. Unless you don't want me to?” Joe asked as he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your shoulder.

“You haven't had me inside for damn near a year. Don't tell me you want to tap out already. Hmm, pretty girl? You got one more in you?”

Not responding to him with words, you laid your head to rest on your arms as you lifted your hips and arched your back like he originally told you.

Joe let out a small laugh before lining himself up with your entrance and slowly sliding in making a gasp escape from your mouth.

“That’s what I thought.”

–

“This doesn't mean that I forgive you.” You told him as both of you were trying to catch your breath as you rested your head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you.

“But it's a good start, right?” He asked while leaning over to kiss your cheek and all you did was look at him.

“I knew that you couldn’t resist and did I prove you right?”

“Don't push it. And now because of you distracting me, I don't have enough time to go and see your mom before my flight leaves. She has literally been begging me to come and see her.”

“You were the one who told me to prove it and it was a good distraction but how about this? You fly back and spend my birthday with me. I mean if your schedule allows it that is. You're only covering Thursday's night game, right?” Joe asked hopeful and proceeded to give you puppy dog eyes which he knew was your weakness and knew that more than likely you weren't going to say no.

“I…”

“Please? We're flying back on Monday since we're playing at 8 on Sunday. I would love to have you here waiting for me.”

“Please don't let me regret this.”

“I promise that you won't.” He replied as you propped your head on your arm to look at him.

“I didn't think I would regret it the first time, but look at what happened.” You quietly said and Joe lowkey looked offended.

“Wait, you regret being with me?”

“No, I didn't word it right. I don't regret being with you. But towards the end, I thought we were back on the same page, but apparently we weren't. I regret letting it get as bad as it did.”

“I guess that's fair. And I can imagine at one point that I wasn't the easiest person to be around.” Joe confessed as you nodded.

“You weren't, but because of the type of person that I am, I was there to be as supportive as possible because I knew that you would do the same thing for me. Or at least at one time I thought you would.” You trailed off as Joe nodded his head meaning that he understood.

“If you are willing to give me another chance, I promise that it won't happen again. I took you for granted and have been feeling the effects since February.”

“I'll be back here on Saturday and stay until Tuesday so that way I'm able to spend your birthday with you.” You told him and Joe couldn't hide the smile that graced his face and squeezed you tighter and kissed your forehead.

“Don't kiss me, I don't know where your mouth has been.”

“You do know. I just spent 45 minutes eating you out.”

“Oh. Good point. I guess I'll allow it.”

“And I'm not done so sit on my face.”

“You literally don't want me to be able to walk do you?”

“Just following directions you gave. Don't be mad at me for listening.”

As promised, you flew back in on Saturday and saw Joe off before his flight, went to lunch with Robin and it was currently Sunday. You had been watching the games since they started with an occasional nap during halftime.

It was now time for the Bengals to take the field against the Cowboys and you were wrapped in a burrito blanket in what used to be your shared bed with Joe.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, once you caught the scent of Joe’s pillow it gave you a feeling of comfort. Which was the usual thing before the two of you broke up.

Positioning yourself so that you were laying directly on it and still in view of the television, you settled in as you got comfortable.

You missed him more than you wanted to admit at the moment and had to think long and hard about giving him another chance seeing as you never gave him a final answer.

Did he deserve one?

You weren't quite sure if he did.

All that was running through your mind as kickoff began and the camera was quickly put onto him showing him on the sideline grabbing his helmet was if he happened to be really sorry for what he did and truly wanted to make a change.

Or was it just the convenience of it all?

Starting all over after being with someone for six years? You didn't exactly want to do that either, but you had already been making those small steps to do so since you believed that you were done with him for good.

But seeing as you were underneath him just twenty four hours before proved you wrong.

Yes, football was a priority and his career, but you were a priority too and expected to be treated as such. Because even though you also had your career as well, you always made sure to let him know how important he was to you by your actions.

So, the question was even though it had been almost an entire year, were things actually going to be different?

You couldn't hold it in any longer and picked up your phone to quickly dial Sage's number, but decided against it and ultimately came to the conclusion that a facetime call might be better. Once she came into view after she answered, she made a face at you.

“I was waiting for you to call me.”

“Oh?”

“Where are you because you turned off your location and don't think I didn't notice.”

“Um..”

“Um, what?” Sage started to say, but then her eyes went wide.

“So, would the nature of this call happen to concern someone with the name Joseph Lee Burrow? I mean I guess it does seeing as you're in his bed.. well what once was your bed… and not watching the game with me. You had sex with him, didn't you? I love when I'm right. Tell me I'm right.”

“Three times Wednesday and once on Saturday before he left on his flight to Dallas.”

“I knew you were going to take that man back!” Sage yelled as she smiled at you.

“Hold on! I literally never said that.”

“I give you 24 hours to make it official. His birthday is tomorrow after all. Was that his gift? Or did you actually get him something?” She asked as you had now sat against the headboard.

“I'm actually giving him the gift that he was going to get on Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, yall are back together.”

“That's just it. I was here thinking that I wasn't sure if I should give him another chance.” You told her as the Cowboys kicked it back to the Bengals and it was Joe's turn to take the field once again.

“You two are meant to be together, but I get you being hesitant because the way you two broke up was diabolical.”

“It started with Ja'Marr wanting to talk to me, which I knew was about the pictures of me and Justin and to be nosey. However, Joe was listening the entire time and ended up blowing his cover and was pleading for me to talk to him.”

“What ended up blowing his cover?”

“I said to Ja'Marr that I had been on a few dates.”

“But you haven't…”

“I know and I did that on purpose. Ja'Marr was acting weird and I had a feeling that Joe was there with him and my theory proved to be right. Then Joe begged to talk to me and I told him in not so many words to fuck off.”

“But now you're in his bed….”

“He kept calling me for like a week straight and I finally answered a text where he said that he still had some of my things. And now here we are.”

“You're my best friend and I want you to be happy. Bottom line is that the little white boy from Athens makes you happy. I don't know why you're fighting this. Yes he fucked up but is trying to make it up to you.”

Hearing her say this made you sigh and nod your head in agreement at the same time.

“What if we break up again?”

“I highly doubt that. I think now he realizes what he lost, so therefore he knows better.”

“I had lunch with his mom yesterday too.”

“Ms. Robin goes harder for you than she does her own children and it is honestly hilarious. Best type of in law to have.

“And she also told me that she's been planning our wedding and she's been harassing Joe to apologize to me for, in her words, ‘being incredibly stupid’.”

“Well she does have a point.”

“I'm taking a chance and going to see how it goes.”

Feeling the bed dip, you opened your eyes to see Joe attempting to slide in next to you, but it proved to be slightly difficult since you were literally sprawled out across the bed like a starfish.

It made Joe laugh to himself as he opened his bedroom door and saw you. He had stood there for a few minutes simply admiring you and thought to himself that if you did end up getting him another chance, he better not do anything to fuck it up.

Otherwise, his mom probably would never let him live it down.

After taking a quick shower, he crawled into the bed next to you and felt you stir as he moved your head to lay on his chest.

He heard your quiet voice and then knew his attempt to try and not wake you up had failed.

“What time is it?”

“6 am, go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Why are you here so early? You're not supposed to be back until later.” You sleepily mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Because I missed you and wanted to spend as much time with you as I possibly could.”

“Happy birthday and I have your gift for you.”

“Wait, you didn't have to get me anything. Just you talking to me is a gift in itself.” Joe told you as he mumbled the last part.

“This is actually your gift from Valentine’s Day. I don't want it anymore so I figured that I should give it to you.”

“We can do all that later. Just go back to sleep.”

“Fine.” You told him as you buried your face in his chest making him laugh.

It was quiet for a few minutes and Joe thought you had fallen back asleep and was starting to drift off himself when he heard you call his name.

“Joseph….”

“Hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I'll give you another chance, but if you fuck this up don't expect another one.”

“I promise I won't.”

“And I'm telling your mom.”

“I figured. You and her are best friends so when it comes to the two of you nothing surprises me. Any time I call her she never asks how I am, just if I had talked to you yet. And also never missed an opportunity to tell me how stupid I was for breaking up with you.”

“Because it was stupid and now look who came crawling back because he missed me? And you definitely failed to mention that she had been planning for a wedding even after we had broken up. She has an entire pinterest board she showed me when I went to see her.”

“And she’ll be excited when I tell her that we’re back together, but it’s probably going to take a lot of making up for you to even consider wanting to share my last name.”

“Play your cards right and there will be no reason for my answer to be anything other than yes.”

“Oh, and I should probably also mention that I never took your name off the deed so this is still your house just as much as it is mine.”

A few days later, Ja’Marr was confused as to why he hadn’t seen Joe come out of his house yet in order to head to practice. He had sent him a text and called him multiple times, yet no response. The two of them would typically leave at the same time and lately Ja’Marr had been listening to Joe’s constant rants about you.

Walking over to his house, Ja’Marr banged on the front door in an attempt to wake him up if he was still sleeping because this wasn’t like him at all.

“Joe! Wake your ass up! We got shit to do! And because your ass is late, I can’t stop on the way and get McDonalds! So you owe me!”

About a minute and a half had passed before Ja’Marr banged on the door once again and when he was mid knock, the door flew open to reveal you behind it in one of Joe’s shirts and Ja’Marr’s eyes went wide before a smirk graced his face.

“Y/N?!? What?!”

“Ja’Marr, shut the fuck up because I’m still mad at you for what you did. But he’s getting ready now and will be down here in five minutes so can you please stop banging on the door and yelling at the top of your lungs?”

“I uh… um… it’s good to see you again. And you can be mad at me all you want, but I see my plan worked.” He said as he gestured to your outfit.

“You don’t know that.”

“Y/N, you literally answered Joe’s front door in just his t-shirt. I know enough and I also know that yall were clearly fucking and Joe probably slept through his alarm.”

“No, he actually woke up early and I sucked his dick into another dimension and that’s why he’s late. I fucked him last night, but I’m still mad at you.”

“Spare me the details! I didn’t need to know all that.”

“Well I told you so deal with it.” You replied while crossing your arms across your chest.

Just then Joe came up behind you and turned you around to lean down and place several kisses on your lips which you gladly accepted as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Okay, cut it out with the PDA! It’s too early!” Ja’Marr said as he was looking at the two of you.

“Uh? Last time I checked, you were standing at my front door?” Joe told him as he smirked and Ja’Marr rolled his eyes.

“About time you two got back together. Now can we PLEASE leave? We’re going to have to do at least 80 to make it on time!”

“You worry too much, we’ll get there. Anyway, see you later, babe.”

“I’ll be here when you get back with nothing on laying in your bed.” You told him as you reached up to kiss him as he bit his lip while looking at you.

“Okay! ENOUGH! JOE, GET YOUR ASS TO THE CAR, NOW.”

“Stop being such a cockblocker.” He told him and you handed him the keys to his Porsche and Ja’Marr was following close behind as he walked to his car.

“Apparently from what I’ve been told, I’m not blocking a damn thing.”

When both of them had their seatbelts on, Joe started the car and quickly backed out the driveway. The entire time Ja’Marr had been looking at him smiling.

Joe noticed as he looked over at him and started laughing.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“About time she took your ass back. But if you fuck up again, you’re on your own.”

Liked by joeyb_9, nfl, lahjay10_, sagethegeminii, cincinnatibengals, and 2,382,096 others

y/nsanders: had to spin the block one time real quick. happy super bowl week 😘💕

sagethegeminii: now where's the ring?

y/nsanders: sage, slow your roll

robinburrow: I'm psychic and no one can tell me otherwise. my daughter looks so pretty!

joeyb_9: robinburrow log out because you're being messy smh

y/nsanders: joeyb_9 mama burrow stays. It's already bad enough she had to push your big headed ass out. leave her alone.

joeyb_9: 🙄🙄🙄

lahjay10_: my favorite couple back together again. I expect a shoutout in the wedding vows.

y/nsanders: lahjay10_ we'll think about it

#Spotify #joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe shiesty #nfl imagine #joey burrow

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