#i know i'm late to the party let's just pretend i'm not

[delphi-shield]

— 「 FAKE IT TIL YOU MAKE IT 」

fake dating/christmas party/hurt/comfort ❄️ leon secret santa ❄️ gift for @mydarlingclaudia

MERRY CHRISTMAS MISS CLAUDIA i'm your secret santa! i've wanted to write og4 leon for this blog for a while and when i got you for secret santa i was like IT'S TIME lmao. i hope you enjoy and i hope you have the best christmas!

wc: 5k

summary: leon's in a bind. he thought he would have a love life by christmas, but the holidays have rolled around and he's still single. you'll pretend to be his date for just one night, right?

content: fake dating, real dating, coworkers, christmas parties, mistletoe, lots of late night conversations, lots of self-doubt, secret loser leon, technically post-re4. divider from @/strangergraphics

Over the past year, you've discovered that Leon's really good at pitching a fit when he doesn't want to do something - or, at least, when he thinks he doesn't want to do something. He'll bitch and moan about being tired, about how he just wants to stay in and have a 'chill date' with some old movie. No amount of assuring him that he would have fun once he got there would make him stop dragging his feet. That very night, you’d been waiting for him at the door with arms crossed, already decked out in your Christmas sweater, cheap reindeer antler headband affixed to your head.

Leon lets out a quiet puff of laughter when he slouches into the room, looking considerably less festive than you. He takes in your appearance - your tacky sweater, your headband, the way you pout and tap your foot impatiently. How, exactly, was he supposed to take this seriously?

“What, no one let you play any reindeer games?” Leon quips, taking his sweet time putting his shoes on.

You roll your eyes. When you finally manage to get him out the door, he has a blast. You know it, he knows it - this part is just mandatory torture, a bonding experience he loves to put you through.

"We go, we say hello, we leave." You assure him. “We don’t have to stay long.”

Leon might buy that at this moment, but you know the second you step through the door, you won't be leaving that Christmas party until the very end. Two hours in, you would be ready to go and Leon would be having the time of his life. You would be tugging at his sleeve, checking on him:

Ready to go? No, sorry, hun. Let me finish my beer and we can go. 

Like clockwork. You weren't even sure he knew that he did that.

The Christmas music on the radio doesn’t do much to assuage his mood. He’s pouting the whole drive over. As soon as he pulls up to the house, he repeats the same mantra:

"We get in, we say hello, we leave." His hand smacks against the steering wheel to emphasize each point in the plan. You already have your door open, swinging out the side and marching up the freshly shoveled sidewalk.

"The decorations are so cute," you coo, crouching down to examine a particularly adorable light up gingerbread house - and to give him time to catch up.

Leon guides you up from the ground with a hand hovering behind your back. He herds you further down the sidewalk, still eager to get this over with. By the end of the night, you would be the one begging him to leave, but for now, you let him grouchily jam the doorbell.

Warmth floods out to greet you when Claire opens the door, the scent of cider and cinnamon rushing up to usher you in. Claire coos over your outfit, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

"I should have put more effort in," she says, the pom of her Santa hat bouncing against her cheek. She's otherwise under dressed for the occasion, choosing comfort over festivity.

"What? No. Look at this place. You did all the decorations. That's way more effort," you counter, toeing off your shoes and stripping off your heavy coat.

Claire laughs. "I made my brother do most of it."

"Good to see you, too, Claire," Leon says, bristling over being ignored. She waves her hand, half hello, half dismissing him, and guides you further into the house, pointing you to the refreshments and giving a quick tour of the decorations.

Wherever Leon slinks off to, you're unconcerned. You have catching up to do just as much as he does.

Claire pops her hip up against the drink table. You twist the cap off your beer. Claire fishes one up for herself and pops the lid off against the table in one fluid motion. You huff a quick laugh - her party, her rules.

"So," Claire starts, leaning back against her elbows and surveying the crowd. She tracks your eyes for a moment, watches you watching Leon across the room. "I’ve been wondering. How did you guys actually meet?"

"What?" You laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. You take a drink, buy yourself some time to feel out Claire's intention.

"Well, obviously, the first story you told me was a crock of shit," she laughs.

You can't argue with that. The first time you had met Claire, you had been masquerading as Leon’s partner, sparing him the embarrassment of turning up to her Christmas party alone. You hadn’t exactly announced to his friends that your first time meeting them had been a lie.

"I didn't lie," you point out. "Not totally."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

"We actually did meet at work."

Claire rolls her eyes. She won't put up with this for long. “I mean, I buy that. But he absolutely did not charm you over the comms on some classified mission.”

There’s no part of you that wants to argue in Leon’s defense. He was a nightmare to work with, knew just how to get under your skin, and you were more than happy to have Hunnigan continue to babysit him.

“If you really want to know…”

It was the Wednesday before Christmas Eve when Leon's coiffed head popped up above your cubicle. Never a good sign. Where he went, trouble (and acclaim) followed. You filled in for Hunnigan once when she was out with bronchitis, and now you can't get rid of her puppy. He keeps coming back, a particularly malignant tumor that metastasizes over the walls of your cubicle, spills onto your desk and messes with your letter trays.

“You busy?” His arm slings over the top, hand drumming against the wall of your cubicle.

Stay strong, you think. Try not to move. Play dead. Maybe he'll get bored and move on. You try to type faster and only wind up jamming the keys down harder. Leon drums his hand quicker, rhythm irregular.

“What does it look like?” You bite out.

Mission failed. You weren't trained to resist torture like he was. In fact, you specialized in answering stupid questions and pointing out the obvious. It was a key component of your job.

Leon’s job, apparently, entailed blatantly ignoring hints. He swings into your cubicle, brushes aside a stack of documents to sit on your desk. His forearms balance on his thighs, hands held together between his knees. 

“I need a favor.”

It just gets worse. What kind of favor could Special Agent Kennedy possibly want from you, and why did you have a feeling that it was going to be off the books?

"If I'm doing favors, I'm staying clocked in," you drone.

"Not possible for this one," he shrugs. "Sorry. I'll make it up to you."

You roll your eyes. Silence stretches between the two of you, filled only with the intermittent clicks of your mouse as you try to track down the most up to date geospatial information for your assigned agent - you know, the one you're actually supposed to be dealing with. 

Leon's both annoying and persistent. He shakes his fringe from his face, stretches out 'so...' into an elongated, cowish sound that sets your teeth on edge. You roll your hand, gesturing for him to continue.

"I need a date," he blurts out. He's smart enough to continue speaking quickly, hand already raised - palm outward, begging for peace. "Not a real date. Just for a couple of hours, for a party. We go, we say hello, we leave."

A beat. You give him time to throw in a ‘just kidding’. God knows you aren’t throwing him a life preserver. When he twiddles his thumbs, content to sink instead of bail himself out, you scoff. You don’t even look up from your computer. 

"That is, by far, your worst line."

"I’m serious. Please. Just a couple of hours. That's all I'm asking. You don’t have to talk to me ever again."

Your eyes cut over to him. Not a single smug smirk in sight. You're almost surprised by the pleading hiding behind his eyes. You take it all in, try to assess him for any hint of deceit. You only find the bags under his eyes, darker than you'd seen before.

“Go alone,” you shrug.

“I can’t. I’ve been –” Leon stops. He sits up tall, peers over the top of your cubicle to see who’s around. Meerkat is a good look on him, his nose sharp in profile, brow furrowed and focused. You avert your eyes back to your computer. He lowers his voice, his eyes still flitting around for eavesdroppers. “I’ve… exaggerated the truth about my love life to a few friends. I promised I would introduce them to someone at this party.”

You note the desperation, try to stay impartial. You're good at that part, too. Trained for it. He’s in a bind of his own making. Some humility would do him good. You’d be doing him a favor by making him own up to his lie.

Your gut flips when you consider his proposal. What was this, high school? Why could he possibly need a fake date? It was so immature, you almost couldn't believe it.

Another thought burns at the back of your mind, keeps you wary. You can't help but feel used. What, he was fine pretending to take you out but couldn't conceive of actually asking you to go to his stupid party? It had to be fake, a preservation of his ego. You weren't even a part of this equation.

You should say no. You should leave him high and dry, make him look like an idiot in front of his friends - because that's what he is. An idiot. An idiot who can't get an actual date to save his life.

"Match my salary, then we'll talk."

Leon groans, head flopping back against your cabinets. He’s considering it, you can tell.

What’s the harm in it, you wonder, casting him a sidelong glance. It would be nice to have something to do on Christmas Eve.

"You owe me for this. You're gonna pick me up."

Leon's eyes light up. He hops off your desk, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. You hold up a finger to stop him before he can talk himself out of this.

"And you're gonna buy me dinner."

"There's food at the party."

"Good food?"

"If you don't like it, I'll get you something on the way home."

That's more like it. You spin back to face your computer, pulling your report back up.

"Deal. What's the dress code?"

Leon's silence speaks volumes. He's completely helpless when it comes to the details. You had figured someone with his looks had a social life that was bursting at the seams, that he was taking the fat field agent paycheck and he was hopping from party to party.

It's at his friend's house, he explains. You note the hesitation before he says 'friend'. Maybe it is all a front. Kennedy can't really go home to an empty apartment and a silent phone, can he? Everyone made him sound like such a big shot. You didn't expect the snapshots of your lives to be matching photographs, a wide shot when you held them next to each other. You try to picture his living room and all you can envision is a beige box.

You wring what little information he has out of him with a series of direct, probing questions. You're both comfortable in this routine. The quick, perfunct back and forth, an exchange not unlike one you might have over comms. He scribbles his number onto a sticky note and slides it over to you. You’ll work out the details of your story later, make it bulletproof.

The idea has been ghosting around the crevices of your mind for the entire day. You force yourself to wait a little longer before calling him, give him time to get home and get settled in. Trying to do the same is fruitless. Your appetite has mysteriously vanished, your Wednesday night show not catching your attention. You choke down half a bowl of cereal before you drum up the courage to call him.

"So, how did we meet?" You start, skipping past hello.

"Work."

"Going with the truth on that one?" You toss a piece of popcorn into your mouth, eyes fixed on your show.

"Helps to sprinkle the truth in with the lie, right?"

You can practically hear the grin on his face. You roll your eyes and bite back a sharp response. No need spoiling the mood immediately. You already agreed to do this. You won't make it harder than it needs to be.

"When did you ask me out?"

“Does that seriously matter?”

Of course it matters. Leon’s completely useless at this kind of thing, it turns out. You had expected more. He seemed the type to have experience. Maybe your own naivety had caught up to you. His confidence had you fully convinced that this would be a cake walk.

Was this seriously the guy who had single-handedly rescued the president’s daughter a few months back? Because he was floundering when you asked him if he had met your parents yet.

“Do you want me to meet them?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, “No. They would eat you alive.”

That one stays in the story. It’s too believable not to. You bet Leon makes a real fool of himself in front of parents.

That’s where you went wrong. As soon as you started to rationalize what a relationship with him might look like, to add that touch of realism that would sell this story, you were fucked. He indulges all your questions and your musings.

Thursday night, you call him to ask what shows you watch together. He doesn’t see the point, doesn’t get that TV is such an important, ritualistic component of a relationship - or,  at least, one that you want. He lets you pick, snorting in surprise when you name a dating show on VH1. You assign him homework. Watch the newest episode the Sunday before the party, and you’d fill him in on the details on the ride to the party.

Friday, you ask him what pet names he wants to use. He flounders again, acting dismissive in a way that you’ve now identified as embarrassment. You bite back the urge to tease him and offer up some suggestions instead.

“‘Babe’ is fine, I guess,” he says, “but I’m probably just going to call  you by your name.”

When you hang up that night, you wonder if he meant it. Babe fits your perception of him from a week ago, but now you aren’t so sure. You turn the question over and over in your head for the next day, trying out different names in his voice. Something simple and classic, maybe. ‘Honey’, or ‘sweetie’.

The question is still turning in your mind when he calls you on Saturday. You don’t have a chance to get your question out. He blindsides you with his own.

“Have we said ‘I love you’ yet?”

Your mind races to catch up. Had he? No way. He mumbled when he got off the phone sometime, but there was no way that was an ‘I love you’. There was no way. It hadn’t even been a full week yet.

Then it clicks for you. Right. This is fake, all of it. Every phone call was for his benefit. You had initiated all of this. You should be happy that he’s finally contributing to the planning. You feel sick to your stomach instead.

“I don’t care,” you say, entirely nonchalant, none of it forced. The silence hangs over the line. You pray for Leon to let it go, to give you the grace that you haven’t given him.

He’s smooth with it - doesn’t point out the strain in your voice, blames it on a bad connection. For once, he takes the reins. No ‘I love you’ yet. He’s working up the courage, he says, and your heart clenches, breath catches, head spins.

You make an excuse to leave early. He reminds you to tune in for your show tomorrow. You hang up without saying goodbye.

He picks you up just like he promised. As much as you’d wanted to wear the silly, light-up Christmas sweater at the back of your closet, you couldn’t. You couldn’t show up as his date looking like that. No one would buy it. You already look out of place on his arm.

You’d expected the car ride to be awkward. The last time you’d seen him in person had been when you struck this whole deal. Instead of rehashing your story, though, Leon asks you question after question about the dating show you told him to watch.

To your surprise, he’d actually watched it. You go over the contestants, the washed up rock star they were all attempting to date, even recap the most notable drama. He’s hooked. The veneer of disinterest he tries to keep up is so thin it’s see through. You almost want to tell him to turn the car around so you can catch the reruns instead of suffering through this party.

You don't know what kind of party you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Every corner of the place was saturated in Christmas, inside and out. Garlands of popcorn and dried orange slices, a tree decorated so heavily with strands of lights and garish ornaments that it's branches sagged. The warm lights bathed everything in a smooth glow. The chill that had stung your face on the walk in melted away, leaving only the pulsing afterburn across your cheeks.

Plenty of people had already arrived - thank god. If you'd had to make awkward small talk with the host until people arrived to take the heat off of you, you might have just said fuck it and marched back to the car. You keep a firm grip on Leon's arm, eyes flitting across each and every face. You didn't recognize a single one of these people.

That's precisely why Leon chose you. It makes your stomach lurch to think about. You're convenient. A face to put to a title, to apply to the vague stories that Leon has fabricated. Anyone could be on his arm right now, and it wouldn't make a difference. No one would know.

You stay glued to his side for the first hour. It works well enough, a handful of people overjoyed to meet you after all the stories that Leon’s told. You do your best to keep the sparkle in your eye, to look at him like he makes the sun shine. It’s hard when it feels like the floor could open up and swallow you at any given moment, when each affectionate touch is just a tool.

You excuse yourself for a drink. That will help your nerves. It can’t make them any worse, that’s for sure. You have a clear window, the drink table empty. In and out, then back to Leon’s side.

Fishing up a beer from the ice chest, you scavenge around for a bottle opener. Christ - all these preparations and no bottle opener? You’re tunnel-visioned into your search, don’t even notice the woman joining you at the table

“Want some help with that?” A redhead chirps, sidling up to you. She holds her hand out for your drink.

What’s the harm? You pass it over with a ‘thanks’ that quickly turns to a sharp inhale. She pops the lid off the beer with the edge of the table, tears a jagged crescent through the plastic tablecloth - cut one of Santa’s reindeer clean in two.

“My party, my rules,” she laughs. “I’m Claire. You’re with Leon, right?”

Your stomach drops. You can practically peer down at yourself, your soul leaving your body for a brief moment. Shit– Leon had warned you about her. Said she wasn't malicious, per se, but she could sniff out bullshit quicker than most. You run the facts back in your mind. If you could get past her, you'd be golden.

Claire's finger bounces between you and Leon. She leans her hip against the table, folds her arms across her chest.

“I don't get that at all,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. “What's the story?”

Holy shit, that was quicker than you expected. Stay cool. Remember your lines.

“We actually met at work,” you start. Easy enough. It’s not even a lie. You unravel the rest of the details for her one by one, plodding through the steps of your imagined romance with deliberate care.

Claire’s eyes stayed fixed on you. She smiles and laughs where appropriate, but she tracks you with the cold eyes of a wolf on the hunt. A chill pulses down your spine. Is it really so hard to believe that you’re with Leon? Do you look so out of place?

“Good for him,” she finally says. She takes a long drink, still watching you.

“He’s great.”

“He’s okay.”

Maybe she meant it as a joke, but you have to force your laugh out from around the lump in your throat. Did she buy it? You can’t tell. She claps you on the shoulder, harder than you expected.

“It was really great to meet you,” Claire says. She slips back into the crowd with a smile, flowing naturally into a group of guests. Your eyes linger on her, but she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t slip into hushed whispers, no one turns to stare in your direction.

You wind back through the crowd, glue yourself back to Leon’s side. He lifts his arm instinctively, curls it around your hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t even pause his conversation.

How is this the same clueless man that you had spent half a week planning out every minute detail of your imagined relationship? How can he be so relaxed and in control now?

That’s the difference between the two of you, you realize. There was planning, and there was doing. Clearly, Leon could see his commitments through. You were botching this. Everyone knew you were a fake. They had to.

“You okay?” Leon asks, head inclined closer to your ear. You swallow thickly, force a smile.

“Are you about ready to go?” You ask, keeping your voice low.

He’s not - you can tell - but he tosses his snack plate in the trash and says a round of goodbyes anyway, urging you out the door.

The car is silent. Leon flips through radio stations, never staying on one for long. Christmas music, rock ballad, regular ballad, Christmas music again - repeat. He fidgets with the vents, turns the heat up, then down, one degree at a time.

"Seriously, you good?" he asks.You keep your face turned to the window, watching the decorations roll by.

Leon glances at you - or that's what he thinks, at least. His eyes linger for too long. He corrects his course sharply, swerving away from the curb at the last possible moment.

"Yeah. Fine."

Neither of you believe that. You’ve spent the whole night lying - he knows what it looks like, and he lets you get away with it.

Leon turns the music up a tick. You spend the rest of the drive in silence. He pulls up in front of your place and cuts the engine, and that has to be the record for world’s most awkward drive.

Bundling your things in your arms, you hurry out of his car with a quick ‘thanks for inviting me’ that feels misplaced given the circumstances - but what the hell else were you going to say? You needed to sleep this whole thing off.

"Hey."

You stop in your tracks. You're almost positive you've left a drag tail in the snow, stopped so fast you nearly slipped on the sidewalk. Leon's window is rolled down, his body nearly halfway out of it.

"I appreciate what you did for me tonight," he says.

Your heart deflates, a balloon released in your chest, bouncing off your ribs and drumming against your lungs before it floats pitifully to a rest in the pit of your stomach.

"No problem," you say, shoulders back, head held high. "To be honest, I didn't think anyone would buy it."

His head tips to the side. His eyes narrow, studying you, trying to figure out your meaning.

"Why? You did great."

"I don't know. I didn't think we would look like a very believable couple."

He sticks his head back into his car, fumbles with his seatbelt overlong, and finally pops the door open. His feet find traction on the icy sidewalk much easier than yours. You chalk it up to his boots, his training, anything to keep your mind on the little details instead of the big picture.

“I thought it was pretty believable.”

Don’t read into it, you tell yourself again and again. It’s just going to hurt if you try to interpret greater meaning from that.

“Yeah? Glad I could help.” You hook your thumb over your shoulder, fishing clumsily for your keys. “Guess I’ll see you at work, then.”

Leon’s eyes cut back to your door. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, balanced perfectly on the ice. For a moment, you think you see his hand twitch towards yours. You linger, waiting for the touch of his hand around your wrist, willing the warmth that you imagine to be real.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods.

“Yeah. See you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Claire interjects. “He didn’t even ask you out that night? He walked you to the door and bailed?”

You shake your head. “I asked him out like a week later. We were working late on New Years. He said he knew a great spot for coffee if I wanted to go on break. I said we could only go on our day off.”

Her eyes sharpen, casting her hunt out into the crowd of party-goers. You find Leon first - hunched over a snack platter across the room, contributing minimally to conversation with some people from Claire’s work. Claire, experienced hunter that she is, tracks your sight to find her quarry.

“He is so stupid. So dumb. Look at you,” she declares, waving you up and down - presenting you. “He made you ask? Ooh, I’m gonna – Leon!”

Leon’s head pops up from the cheese tray - meerkat chic, swiveling in the direction of the woman on the hunt. Claire points to the ground in front of her sharply, doesn’t even have to bark out ‘c’mere’ before his training kicks in and he’s marching himself over.

“What’s up?” He pops a palmful of cashews into his mouth, then slides the same hand against the small of your back.

His casual attitude earns him no favors. Claire thwacks his shoulder, berates him for making you ask first. He shrinks away - play dead. You taught him that one.

“You ready to go?” You ask once Claire’s done ragdolling him and marches off to tell the others how spineless Leon is.

Leon surveys the party - that’s what you think he’s doing, at least. His gaze is focused higher, examining the doorways carefully. His eyes sharpen, lock on their target. He nods, his thumb rubbing gentle arcs against your back.

“Yeah. Let’s head out. Wait for me in the hall, okay? I’ll get our stuff.”

You follow his directions thoughtlessly, planting yourself in the hallway he had pointed to. Leon flits about, saying goodbyes as he weaves through the crowd. Your coat is slung over his arm when he winds his way back to you.

Before you can protest, tell him he forgot your bag and your scarf, he smacks a hand dramatically against his forehead. He holds up a finger - hang on, here, take this, I’ll be right back – kisses your forehead, and floats back into the crowd.

He comes out only holding your scarf. You huff. Leon’s not a forgetful man. This is clearly on purpose, for his own entertainment. He loops your scarf around your necks for you, settling it into place and tying a clumsy knot.

“Your bag. I forgot, I’m sorry.” He kisses your cheek as he turns.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he turned. You’d caught it. It wasn’t just the shine of the lights. He was up to something. You scan your surroundings, look for cameras hidden, for guests watching a little too intently. Nothing immediately jumps out at you. You glance up - and there’s the culprit. A little branch bound with twine, berries dotting the little branches, suspended over the doorway.

Schooling your face back into mild annoyance, you go so far as to tap your foot. If he wants to put on a show, so will you.

“Here you go,” he says, handing over your bag. You wait for his next move. No way this was the end of his plan - and you’re right. As soon as your bag is slung over your shoulder, he’s patting himself down. Front left, front right, back pockets at the same time, chest at the same time. “Shit. My keys. One second–”

You kiss his cheek before he can strike first.

“On the key rack,” you point out, hooking your thumb over your shoulder. “It’s bad karma to abuse the mistletoe, you know.”

Leon huffs. He spares the mistletoe above your heads a glance.

“You made that up.”

Absolutely, you did. He crosses through the doorway and snags his keys. Before you can head out the door, he dangles them over his head. You roll your eyes and kiss him square on the lips before he can justify his poor man’s mistletoe.

You’ll risk bad karma for a kiss.

[bamgeut]

SOOBIN FOR MEN'S UNO

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris x innocent!bff!reader <3

—

"yeah, s'okay mum," your voice is soft in the quiet of chris' room, lounging on his bed with your legs tucked to the side of you. a blanket lays over your legs, nodding your head softly when your mom says something back.

chris is pretending to not care. he's pretending to not listen in to your quiet voice, thumb mindlessly scrolling through his instagram. posts from his best friends, from his brothers, some posts from the chick he hooked up with a week ago. with a double tap on the post, he left her a like and commented a few heart eye emojis.

"no, 'm at a friends house," a pleasant call from your mom had you smiling—eyes crinkling at the corners and lips curling up. she's asked about school and how you've been in general, if you're up to anything. the topic of your living space came up and she questioned if you've been socializing more lately.

"no not maya's— i'm not even friends with her any– no it isn't lilah either.. mom," you're sighing as the sound of your mother's exasperated voice fills your ear. she keeps on listing off names, multiple of which you've forgotten or haven't spoken to in years.

you sit up a little, shoulders slumping gently as you flick your eyes towards chris. the back of his chair is facing you so you can't see what he's doing—but you hear the subtle click of a lighter and soon smoke is drifting up into the air.

"his name is chris. y'know. the guy i told you about? his brother nick introduced us—yes.. nick has brothers," you keep talking. chris listens. he doesn't catch every word though, having ended up zoning out for a second or getting caught up in his texts or something on his phone.

his chair creaks as he gets up from it, blunt in hand as he eyes you on his bed. you two lock eye contact before you just sigh at the sound of your mother rambling. "no, no he's a good guy. we're friends, mum, stop. yeah, no—okay, i gotta go. i'll call you soon."

you're blinking rapidly and sighing once you hang up, relaxing back against chris' headboard. he couldn't help but snort at your words, 'a good guy.' yeah, alright. he brings the blunt back up to his lips as he stalks towards you, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and reaching for a pair of shoes.

smoke filters out of his lips as he glances back to you and gives you a knowing look. "what's up w'you? lookin' all.. upset or somethin'. were y'not happy to talk to your mom or..?" his brows furrow slightly and he just blinks at you as you shrug a shoulder.

"she just kept questioning me about you. like, she kept asking me if we were dating. and like, it's annoying you know?" chris just snorts and turns his head back, sliding his shoes on and lacing them up. he was gonna head out to meet up with matt and nate, go to a party to make some money or something.

"didn't tell your mum i was a drug dealer, huh? big bad chris isn't a good influence on sweet lil—" you're shoving his shoulder playfully and shaking your head as a grunt sounds from him. settling back onto his bed, the image of him finally catches up to you as you see him in a pair of blazers and a hat fixed on top of his head.

"where are you going? thought we were gonna watch a movie or something," your brows furrow in confusion, staring up at him through your lashes. chris glanced back at you for one second before looking away quickly, letting the blunt hang out of his mouth in between his lips. fuck you for being so cute.

"yeah, i know. sorry baby, matt n' nate invited me to go to some house party," your cheeks involuntarily heat up at the pet name, even if you know he just lets it slip sometimes and it isn't anything special. rings of smoke waft up into the air as chris speaks, your nose scrunching at the smell as you frown in disappointment.

"oh," was all you managed for a second. you were kind of looking forward to finally getting to hang out with your best friend. alone. only for him to blow you off and say he's going somewhere. chris is at house parties almost every day every single week, why can't he just spare one extra day for his best friend?

at least, you hope he sees you as his best friend.

"well, can i go w'you?" the words are out of your mouth before you register what you said. horrible idea, actually. you hate parties. the loud music and sweaty bodies were always too much, and your parents always told you to stay away from people who did drugs or got wasted every day. and people at parties did that, a lot.

chris just blinks at you slowly, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. until he just nods and shrugs a shoulder, hand reaching up to grasp the blunt to take another huff.

"if y'wanna.. sure. hurry up n' put your shoes on, don't got all day kid."

—

@ferdzom @st7rnioioss @sturniolosarethebest

©eph3merall 2024

[unladielike]

@spiritpyro​

Since Vivian wasn’t awake at the time to receive her ‘special gifts’ Hayate had already set up everything for today. He always let her sleep in whenever her birthday would come around ( because why not, he usually has her awake to at least eat something then she could go back to sleep afterwards ), and now he’s over here adding the last finishing touches to the crocheted butterfly. This time it was… bigger. The size of a pillow, probably. Hayate had started working on this weeks ago while Vivian wasn’t present in the house, he just wanted to get a good head start on it at first all due to him being busy like a fucking lunatic with work lately. It’s fine.

Yeah.

Hayate finished with the butterfly, and set it on the table that was nearby other presents that he bought. One was just a box full of assorted snacks, a few books of Vivian’s favorite manga ( clearly he wasn’t so sure on how many volumes she had so he bought… a plentiful amount. Almost the whole damn collection), there’s a comfortable blue sweater that he had made for her, too, and a stuffed bear that had a light blue ribbon around its neck. He made the ribbon for it since he didn’t want the bear to go ‘naked’.

Not today. Not on this day.

So, while Vivian had slept Hayate had made her a quick brunch that was just stuffed french toast with eggs. Something simple and nice for her to enjoy when she awakes.

[ HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIVI!!!!!!! AND VIVIAN. I'm late but its always party time. ]

    VIVIAN'S BIRTHDAY BASH. always accepting no matter how late!

    Truth be told, she had already grown accustomed to Hayate’s tendency of being nowhere in their apartment by the time she finally woke up, so it doesn’t surprise her he had left again with only a faint sagging indentation beside her on the bed to prove he had been there, just the other night. Rather than lament the fact she had missed the opportunity to kiss him goodbye, however, Vivian would soon check her phone for birthday messages or social media updates before changing out of her banana onesie into a blue hoodie and grey cargo shorts. Afterwards, she then reluctantly heads to the bathroom to freshen up for the day, and while she couldn’t say the reflection staring back at her was one she regarded fondly the whole entire time she stood by the mirror, she still manages to brush her teeth and comb her hair until there were less tangled knots at the back.

    Of course, since she figured coffee could always come later, Vivian would then head downstairs... hoping somehow, she would be able to find Bugsby loitering around the kitchen, but what she found instead were gifts, heaped generously against the table alongside the meal Hayate had so lovingly made for her. Why, it came as such a pleasant surprise, her lips would subsequently stretch upwards into a soft smile.

     Goodness... to think he would purchase almost the whole collection of Dandy Marmalade when she couldn’t even find a single volume in bookstores across Vancouver! Honestly, against her better judgment, she finds herself giggling upon imagining Hayate judgmentally eyeing the covers, featuring topless bara men, but at some point, she would reach for the crocheted butterfly, allowing her fingers to delicately skim it’s wings. Ah, talk about soft... seriously, once he comes back home, Vivian planned on giving him the biggest hug ever!

    For now, though, she would settle into a chair and begin to eat while never letting her presents stray far from her sight; in fact, she even managed to decide on a name for the adorable stuffed bear at some point... calling him Hercules. Regardless, Hayate would eventually receive a notification on his phone when next she finishes eating

    Vivian:

You are the absolute best, Hayupin! (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) Thank you for making my birthday the best one yet! I’ll be sure to wear nothing but the sweater you made for me when you get back home later on tonight. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ ...So when that time comes, bring more than a few condoms with you, okay? ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[sincerelyneo]

hiiii will you repost your old haechan frat boy fic 🫣

i'm not sure if this is the one you were talking about, but it's the only google doc i had of haechan in a college au.

all bark no bite | l.hc

❯ summary: Lee Haechan is the most annoying man you’ve ever encountered. But that doesn’t mean you don’t find him hot; and maybe that’s why he has you flat on his mattress one night at a random frat party.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: college!au, rivals, smut.

❯ words: 2.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, angst, hate sex, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up !), pet names, excessive use of the name ‘baby’ and ‘princess’, begging, dirty talk, reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is very cocky, haechan 1000% has a crush on the reader.

Lee Haechan is an asshole. A condescending, irritating asshole who knows exactly how to get on your fucking nerves and—

“God — fucking — dammit—!”

— is currently the asshole pressing you against his mattress.

Truth be told, you don’t even know how you got here. You remember being shoved in a closet with him for Seven Minutes in Heaven at some random frat party his friends were throwing, but you for sure as hell remember absolutely refusing to kiss him.

“Why not?” He’d sneered, folding his arms. “You scared you’re gonna like it, Princess? Promise I’ll take real good care of you–"

"Oh, please,” you’d scoffed right back. “Let’s not pretend you know your way around a girl’s body, Hyuck. I doubt you could even find my clit–"

"I would obliterate your pussy if you’d let me, and you know it,” there was a glint in his eye as he looked you up and down, “And we both know you’d like it.”

You were so fired up that you hadn’t even noticed how close you’d gotten to each other; you could feel his breath on your lips, his chest against yours. So irritated by his cockiness, you hardly even registered what you said next until it was too late:

“You’re all bark no bite, Lee Haechan.”

For the last three years you’ve been at college, you and Haechan had both been walking on eggshells around each other. There’d always been tangible tension ever since you had shut down one of his rants in class and essentially destroyed him — and from there it’d been a competition to one-up one another. You hated him, he hated you… but doesn’t the line between hate and lust wear oh so thin when it’s someone as hot as him?

The answer is yes, evidently.

After the seven minutes we’re up, Haechan wastes no time dragging you out of the closet and to his bedroom, earning him a matter of gasps and ‘ooohhhs’ from the rest of the players.

Next thing you know, you’re lying on your stomach, hands pinned at the small of your back as he thrusts into you so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His sheets rub against your clit with every body-wrecking slap of his hips against you, your throat hoarse from screaming. And for a moment you’re really, really, really fucking sorry for even doubting his abilities so much — because God can he fuck.

But you’d never tell him that, you don’t need to. His ego is already massive, he’ll live without validation from you — or so you think.

A hand crowds underneath you, before seizing your neck and pulling you up. The shortness of breath makes you pant, pulsing around him instinctively and you hear him laugh in your ear.

Fucking asshole.

And as if he hears you, his fingers find your mouth — and you gag, because his fingers are fucking thick and he’s shoving them down your throat. And the worst part is you love it, your mouth swallowing them the minute they push past your lips like it was just instinct.

"Oh, baby,” he laughs breathlessly, “Next time you do that, make sure it’s on my dick."

"You fucking wish—” you grunt, because he’s laying into you real deep now, slow, languid thrusts that have you refraining from shuddering all over– “as if there’s going to be a next time, you dick."

"Oh?” his hips still.

Then, almost thoughtfully, they begin again. Slow and teasing and not nearly enough to have you writhing in pleasure. His pace is tortuous, and if he didn’t have your arms pinned behind you, you’d claw at his back to make him speed up.

“Really? You think one night of the best sex you’ll ever have is enough?"

"Please, your dick game isn’t that impressive,” you say flatly. “Just make me cum and get this over with.”

You feel the heat of his breath as he dips his head again, placing kisses on your jaw so gently that for a moment you’re taken aback. “Don’t get impatient now, baby. I told you I’d take care of you didn’t I? Just…” His hips still again– “I think I’d like you to ask for it.”

“Ask?” You scoff, incredulous.

He nibbles down on your ear, before brushing past it with his lips low enough to whisper, “You're right. I meant beg.”

“What, you get off on girls begging for your permission–?"

There’s a rough snap of his hips into you and you have to bite hard down on your lip to stop yourself from whimpering.

"Not just any girls,” he mutters, so quiet that you almost don’t hear. “Only you.”

You’re going to pretend that your heart doesn’t flip when he says that, partially because of how sick it is that that gets you off, and instead focus on what the fuck is going on.

Did Lee Haechan just admit he wants you to beg for him? The same man who’d made it his college mission to torment and tease you at every given opportunity wants you.

If you weren’t lying on your stomach and taking every thick inch of him you’d be running in shock horror. But you find the idea isn’t quite as horrifying as you’d imagined.

“… Maybe we can fit more than one round in tonight, but that’s all I can offer you,” you say after a moment. You can feel him freeze up behind you. “I’m a busy girl with exams, Hyuck, I don’t have time to be running around with strange men–”

“Strange men?” His laugh is really nice. Sweet and dorky — the opposite of the usual mischievous chuckling he did when he knew he had gotten under your skin — and you only manage a huff of your own laughter yourself before you’re caught off guard by his steadily increasing grinds. “And after those exams? Got any time for a strange man like me?"

“…I’d have to check my calendar.”

He hums, and you swear to God if he stops again you’ll take back everything. "But for now… What’s your calendar open to, baby? Three? Four rounds?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get me to cum more than once,” you mumble, but you’re beginning to lose your breath as he picks up the pace once again. “I’ll warn you, though – I get loud after two.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s sporting a smug as fuck grin. “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you do that.”

Okay, so maybe the whole ‘waiting until after exams’ bit is getting to Haechan. He wouldn’t wait until your calendar cleared up, he couldn’t, his testosterone wouldn’t let him.

It’s been a whole three days since he got to fuck you; and God was it driving him insane.

You glance up at him now, unimpressed. You knew studying with him was a bad idea, but he’d been so insistent; and you had to admit, knowing he had made you cum four times made his presence all the more tolerable to hang out with.

“When I what? Do science homework?"

"No, no – I mean, yes. When you concentrate you get this small… crease between your brows…” He reaches forward – concentrating himself – tugging the plush of his bottom lip between his teeth as he reaches out to poke between your brows. “You look fucking sexy.”

“Alright, Casanova, hands to ourselves” you snort before you return to your reading.

The silence doesn’t last long, and the second he opens his mouth you swear you’re two moments away from taping his lips together.

“Lemme eat you out.”

“Wh– no!” Horrified, you peek around to see if anyone had heard him. But the library is virtually empty – it always is after 11 PM on a Friday.

And also, you’re both tucked away in a table at the back behind the History books that no-one ever takes out.

“You should be studying.”

“Don’t worry about me, I got this exam in the bag.”

You glare. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slumping in his seat again. “You’re my only competition, and, well…”

“Well, what?” You demand, setting your book down.

This was the usual dynamic you were familiar with when it came to Lee Haechan.

“You saying I’m not good enough competition, for you Hyuck? If my memory serves me correctly – and it definitely does – I beat you by 10% on our last exam.”

His own eyes narrow.

Oh, you just hit a nerve.

“Just for that,” he begins slowly, pushing his chair out, “I’m gonna suck your clit ‘til you go dizzy.”

“What part of no don’t you understand?”

But the promise is enticing and you part your legs anyway as he shimmies underneath the table.

“You’re such a fuckboy, I swear–”

“I am not!” He objects incredulously from beneath you. “I just like how you taste, baby.”

A fuckboy, you swear. But he’s got a way with words (and a way with his fingers, and a way with his tongue, and a way with his di—).

You feel your skirt being rucked up and your panties being pulled to the side – seconds later, his face ducks up from the table, grinning wolfishly.

“You’re kinda wet down here, baby. Are you sure you’re okay?” He teases.

“Shut up before I scream,” you grunt, folding your arms.

“Wouldn’t that be a dream?” He sighs. He retreats not two milliseconds after, though, and you hear him whistle lowly to himself. And then, so quiet you almost don’t catch it: “Fucking hell, baby.”

You make a promise that if he calls you baby once more you’re going to kick him because it makes your stomach flutter and your palms sweat — but then he licks a rough line up your pussy and you decide that maybe you’ll allow him to call you whatever he pleases.

Your head falls back as he does it again, and again, and again, as if he’s trying to clean up whatever mess you’d made in your panties. And normally you’d be irritated — wanting him to just move onto your clit already — but he genuinely sounds like he’s enjoying himself.

Quiet groans in his throat and passionate movements of his jaw, and his hands grasp your thighs so tightly you know there’ll be bruises. He smacks his lips wetly and you jolt, peeking out from behind the bookshelf to see if anyone had seen.

“Calm down,” He says, words muffled against you. “Nobody comes behind here on a Friday night. We’re safe.”

And as if to punctuate his point: a finger pulls back the hood of your clit, and true to his word, he sucks. Quickly, you shove your fist into your mouth and begin to gnaw on your knuckles, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see stars.

“H-Hyuck,” you whimper, “Unless you want me to get us caught–"

"I know, I know,” he says, sighing. His face comes out from underneath the table again. “I’ll be good if you pull your top down.”

“W-what?” To be fair, you’re still delirious off pleasure because his thumb hasn’t stopped grinding against your clit. “Why?"

"So I can play with your tits,” he says easily, shrugging. “C'mon, Princess. Show me your boobs.”

You stare at him for a moment, disbelief written on your face. “You’re such a man.”

“And you’ve still got the limp to prove it, haven’t you, baby? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t walk straight.”

“Whatever.” You pull your top down, tug your breasts out of their cups – only to appease him and get him to shut up. Immediately he takes one in his grabby hands, all warm and rough as he tugs and pulls at one nipple.

So, okay, maybe he does know what he’s doing. Sometimes. Who are you kidding? All the time.

“Hm, you like that, don’t you?"

"Shut up,” you hiss, “if you get us banned from this library because of your dirty talk I’m never fucking you again—shit."

“We both know that’s not true.”

A steady stream of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves calls your attention elsewhere; at the same time, your nipple is rolled between his index and thumb. You feel like you’re buzzing all over, and it’s not because you’ve had five cups of coffee in the last three hours.

You don’t realise that you’re panting – fucking close – until Haechan releases your clit with a pop. He ducks underneath the table to peek up at you again. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I’ll be quiet,” you promise through gritted teeth, shoving your top into your mouth. You restrain the urge to curse him out because you could feel the beginning flutters of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, and you know he’ll draw it out as much as possible if given the chance. “Just keep going."

He’s wearing a victorious, shit-eating grin when he gets back to it, energy increasing rapidly. He eats pussy like he’s competing for a trophy, and truth be told, you don’t mind being his prize if he makes you cum as hard as you did a few days ago. His tongue moves eagerly, tracing letters and numbers and fucking his name on your sensitive skin before sucking again.

No noise. You try to coach your brain into silence.

You never usually have a problem keeping quiet for the first orgasm. But as much as you hate to admit it, the act of being eaten out in a public library is a different kind of turn on.

And it really doesn't help that Haechan knows exactly what he’s doing.

Maybe that’s why when you cum, you have no problem with clinging to any part of him you can get your hands on — his hand on your chest, his hair between your legs. A weak whimper follows as you contract around nothing, hips bucking gently into his mouth, and he takes it all in.

Fuck.

He slides back from under the table and resurfaces a metre away, grinning widely. You know the image of you looking so ruined because of him is doing wonders for his ego — so as quickly as possible you pull your top down and readjust your skirt, panties irritatingly rough against your skin.

"Good, huh?"

You don’t want to give him anymore satisfaction, but you know with the orgasm he had just given you so publicly, there was no use in lying. In fact, you’re certain lying to him would only make his cocky ego flame even more.

“Whatever, Hyuck. You give good head, I’ll give you that.”

He hums, leaning backwards. “Thanks, baby. Now, bend over."

”Excuse me?“ You say.

“C’mon, you can’t just let me eat your pretty pussy and not expect me to get hard. You’re blue balling me here, Princess.”

You’re so genuinely shaken by his unfaltering confidence that you just stare.

“And don’t pretend you don’t love my cock.”

“Hyuck—”

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

You’re in a library. Letting him eat you out was already a reach — but you can’t deny that you do love the feeling of him inside you. And he did take good care of you last time. And —

You sigh in defeat, standing. “Remember what I told you last time?"

"You get loud after two. I’ll keep that in mind, baby.”

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[put-me-through-the-wall]

𝜗𝜚 Down the Rabbit Hole 𝜗𝜚

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Work Count: 4.9k (I don't know what happened...)

Summary: Reader wanders a little too far off the path. Good thing such a nice older man came to help.

A/N: It's halloween y'all!! I freaking love halloween and all things spooky and scary. So I thought maybe I should write something really scary to fit the occasion. Okay so technically yesterday was halloween but better late than never. Let me know what you guys think. I don't think I have any smut out yet?? So please let me know any feedback or thoughts you have. I love you all so much!! 𝜗𝜚

Warnings: This story contain dark themes. Not to spoil but this one does contain DUBCON/NONCON elements, intoxicated reader, drugging, light bondage, kidnapping, forced impregnation. If you are not in the headspace the read this please scroll on. I will write some nicer things in the future.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

With a sigh you pull out your phone, the blue light illuminating your face in the dark night. Just to find you have no cell signal this far out, of course. You try calling a few people but not a single call would go through. A simple dial tone rang out much to your dismay. Leaning back against the bumper of your car, you can feel the heat radiating off your exposed engine. You look towards the propped open hood of your tired vehicle. 

The hissing machinery creates a pillar of steam when mixing with the chilled October air. Your leg bounces nervously while your eyes scan the surrounding forest. There are no street lights, no houses, not even the sound of cars whizzing by on a nearby roadway. Just dark woods and the crickets chirping. You mentally curse yourself and your friends for convincing you to drive so far out on your own. 

You spend a long twenty minutes going back and forth between trying to find service along the road way and seeking warmth in the shelter of your car. Your costume doesn't provide much cover against the autumn cold. Clad only in a restricting corset top, tiny ruffled shorts, fishnet stocking, and shiny white heels. Topped off with a pair of fuzzy bunny ears fixed to a headband and a little white tail attached right above your butt. It looked better in your mirror at home when you were imagining sitting in a hot crowded house party surrounded by familiar faces. 

Your focus breaks from the car's owner manual when you hear a distant rumbling. You hop out of the driver's side seat and look to see a blinding set of headlights coming your way. As the lights come closer at a rapid speed you wave and step closer to the asphalt to catch the driver's attention. 

Thankfully it begins to slow and rumbles to a stop a few feet short of your car. The driver kills the engine along with the annoyingly bright LEDs. Thet turn their hazard lights on, bathing the area in a blinking orange glow. You are stunned for a moment while your sight adjusts back to the dim night. You make out the shape of a large pickup truck through spotted vision. Its boxy silhouette shows a vehicle past its prime and out of style. You take that as a good sign thinking the owner must know something about taking care of cars. 

The driver's side door creaks open and out comes a pair of boots dropping onto the roadside. When they slam the door you see a large shadow saunter towards you. Heavy steps crunch on the earth below. 

"Thanks for stopping" You cross your exposed arms over your chest hoping they don't see the way you're shaking. You pretend like this isn't a total horror movie scene right now. Telling yourself the shivers are from the frigid air, not fear.

"You alright?" A thickly accented english voice asks. The figure finally reaches you. You have to crane your neck up to look him in the face, his broadness could swallow your quivering frame. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. My car not so much" you gesture back to the front of your lifeless automobile. He looks over you and hums in understanding.

"I can take a look for you," He steps past and takes in the sight under your hood. “What happened?” He takes a moment to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt and scrunch up the sleeves. 

“I don't know. I was just driving and then I heard some weird sounds then it started driving funny.” you attempt to explain.

“What kind of sounds?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug.

“Like a rattling, a pop, what?” 

“If I am being completely honest I had the radio up kinda loud so I can’t really remember. I just know I heard something then it started to shake and slow down.”

You watch as he leans forward, large hands braced against the low bumper. "Do you have a flashlight?" his tone is flat, is he mad at you?

"Yeah," you pull your phone and click on the flashlight. You stand on the side of the car and try to hold it steady with both of your shaking hands. 

"You can come a little closer," he looks up and smiles. "I don't bite"

You give a nervous chuckle and step around to the front of the car. Still careful to keep a good amount of distance from the stranger. 

"Can you- here let me just," his large hand wraps around your wrist and gently draws your hand further out until you're almost bent over reaching across the space. "That's better." 

He checks different areas, twisting and tapping on a few parts. Checking the levels of the various fluids. Occasionally repositioning the angle of your flashlight with a firm yet polite adjustment of your arm. 

"Have you called anyone yet?" His gentle eyes look up from underneath his thick brow. 

You hesitate for a moment considering the implication of your answer. He holds your stare as you try not to appear nervous. "Yes, I called roadside assistance but they won't be here for a while. They know I'm here though." You rush out a lie. 

"Hm, yeah we're pretty out" he looks back at the machinery. He stands up straight, brushes his hands off on the thighs of his jeans. "Looks like you're not going anywhere."

Your stomach tightens and you pull back your flashlight leaving you both in the darkness. 

"I can fix it but I'm going to need to go back to my place and grab some tools" He pulls the hood of your car down and slams it shut. "Or you can wait for the guy to get here. You'll be waiting for a while though"

You hold your phone tight in your palm feeling torn between trusting this stranger or going back to being stranded. "Um," it's hard to think with the constant waves of shivers going through you.

"Or you can stay here in the middle of the woods by yourself. Up to you," He pulls his keys from his pocket with a jingle and walks around you, back in the direction of his truck. 

You look between your own car, the dark tree line, and the tall man getting further away. 

"Okay!" You call to him. He turns and watches as you reach into your open car door to grab your purse and keys. You lock the door behind you and walk towards him. 

You hear his door squeak open then his truck rev to life you. You quicken your pace to reach the passenger side, not wanting to be left alone here for another second. Before you can grab the handle he is reached over the long bench seat pushing to open from the inside. 

"Glad you could make it," his cheeky smile causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners.

"Better than getting mauled by a bear" You haul yourself up and into the seat. The interior is still warm which allows you to relax a bit while your shiver subside. You take in the roomy cab of his truck. Nice leather seat, very clean, smells good. Surely he is just a kind older man wanting ti help out a stranded, clueless woman. 

"You'd be alright. Bears normally hunt in the mornings. Bobcats on the other hand, that's what you've got to watch out for." He places his hand on the gear shifter, "Seatbelt," and nods down towards the unclipped buckle.

"Okay but first, can you promise you're not going to kidnap or kill me?" You stare him down as he holds a faint smile.

"I'm not going to kill you," he chuckles

"You see, that's exactly what a murderer would say," you are only half joking with that statement but buckle yourself in anyways.

"I guess you're going to have to trust me then" He focuses his eyes forward and pulls onto the road. 

"I don't even know your name." 

"I don't know yours either" he counters

"Fair enough," you consider it for a moment before telling him your name, and he tells you his. 

"I don’t mean to be rude but, what's with the outfit?" he glanced your way for a moment. You don't miss the way his eyes trace down your figure. 

"I'm a bunny, duh." You point to the fluffy ears fixed to your headband. His brows remains drawn in confusion. "It's halloween," you continue stating the obvious. 

"Is it?" he finally puts it together. "My work has been hectic. It's easy to lose track of time. Heading to a party, then?" he asks.

"Was. I think I took a wrong turn a few miles back but I lost my cell signal so, I couldn’t get the map to load. Then my car died."

"That's some bad luck. Maybe you should look into getting a lucky rabbit's foot." He raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

"Ha ha," you respond humorlessly. "Look, the costume would've been a lot better with my friend. She's supposed to be a magician. Y'know like a magician pulls the white rabbit out of the hat."

"Right," he nods.

"Yeah, but it looks like I won't be making it tonight. I'm not too upset though. I'm not much of a party person."

"No?"

"No way, I'm a homebody. I hardly ever leave my house if I'm being honest. I work from home too so that keeps me pretty busy. Wow, sorry I didn’t mean to tell you my whole life story," you chuckle nervously.

"’S alright, I don’t mind. Your boyfriend doesn't take you out?" he asks.

"Boyfriend? No, I don't have a boyfriend." 

"Sorry, I just assumed. I mean, you're a pretty girl. Hard to believe you don't have someone to look after you." 

"Oh, thanks" a bashful blush rises up your cheeks. "Like I said, I don't get out much. Not many opportunities to meet people. Which is part of the reason my friend gets so mad at me. I've canceled on her the past three times she has asked me to hang out. She had to beg me to come tonight. I kind of feel bad though. She's probably going to think I bailed again."

"When we get back to my place you can use my phone to give her a call if you'd like," he offered. 

"Yeah, I probably should."

Looking out the windshield you can make out speckles of light ahead, breaking up the dense forest. John makes a final turn and you find yourself pulling up to a very nice cabin. Wood paneling lined the exterior framing several expansive windows which emit a warm yellow light behind the closed curtains. The glass panels stretch high to the sloped asymmetrical ceiling. The architecture looks straight out of the seventies. 

"Wow, this is your place?" you ask in amazement. "What do you do for work?"

"I work for the government," he states simply before turning off the truck and exiting. He walks around to your side and opens your door. He offers his hand to you which you shyly take as you hop down from the elevated cab. "Your hands are cold," he gives your hand a small squeeze fully enveloping it in his palm. "Let's get you warmed up inside."

He ushers you up the driveway, his hand now transitioned to your lower back. You can't deny the way his touch makes your stomach flip. He opens the door and you step into the cozy home. 

You are greeted by a vast living room. A long espresso colored leather sofa sits among matching chairs all facing towards a large stone fireplace. The space is washed in varying shades of warm browns and oranges. A beautiful thick rug lays across the glossy hardwood. 

"Sit, let me get you a drink. Would you like some tea, coffee, a beer?" 

"I'll have a coffee," with your confirmation he stepped through the living room to the connecting kitchen. Your eyes follow him as he disappears through the doorway. "Government job, huh? You must be very important." You step to one of the bookshelves that sit on either side of the fireplace. Scanning the many titles there. 

"I guess you could say that." He laughs. "Do you take cream and sugar?" 

"Yes, please." Your finger grazes the spines of the books. Many biographies and historical nonfiction among his collection sprinkled in with survival guides and warfare tactics.

"How about some Bailey's?"

"Sure,” you shrug. Maybe a little spiked coffee and make you relax a little.  

He reappears with two steaming mugs in each hand. He offers one to you which you happily accept. Wrapping both hands around the cup, allowing the hot drink to unfreeze your fingers. He holds his gaze while he takes a sip and then releases a gravelly groan in satisfaction. You follow suit taking a sip, feeling the warmth descend in your throat and radiate in your chest. 

"Not bad?" 

"No, not at all, thank you,” you smile sweetly. 

"How about a fire? Get you warmed up and then I'll go grab those tools, ay?" He doesn't allow you to answer before he sets his mug on the coffee table and kneels in front of the fireplace. 

You sit on the couch and watch while he makes quick work of getting the fire started. It's not long until he nurses the little flame into a roaring fire. He grabs a few fresh logs to throw on top before getting up and taking a seat next to you. 

"Feeling better?" He asks as grabs his drink once more and settles into the cushions, arm slung across the back of the couch behind you. 

"Much" With your cup now half empty you begin to feel the alcohol go straight to your head. You aren't surprised though. You haven't eaten all day in order to fit into this strangling outfit. 

"I like your costume, by the way. I don't think I said that earlier. Not sure if I would've stopped if you didn't look so cute" His hand reaches from behind you and flicks your artificial ears.

"Hey" You adjust the head piece back in place. "This was a lot of work to put together, I'll have you know." You attempt to convey your seriousness but can't help the giggle that escapes. 

"Oh, I can tell." His hand slips down from the back cushion to brush across your bare shoulder. The light touch makes your skin erupt in a flurry of goosebumps. "You're still pretty cold, bunny. Let me get you something warmer to put on." 

"I'm okay, really. I'll warm up." You take another long sip on your hot beverage. "I feel fine."

"I insist" He rises from the couch and politely holds a hand out for you. 

You are hesitant for a moment but seeing the persistence settled on his face you accept. "Alright," you relent.

He leads you down a dim corridor to the last room on the right. He pushes open the cracked door to reveal his neat bedroom. Very much resembling the rest of the house. A giant perfectly made bed sits in the center of the clean area. Makes sense considering the large man that sleeps in it. A lone lamp illuminates the room giving it a hazy appearance. Or maybe that's just your clouded mind. 

He steps past you towards his dresser and pulls open one of the drawers. He pulls out a large shirt then a pair of pajama pants and hands them to you. "Not sure how well these will fit but it'll be more comfortable, I'm sure"

"Too bad" You look down at the folded clothes in your hand. "Feels like a total waste of a costume."

His eyes scan down your body once more. "I don't think so" He walks past you towards the door. "I sure got a kick out of it" He smiles and turns to close the door on his way out. 

"John," you rush out before he goes. 

"Hm?"

"Can you, um-" You look over your shoulder at him. Still facing away from him. "Can you untie me?" gesturing to the lace up back to your corset.

"Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat. “I can do that" he takes measured steps towards you. As though a hunter may quietly stalk up to its prey. 

You look forward again and stand up a little straighter when his warm hands rest on your shoulders. They slowly slide down your back and onto the dense fabric. Fingers trailing over the layer of ribbon and boning. Finally he reaches the large bow at the base of your back. You feel the ribbon unwind to hang limply. Edges skimming the back of your thighs.

His strong fingers wedge themselves in the gaps between the laces. Tugging each intersection with meticulous movements so as not to throw you off balance. Your hands rush to press the front of your corset to your chest when you feel it begin to slip. At last you can take a full breath. 

Feeling his touch retreat after finishing the task you turn back towards him. Neck craning up to meet his eyes. The height difference was much more apparent from this close proximity. 

"Thank you,” your voice coming out just over a whisper.

"It's no trouble" He matches your hushed tone.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. Maybe it was the drink, or the fact that you were touch starved, perhaps even the fact that it was halloween but you felt bold. Bold enough to release your hands and allow the undone corset to fall to the ground below. 

Without a moment's hesitation John harshly grabs the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours as if thats the sign he’s been waiting for. Lips collide in a hot rush. His stong arms pull you flush against his broad frame. Deep groans rumble from his chest. 

Your sluggish movements make you struggle to keep up with his hectic pace. Your hands sliding up his neck to tug at his cropped hair. One particular harsh tug draws a growl from him. 

He walks you backwards across the room until the back of your tight clad legs meet the soft comforter. He releases his hold and you fall backwards onto the mattress. 

He towers over you. His chest heaves with each breath as he stares you down. Your stomach flutters, unsure if it is due to excitement or fear. You begin scoot backwards up the bed but as you make your way towards the pillows his hand encircles one of your ankles.

"Not so fast little, bunny," he tugs your leg harshly and pulls you back towards him. He doesn't waste time as he dips his fingers into your tiny ruffled shorts yanking them down in one swift motion. 

He climbs over you, wedging his thigh between your legs. His hand maneuvers around your lower back and behind your neck. He pulls you back into a heated kiss. 

You feel the pressure from his muscular thigh press against you. You unconsciously grind your hips into his leg while he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. He assists in your movements as he grips your hips, rocking you back and forth.

"That's it, pretty," he leans down to mumble in your ear. "I can feel you soaking through those little panties," then giving your earlobe a nip.

Moans slip from you with each movement. Rutting pathetically, unable to stop yourself as you near closer to your edge. He dips down to your neck expertly finding your sensitive points. Biting your pulse then soothing it with his tongue. The friction from his jeans rubs against your little cotton underwear and fishnets. 

"John, please," you whine, unsure of what you're asking. 

"Go ahead sweet girl, cum for me." His powerful grip digging into your waist. 

With his words of approval paired with his hot mouth moving along your throat, you begin to unwind. Tipping over the edge, your legs tightening around his own. The knot in your stomach finally snaps. Back arching into him and loud moans pouring from you. A rush of heat fills you and until you finally slump back into the bedding. 

John loosened his hold around you. A hand coming up to move hair away from your face. "You're a dirty little girl, aren't you? Humping my leg to get off. Nasty thing, you are." 

A blush of embarrassment rising across your already flushed face. The shame morphs back into lust as you feel a tightness reform in your stomach. 

John sits back on his knees and begins to unbutton his shirt. Your eyes can't help but to land on the massive bulge formed in his pants. A thick outline straining against the restricting denim. He finishes stripping off his shirt revealing his burly chest. You sit up to run your hands down his bare skin. Leaving kisses along the line of hair leading from his chest into his happy trail. 

Your hands skim lower to find the buckle of his belt. You make quick work unbuckling and unfastening of his jeans. Hurriedly yanking down the offending material just enough to give way to his tight boxers. Your mouth salivates at the sight of his hard cock straining through the thin material.

Before you can rip away the final layer he grabs your wrists. “Not so fast,” he chuckled. Gathering both your wrist into one of his hands easily he uses the other to swiftly pull his belt from it loops. He takes the belt and wraps it around your wrists, securing them tightly together. 

“Needy girl,” he mumbles. His rough palms traced down your arms then along your waist. “Taking whatever you want,” his fingers skim along the pattern of your fishnets. “It’s my turn now, bunny,” once he reaches your still clothed center. Finger grip the threads of your tights and rip them open. Completely tearing the flimsy strands to fully expose your panties. 

He slides his fingers across your sensitive clothed cunt making your hips thrust into him. “Oh, bunny. You’re soaked,” his eyes flick back up to meet yours. The black of his pupil now blown out almost completely consuming the previously blue iris. 

He takes your bound wrists and pulls them over his head. Your arms now wrapped around his neck, your bare chest flush against his. He pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips. Not bothered enough to fully undress he jerks down the waistband of his boxers. Allowing his thick cock to spring out. Fingers frantically pulling aside the drenched material of your panties, exposing your throbbing heat. 

He grinds his hips up to meet yours. Sliding his cock easily through your wet folds.

“Oh god,” you whimpered as his head rubs against your sensitive clit. “Please, fuck me” 

Needing no more prompting he pulls your hips back and lines himself up with your needy hole but not yet entering. “You want this?” He dips just the tip of his head in, teasing your dripping entrance. 

“Yes, please,” you beg, looking at him through your lashes. You desperately try to grind your hips down but he holds you in place. 

“What good manners you have,” he continues to tease and thrusts the tiniest movements, never fully entering. 

“John, I can’t wait anymore, please, just- please. I need it. I-” Your string of pitiful begging is interrupted when he finally yanks your hips down. His length fills you completely in one smooth thrust. Your eyes roll back at the sensation as he fills you to the hilt. 

He lets out a guttural moan once he is fully inside of you. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groans. His head dropped in the crook of your neck, biting the soft skin there. Mustache and stubble scratching along your collarbone. You yelp at the pain of his bite but he doesn't relent. Your pussy tightens around him as his teeth sink into the tender flesh. 

His arms move from their grip on your hips and fully wrap around your back. He begins to thrust up into you. Not easing into the movement as he immediately drives his hips up at a brutal pace. As if he were unable to wait another second. 

Unable to grip into anything with your bound hands, you find purchase digging your nails into the leather of the belt. Your head tipping back limply as you can only take his cruel ministrations. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He grits out through his teeth, each word punctuated by his hips driving up into you. His cock pounds into your cervix making a flurry or stars burst behind your eyelids at every hit. “Is this what you’ve been needing? A good fucking?”

You mumble out a pathetic, “Mhm,” unable to fully process his words. His fingers dig into your shoulder and back. You are fully engulfed by this giant brute of a man. 

“I know you do. I knew from the moment I saw you. Looking so sweet on the side of the road.” He chuckles darkly. Continuing to hold you tight against him he leans forward until your back hits the comforter. Your legs lock around his back while he holds your hips in place. The new angle has him pounding into your sweet spot over and over. The friction of his hair rubbing onto your clit creates the building of renewed heat in your stomach.

“You gonna cum again, pretty? Let me see you do it,” his thrusts slow from the frantic pace to a slower harder stroke. His arms lay on either side of your head while he studies your features. Hard length easing out of you slow enough for you to feel each ridge and vein. Then jerking his hip harshly back in. 

Your head was feeling fuzzy. A drop of salvia trailed out of your lips and down your cheek. Your high was getting closer with each thrust. Eyelids fluttering shut as you feel the knot tighten in your stomach. So close to release. Your walls contract around him causing your legs to tighten, toes curling. 

“Hey,” John snaps harshly. When he receives no response he gives you a light smack on the cheek. Hard enough to make your eyes pop open in shock. “Look at me, pretty girl. I need to see those eyes,” his words sound warm but he grips your jaw in place with a stern hold.

Your eyes flutter while you struggle to keep them focused on him. Coming closer to the edge. “Come on, you can do it. Don’t make you give you another smack. I don’t want to hit you, pretty girl. Don’t make me” his tone dripping in condensation. “That’s it, give it to me. I wanna see you come undone, bunny.”

Then you snap. A series of shockwaves ravages your tired body. Shooting sparks of electricity race through your limbs. Your unfocused eyes stayed fixed on him throughout your climax. Your back arches high into his chest. Fingers ball up tight, desperate for something to grip. Your mouth drop open agape in a silent cry. Tear form in the corners of your eyes threatening to spill from the over stimulation. His harsh movements not granting you mercy in your fraile state.  

“God, I can feel you squeezing me. Oh, pretty girl, I'm gonna fill your sweet cunt,” he moans. Hips increase in pace as your tense muscle loosen in exhaustion. 

“Wait-” You murmur, hardly able to get your words out. Only a string of incoherent mumblings follow. Your brain is completely clouded. You know you can’t let him finish inside. “Please, no,” you whimper. “Can’t”  

“It’s gonna be okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m gonna fill you up and maybe I’ll get you pregnant.” He says with a wicked smile. “You want to be my little house bunny? Fuck you until you get big and round. Walk around pregnant barefoot,”

Alarm bells ring in your ears but you aren’t able to fight against his strong hold. Your limbs remain weak. Useless to pull away from his embrace “Please” you whine, “I can’t”

“You can, bunny.” His thrusts grow erratic, losing their rhythm. “Gonna be such a pretty mommy,” His hand slipped underneath your head allowing thick fingers to tangle into your hair. His hands closing into a fist giving the strands a sharp tug. The other hand wanders down to your hips. Holding you firmly in place with a bruising grip. 

With one final thrust he releases a loud, guttural groan. Teeth bared in exertion as he reaches his own climax. Cock pulsing inside of you, draining his seed into your weeping womb. All you can do is tighten your jaw as you attempt to push, kick, scream, anything but you just lie there. The faintest gasp leaves you when you feel his warm load pool inside of you.  

“You made it so easy for me,” he laughs. “You just got in my truck. Walked into my house. Silly girl, you don’t even know me. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to talk to strangers.” 

He gives a few more gentle pumps before pulling out completely. Leaving your aching cunt feeling empty. He leans back and stares down, watching him cum drip out of your still quivering cunt. 

“You know, I put something in your drink. Took a little while to take, though. Got to you just in time I think. I was going to wait but you wanted it, didn’t you? I like seeing that dumb look in your eyes.” He grabs your jaw and moves your head back and forth while you stare blankly back at him. 

“Couldn’t let a little bunny like you get away, could I?

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Masterlist

Taglist:

@azkza @Miss-mistinguett @contractedcriteria @hidden-treasures21@Sprokat @ebodebo @coooookie15 @from-vuka @ninman82 @talooolaaloolla @​​roastyyytoastyyy @mipitt141 @doingitfortheplot @Hatterripper31 @Fleurydelacoury @eternallyvenus @loversroxk @Creepingeva @mackzack08 @nishim

Join the taglist here to be updated about new stories!

ﾒ𝟶

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔽𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛’𝚜𝙶𝙵𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

*part of the “Sorry, Top” AU — writen to be read alone.

warnings: jealous!rafe, cheating, swearing, drinking, heavy angst, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, dark!reader, dark!rafe, ownership “you’re mine, etc.”, pet names.

📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! This was not a kinkmas ask, but I made it one 😋 The premise is that you are dating Topper but hook up with Rafe secretly. You and Rafe had agreed that you mean nothing to each other, using one another to get off only, but the more time he spends with you, the more his feelings have grown. You have no idea because he’s so adamant about the fact that he’s using you. So, how would you know? Topper let Rafe know that the two of you had finally had sex, and between that and seeing you together at the Island Club Christmas party, he’s about ready to crash out.

Masterlist

The Island Club glimmers like a holiday movie brought to life—soft, candy colored lights curling around every banister, beautiful decorations meticulously placed.

Rafe barely notices the crowd around him—people he hasn’t seen in months. The hum and laughter surrounding him blends together when he sees you from across the room.

His blue eyes are sharp and burning with a feeling that he’s never felt before… Jealousy. Then again, maybe he has; maybe it was there all along.

Rafe lifts his whiskey to his lips, sipping slowly as he stands with his friends. He smiles and nods occasionally as he stares at you from a distance. His unease and anxiety mounts with each look you give Topper and every sweet nothing he whispers in your ear.

He can’t help but think how beautiful you look tonight. So good that it hurts.

He’ll never get to look at you like this—like him. Topper has it all. And what does he get? Stolen glances, late-night whispered conversation, quick passes in the hallway on your way to class, but that’s what he had wanted.

Rafe thought about it once. A few night back, when you were snuggled up in bed with Top, watching a movie. He thought about taking you on a date. A real date. Sitting across from him, dressed up just like you are now.

It didn’t help that he and Top had talked the day before, the two of you finally taking your relationship to the next level. The thought of you having sex with him—doing the shit that the two of you do together made Rafe physically ill.

He was confident in the way he made you feel. There was no denying that he made you feel good—made you feel something that would make walking away from your entanglement with him difficult. But what if… What if Topper was better? What if you no longer needed the only thing Rafe was good for? What if you didn’t want him?

What if he lost you?

The fact that he told you ‘you meant nothing to him’ haunts him like nothing else has, and the more he listened to you talk, the more he learned about you, and the more time he spent with you alone when Top wasn’t looking, the more the lines between “I don’t care” and “I care more than I should” blurred.

He had gotten so used to your company—the idea of you going on to live a life without him, to be done with him completely, and for Top to get that was suffocating.

Rafe’s nostrils flare, jaw tense, teeth gritted. He grips his glass, tossing back the rest of his liquor.

He shuffles toward the bar, nodding toward the bartender, pretending not to know exactly where he was placing himself—right next to you. “Top,” Rafe smiles, greeting his friend, pulling him in for a friendly hug, ignoring you as long as possible in an attempt to make you feel as desperate for his attention as he was fiending for yours.

His stomach churns as he watches you wrap your manicured fingers around Topper's tie, fixing the knot; his presence, not even felt by you. He imagines why you’re fixing it in the first place, picturing the two of you hooking up in the bathroom stall or the car before you walked in. He swallows thickly, feeling the pressure of his anxiety weighing on his chest. Rafe clears his throat in one last attempt to get your attention, too proud to fight for it any other way in front of Topper.

“Oh. Hey, Rafe,” you smile when you turn around, looking into his eyes. His usual swagger is gone, a flicker of something new in its place that you can't quite place. He takes a little breath, looking down at you in your party dress, eyes beating shut as he lands on your hips, seeing Topper's hand hooked around your waist.

Rafe bites his lips, holding back everything; next to impossible considering how beautiful you look tonight. His praise, right on the tip of his tongue, along with the words he can’t say…

“Are you thirsty, babe?” Topper asks as he tucks himself into your neck. The warmth of his whisper tickling skin, making you turn into him even more.

The bartender sets a drink in front of Rafe, and he shoots in back like a shot, knocking his gold ring against the bar top for another before he can even speak, wincing from the burn of the booze.

“Are you okay?” You ask gently.

Rafe rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth—anything but—but how can he let you know that when the two of you had been nothing but a dirty secret. The man labeling you as nothing more than a means to get himself off… You were supposed to mean nothing to him, but at this moment, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Talk to you two later, yeah?” He rasps, looking out into the party, so deep in his emotions that he can’t even look at you to deliver those six parting words.

He grabs his drink off the counter, strolling back to where he came. Your eyes follow him; Rafe, not going far. And unless he came from somewhere else, there’s no way he didn’t see you before.

Conversation plays around him as he stews, his frustration boiling under the surface, threatening to bubble over any second if he sees much more.

His cold heart breaks as he notices how Topper looks at you now. It’s different—a new level of intimacy in his touch that wasn’t there before.

Rafe throws his gaze to the floor, battling with his irrational mind that’s screaming that “no one gets to look at you like that but him,” clearly, that is not the case considering that man is your boyfriend, not him… Those thoughts brew again, “no one should get pleasure or give you pleasure but him…” Not even the man you have been with for months… He knows he sounds insane, but he can’t help it, not when it comes to you. Rafe rolls out his neck, taking a moment to rein himself in.

Everything around him gets a little louder, the conversations he’s been zoned out on filling his ears— the swell of Christmas music surging around him. He takes a deep breath, pushing it out slowly, trying to keep himself from falling apart.

No strings, no feelings, nothingness… that is what he’s supposed to feel when it comes to you.

So why is he digging his phone out of his pocket? Why is he punching his thumbs against the keys, trying to come up with the right thing to say? Why is he fighting off tears for anyone, let alone his best friend’s girlfriend?

This had become far more than just a simple hook-up—the only question is, how long had he been lying to himself?

Rafe nervously brushes his fingers through his hair, staring at the text again before pushing send. He swallows hard, forcing himself to look away, not wanting to see your face when you get it, nervous that your reaction will be anything less than what he’s hoping for.

Rafe: I didn’t think you were gonna come.

You: Hey Rafe. Yeah. Topper wanted me to meet his parents.

Rafe tosses his head back to the ceiling, trying to shut off his mind as he grapples with that thought. You're taking another step forward with Top—just another step away from him.

You: Seriously. Are you okay?

Rafe gets the notification, looking down at his phone. His eyebrows shoot up as he reads your words like he’s trying to translate a language he doesn’t know, scoffing and laughing.

Am I okay? No, I’m not fucking okay. He thinks to himself. He looks over at you and Topper, and for the first time, you truly see it.

Rafe Cameron is jealous…

Rafe: Meet me outside. We need to talk.

You read and reread the message, half-hiding your phone from your boyfriend as your heart races in your chest.

Rafe’s phone is already out, staring at the screen as you type up a message, watching as you shove your phone back in your purse.

You: I can’t

Rafe stares at the message in disbelief again. You weren’t in a relationship… He didn’t get to demand your attention, so he had to ask. And you rejected him. The refusal made his chest tighten, pulse hammering in his head, making him feel like he could crawl out of his skin.

What the hell changed? Sure, you had been together in secret, but the hesitation was always just foreplay—just a part of the back-and-forth between you, building the tension you both knew would inevitably break.

This was different… This had nothing to do with sex for him. And the rejection, you meant it. The knife drove into his gut, twisting when you smiled up at Topper.

And in that moment, he truly felt like the words the two of you had exchanged were true.

He felt like nothing to you.

The party roared around him as Rafe watched, not focusing on anything but you. Rafe’s phone weighed heavy in his pocket. The urge to send you another message, demanding you meet up with him was all too strong. Rafe’s night was a nightmare—as he sat and watching a picture of what he could have had if he had been honest with himself from the start.

“Kelc,” Rafe mumbles between sips of liquor as he watches you shift your drink over to Top, whispering in his ear, putting two and two together, assuming you would go to the bathroom. “Top wanted to talk to you, man. Sorry, I forgot,” he drones as he nods toward the bar, buying himself some extra time. To Rafe’s relief, you slip away, and he doesn’t think… he just moves.

Rafe follows you fast, weaving through the thick crowd as you step into the bathroom, a hoard of women filing in behind you, leaving no hope for him to sneak in. He rests his back against the wall, looking both ways down the long hall, coming up with a plan.

He lifts his phone and types a new message, almost positive that, given the situation, you would see right through it, willing to take the risk nonetheless.

Rafe: Hey babe its Topper my phone died. We’re on the terrace smoking a cigar. You know how to get out here?

He walks down the hall, shifting his eyes before entering the billiards room. Rafe leaves the door cracked, lights off; ready to pull you inside.

You: Yeah. I’m just walking out of the bathroom now. Do I go to the left?

Rafe: Yeah babe

“Rafe!” You gasp as he pulls you into the darkness. He doesn’t let go, his big hands firmly locked on your arms.

“We need to talk,” Rafe breathes, his voice low and tight. The air between the two of you is thick. You swallow the lump in your throat, catching his quick breathing.

“Rafe, c’mon,” you whine. “Not here.” You try to step away, but the hold on your arm gets tighter.

“Why not?” He snaps as he cuts you off, drawing back enough to look into your eyes. “You barely looked at me all night. You turned me down when I texted you-”

“This isn’t the time, okay?”

“Then when is? Huh?” Rafe’s voice rises with yours. He grits his teeth, not wanting to get found before he can tell you how he feels, reaching out to shut the door before coming at you again.

“I’m here with Topper’s family. You can’t just drag me in a room and fuck me,” you hiss as you step in his face.

Rafe’s eyes widen in disbelief as he tries to think of the right words. Hating himself for treating you so awful that the only logical explanation you had that he would haul you back here was to get his dick wet.

“I have a life outside of hooking up with you, Rafe, and you’re trying to ruin it because you’re jealous.”

Rafe buries his head in his trembling hands, trying not to lose his mind. “I can’t… Shit. I-I can’t. Just.. Fuck-”

Your eyebrows pinch together, not understanding a word he’s saying as he rambles complete nonsense. “What the fuck are you saying, Rafe?”

“Cut me some fuckin’ slack. Alright?” He snaps as he steps in your face, getting angrier as you question his outburst, the words getting tangled on his tongue.

You look up at him, your face painted in confusion and annoyance as he looks down at you in desperation and frustration. “Take a breath and tell me what you want to say, Rafe. I’m not going to do this with you right now.”

Rafe rests his hands on his hips, drawing a deep jagged breath as he contemplates just keeping this shit to himself. He got himself in this mess… But he can’t let it go.

He blows his air past his trembling lips and moves toward you, grabbing your hands.

“Rafe seriously-”

“I can’t keep pretending that you mean nothing to me… Okay?” He stops you. “Because you do. You mean a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen on his, lips parting as you draw a shallow breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Just listen to me,” he pleads.

“I’ve gotta go, Rafe,” You whisper.

“What?” He asks, as the emotions he’s feeling clings to his words. “Why do you have to leave?

“You’re unbelievable…”

“How?”

You let out a growl of frusteration, pushing him back before banging your fists against his chest when he come right back in again.“Because I know you don’t mean it, Rafe. I know what you want from me. I know what I mean to you. Fucking nothing… I know what you want to do to me in here and why you drug out of the party in the first place. And I know that if I give in and let my guard down, that’s the moment you’ll let me know that you were fuckin’ with me. Playing mind games on me because ‘how could I possibly mean anything to you’? ‘I’m such a slut’, and ‘I wanted your dick so bad I believed you’.”

“You think that little of me?” He asks as his voice breaks.

“Why wouldn't I, Rafe?” You counter.

“So you don’t feel anything for me? Nothing at all?” He asks. “Tell me all those times we hooked up was just that…”

”Rafe, we agreed that we meant nothing to each other.”

“That's bullshit.”

“What do you want from me, Rafe? You curious about yesterday? That shit eatin’ you up inside? I know you only care about one thing. The sex was fuckin’ awful. Okay? It sucked just like you said it would. You were right. Alright? Can I just fuckin’ go?”

“No! Just stop. Just—” Rafe pinches his eyes shut, holding up his hands in defeat, his physical reaction to your words making your nerves rise. “That’s not the only thing I care about…”

“You’re saying this shit because Topper and I fucked. Now you’re jealous… You’re so fuckin’ predictable it’s nauseating,” you mumble as you grab your purse, heading toward the door.

“You’re right… I’m jealous. But that’s not the only reason I brought you in here.” Rafe stops you, huffing a frustrated breath. “I like you, sweetheart. You don’t have to believe me. I don’t blame you.”

“Right? So, let me go,” you clip as you yank your arm away, storming toward the door.

“So that's it…”

“What more do you want from me?” You scoff.

He laughs manically, at his witts end, looking back at you completely and utterly defeated. He sucks his teeth and shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Well, princess. Have fun with your boyfriend. I don't mean shit to you… Saw that one comin’. I deserve that. At the end of the day, we still get to fuck. Right?” He asks as he turns around, his voice on the verge of tears. “Right?” He shouts when you don’t answer. “I assume that that’s all I mean to you, too. Clearly.” Rafe mumbles. “See you back on campus.”

“Rafe…”

He hangs his head and turns around, his reflective eyes reaching yours, glossed with his emotion, threatening to give way. ”What?”

“It’s just-” you speak hesitantly. “I like you… Why the hell else would I keep risking my relationship for you? Why wouldn’t I have said something to Topper that first night? You were so fuckin’ adamant that I meant nothing that I believed it.”

“If you liked me, why wouldn’t you just leave him?”

“Because, Rafe,” you groan as your shoulders slump. “Topper and I… It’s fine. It’s not a bad relationship—I don’t know.”

“Tell me,” he mumbles as your words get caught up in a deep sigh.

”I just didn’t want to lose what little of you I had if I told you how I felt. I meant nothing to you… But I still got something, and that was enough-” Rafe surges forward, stealing your words in a desperate kiss. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer, shattering the tension. You moan against his lips as Rafe pushes you against the pool table, lifting you on top.

“You should have told me?” He breathes between kisses.

You tug his hair by the root in frustration, making him groan against your lips. “So you could throw it back in my face?” You whimper.

”I wouldn’t have done that,” he whispers as his lips brush against yours. “I’m sorry…”

You tug down the straps of your party dress, pulling down the front as Rafe hikes up your skirt, yanking your panties down your thighs between hungry kisses.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers against your lips, using a softness he’s never used before, his voice rough and laced with need. You whimper against his lips as you tug at his belt and his button, splaying his zipper as your thighs widen on the pool table.

Rafe grabs your bare thighs, holding you apart as his lips ghost over the top of yours. “I like you… I swear. You gotta believe me. I’m tellin’ him tonight. Alright?” Rafe asks as he lowers his pants and his boxers, closing the gap between the two of you. “Can’t watch that shit anymore. I need you. You two are done.”

Shivers fall down your spine at his admittance and the weight of his words. “Rafe…” You moan as his fingers trace slowly up your bare leg, disappearing between your thighs.

“Just say ‘okay’,” he hums. “I don’t even care if you’re lyin’ to me right now. Just tell me that you’re leavin’ him,” he mumbles as his fingers trace through your slick folds, making you gasp. “And that you’re mine,” he hums, pushing two fingers inside. He groans at the feeling of your tight cunt pulling him in, his eyes falling low, looking at the lust in your eyes.

“I’m yours,” you whisper as his fingers curl inside you. Making your head fall back as he works them at the perfect pace. His lips connect with your neck, sucking down on your sweet spot. “I’m not lying to you,” you whisper weakly, feeling him breathe a sigh of relief against your neck.

“You’re not lying to me?” He asks as he slips his fingers out of your pussy, pushing them through your lips. You suck around his big digits, looking at him with soft mumbling a muffled ‘no.’ Rafe hooks his hand around your neck, lowering you back on the table. “Say it, princess,” he rasps as he loops his big biceps around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the table.

“I’m not lying, Rafe,” you whisper as he fists his cock, looking down at you, swearing he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“My girl,” he mumbles as he runs his fat tips through your arousal, watching you bite down on your lip—eyes rolling back in your head. “All mine.” Your eyes rest on Rafe again as he focuses on the place where you connect, pushing in slow enough to let you feel all of him. His big hands find your hips, pitching his hips, driving his cock as deep as he can go.

”Fuck, Rafe,” you cry as you shift your hips slightly, but he holds you in place. Your back arches off the tables, hands clawing for something to hold onto. Rafe circles his hips making a moan rip from your through stars dancing in your eyes. “So fucking good,” you whimper.

“That’s my girl. Shit… You like that, huh?” He asks smugly. You bite your lip and nod fast. “Pussy was made for me and only me.” Rafe drags his thick cock out to the tip before, fucking back in.

He looks at you underneath him, praying you’re telling him the truth, hoping that all the shit you were feeding him wasn’t a lie. Your hands wrap around his wrists clutching your hips, the contact grounding him, the look in your eyes telling him you were all his. Rafe’s emotion washes over him like a wave, desperate for your lips on his and his cock sheathed deep.

He reaches down, catching his hand around the back of your neck before drawing you close. His lips crash against yours, rough and messy, mirroring his thrusts as he pounds into your pussy. The connection, your taste, the feeling of your warmth around him, and the softness of your skin was everything and more. Every time he was inside, you felt like heaven; he never imagined it could feel any better than that, but fuck was he wrong.

You hitch your hands around his neck, rolling your body to meet his thrusts, the slick sounds of your wetness and panting breaths filling the space around you. Rafe grunt and groans, wanting to fill you full, fuck you so dumb you’d forget that you had ever let Topper go all the way. But for you, those thoughts were long gone.

“Rafe, just like that,” you whimper as he reaches down, finding your puffy clit, circling his fingers fast as he feels your body about to give way.

“Never want you to say anyone else's name again,” he mumbles against your lips. “Only mine.”

“Only yours…”

“Did he make you cum, princess?” He asks as you feel the thin band in your belly threatening to snap.

“No,” you whisper. “I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Rafe’s smile spreads along your lips as he fucks it you a little faster, making you grip the edge of the table, knuckles frosting white. “That’s my girl.”

Your pussy flutters around his cock, making him cum with you. Rafe’s lips lock on yours, swallowing your pleasured sounds as he gives you a few more rough thrusts, leaving you melting in his arms.

Click.

Your heart stops as you look around Rafe, light pouring into the dark room from the hallway as you lock eyes with Topper. The two of you fumble, struggling to get your clothes back on like they're fighting against you. Rafe eyes find yours, demanding your focus as you pull up the straps of your dress, feeling the weight of the situation; your heart still banging from your orgasm, Rafe cum dripping warm down your thigh.

“I told you I’d deal with him. Alright?” He whispers firmly as he zips up his pants. And at that moment, you know he will.

“What the hell is this?”

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @littlelamy @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged

[itneverendshere]

trying to behave, but i'm feelin' some type of way - r.c

request: rafe x bitchy!pogue reader pleaseeeee!!!! he just hates that he wants her soo fucking bad and she finds it hilarioussss warnings: it gets steamy but no smut!; slutshaming; mean!rafe.

you’re out of place here, which is exactly why you’re here, tannyhill.

fuck them. fuck him.

every high-strung kook princess with their perfectly manicured nails gives you a quick once-over, nostrils flaring when they catch the sight of your scuffed-up boots. not that you care. it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.

and why should you? you’re only here for the free booze, it’s not your fault this place is such a bore. always all pearls, pastels, and the scent of white wine and privilege. who the fuck drank white whine at a party? but the real reason you’re here, the whole damn reason, is staring straight at you from across the room.

rafe cameron. ugh and yum.

he’s leaning against the bar, muscles taut under that fitted navy polo like he was born to flex, with a scowl as always. it’s always that look—the one that’s aimed solely at you, every time he sees you. it’s practically a tradition by now. you show up somewhere, he glares.

there’s a tightness in his shoulders, something tells you he’s going to snap eventually, maybe it’s because you’ve been pushing buttons lately. maybe it’s because he’s got his daddy’s expectations hanging over his head like a guillotine.

or maybe it’s just because he wants you, and that little inconvenient truth pisses him off to no end.

you flash him a slow, lazy grin, shifting your hips as you grab a beer from the cooler. when you catch the way his eyes drag over you, lingering on your exposed skin, your stomach hums with satisfaction.

let him look. let him stew in it.

“country club,” you call sweetly, raising your bottle in a mock toast, the light catching on the condensation like it’s winking at him. “how’s it going?”

his jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“and yet, here i am,” you sing-song back, taking a slow, pointed sip. you’re feeling reckless tonight. he’s dangerous, sure. but he’s also predictable. you know exactly how to make it worse.  “aww, what’s wrong?”

you know exactly this’ll go. he’ll insult you, you’ll insult him back, and then—

his eyes narrow dangerously, that vein in his temple ticking. “what the fuck are you wearing?”

you blink innocently, glancing down at yourself. “clothes, obviously. why? does it bother you?”

“yeah,” he snaps, eyes raking over you again, lingering on the swell of your chest, the sliver of skin peeking out above your waistband. “aren’t you tired of slutting yourself around?”

your lips curl into a smirk, the slow burn of satisfaction warming your chest. this is exactly what you were hoping for.

“slutting myself around?” you echo, voice teasing. “didn’t know you were keeping tabs.” you cock your head, letting your gaze linger on his flushed cheeks, the way his nostrils flare, and that slight clench of his fists by his side.

he’s seething—looks ready to burst into flames right here in front of the bar. good.

he’s always been like this with you. short fuse, especially when it comes to what you’re wearing, how you look, where you go. but you’re onto him. you know what it’s really about.

“you must really be obsessed with me,” you continue, “it’s kinda weird, don’t you think?” you take another sip, slow and deliberate, licking your lips as you meet his glare. he steps closer, crowding into your space, his chest brushing against your shoulder. you should back up, or at least pretend to care, but you just tilt your head, looking up at him with a smug little grin. “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “feeling a little tense?

“fuck off,” he grits out, stepping back like he’s burned. but it’s too late. you’ve got him now.

you cock your head, giving him a slow, taunting smile. “why? afraid you’ll get hard in front of your little friends?”

his eyes darken, jaw clenched so hard you wonder if it hurts. “i swear to god—”

“what?” you interrupt, teeth flashing. “you gonna hit me? break another one of your daddy’s toys?” you wave your hand around the pristine room, the glittering chandelier, the polished bar. “go on, then. show everyone what a psycho you are.”

“you think i won’t?” 

“yeah, i think you won’t,” you say softly, staring right into those burning blue eyes of his. “because you’re all bark and no bite.”

“you wanna see bite?” he murmurs, voice dripping venom. “i’ll show you fucking bite.”

then his hand snaps out, wrapping around your upper arm, and before you can react, he’s yanking you out of the room, down a hallway that’s all shadowed corners. you stumble, cursing under your breath, but he doesn’t stop until you’re both crashing through a side door into some empty back corridor.

“jesus, cameron, take a fucking xanax—” you start, wrenching your arm free.

for a second, you think you’ve gone too far. his whole body goes still, and something flares in his gaze—something unhinged and a little bit terrifying. but instead of snapping, instead of throwing a punch, he leans in, so close you can feel the heat of him against your skin.

you’re shoved against the wall, hard, his body caging yours in, his hands braced on either side of your head. you freeze, breath hitching. he’s close—too close—and it’s too hot and too much and—

“shut up,” he growls.

you should tell him to fuck off. you should knee him in the balls. you should do anything but feel the way you do right now—flushed, breathless, and…too horny for your own good. 

“do you always have to be so fucking dramatic?” you huff, placing your hand in chest in a futile attempt to push him away. you know he can break you in half if he wants to. 

he doesn’t move of course, just stares at you, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. he’s got that crazed look in his eyes that should make you run for the hills, and yet you stay put.

and then, suddenly, his mouth is on yours, demanding and angry.

it’s not a kiss—it’s a punishment. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding against yours with a harshness that steals your breath. you gasp, your hands coming up to shove him away again, but somehow they get tangled in his hair instead, gripping the soft strands as he presses closer, closer— it’s a disaster. you’re a disaster. because you don’t pull away. 

you kiss him back like an idiot, just as desperate, your nails digging into his scalp as you pour all your frustration into the kiss. why does he have to be this hot? in your books, kooks aren't allowed to be hotter than a 5. unfortunately, rafe is a solid eleven.

he tastes like mint and rage, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does. god, it does. he breaks away, panting, glaring down at you like you’re dirt under his shoes. “you drive me fucking insane, y’ know that?”

“good,” you gasp, licking your lips. “you deserve it.”

he laughs, a low, harsh sound. “you’re such a fucking bitch.”

“and you’re a spoiled, narcissistic asshole,” you snap back, shoving at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch, just glares harder, and it sends a thrill through your entire body. you’d never seen him like this, so unguarded and it was weirdly intoxicating. 

“i should ruin you,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. his hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw, trailing down your throat. “make you beg.”

you keep your expression defiant. “you think you can?”

rafe smirks, slow and dangerous, and it makes something burst in your belly. “i know i can.”

his hand slides lower, fingertips brushing the hem of your top, and your breath catches. you should stop this again. you should slap him, kick him, do anything but let him keep touching you like that, but you don’t. you just stare up at him, heart racing.

“show me then.”

and then his hands are on you, yanking you forward, spinning you around. you gasp, palms slapping against the wall as he presses up behind you, his body solid against yours.

“you’re a fucking brat,” he growls, his mouth right against your ear. one of his hands comes up, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch.

“and you’re obsessed with me,” you shoot back breathlessly, tilting your head to meet his gaze over your shoulder.

rafe’s grip tightens in your hair, hard enough to sting, and his lips brush your earlobe, “obsessed?” he repeats, like he can’t believe you had the fucking audacity to say it. “don’t flatter yourself, baby.”

but you feel the way his body presses against yours. your panties might be drenched but this man is just as hard. he’s close to you—so fucking close—you feel every ridge of him, and despite every insult he’s ever thrown your way, despite how much he claims to hate you, he’s here. the way he’s breathing tells you exactly what you need to know. 

you twist against him, pushing back just enough to test his restraint. “then why are you so worked up, huh?”

“i think you’re confusing us.”

“sure,” you laugh, even as his hands move down your sides, his fingernails digging into your hips. “that’s why you dragged me out here, right? because you’re just so indifferent?”

his chest brushes against your back with every ragged breath. he’s losing it. you’re making him lose it. and fuck, that feels good.

“i could ruin you,” he whispers again, like he’s trying to convince himself. his hand skim up your ribs, thumb grazing the underside of your tit, and your senses kicks into overdrive. “one word from me, and you’re done.”

“you’re all talk cameron,” you challenge, arching your back slightly, giving him more room to touch you.

you shouldn’t want this—you shouldn’t need this—but you can’t stop. 

his mouth is on your neck, hot and open, teeth scraping against your skin in a way that sends a shudder from your head to your toes.

“fuck you,” he growls against your throat, the words almost lost in the heat of his mouth. “i’m not playin’ your games.”

you bite back a moan, fingers curling against the cold wall. “you’re already playing.”

“you’re so fucking—” he cuts himself off, breathing harshly through his nose. “fuck, i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” you turn your head just enough to catch his eye. his gaze is wild, and you smirk, taunting him with your lips just inches from his. “you wish you did.”

you know you’re pushing your luck, but then again, when haven’t you?

“you have no fucking clue what i wish,” he growls, each word dripping with so much frustration it makes you laugh.

it comes out like a soft, mocking sound. “ooh, i think i do. you wish i’d shut up. wish i’d disappear. but you really wish you didn’t get hard every time ’m around.”

his jaw ticks, that telltale sign that you’re getting to him. god, he hates you. you can see it in his clenched teeth, his furrowed brows. he hates that he wants a pogue and you find it hilarious.

“don’t flatter yourself pogue,” he snaps, but his voice is strained. his hands tighten on your hips, fingers biting into your skin just shy of painful.

you push back against him just a little harder again, feeling the rigid line of his cock pressed against your ass.

“yeah?” your voice turns breathy. “then why do i feel that?” you grind your hips subtly, just to punctuate the point, and the low sound that rumbles out of him is almost worth the risk of provoking him further.

“because you’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, voice harsh and low in your ear. “you show up, looking like you want it—”

“and so what if i do?”

it’s a dare. he’s holding you, like he can’t decide if he wants to strangle you or fuck you senseless, perhaps both. you know you’ve crossed some invisible line.

“you’re gonna regret this,” he murmurs.

“maybe,” you shoot back, unflinching. “but that’s the thing, rafe.” you twist, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, “i think you’re more scared of what you might regret.”

instead of shoving you away, instead of storming off, he does the one thing you didn’t expect. he laughs.

it’s that crazy sound he makes before he does something reckless every time, the kind that makes people run away. it’s such a humorless sound, it should scare the living shit out of you as he leans in, lips brushing against your neck. “don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

before you can answer, one hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his eyes. they’re wild, almost feral, just like you expected.

“tell me to stop,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, the touch so gentle it’s almost jarring. “go on, say it.”

you swallow hard, pulse hammering in your throat. you should say it. but you don’t want to.

“make me.” you know he hears you—feels you—because the corner of his mouth lifts in a slow, taunting smirk.

“yeah?” he drawls, thumb slipping from your lip to trace along your jawline, his touch featherlight and maddening. “you sure?”

“prove me wrong. or are you scared?”

“you think ’m fucking scared of you? think i can’t handle a little mouthy brat like you?”

he’s goading you, pushing you like he always does, and every word you had prepared dies on your lips 

“i’d loooove to see you try.”

“oh, you will.”

[muletia]

First of all I LOVE your fics!! Thank you for feeding my delusions (like its totally normal to be obsessed with a robot)

I just keep imagining this scenario where the reader and optimus are kinda in the flirting stage, and she has to attend an office party, so after saving her ass from cons, he drops her off at the venue, and she has to change. She does that in the truck and checks herself in the mirror, and he compliments her. She then gives him a kiss on the dashboard and the hood and leaves. Ratchet notices that optimus is in a daze and asks why does he have red splotches on his face and chest (reader kissed him with red lipstick on).

What do you think his reaction would be like and if the kids notice its kiss marks

thank you <33 and dw i'm feeding my own delusions, no thoughts, head full of giant obsessed robots (let's pretend that opti knows what lipstick is for this, okay??)

word count: 730

He feels the warmth of your lips on his armor long after you’ve parted ways. You delivered your blows swiftly, yet precisely, and above all, skillfully—because Optimus cannot stop thinking about them. It was a small gesture, perhaps left by you in a rush of emotion when he directed a compliment your way, or maybe it was intentional, meant to torture him just a little, to leave a mark behind, ensuring he’d think of you constantly until your return. For him, however, the implications of your action were enormous, hinting at a quiet passion. And perhaps his fantasies seized control of him immediately, but he was convinced they meant far more than just a goodbye. They implied something else. Something closer, more intimate. Were you trying to tell him something? Prove something to him? As a leader, he needed to be certain at all times, but you were someone he could never quite figure out. How could someone so noble also torment him so much?

He drives into the base and transforms, though his thoughts remain with you—your warm lips, the boundless trust you showed him, the gentleness you displayed toward him. He vividly remembers the texture of your soft, warm lips against him. He’s even convinced they’re still there, infecting him with their heat, awakening desires he tries not to entertain. For they are unclean and unworthy of you, and, above all, unworthy of him.

"Optimus?"

But oh, how much he would give to once again be the center of your attention. For you to honor him with another kiss. It could be imprecise, unclear—it could leave him pondering its meaning for ages, as well as searching for the reason you chose to bestow it upon him in the first place. The pretext wouldn’t matter when it meant your focus was solely on him.

"Optimus?"

He returns to the real world. Ratchet greets him, clearly displeased that the leader of the Autobots was lost in thought instead of focusing on reality. In this case, Optimus is forced to push you to the back of his processor, though he is disheartened by the necessity. He wonders how long he can last—how long until you envelop him in your warmth again and he finds himself dissecting every gesture, every glance, wondering if this particular interaction was more romantic than the rest.

"My apologies, my friend. It seems I became lost in my thoughts."

"This has been happening more and more often lately. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Did something happen during your journey?"

Optimus arches a brow, surprised.

"No, I reached the base without any issues. Why do you ask?"

"This."

Ratchet points to a spot on his chassis, just beneath the left windshield, on the freshly polished red paint. Then, oh Primus, to his faceplate. Optimus doesn’t need a mirror to know what specifically the medic is pointing at. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels embarrassment creeping in, exposing a sliver of his emotions to the world.

He subtly turns his head and covers his mouth with his servo, for at this moment, he has no excuse for this situation.

“Ooooooh, I know what this is, I know!” Miko shouts, having been bored out of her mind just moments ago.

“Miko, calm down,” Jack scolds, noticing Optimus’s discomfort.

But Miko couldn’t care less.

“It's lipstick and the marks mean that boss bot has someone who really likes him.” She emphasizes "really" and giggles. The situation becomes even funnier as Ratchet rolls his optics.

“Ah yes, I forgot you were dropping [Name] off,” he sighs. “Just get together already, I beg of you.”

“It is not that simple,” Optimus clears his throat.

“Mhm, sure.”

Prime leaves the hangar, metaphorical tail between his legs, intent on erasing the evidence of his “crime.” He should have expected that your affections would eventually be noticed (they were, long ago), but he would have preferred for it not to happen under such humiliating circumstances.

He touches the spot Ratchet pointed to with a digit. He can still feel your lips there—their warmth, the sparks you shared with him. And if it were up to him, he would never get rid of your marks, the proof of belonging to you, of being yours alone. But the world around him was not ready for that.

[silveryclear]

MOJABI GHOST

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader

CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming

Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~

Translation done by yours truly~

Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny

Smoking,

Drinking,

Fucking,

Pretending that I don’t think about you.

I don’t who I’m trying to kid,

For this feeling,

Won’t let me sleep.

And I wish,

I wish, that I could dream peacefully,

That I could dream about you.

Another night alone. Another night without you.

Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.

The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.

Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.

Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.

At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.

Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.

He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.

Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?

He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.

He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.

And now what?

Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.

As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.

"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.

"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.

“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."

"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”

"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."

You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.

Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."

Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.

God, how I missed this smell~

He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.

"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”

"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."

"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"

You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."

Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.

Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”

Shit...

Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.

Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.

"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.

"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"

Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.

You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"

It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.

"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)

His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.

You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.

“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”

A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.

“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.

Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?

“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.

However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.

“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”

“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”

He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.

“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.

This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”

“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.

“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”

“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.

“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!

He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”

You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”

Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.

You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.

Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.

“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.

“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.

Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.

“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.

After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)

You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”

Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.

“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.

“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.

“Please… Miguel…”

“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)

“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”

As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.

“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”

“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”

Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”

“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”

That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.

“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.

“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.

“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.

He needs you, oh, does he need you.

His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.

“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)

“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.

He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.

“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.

Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”

You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”

“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.

“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.

You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”

.

.

.

.

A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Next Chapter

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters and other work.

[inuyashaluver]

Hi bestie, woso-vida here to formally request Alexia x Jenni x Reader 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'm thinking (playful) jealousy?? I'm thinking them both arguing who you'll be sitting beside on the bus?? I'm thinking them constantly trying to one up eachother in terms of romance??

Or yknow, whatever you'd like. I'll read everything from you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

three’s a party - alexia putellas, jenni hermoso

alexia putellas x jenni hermoso x reader

description: in which your girlfriends are incredibly jealous of one another when it comes to your attention

warnings: i am not shipping - this is PURE FICTION, polyamory, let's pretend jenni is in barcelona for the sake of this, slight swearing - spanish is in bold italics!

a/n: i got excited to write this i won't lie, HAPPY AUGUST YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!! enjoy, my lovesssss, thank you so much for your support, love! this is so meh

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if there was anything to know about football players, they’re incredibly competitive. they are so competitive that it can sometimes develop into jealousy, envy and even bitterness.

and the two girls that embodied these qualities the most, just so happened to be your girlfriends.

the jealousy was playful most of the time, but sometimes it could really push your buttons.

—

jenni and alexia, your girls. they were obsessed with you. the two spaniards were so obsessed with you in fact, they don’t know how they went through life without you.

in the beginning stages, they were together for a relatively long time, and it was incredibly unexpected when you joined the equation.

the three of you just made sense. it was easy, familiar and just felt so right amongst all of you. it was your own little bubble, the way you all liked it.

it was private, not a secret, with no confirming nor denying when the question came up. you were all happy and that was all that mattered.

you’d now all been together for a little over 3 years and they were probably the most special and fun years of your lives. and within these three years, you learnt how competitive these girls really could be, especially when it came to you. 

—

“this is unbelievable, we are basically late” jenni curses under her breath, walking back and forth past a sleeping you and alexia as she attempted to find all your belongings needed for the day.

you and alexia’s fronts were pressed against each other, your head tucked under her chin, “you can’t sleep all day” jenni points out, much louder this time in attempts to wake you both up.

alexia’s arms were wrapped around you tightly, you were still sleeping against the older girl as alexia drifted in and out of her slumber.

“niñas (kids), we have training” jenni says pointedly, fighting the smile playing at her lips at how cute you both looked in this moment. you slowly stir against alexia, pressing your nose into her neck.

the other girl is fully awake now, her hands on instinct rubbing up and down your back soothingly. she chuckles in your ear tiredly as you curse out jenni.

“no” you grumble, holding onto alexia tightly as she tried to sit up, “yes” jenni mocks with a laugh, her hands on her hips as she watches you from the end of the bed.

“jen, she’s sleeping” alexia coos, leaning down to kiss your cheek repeatedly, you smile at her sleepily, “yeah, jenni” you giggle, letting alexia cup your cheek with one hand and pull you into a sweet kiss, waking you up even more.

jenni gaws at both of you, “no, that’s not fair! why does she get a kiss first?” she frowns, growing angry at seeing alexia smile into your mouth before she slips her tongue in.

you pull back for a moment, pecking her lips quickly, “because she’s in front of me” you grin, that’s when jenni loses it. jenni leaps onto the bed, quickly spinning you around and straddling your hips with hers, a wolfish grin making you chuckle, they were like children when it came to sharing.

“buenos días, mi amor (good morning, my love)” she sings out, winking at you cheekily, you can’t help but laugh at her, returning the greeting.

you look over at alexia next to you who just shrugs, shaking her head amusingly, clearly she wasn’t in the mood to fight over sharing just yet.

she kisses both of your foreheads, moving past both of you to the adjoining bathroom to begin getting ready for training. “it’s my turn” jenni says as she squeezes your cheeks, directing your head to look at her. you breathe out exaggeratingly, “come on then” you puckered up your lips jokingly, though, jenni is jenni. everything is serious.

she wasted no time pressing her lips to yours, making a quick effort to slip her tongue into your mouth and relished in the fact she pulled a hum from the back of your throat. someone was clearly trying to prove a point.

it was a lot easier now in your relationship ever since jenni returned to barcelona, she hated the short time apart when she was in mexico. 

“calm down, hermoso!” you breathe out a laugh, she hops off you with an accomplished smile, holding both your hands to pull you out of bed. “okay, get off me” she says cheekily, pushing you gently into the awaiting arms of alexia, the blonde currently brushing her teeth.

you laugh as alexia pulled you to her with one strong arm around your middle, you hug her back tightly around her waist. 

she smiles down at you, brushing her teeth with her free hand, swaying you gently from side to side, you could honestly fall asleep against her. “ale, tell her to get ready” jenni calls out from the kitchen, making you all a protein shake. 

alexia chuckles again, letting go of you for a second to give you your toothbrush. 

she now hugs you from behind, both of you smiling in the mirror as you look at each other through it. alexia is done first so she takes advantage of it. 

she kisses your shoulder sweetly, loving the way your cheeks filled with pink over her. “my beautiful bebé (baby)” she grins brightly, continuing her trail of kisses from your shoulder to your jaw, making you squirm from the ticklish sensation. 

“did you give jenni a kiss?” she mutters against your temple, absolutely loving to watch you get ready in the morning. “more like a make out” you chuckle, you spot alexia’s eyebrows furrow and that’s when she spins you around, pressing your back into the sink as she smiled at you. 

“then i should have one too” she wastes no time pulling you into a kiss, humming against you happily as your arms wound around her neck to pull her even closer, her hands finding home on your waist. 

“are you joking?” jenni groans, coming behind alexia to pull you both apart, “that’s not fair!” alexia exclaims, pushing jenni away from you as she tried to pull you into another kiss. 

—

situations like that were a daily occurrence, but they only grew tenfold when it came to national camps. the bus was your nightmare, and it wasn’t even an exaggeration. 

“sit in the window seat” alexia tells you, taking your bag from your hands as you all awaited to get on the bus. “ah, she’s sitting with me” jenni points out, pulling on your arm to launch you into her chest. 

you sigh heavily, you knew this would happen. “you said you would sit with me” alexia pouts slightly, gently pulling your other arm. you smile, “my loves, it’s a 20 minute bus ride” already knowing this would turn into a playful argument.

“but 20 minutes is 20 minutes” jenni scoffed, 

“you got to sit next to her on the way there last time!” alexia frowns, her arms crossed over her chest intimidatingly, “i did not! that was you, ale!” jenni defends, staring at alexia. 

you stand of the middle of both of them, clearly unimpressed, you look between both of them with a deadpan expression 

“bebé, who did you sit next to last time?” alexia asks you sweetly, her tone completely changing for you, jenni scoffs a laugh, though smiles at you gently awaiting your response.

“i sat next to jenni” you think, nodding at your response, alexia’s face brightens, looking at jenni smugly, the other girl frowning.

“princesa (princess), why did you tell her?” she groans, though smiles when you look at her in offence. “i’ve had enough of this, sit together, i’m sitting with leila” you tutt, walking over to the smiling girl waiting for you. this was clearly preplanned by you.

“you fucked up” alexia slaps jenni’s arm, “i did not!” jenni scoffs, picking up her back and walking to the bus. they walk past a laughing you and leila, slightly sad they weren’t the ones making you laugh. jenni plops down in the window seat and stares at you longingly, it takes everything to not look at her.

alexia suddenly remembers something, rummaging through her bag and finding one of your favourite protein bars she always kept for you. she smiles, rushing over to you before the bus moves off, tapping your shoulder sheepishly.

you smile at her sweetly, taking it from her appreciatively before pulling her down for a quick kiss, she pinches your cheek softly, winking at you before moving back to her seat.

jenni looks so grumpy when alexia comes back, “sit down” alexia says sternly, squeezing her knee when she was about to get up to go over to you. "that is so unfair" jenni grits out, though leans her thigh to press against alexia's.

they both bicker quietly back and forth before you turn around to wave at them, both of them perk up quickly and return to normal almost like nothing happened a few seconds prior.

—

during training, you three returned to your regular selves. during a small break, your sat with your back against jenni’s front, talking back and forth with misa and irene. you play with one of jenni’s hands, laughing brighting in the conversation with the other girls. 

when alexia plops next to you both, she smiles at you when you make eye contact and you already know she wants to cuddle with you. you turn around and kiss jenni’s cheek, she looks up at you confused, still in conversation. you make your way over to alexia, wrapping your arms around her shoulders from the back, kissing her cheek sweetly.

her hand comes up to hold your arm and she smiles brightly, though a little pink in the cheeks at how quickly you read her mind. “jealous?” you whisper in her ear in your knelt position, she chuckles lowly, hushing you with a pinch to your thigh resting on her side. 

“look how sad she got” misa chuckles, pointing at jenni, jenni makes an effort to get up slightly and flick her on the forehead, moving over to you, kissing you and alexia softly in turn before she got up to get some water. 

“go with her, bebé (baby)” alexia smiles, squeezing your arm reassuringly, you laugh, they really knew each other so well. “what a treat, mi amor (my love) is here!” jenni exclaims, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips repeatedly, you both laugh into the kisses, so childish but really just so cute.

alexia watches you both with a smile, shaking her head fondly as she gets up to walk over to the both of you.

“happy?” alexia questions, jenni nods, giving alexia a kiss before picking her up and running around with her. alexia curses her out harshly, though laughs brightly when she saw you basically in stitches laughing at your girlfriends.

—

“princesa! (princess), look, i’m doing the dishes”, “bebé (baby), look i’m folding the laundry”, they both yell out when you come through the door with breakfast one morning.

“why are you both acting like i told you to do that? we all live here” you laugh, letting alexia help take the groceries and drinks out of your hands. "it is not a competition, i am both of your partners, and so are you" you remind.

“tsk, you should have let me come with you” alexia scolds, bringing you into a quick hug, “you’re so stubborn, hermosa (beautiful)” jenni scolds as well, patting the top of your head affectionately as you sit at the kitchen island.

“because i can do it myself” you roll your eyes, smiling when alexia presses a kiss to your cheek. “you’re around this one too much” jenni says smugly, winking at alexia with a flirty smile.

“and you’re not stubborn?” alexia springs into action, moving her chair closer to yours as jenni looks at you both from the other side of the island. “do not even start on me right now, putellas” jenni laughs, alexia turns to you immediately, “bebé- (baby)”.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it's you! ily oni

liked by ireneparedes4 and 44,232 others

alexiaputellas: she just always has to come into the hug

view all comments

jennihermoso: how funny, i was thinking the same about you!

↳ alexiaputellas: watch it

yourname: my girls!!

↳ alexiaputellas: my girl

↳ jennihermoso: my girlll

↳ marialeonn16: you are all ridiculous xxxx

[artists-ally]

Hi! So I was the anon that asked about size difference and I’m happy that you like it :) my request would be Harvey with a reader that’s on the shorter or petite side. Harvey cannot contain the thoughts running through his mind when his clothes easily drown you or how both your hands can be covered by his. I can just imagine him fucking the reader deep and groaning when he sees her tummy bulge 🙈

{My Hands, Your Lips} Reader x Harvey Specter

I'm gonna pretend I'm not as turned on by the thought of Harvey pushing my knees up to my ears and making fun of how much smaller I am than he is. Toootalllyyy not gonna do that... ahaha- Anywaaayyy enjoy!!! Title inspired by this song.

Word Count: 6,366

Warnings: Petite/Small reader, Smut; size kink, dom!Harvey, spitting, choking, degrading, spanking, bondage, mild breeding kink.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22 @bbyanarchist

~~~~~

“Harvey, don't you think I should wear heels with the dress? If I don’t then I barely come up to your chest.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No heels.”

“Why are you so adamant that I shouldn’t wear heels tonight?” I didn’t mind taking opinions from him every once in a while, but he rarely tells me not to wear something. 

“You don’t need to make yourself taller, Yn,” he whispered, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You’re too fucking pretty for anyones good, and I don’t need the people at this party thinking they have a chance.”

There has been something off about him for the last few days anyway. He’s been more pent up than usual. A lot more… touchy. Specifically picking me up and putting me wherever he wants. Setting me on the counter while he’s cooking, picking me up and throwing me on the bed before we go to sleep. Nothing overly sexual, but it’s clear there’s been something else going on.

“What’s been up with you lately?” I ask straight up. 

“Nothing, I just don’t want you to wear heels.”

“Why don’t you want me to wear heels?”

“Because, I asked you not to.”

I tilted my head to the side. Let's see if this theory is correct. “Is it because you want me to be smaller than you?”

“Yn, don’t.”

Ding ding ding!

A smirk brightens onto my face. I’ve suspected for a while now that Harvey has a thing for how much smaller I am than him. It’s clear he’s been trying to tell me– or rather cryptically showing me by physically demonstrating so.

The grin only gets wider.

“I asked you nicely once. Don’t.”

I rolled my eyes, “Fine, you win. Be mysterious and oddly demanding about what I wear.”

Before I could even reach for the pair of heels I was planning to wear, Harvey had gripped my arm, spun me around, and his hand was around my throat.

“You know no matter what you wear, you look stunning. And if you must know, I think everyone’s focus is going to be on you anyway tonight. And I don’t need everyone staring at what’s mine.”

Oh. OH. Oh my. 

I genuinely didn’t have a response other than a shiver rolling through my body. I knew he felt it because his grip tightened, both on my hip and around my neck.

“You know you can wear whatever you want, but just know, I’m willing to deal with the consequences of anyone who looks for too long.”

“Harvey, that’s a little extreme,” I chuckle, trying to make light of a clearly serious topic for him. “What about this particular event has got you so stressed out about everyone looking at me?”

“It’s our first formal, corporate event together,” Harvey explains. “No one has ever seen you all dressed up. And I’m not sure I want them to because… fuck, Yn you looks so good tonight.” The compliment makes my heart mushy. “Harvey, you know I’d never-”

“It’s not about that. Of course I know you won’t let anything happen. It’s everyone else’s grubby little hands I’m worried about. It’s a dog eat dog mentality in the world of law. Everyone at the event is not afraid to take what they want, go after it with everything they’ve got.”

“So it’s going to be a room full of men like you? And Jessica, of course. I’m excited to meet more women like Jessica. Oh! Will–”

Harvey cuts off my question with a deep laugh. He spins me around and places his hands on my hips while he looks down at me. “I literally just told you that every man here will want to have a piece of you, and you’re more worried about meeting more women like Jessica?”

“Yup,” I nod, pressing up on my toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Because I know you will keep me safe.”

I watched his eyes change. The smile faded and I felt his grip tighten. Again. “Fuck Yn you always know just what to say.”

I let my arms fall around his shoulders, our fronts cradled close. “And I say lets get the fuck out of here and go party.”

~~~~~~

Ray stops the car at the base of the staircase that led up to this gorgeous venue. We were in Washington D.C. for this conference. Lawyers and other legal personnel from all over the country were invited to network and do whatever other corporate bullshit they desire. There were guest speakers, of which Jessica was invited to give a talk on her journey of being a first in class Harvard graduate.

Bad. Ass. 

There had been a convention with a ton of vendors, a cooking class, and a shitload of corporate jargon. Being in a room, albeit a very big room, with hundreds of lawyers was starting to eat away at my brain cells. I’m glad it’s the last event of the week. 

The gala. 

The streets were lined with luxurious cars and limos, guests exiting and ascending the staircase in their finest glam. Everyone looks exquisite and propper. Who doesn’t love to play dress-up every now and then?

Per Harvey’s request, I did not wear heels. I settled for a pair of black sandals with a pearled band around the ankle. They did have a small heel. Frankly everything I wore that wasn’t flip-flops had a bit of a heel to it. But they weren’t the stiletto pumps I was going to dawn instead. 

I had bought those shoes to specifically go with this dress too. And this dress… It had one inch straps that formed a square neckline. The bodice had corset paneling that was lined with sheer lace. The skirt hugged my hips and then the slit opened it up. Gorgeous. And I had a coupon. Win win. 

With my hand wrapped around Harvey’s arm, we walked in together, greeting people left and right. I was finally beginning to understand just how powerful Harvey actually is in the world of law. Everyone knows he is. Sean Evans, a guest speaker from Seattle, even knew who he was. We were watching his speech on how to give a thorough deposition, and he called Harvey out by name from the crowd.

Wild shit going on here. I was just content being arm candy all night. 

“Ahh, there he is,” Jessica calls out from the cocktail bar. “Harvey, Yn, this is Michael Bunting, one of my old professors from Harvard.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Specter. I’ve heard many things about you, glad to finally be able to meet in person,” Michael smiled pleasantly, shaking Harvey’s hand firmly. “And you must be Mrs. Specter.”

“Oh, no no I’m-”

“Not yet,” Harvey cuts in. I give him a raised eyebrow and he just winks at me. 

Well… guess we’re gonna talk about that later. 

“Let me buy you each a drink,” Michael offers. 

“No drinks for us tonight, but thank you anyway. It’s kind to offer.”

Okay, clearly Harvey has some sort of ulterior motive for later tonight because when has he ever turned down a free drink? I sort of pay attention to whatever Harvard/lawyer lingo their yapping about, but it doesn’t strike any of my interests. I see Rachel and Mike across the room so I pat Harvey on the shoulder and ditch him for her.

Before I can get a few steps, he tugs me right into his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

My knees go a little weak. “Just to chat with Rachel.”

“I’ll walk you over.”

“That’s a little much, Harvey.” I ‘adjust’ his tie to give my hands something to do. “Besides, you’re chatting with that professor. I have no fucking clue what you all are talking about, and I need Rachel’s opinion on a new curling iron I was gonna buy.”

“Trust me, the last thing I want to be doing is chatting with Michael Bunting. That guy doesn’t know his left shoe from his right shoe.”

Curious, I look down at his feet. I’ll be damned. His left shoe is on his right foot. Seriously. 

“Huh, a bit ironic isn’t it? An established Harvard law professor doesn’t know which shoe belongs on what foot.”

“See where I’m getting with this? Wherever you go, I go.”

With a playful smile, I ask, “What happens when I need to go to the bathroom?”

He bends his head down and whispers in my ear. “Trust me, you don’t want me to come in there with you, sweetheart.” It doesn’t take long before a pulse settles between my thighs. Harvey just chuckles, kissing the space behind my ear. “I bet you’d like me to follow you, huh? Lock the door. Bend you over the sink. One hand in your hair, pulling it back so you have to watch in the mirror. The other covering your mouth because you don’t know how to be quiet.”

Suddenly, my curling iron questions seem inferior to what is happening. 

I knew he was pent up, but this is… this is different. 

“So yes, I will be escorting you anywhere you wanna go tonight. Understand?”

All I could manage was a nod. Harvey has always been dominant, but this is uncharted territory for our relationship. And I’m kind of fucking loving it.

He pulls away from my space and grabs my hand, dragging me behind him. Curse him and those long legs. I have to skip a step and then another one so I can stay behind him. With his shoulders blocking the way, I can’t see where we’re going. To the bathroom? A coat closet? Maybe to-

“Rachel, Mike,” he greets. I have to fight to keep the frown at bay. 

“Yn!” Rachel says elatedly. “God, you look stunning. Where did you get that dress? And those sandals are adorable!”

“Have fun,” Harvey spoke softly, kissing the back of my hand before leaving me with Rachel. 

I tell her all about the dress and the sandals, and about Harvey not wanting me to wear heels. And the… context to it as well. She had a knowing smirk on her face. Mike left us to our devices after he heard her say ‘I think you’re going to need to take a sick day after what Harvey is going to do to you’.

Oh how I wish she’s right. 

“I mean, is it that bad?”

“Is what that bad?” She quirks her head to the side, sipping whatever pink, goddess looking cocktail she has. It literally has glitter in it.

“The height difference.”

Her eyes scan me up and down, “Well, it’s certainly more apparent without the heels, that’s for sure. But I mean it’s cute. He’s like a head and a half taller than you.”

“It’s like standing next to a giraffe. I know Harvey isn’t that tall, I think I’m just that short, you know? It’s annoying. I have to look so far up at him. And I had the cutests shoes I was gonna wear with this dress. ‘Till mister ‘I can reach the top shelf everywhere’ told me not to.”

Rachel snorted, a drop or two or seven of her cocktail spewing out from her lips. “Yn, you look hot no matter what you wear. And if Donna was here to scold you, she’d say something along the lines of ‘there isn’t anything a bit of pouty lips and fuck me eyes can’t do’. So, since Donna isn’t here, go give Harvey some pouty lips and fuck me eyes.”

I just smile. I love Rachel so much. “I would go find him, but he might pull me into a backroom and literally beat my ass. He walked me over here just so he wouldn’t lose sight of me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Both of us laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but it is kinda true. I could easily disappear and no one would notice. Literally. I might be the smallest one here and it would be easy to stick to the wall and–

“Excuse me, ladies, but might one of you point me in the direction of the nearest balcony?”

I looked over my shoulder to a man who had a charming smile. His hair was combed back and he had on a tux. As if it would help, I stood on my toes and tried to look for one, but legit couldn’t see a thing. 

Rachel had a nasty look on her face. I looked between the two of them, waiting for… something to happen.

“Zane.”

“It’s Ross, actually. But I’m sure you already knew that, Tanner.”

“Uhh–” they clearly know each other.

“Who’s your friend?” This Tanner guy asks. He looks at me and takes a sip of his drink. 

“You don’t need to know, beat it.”

Oh, so this is obviously an ex or something. He looks a little older, but who am I to judge?

“I’m Travis Tanner,” he extends a hand. “An old friend of the frim.”

“Take your sleazy hands somewhere else, Tanner,” Rachel takes a step towards him, standing shoulder to shoulder with me.

“Relax, Ross,” he says. “I’m just trying to talk to her. I didn’t ask for her hand in holy matrimony. Go find that little associate of yours so I can buy her a drink.”

I felt a presence behind me, then an arm slip around my waist. The cologne I picked out earlier this morning wafted around me and I let myself lean into Harvey. 

“Say one more thing to her and I’ll put you on the floor, Tanner.”

I have never heard Harvey sound so threatening. 

I watched his brown eyes go from me, and then distinctly up to Harvey. “Of course.”

That grip around my hip tightened and I laid my palm over his hand to get him to relax. It did nothing. “Rachel, would you mind going to find Mike for me? I need to ask him a few questions on what the expected sentence time is for a man who is about to make another unrecognizable to his face ID.”

“Gladly,” she says, marching off to my left. 

“Darling, you’re seriously with a man who is verbally threatening to beat the shit out of another?”

“I’m about to get a whistle and referee the match because I think Harvey would like to go a few rounds with you,” I state my view on the matter. 

Travis grins at me. “I see why you like her. She’s feisty, can pack a punch in that small frame of hers.”

I can feel Harvey take a deep, steadying breath. “My love?”

“Hmm?” I look up at him.

“Get behind me.”

“Harvey–” He gently unwinds his arm around my waist and steps in front of me. The taught muscles in his shoulders pop out through his shirt. He ditched his jacket somewhere along the way.

I look over to my left just as Rachel finds Mike. She whispers something to him and I watch as his whole face changes. He whips his head around and we lock eyes. With his drink forgotten on the small bar-top table, he heads for our direction.

“Make a comment about my girl again, and I swear to God I will knock your teeth out.”

“Relax, Harvey. Why don’t you ask her what she would like to do. You seem to be awfully keen on making decisions for her,” Travis suggests. What a cocky son of a bitch. Does he actually think I’d give up Harvey for him? What a fucking joke. 

“I think you’re right,” Harvey agrees. He steps to the side just as Mike gets there. “What do you think, sweetheart? Would you like to sucker punch him or shall I?”

I can’t help the evil look that crosses my face. Instead of answering him, I simply grab a hold of his tie and yank his lips down to mine. He answers with a vicious bite, groaning into my mouth. His palm finds my neck, not being shy about the show. 

When I pull away, I’m left breathless and more than a little turned on. I know my lipstick is smudged to hell because I can see it on Harvey’s mouth. With a wicked smirk, I turn to Travis, who is red all over. “I think I’d just rather show him all he’ll never be able to touch.”

Harvey, again, plants himself behind me, but keeps his hand wrapped around my throat. “You heard her, Tanner. If I were you, I’d probably try, too. She is one of a kind. But she’s mine. She lives in my home. Eats the meals I cook for her. Wears my shirt after I’ve fucked her until she’s whimpering my name. She’ll have my ring on her finger one day. Have my last name. ‘Yn Specter’ sounds a whole lot better than ‘Yn Tanner’, don’t you think? So, while you still have your dignity–no matter how many times I have to take it from you in court–I suggest you get the fuck out of here. Now. And if I ever hear of you talking about her, I’ll break more than your teeth.”

Everyone had a look of shock across their face. Including me. 

Without a parting word, Tanner left. I felt Harvey let out a breath as he dropped his hand from my throat. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. Mostly for the fact that I didn’t have to call the police to report a homicide and then run off into the sunset to escape for being a possible accomplice. 

“Well,” Mike scratches the back of his head, clearing his throat. “That was certainly… something.”

“What the hell is going on over here?” Jessica steps into our circle. “And why the hell did I just see Travis Tanner practically sprinting towards the exit?”

“He tried to put the hots on Yn,” Rachel has the most sinister look on her face. I give her a look that screams ‘really?’. She just mouths ‘good dick tonight’ before winking at me. 

Is it bad I was already thinking the same thing?

“What the hell did you say to him?” Jessica asks Harvey.

“Trust me you do not wanna know,” Mike says before Harvey has the chance to elaborate. “I think I need to go bleach my ears.”

Rachel just laughs at him. “We’ll see you guys back at the office on Monday.”

As they leave, Jessica looks at the two of us expectantly. “Well?”

“Just be thankful that what came out of his mouth didn’t become reality. Otherwise there might be a lawsuit on your hands,” I explained. “I took care of it.”

“So what I’m hearing is I should hire you to defuse all of the fires Harvey tends to ignite?”

I giggle, stepping into his side. “I think that spark is the exact reason you hired him in the first place.”

Harvey glances down at me, a fond, proud look in his eyes. He kisses the top of my head. “Plus, if you hired her, I’m not sure my production value would go up.”

“Well, now that that image is burned into my head, I’m gonna go drink it away. Oh, and Harvey?”

“Yes?”

“The next time you get the chance to punch Travis Tanner in the face, don’t hesitate.”

I stared at Jessica in disbelief, jaw to the floor. “I knew I liked her.”

“Yn,” Harvey spins me around to face him. He takes my face in his hands, scanning my eyes back and forth. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, he was just–”

“Did he try to touch you? Did he actually touch you?” 

I remove his hands from my face, grasping them in my own. “No, Harvey. He didn’t. I’m not sure Rachel would’ve let him take another step anyway. Who is that guy? Why do we all collectively hate his guts?

“I’ll tell you on the way home.”

“We’re leaving?”

“Fuck yes,” he hooks two fingers in his tie and yanks it loose. “I can’t stand being here anymore and I can’t stand seeing men gawk at what’s mine either.”

“Harvey, I don’t think everyone is gawking at me.”

So fast the room blurs, he pins my back to his front and grips my chin. “Just look around, Yn. Notice how everyone is sneaking glances at you? Even if they're with a date, everyone has their eyes on you. They always have their eyes on you. Fuck Yn… you have no idea just how easily you could bring all of them to their knees.”

“The only man in this room I want to see on their knees is you while you're between mine.”

Hearing the tremor in his breath does more things to me than I’d care to admit. “You’re gonna regret saying that. Let's go.”

~~~~~

On the car ride back, Harvey explains everything that has to do with Travis Tanner. Safe to say I am now a certified hater. What a fucking cunt. An actual asshole. And now knowing that he’s crossed and fucked with so many people I love and care about? Next time I see him I’ll put my fist through his face. 

Bitch. 

Enough thinking about this dick-wad. I have Harvey literally dragging me down the hallway from the elevator to his door. He shoves the key in on the first try (thank god) and slams it closed. My skin is on fire with a need for his lips all over me. 

I don’t care where. 

I need him everywhere. 

He easily picks me up and bends me over the side of the couch. Harvey’s hands carefully remove my sandals, placing kisses up my calves as he goes. Those skilled fingers of his move my skirt out of the way, pushing it up over my ass. 

He pauses. And I grin. 

“You are such a little devil, aren’t you?” A single finger trails up the inside of my thigh. Then a hand cracks down on my ass. My very bare ass. Did I purposefully not wear anything underneath? Yes. I absolutely did. 

“I figured you wouldn’t want to waste time.”

“Please,” he scoffs, “getting the privilege of undressing you is no waste of time.”

My heart aches. How could I have gotten a man with the most perfect mix of worship and corruption?

Harvey stands and presses his need into me. “Feel that? God Yn, you have no fucking clue what you do to me, do you? It still amazes me every time, how you take me so well.”

“I just like being good for you,” I admit. He grinds his hips harder, pushing me deeper over the couch. 

“Yeah? Gonna be good and take it, huh?” I nod as best I can. “Yeah, I know you will. On your knees first, pretty girl.”

There isn’t anything I’m not willing to do for Harvey when he calls me his pretty girl. It’s just a fact. 

Heat courses through me as I sink to my knees, staring at him. All the way up… Fuck he is so much bigger than I am. This might be the first time I’m truly noticing it. 

One button at a time, he undoes his shirt. He throws it to the side, making a show of the belt next.

“Give me your hands.” I give my wrists to him, watching carefully as he folds the belt into a figure-eight and gives it a tug into place. “Now open up, tongue out.”

A rough hand on my chin makes me open my mouth wide, tongue rolling out. He rolls his against his cheek, then spits in my mouth. The whimper I let out is embarrassing. I can’t help the flush that burns up my neck and to my cheeks. 

“You’re fucking mine.”

I’m breathless as he shoves down his dress pants and boxers. I don’t even get a chance to admire him before Harvey shoves all the way down my throat. Tears sting my eyes when I gag, but the feeling of him against my tongue outweighs my need for air. 

“For every tear that rolls down your pretty little face, I’m gonna make you cum that many times.”

Oh dear God…

Okay, I have to focus. 

I am careful about my breath control. Between the taste and the sound of him it’s incredibly difficult to focus on anything other than the outrageous throbbing between my legs. 

“Fuck, just like that pretty girl. Keep taking it so well and I’ll give you anything you want.”

He knows how to make my brain melt. I relax, letting him all the way down. He stays there, pelvis to my nose for a few seconds. I know he likes watching the tears form in my eyes, so I look up at him. 

“Aww, I know it’s so big for you. But you’re doing such a good job, Yn. Just a little more then I’ll give you what you really want. F-Fuck that feels so good.”

I grin internally, knowing he loves it when I press my tongue up onto the underside of his dick. I do it a few more times while he thrusts in and out, more than enjoying hearing him fall apart. 

For a few minutes, he rocks in and out. An abundance of praise falling from his lips. Telling me how pretty I look, explaining how I’m his and only his to see like this. I’d have no one else ever again. He has ruined me for anyone else. 

Precisely how I want it. 

“You wanna cum, don’t you, pretty thing?” Harvey mocks, grabbing my hair at the root and nodding it for me. “Yeah I know you do, you love it when I make you cum. Show me those tears, baby. As many as you want. Wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

When the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, I choke. And he does it again, eyes trained on mine. I feel the tears swell up. Not too many, I’d like to be able to walk tomorrow. 

On purpose, he does it again. And again. And again until twin tears are rolling down my cheeks. One from each eye. 

“Two? Come on, I think you want more than that, don’t you?” I shake my head no, but he doesn’t let up. “If you don’t want more, then don’t let any others slip, sweetheart. I’m not done fucking your mouth yet.”

It’s relentless. His pace is nothing short of brutal, and it takes everything in me not to start sobbing. I tried to close my eyes, but he ripped his dick out of me so fast I almost fell over.

“Did I fucking tell you to close your eyes?”

“N-No Harvey,” I whisper. 

“Then keep them open.”

I have no choice but to obey. Somehow, I don’t let anymore breach the boundaries of my lashes. He didn’t wanna finish down my throat, so he pulled out and brought me to my feet. He thumbs my swollen lips, and I gently suck his finger. 

“You are gonna be the death of me, woman.”

“What a way to go,” I chide, earning myself a smack on the ass.

“Bed. Now.”

“Yes sir,” I respond, relishing the way his eyes darken. He removes the belt from my wrists, kissing the red marks. He picks me up, wraps my legs around his hips, and walks us to our room. 

The air in there is cold and my skin breaks into goosebumps. Or maybe it’s just the way he’s kissing me. Like he's worried I’m not real, some dream he’s going to wake up from. Desperate. Needy. Deprived. His hands grab around my waist and he throws me off of him. I land on the bed, about to prop myself up before he grabs my ankles and yanks me to the end of the bed. 

For a few moments, he just stares at me, guiding my legs open against the bed. His eyes ravaged me. An expression I’ve never quite seen before washes over him. His palms swallow my thighs. He pushes, pushes, pushes until they’re flat against the covers. Harvey goes to say something, but retracts it. 

“What, Harvey?”

He looks up at me like it’s the first time he’s seen me naked. And it is most certainly not the first time he’s seen me naked. 

“You’re just… fuck Yn you are so small compared to me.”

“I knew you had a thing for it,” I confirmed my hunch. 

“Seeing you tonight, without the heels on… it just did something to me. Something visceral. Something carnal. Knowing I can so easily do anything I want…”

Harvey knelt to the floor. The first brush of his tongue on my core made me sigh. He knows exactly what I like, what drives me crazy. And I have two orgasms coming my way tonight. No pun intended. 

I let my eyes close gently as he explores me. He reaches up and pinches a nipple between his fingers and it’s an effort to not writhe around. But his other palm is flat on my stomach, pinning me in place. I look down, seeing just how fucking big his hand is. Fucking hell–

“H-Harvey,” I gasp, feeling pressure build in my core, at the base of my spine. The tips of my fingers and toes begin to tingle. 

“Cum whenever you want, sweetheart.”

His permission is all I need. I let myself relax back, indulging in the freedom of his pleasure. I shiver when he sucks my clit hard, and I can see the grin on his face. Harvey spreads my legs far apart and keeps the exact pressure and motion of his tongue. I shake apart, endless praises falling from my lips. 

Harvey stops before it creeps into overstimulation and rises over me. I can smell myself on his lips when he kisses me, and the taste of my own release makes my brain fog with desire. 

I fist my hands in his hair, trailing kisses down his neck and chest. His physique drives me insane. Yes, he could absolutely do anything he wanted to me so easily. It fills me with the most delicious type of fear and desire. 

“Lay back down,” he commands. I comply without further instruction. I need to feel him. 

“Please, Harvey,” I beg. 

“Please what? Use your words, sweetheart. I can’t give you what you need if you don’t tell me. Or are you too fucked out? I still have to make you cum a second time, and you’re already begging for it? Pathetic, Yn. ”

A tremble rolls through me and I whimper. It’s the strain, the grit in his voice that makes it worse. “Need you to fuck me so good.”

“Yeah? You need me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours, baby?”

“Mhmm,” I nod, spreading my legs for emphasis. “Need it so bad. I’ve been so good for you tonight.”

“Yes you have. Wanna cum on my cock?”

“F-Fuck Harvey please,” I plead. 

I watch as he lines up with my pussy, and as he pushes in. He’s slow, draw it out so I feel every inch of him. Makes me as restless as possible. 

“Keep taking it, you can handle it. Stop whining, you slut. You love it. I know how much you crave me inside you. Just like that, sweetheart, just a little more.”

Harvey hooks his hands under my knees and pushes them flat against my sides, getting as deep as he can. He also pins my hands under them so I can’t move. With slow rolls of his hips into mine, I’m forced to take him all the way. I can feel him everywhere. It’s the most amazing type of overwhelming. The muscles in his abs and thighs ripple with every thrust and it drives me fucking insane. 

He laughs at me. Mocks me. 

“You are so cute like this. So adorable split open on my cock,” he coos, dragging his right hand all over my body. It cups my neck, then he plays with my chest. I lean into the touch, wondering how much more I can take before I shake apart. 

“Please make me cum, Harvey. Need it so bad,” I ask desperately. It’s a need I’ve never had before. “Fuck please please please.”

“You really wanna cum, don’t you, baby? You’ve been my good girl all night long. Doing exactly what I say. I think you deserve it.” The brush of his finger against my clit rips a scream from my throat. I was unprepared for just how much I was going to be able to feel it. It was so much. Borderline too much. Pleasure melted in and out of pain. But my body needed it. I wanted it so much. 

“Oh fuck,” I cried out, unable to sit still. I got a reprimanding smack to my thigh. 

“Hold still.”

My thighs went back to being flat, one of his arms pinning both of them. It was relentless. He was not going to stop until I came so hard the neighbors three floors below heard me scream his name. 

I was a mess when I came. My body bowed off the bed, physically unable to be stable. I wiggled around, fought against Harvey for even an inch of room to get away from his torture. 

“You’ll be done cumming when I say so. And I’m not fucking done with you.”

“Oh god Harvey please,” I begged. “F-Fuck fuck fuuuuck.”

I took a full breath only when he stopped rubbing my clit, just for a second while he pulled out and spat on my pussy. If I wasn’t numb from pleasure, I would’ve probably come a third time. He filled me up again, not being careful this time. 

I lay limp, content to let him use me in any way he wanted. He kept my legs up, fucking me hard. He didn’t care about whether or not I was feeling good. He knew he did his job. More than enough for me. Time to make him feel good. As best I could, I clenched around him. His palms splayed over my stomach, pressing firmly. 

His hips faltered. 

“God damn, Yn. I can fucking feel how big I am inside you. I bet you can feel it too. So fucking deep in there, and you’re being such a good girl. Taking it all and not complaining. My perfect little fuck toy, huh? Yeah you were made for me. Gonna fill you up so good.”

He flipped me over on my stomach, hiking up my hips so my ass sat in the cradle of his hips. He pinned my head down and fucked me harder than he ever has. His nails dug into my skin. I knew my ass was going to be bright red from the crack of his palm against my skin. 

“God you are so perfect, Yn. Such a good little slut. Gonna take it all? Not gonna spill a drop?” He yanked me up by my hair. I cried out a no, mind going a little stupid now. As if it wasn’t before. “Oh fuck–”

His hips stilled, and I could feel him throbbing inside me. He was buried all the way, and it felt too good. I tried to crawl away, but pulled me right back, fucking me on his cock. Nails raked down my back, and he chuckled when I shivered.

“Good girl, fucking such a good girl for me, Yn. You took me so well, sweetheart. You’re stretched so tight around me too, feel that?” The tip of Harvey’s finger trailed around my entrance and I hiccuped for a breath, a few stray tears spilling over. “Aww, you’re struggling so hard to keep it in. Come here.”

Harvey dragged me backwards so I sat in his lap. I let my head lull against his shoulder and went limp. 

“God I am still so hard…” Gently, Harvey fucked me on his cock. I moaned absently, too tired and spent to care. “You are so fucking amazing, Yn. My good girl. I’m the only who gets to fuck this pussy, you hear me? Your pussy is mine to fill. I’ll never get sick of watching you fall apart at my hands.”

“All yours,” I say, voice a little raw from screaming. 

“All mine.”

Vaguely I feel him slide me off his cock. I’m pretty sure he carried me to the bathroom because the next thing I know I’m in the tub with him gently cleaning me. His hands are soft, careful to avoid my most sensitive areas. It’s all gentle kisses and tender touches. Not only can he break me down, he always puts me back together. Brings me back to a safe, caring, loving reality. 

“Are you still awake, my love?” Harvey asks, running a brush through my wet hair. 

“Not for much longer if you keep massaging my head like that,” I smile, feeling all warm and fuzzy in his hands. 

“Do you need anything before we go to sleep?” Harvey asks. “It wasn’t too much for you, right?”

I shake my head, “No, of course not. Would’ve told you if it was. I liked it. A lot.”

“Good good.” I can feel his grin as he kisses both of my cheeks. “I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“If I had known sooner, I would’ve stopped wearing heels long ago,” I teased, finally opening up my eyes. 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” he smiled, that big goofy grin I fell in love with. “Ready for bed?”

“Mhm,” I humm. “I could use some water. And maybe a snack.”

“Blueberries and a chocolate chip cookie?”

“God you know me so well,” I swoon. I kiss my lips together, a silent demand for him to meet me halfway. Without hesitation, he does, then helps me into bed before going to the kitchen. When he returns, Harvey climbs into bed with me. I just look at him for a moment, really taking him in. 

“I love you, Harvey.”

His smile lights up his eyes. “I love you so much more, Yn.”

[disneyprincemuke]

the other woman * mv1

everything falls into place in your mind when max fails to show up for you at the one event you desperately wanted him to be at

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: cheating, jake gyllenhaal type behaviour

notes: hi i know i promised this on xmas eve and then i failed to deliver mY BAD BABY GIRLS! i am trying my best but then again i did get a fever and all but its ok lfg and NO I WILL NOT BE WRITING A PART TWOOOOO

(f1 masterlist)

your eyes watch your front door, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to hold yourself back from crying. there's a sob bubbling from the deepest part of your gut as you glance at the clock one more time.

he's late.

but one can also say that he's simply not coming. did he lie when he told you that he would make sure he showed up for you this time? or did he just simply forget about you again?

your eyes have been staring at that door for the better part of the last hour or so since guests started arriving for the party you'd thrown.

a party you'd thrown, admittedly, just to get his attention. you were never one to make a big deal of your birthday anyway, but he made you think otherwise. because he promised you that he would be here no matter what happened. it's stupider that he was the one that encouraged you to throw a party today.

only for him not to show up?

this is the one time you needed him to so desperately show up for you. but here you are, looking like a fool waiting for somebody who wouldn't come; for somebody who didn't even make you a first choice.

because you know that when if push comes to shove, he would still pick her. max would always pick kelly and penelope over you, no matter how much he tells you that he loves you. no matter how many times you endured him telling you that he no longer wants to be with her.

you know better than to be his little secret. your parents had not raised you to be a potential homewrecker, but are you really being one if he's the one that keeps coming back to you?

you've tried staying away, and you've attempted to cut all sorts of contact with him, but he eventually crawls right back to you a couple of weeks later claiming that he will break up with kelly soon.

you've even bought a new dress for the occasion; in max's favourite colour and a cut that you knew he would say you look amazing in.

only for him to bail on you. you'd even taken the effort to sit for an hour to do your makeup and hair. for nothing, essentially.

fast forward a couple of hours of holding back tears and forcing smiles, you're hunched over the couch, picking up empty beer cans and tears streaming down your face. at the end of the day, you're left alone in your apartment with a heavy heart and the eerie silence the room can only offer you.

you watch the last car from your guests drive away. you sigh and throw yourself on the couch, finally letting the tears fall from your eyes. you had no idea it was so difficult to pretend like you're okay until today.

it's totally different when it's got something to do with the heart, it seems. you were totally banking on the fact that he would be here today, at least today. just today. because it's your birthday.

it's your day.

a knock on the door sits you right up, hands darting up to wipe the tears that smudged your makeup. "give me a second!"

"it's just me."

the anger suddenly hits you. so he is available to travel out to come and see you. just not a couple of hours prior when everybody else was here? just not at the time when you actually wanted him to be here?

you stomp your way over to the door and swing the door open and a string of apologies quickly spill from his mouth. you immediately notice the wrapped present in his hand and the bouquet of flowers.

"i'm sorry, i got held up at home," max apologises with a frown. "p had a fever and she wouldn't go to bed unless i tucked her in. i'm sorry, i know i'm late."

you sigh, rolling your eyes. "you're not just late," you scowl, "you missed the party entirely, max."

"oh," he slumps his shoulders, "i was wondering why it was so quiet when i was walking up."

you shake your head and walk further into your apartment. "max, just go home. you don't have a reason to be here."

"what do you mean? it's your birthday," he says gently, following you in. he closes the door behind him and follows you into your living room. "is there still cake? maybe you can blow the candles with me before the day ends? i even got you a present."

"no, i let people take home pieces of the cake," you say softly, returning to your agenda of cleaning your home from the traces of the party your friends left. "what am i going to do with cake that i don't even eat?"

"you bought chocolate cake on your birthday? you don't even like chocolate," he points out softly. "nevermind that, i got you a present!"

"i don't give a fuck about your stupid present, max!" you burst, standing up and turning to finally face him. "i didn't ask for a fucking present! i asked you for one thing and you couldn't even do that!"

he stares at you, dumbfounded with his lips parted in shock at your outburst. you're not typically one to have outbursts, which is the one thing he claims he finds very refreshing about you. you're calm and collected most of the time, and you assess the situation before picking fights. "p was sick. what did you want me to do?"

"you're telling me you're a sole parent to this little girl?" you ask. "kelly couldn't have tucked her in so you could show up to the party that you asked me to throw? on my birthday? max, you had one job and it was to show up for me tonight! i waited for you all night!"

he seems to have lost all ability to speak because he just pulls out a chair from your dining table and takes a seat. "i'm sorry. you're right, i should have been here."

"seriously, max! are you actually ever going to leave them or do you just lie straight through your teeth whenever you tell me that?" she scolds him, throwing her arms in the air. "i'm not stupid, max! this has gone on long enough!"

"i am, and i will!" he answers you, running his hands through his hair. "i just need more time. there's a child involved, i really hope you understand. i can't just leave."

"you say that every single time! it's been seven months!" you cry. "you've made me the other woman for seven long months! am i supposed to just sit here and take that? just because i love you?"

"i do love you! but it's complicated, okay? i can't just leave p like this!"

you clench your jaw. how many times have you heard that excuse in the past year? and how many more times will you be fooled by the sweetness in his voice and his glistening blue eyes? "max, i think you should go. lose my number, and forget that i ever existed. i can't do this anymore."

his head snaps up to you. he quickly walks over to you, throwing his arms around you from behind. "wait, don't say that. please, i promise. i'll leave in the next month. don't leave me. i really don't love her anymore."

"i'm so tired of the lies, max," you sigh, desperately tearing his arms away from your body. you take a step back and turn to him. "you will always choose them over me. it doesn't matter how much you love me, max. you're too attached to them to leave."

"listen to me, okay? i will leave them. and then we can be happy together like we talked about all those nights we spent together," max coos, putting his hands on your shoulder. he bends down slightly to look into your eyes. "please, just give me one last chance - more time. i just need time. i will let p down easily and i'll leave kelly. please."

"i don't know how many more times you think you can fool me with that lie, max!" you frown, shoving him back. "just leave! leave me alone! i refuse to let you make me look like an idiot! i'm better than this."

"i thought you said you understood my predicament. with p in the picture..."

"yeah, for seven long months. do you know how many days that is? how many hours i'd spend with you wondering when you'd finally take me off the backseat and make me your own officially?" you throw your head back and a dry laugh passes your lips. "max, just leave. don't call me again."

"you don't really mean that."

"i do this time," you say firmly, turning around to face him.

you circle around him and walk over to your front door, pulling it open and gesturing towards the hallway. "i'm done. take your flowers and your stupid present and leave."

he does what you say, hesitantly. he keeps his eyes on you, hoping that you will immediately change your mind. he travelled this far to get to you, hoping that you would somehow forgive him for missing your birthday party.

but you're right, now that he's had a couple of seconds to think about it. in the past seven months, he's told you that he'd up and leave kelly and penelope so he can finally be with you openly. it's much harder to keep you in the shadows when everyone's got eyes on him all the time.

perhaps it's the attachment to penelope that he can't get himself to pack his things and call it a day. he genuinely does love that kid. and his girlfriend has her good days - not all make him want to pull at his hair in frustration anymore.

but he also really does love you. if there hadn't been a loveable child in the picture, one that's grown very attached to him, he would have been able to walk away months ago. it could've been that easy.

"just hear me out," max says, stopping right by the door and giving you one last pleading look. "don't leave. not like this. we haven't even had a real fighting chance."

"that's because of you. not me," you answer dryly, looking up at him. "just go. i can't keep having this conversation with you."

"please."

"i gave you too many chances to make this right," you sigh, putting a gentle hand on his back to guide him out the door. you press your lips together as a lump forms in your throat. you're more shocked that you hadn't fully started bawling moments ago. "i should have done this a long time ago."

"i'm sorry."

"i'm sure you are. too little too late." then you close the door on him and whatever could have been with max.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #8

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Just one of those days, I guess."

"This makes it easier to identify them."

"Have you ever had friendship bracelets?"

"Feel free to walk all over me."

"You're the one stirring the pot."

"I feel like you don't actually believe me."

"What a tragedy this is."

"This will be permanent."

"Oh well, nothing I can do about it now."

"The media is lying to you - and so is everyone else."

"Just gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"Silly me to assume you would care."

"You should clean the mess you make."

"My life is amazing, it really is."

"Nothing to complain here."

"I can't believe that we finally made it."

"Thank you so much for this opportunity."

"Mark my words, this will not end cute."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"You look hot, mama."

"Can you bail me out? Please?"

"What a silly thing to say."

"So, this is it? Really?"

"It will never be truly over."

"That is a fascinating tattoo that you have."

"You're going to jail for this."

"What a dramatic exit."

"I know your friends."

"A seat will be assigned to you shortly."

"Here is a list of all the ways you are wrong."

"We should talk about what happened."

"Do you have your ticket ready?"

"I'm sorry, but our personal goals just don't match up."

"The boxes are all labeled incorrectly."

"Well, you should've listened to me."

"Tragic. That outfit is a disaster."

"I'm sitting front row. I always do."

"Oh you silly little thing."

"What is your star sign?"

"I'm not who you think I am."

"Can't say I'm that surprised."

"Truly legendary."

"Please, sing for me!"

"You are a true party pooper."

"No means don't even try."

"I want to find my soulmate."

"Just forget what you heard."

"Why does this always happen to me?"

"Let's go out for a cheap dinner."

"I don't want to hear about it."

"This must be a joke. Not very good one."

"A list of all the times I was right."

"I can't control my dreams."

"Finally, some common sense."

"Throw me under the bus while you're at it."

"What a wonderful surprise."

"Poor judgement is what it is."

"I was just defending myself."

"Fine, but this will be the last time."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"I will take that as a yes."

"Did we meet before?"

"Sell me your story."

"What's the point in all of this?"

"I couldn't see what actually happened."

"Can you lend me some money?"

"So start from the beginning."

"Truly, a flawless plan."

"I haven't done this in forever."

"Let's have some fun."

"What an icon."

"Make me believe it."

"It's an investment."

"There will be an extra fee included."

"Let's go back. Nothing to do here anymore."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee! And check out my Instagram! 🥰