#if they offer me the job and ask if i can come in on friday i’m gonna be like ‘no i have something planned’

[satorusluvrgirl]

OFFICE HOURS ONLY! K.NANAMI

synopsis in which y/n works alongside nanami in a huge project, only to find herself getting the stress fucked out of her

warnings female anatomy, she/her pronouns, stimulation/penetration, oral sex, pet name used is "sweetheart", unpotected sex, gojo mentioned as a fuck buddy,

author’s note this is my first collab with @leahrintarou! thank you for collaborating with me lele! <3 please be nice and no hate comments tolerated! enjoy reading <3

WORKING hours and hours at the most famous company really had you fucking drained to the fullest. Getting up at 6 am to be at work at 8 and then going home at 11 pm. Your schedule was mostly full of just work on work on work. But the pay was good at least. And it’s not like you totally hated your job, there was one thing you really looked forward to every morning.

Which was Nanami Kento. The man who would always greet you when you would walk in the office, his “good morning, miss” would always hit the spot, making you look forward to the day. The man who welcomed you on your first day and took you out to get a coffee, little did you know he remembered it, taking you your coffee everyday. The man who would always try to make small talk with you in the break room and ask you little questions.

You knew since the first day you had a huge crush on Nanami. After all he was handsome, well put together, and very well dressed. The suits he had on which made him look so sexy in, they were always top designer suits. Which was understandable since he’s been working longer in this company than you and making more. You wanted Nanami. But the more you thought about him, it just made you more curious about him. is he married? does he have kids? what are his hobbies? but you never made your move. You put the thought in your head that a man like him was most likely married and probably had kids, oh but how you were so wrong.

Nanami was single. A hard working single man who was always working 24/7 and practically had no life other than this job. He never really thought of love. He was always stressed and had no time for anything. He wished he could find someone to relate to his problems. Someone who can probably help him and relieve all this stress he has in him. And he will.

NOW it was 9:30 pm on a Friday, you were working on a big project your boss assigned you, it wasn’t too bad but the first section you were done with. It was just the second section you had a struggle with. You had been working on this project for days, you even had to stay overtime. You set your pencil down and sighed, leaning on your chair. Since you were going to be extending your stay at the office tonight, you thought you should get coffee, italian coffee of course. You grabbed your mug, making your way to the break room which was not too far from your office.

But of course Nanami was in there, He turned his head over to you and flashed a smile. “hello y/n”. you smiled back at him, “hi nanami” you said softly, your voice ringing in his ears. You walked in the room making your way to the coffee machine and pouring it in your mug, your back faced to Nanami. “How’s your project coming along? I see you’re staying overtime to finish it?” he leaned over the counter, taking a sip out of his mug.

you let out a chuckle, “yeah I am.. I got done with the first section of it.. it’s just the second part. i’m just so stressed” you sighed. “i’m sorry about that.. but you know I can always give you a helping hand” nanami offered to you. Maybe this could be your chance to get to know him better, but you knew how stressful it could be so you didn’t want him to help you. “uhm no nanami it’s okay really.. I really appreciate the offer though” you nodded. “I don’t take no for an answer, y/n” he said in a serious tone.

“are you really sure?” you looked at him sincere. “yes of course” he nodded, you sighed. “fine, uhm i’ll go over to your office once everyone starts heading out.” he put his coffee mug down to add more creamer, “sure thing”, you smiled and started walking out, “alright thanks nanami! i’ll see you later” you said before leaving the room.

You let out a breath you held in while talking to him, as you got to your office you squealed lowly to yourself in excitement. It was finally your time with Nanami alone. Just you two, no one else in the office.

AS the time passed you grew impatient, you wanted to be with Nanami, and finally the time came. You fixed up yourself in the bathroom mirror. Lifting up your skirt and fixing your blazer, along with your hair. You also fixed up your makeup since you had your bag with you, you added more of your lipstick and gloss on your lips. You got your perfume and sprayed all over your body.

Looking in the mirror you fixed up a little more. You left the bathroom and gathered your things, heading to Nanamis office. You took a deep breath and knocked on his door which you heard him say “Come in!” you slowly opened the door and slid in. “hi” you said with a small wave making Nanami smile. “here come take a seat” he patted the seat next to him by his desk. you took your seat, you opened up your computer and pulled out the section you had to work on for the project. Nanami pulled your chair closer to him making you widened your eyes.

“Sorry I couldn’t see your screen” he said. You nervously chuckled, “i’m sorry about that”. You turned your computer to him. “It’s fine, let’s get to work shall we?” you smiled and nodded. “yes, let’s do it..”

An hour had past by, you and nanami quickly opened up to each other. Just like how you hoped for. He was telling you everything you wanted to know, To his hobbies, to his favorite ice cream color. You were admired by him, the way he talked about his passions with you. It just made you fall for him even more.

Nanami wasn’t really the type to open up quickly or even talk, but with y/n it was different. She was different. She was a breath of fresh air and that’s something Nanami needed in his life. Y/n made him feel at ease. He felt like he could talk to her without being judge, vice versa with her as well. Not only that Nanami always noticed y/n. She was very hot. But he thought she had a boyfriend, a girl like her was probably in a relationship. he was wrong like how you were.

“Alright I think that’s the last of it” Nanami typed the final words in and sent in an email to the boss. “thank you nanami I really appre-” you got cut off by a notification on your phone, making you both look down as your phone was placed in between you both. Giving Nanami access to see your phone clearly and so did you.

GOJO: haven’t seen you in a while, angel. can I see you tonight?

“boyfriend?” Nanami looked away from the phone to you. You looked at him at the same time, “no he’s just a friend”. Nanami raised his brow at you, he wasn’t convinced. “friends send each other those kin-” once again your phone rang and it was gojo again…

GOJO: [attachment image] (dick pic)

“Friends send each other those type of messages and pictures?” Nanami teased. You turned off your phone, “it’s not like that..” you sighed. “you’re not going to reply?” you shakes your head no, of course not why would you reply when your with the man who you’ve been dying to spend time with.

“I'm just too stressed to be dealing with him right now” you closed your computer. “I could help with that.” Nanami smirked and put his hands on your thighs “h-huh?” you stuttered in disbelief but as you turned your head a bit, all that you saw was the genuine expression on his features.

Although you weren't too familiar with Nanami all that well, you couldn’t help but feel sure that he wasn’t the type to play games. His serious demeanor combined with that smirk hinted at a depth you found irresistible.

“Y-You could help?” you echoed, your heart racing as his hand lingered on your thigh. It was a bold move, and you were torn between excitement and nerves.

“Just a little stress relief,” he said, his voice low, leaning slightly closer. “Sometimes we need more than just coffee to unwind.”

You swallowed hard, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was a desire that mirrored your own. “What do you have in mind?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, we could start by talking about what you really want,” he replied, brushing his thumb gently against your skin.

The heat radiating from his touch sent shivers down your spine. “I... I want to know you better,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “But I don’t want to complicate things.”

He leaned back slightly, giving you a searching look. “Complication can lead to something beautiful,” he said, his tone earnest. “And right now, I think we both need a break from this endless cycle of work.”

"I guess you could say that."

Nanami hummed at your word, his hand sliding a bit more up your thigh. you heart thumped against your chest and you were sure that if you released your body from it's tense state, it would beat right through your chest. "now," he began, making you look up at him, your eyes locked on each others.

"tell me your answer to my previous question, y/n."

"what i want?" you question. it seemed like you were making sure that you understood what he meant, but in actuality, you already knew. you just needed some kind of excuse to give yourself time to think and answer the question properly without making a complete fool of yourself. he nodded, sitting up properly in his seat.

"i just need a break from this project. that's all." you finally confessed. although it was the truth, it wasn't the entirety of it. "then lets take one. I'm sure thirty minutes won't hurt."

"just thirty?" you questioned, eyes widening at his next word. "what? you think it'll take longer for me to get you to feel good?" his fingertips finally grazed your clothed sex with a careful motion. your body jolted just barely, but with the way Nanami's gaze was on you, he of course noticed it.

"relax for me, sweetheart. this is supposed to help you feel better." he twisted his wrist slightly, allowing the pads of his middle and ring finger to press against your clothed bud. you let out a shaky breath and as he applied more pressure, the feeling only increased. "you know, there's a few people down the hall." he muttered, using his freehand to turn your chair so that you'd face him. "all had the same idea as us to stay after hours and finish up some work."

Nanami mentioned this on purpose. he knew where he wanted to get with this and you began to pick up on it too when he began massaging circular motions against your sensitive bud. "as much as i want to hear the beautiful sounds you make, you have to be quiet, okay?" he features softened and you so badly wanted to feel relaxed by it, but the more he continued, the harder you'd bite down on your bottom lip to suppress the slipping whimper.

you shook your head, holding his gaze and moving your hand to grip his wrist. "Nanami-" he only sped up his movements, and this time you couldn't help but let out an audible moan. the fabric of your panties only gave you more friction. his hands were skillful and heavy in a way that you couldn't even begin to explain. "that's going to be a problem, y/n." he spoke, his voice snapping you out of your small daze along with the fact that he stopped his movements.

"what is?" you asked, uneasy not just by his words, but his tone as well. he couldn't have just played you and decided against you guys' dangerous idea, right? that wasn't like Nanami, but when you thought deeper, you realized that maybe it was. afterall, you didn't know him all that well. "oh, don't sound so heartbroken sweetheart." he said, a small frown on his lips at your despairing expression.

"i-i'm sorry." you quickly said, shifting a bit to get out of his grasp, but he stopped you with a hand against the arm of your chair. "that's not it. you've got the wrong idea, y/n. i meant that you can't make such sounds. so loudly, at that."

confusion struck you just as hard as the realization. you weren't thinking straight at all. call it the stress, fatigue, or lust, but it was all scrambling your train of thought and it was obvious since you hadn't even noticed the fact that Nanami was guiding you to stand as he still sat. he pulled you closer to him, one of his knees making its way between your parted legs. "take a seat, sweetheart. I've got a solution to that vocal mouth of yours."

you followed his words and took a seat right on his thigh, your legs straddling either side. Nanami admired you deeply and lustfully, yet he was able to keep his composure. you on the other hand, couldn't help but grind down just a bit at the lack of attention that you needed in certain areas. Nanami quirked an eyebrow at your actions, and while you wanted to feel regret for your impatience, you couldn't.

it simply felt too good.

"please touch me again, Nanami." you muttered, the feeling of yearn coming to you when you glanced at his hand that rested against your thigh. he only lifted your skirt, pushing the item further up to reveal your clothed sex. "let's keep you quiet for a bit, okay?" he muttered, his freehand meeting with your nape to pull your face down closer to his. your lips met after a small pause and Nanami pulled you in in mere seconds.

this new position allowed you to press your bud against his thigh and for Nanami to use his other hand to reach around you and pulling your panties to the side. the tips of his digits traced up and down your slit, making you moan into his mouth. he retreated his fingers just as swiftly and planted both of his hands on your waist, firmly gripping your flesh as a sigh fell onto your tongue.

you parted your lips as his tongue slid against your own. he griding your sex against his thigh, using your hips to control your body. a whimper escaped from you but he devoured it just in time for it to only be muffled. "I've needed you for so long, y/n."

this caught you off guard. you could've never imagined that Nanami would think such a thing and better yet say it to you. "everyday you show up to work, i can't help but drive myself insane just by thinking about you." he groaned, firmly holding your hips in place as he pulled back to look down at his slacks.

the dampened area just beneath your sex sent a wave of embarrassment over you and Nanami only let out a strained groan as he adjusted the growing tent of his lap. "stay quiet and make a mess for me, yeah?" you nodded to his words. "can you use your fingers again, Nanami?" the question was laced with impatience. you missed the feeling of his digits and he knew that. he motioned with your panties, lifting you with ease to remove the now bothersome article of clothing.

"anything you need, sweetheart. the purpose of this is to take some of that stress off of you afterall." Nanami wasted no time to guide his fingers to your sex, slowly inserting his fingers as you leaned forward to let out a moan into his shoulder. he withdrew them once before inserting them again. each time felt better than the last and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him as he pleased you better than you could even imagine.

you had a strong attraction to Nanami and it's lasted for weeks now. you'd always have theses fantasies about him whether you wanted to or not and neither of them could beat the standard that he was setting. "can't wait to feel you around me, sweetheart." his voice was low, rugged, and you could tell that his patience was slipping. if yours could be slipping and you were the center of his attention, you couldn't imagine how much he was holding back right now.

you saw the strain of his slacks. the way the material showed no mercy to hide the outline of his erection. "we don't have to wait." you finally spoke, pushing yourself up to hold his gaze. "please." you pled, using your hand to cup his jaw. he tried to read your expression, but the lust overpowered everything else.

you reached for his belt, undoing it and following that by unpinning the button of his slacks. in a swift movement, you pulled away his pants and his briefs, the last drop of patience leaving your being at the sight of him. you shifted when Nanami removed his fingers from your sex and in an attempt to finally get what you both wanted, you were stopped by Nanami as he grabbed your hand that was reaching for his length. "patience, sweetheart. take it slow. i don't want to hurt you."

"i can take it. please, Nanami." you couldn't count how many times that word had left your mouth tonight. Nanami gave you everything you asked for, yet you couldn't help but want more. all of him. despite your words, he knew that lust could be blinding so he shook his head, tone stern now. "slowly, y/n." he said.

a small pout was on you lips and he reached his hand up to your face, using his thump to swipe away your messed lip-gloss. "don't give me that look, sweetheart. i know you can take it. I'm not going anywhere until you feel satisfied so there's no rush." you nodded at his reassurance and he placed a supported hand underneath your thigh, helping you balance a bit better.

you kept yourself up on your knees as he gripped his length in a fist, holding your gaze as his tip prodded your entrance. he gently released your thigh just a bit, allowing you to sink down to engulf him with your warmth. he let out a moan through panting breaths, the thought of the people just down the hall leaving both of you guys' mind.

you let out a swear at the entirely new feeling and Nanami gently gripped your jaw so that you'd face him and hold his lustful gaze. he lowered you to sink down on him, both his and your lips parting as you let out a moan of pleasure. "you're so perfect like this, sweetheart." he managed to get out, his eyes admiring the way all of his length disappeared into your sex. he felt pure bliss and you clearly felt the same, given the way that your loudening whimpers began to heighten.

"yeah, you're handling it so well." he groaned as she tightened around him. Nanami help her hips, aiding her in riding him since she was too overstimulated to continue on her own. "so much." you mumbled as you leaned in to place a kiss to his jawline. he sighed from the action of affection and y/n began letting out smooth moans as he slowly lifted you from his length before your skin met with his lap once again.

"make a mess for me, sweetheart. i want to see how good I'm making you feel." he encouraged. you used whatever remains of energy you had to grind against him as you slick began to pool at the base of his erection. he gave you more, and like you have been when it comes to Nanami, all you could think was more. he knew this. he felt it in the way your movements sped up and heightened in incoordination.

he allowed it to happen for a period of time, but immediately stopped you when your moans grew. the whine that left your mouth came straight from your chest, making Nanami feel guilt immediately. "Nanami, why'd you stop? please don't stop." you whined, voice sounding like a broken cry. "i have to, sweetheart. you'll cum if i keep going and i can't have that because i want to taste you when you do."

with that, he quickly lifted you both from his seat and placed you to take his pace instead. he groaned as his length left the warmth of your sex. before you could retaliates, his knees met with the office's carpet and he wrapped both of his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs parted before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your bud in seconds. a pleasureful whine escaped from your chest and his tongue gathered your arousal, the sweet taste urging him to grip his length with a desperate fist. he groaned into your sex and he placed a stripe of your own arousal against your bud.

his lips latched around the sensitive area as his tongue showed you no messy despite your cries and pleas. you were getting what you wanted which was more.

"Nanami i-i'm-" your breath hitched in your throat. your legs threated to close around his head but he was firm with his grip, holding you in place. "close?" he finished your sentence. "i know. cum on my tongue, sweetheart. please."

without another beat, you did just that, your arousal coating his tongue in just mere seconds. your body jolted and shivered against him and Nanami continued past your limits. your moans filled the room and Nanami released an arm form around your thigh and used his hand to grip his length, moaning as he brought himself to his own high. his cum spurted onto the fabric of his slacks and onto his thigh.

your panting breaths were in quiet harmony with one another and you glanced at Nanami with a dazed expression. he stood up, checking the watch on his wrist before leaning down to your face.

"we made good time, sweetheart. thirty minute break was well spent."

my request are open for everyone! go ahead and drop one! ;)

all work is done by @leahrintarou & @satorusluvrgirl

follow me on socials for updates!

instagram: ririslut_

wattpad: @kagsluvrgirl

[fingertipsmp3]

Still thinking about how chaotic this afternoon was

[miley1442111]

fix it-a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!

summary: aaron says some horrible things, can he fix it?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, jack is so sweet, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, no happy ending :(

part 2- fix it together

It was all coming down to this. It was Jack’s birthday and as his step-mom, you had been party planning all week. He was having a dinosaur themed birthday with a bounce house and watching a movie in the backyard, like a little drive in movie. You were excited for him. Aaron hadn’t really been around much that week, he was busy dealing with some legal battle the FBI was up against, meaning the rest of the team, including yourself, had the week off. It was Friday night, Jack’s actual birthday and he was asleep in bed as you waited for Aaron to get home. You were reading a book Spencer had recommended you as you nursed a cup of tea, getting sleepier by the second. 

The front door opened and there Aaron stood, briefcase in hand, handsome as ever. You smiled and got up from your spot on the couch, ready to greet him. He smiled softly as you hugged him, running a hand through his hair. “How did it go?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Oh it was fine, nothing too jarring. How was the week?” He asked, walking further into the house. 

“Fine. Nothing to report. Jack’s asleep but-”

“Did you do something for his birthday?” He asked, cutting you off. 

“Yeah, of course. I picked him up from school early and we went for lunch and to a film. He really enjoyed himself,” you smiled and he sighed. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, fine,” Passive aggressive. Aaron was being passive aggressive.

“Aaron,” You said, worry coating your words. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes! Everything is just fine,” He sighed again, sitting on the couch. “Just one thing though- you didn’t think to offer him to see his mom?” He asked, malice behind every word. The accusation cut you deeply. Of course you’d asked, but he’d said no. He said ‘I don’t want to go without dad’ because of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to go to his moms grave without his dad, and not on his birthday either. You stood there, stunned at his words. He continued. “Y’know, you promised me this wouldn’t be an issue, so tell me now, is this an issue Y/N? I need to know because we can still get an annulment.” 

You gasped at his words. “Aaron stop-”

“No, you stop. You are not his mother. She is. She still is, even if she’s gone. You’ll never be his mother. You’re doing a good job of parenting but nothing compares to Haley. Thank god you’re not his actual mother.”

That was venomous. He was going straight for every insecurity you had around your relationship with Jack and throwing it in your face. He was hurting you. 

The silence was heavy. Aaron finally looked at your face and saw the disgust written all over it. The worst part was the fact that he knew it wasn't disgust at his actions, it was disgust directed at yourself and your parenting. You loved and adored Jack, he knew that. He knew, though he’d never admit it, that Jack liked you more than him, or maybe it was just his insecurity speaking, he wasn’t sure. He knew you gave everything of yourself to the both of them. And he knew he’d just done irreversible damage. 

“I offered,” you muttered, your eyes trained on the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest, pleading with yourself to not cry. You felt silly, standing there, in his hoodie, his home, and seeing his child as your own. “He said he wanted to wait for you. I said we’d go on Sunday.” 

Aaron’s stomach dropped at the tone of your voice and the words being spoken. He was making you cry. He was hurting you. And all you’d ever been to him was perfectly kind. You’d always been so supportive, so loving, and so caring. As he came in he saw a love note on the fridge, he’d seen one of his favourite chocolate bars on the counter with a note beside it, a little wrapped gift beside it too. There were multiple reminders on the fridge for yourself, ones telling you to pick up things for the party, pick up Jack’s big birthday gift (a new bike), and call Jessica. You cared so much about the both of them, and he’d just said some of the worst things he could’ve, just because he was stressed.

Imagine how stressed you were, planning an entire party on your own while simultaneously working through hours and hours of paperwork (courtesy of your job, you were still working from home even if you weren't technically working), and parenting all week, all alone. 

“There’s dinner in the fridge, I-I’m going to go to bed,” you mumbled, walking about and leaving him alone with his thoughts. He heard your footsteps retract, walking up the stairs and in the opposite direction of your shared bedroom. Shit. You were sleeping in the guest room. 

He got up, irritation and shame barely allowing him to get to the kitchen to eat the meal you’d made him. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he have just listened to you? 

He sat alone eating, his eyes drifting to the gift on the counter the entire time. I don’t deserve it. He thought, but caved once he finished his food and cleaned up. He pulled the small bow off and unwrapped the colourful paper to reveal a positive pregnancy test. His heart broke again. Inside beside it was a note, in your beautiful handwriting. 

To my dearest Aaron, 

I wanted to tell you the second I found out but I also didn’t want you to come home too early when you were still needed in Washington. We’re pregnant! I’m so excited and nervous and happy and scared all at the same time. I didn’t want to upstage Jack’s birthday but I obviously needed to tell you :) 

I love you so much and I can’t wait for this next chapter! No more guest bedroom I guess :) 

P.s I’m almost sure Jack knows, I’ve been having horrible morning sickness :( but at least this fulfils his christmas wish last year, remember ? 

Anyways, I love you so much and I’m so excited. 

Your love, Y/N

Xxxx 

He felt sick to his stomach. You were pregnant. He’d just been evilly cruel to you and you were pregnant. He’d said some of the most vile things on planet earth to you, he essentially called you a bad mother. And you were pregnant. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he saw the splotches on the paper, ruining one of the cute doodles you’d done. He immediately put it down, not wanting to damage it further. 

He took a deep breath, then went into his study and allowed himself to cry. He’d been mean. He’d hurt you in the one way he promised he wouldn’t, all because he was overwhelmed. All because he was stressed. 

“Dad?” He heard Jack’s voice and straightened. He wiped his face. “Why are you upset?” Jack walked into his office, pyjamas and a teddy in hand. 

“I did something mean to mom,” he admitted. “And I hurt her by accident,” he wasn’t sure if it was by accident. He was sure some deep part of him just wanted to self-sabotage himself. “And I feel bad about it.”

“It’ll be ok. Mom’s been sick this week, maybe you have the same tummy ache and it’s making you mad?” He suggested and Aaron let out a pathetic chuckle. 

“Maybe bud, maybe,” he agreed. “How about we get you back to bed, huh?” 

“Can I say goodnight to mom again?” He asked and Aaron’s heart broke again. He lifted him up and nodded, walking them down the hall. “You go into her and I’ll get your bed ready, yeah?” 

“OK dad!” Jack exclaimed as he was let down to the ground, and went running off to your shared bedroom. Aaron shook his head. 

“She’s in the other bedroom,” he pushed down another wave of tears at Jack’s confused face. 

“Why?” He asked, confused. 

“I was really mean,” Aaron sniffled. “Say goodnight from me too?”

“Ok dad,” Jack said, walking into the guest room. 

Aaron heard your voice, wishing Jack good dreams. You’d been crying. 

He was the worst person in the world. 

Jack came into his bedroom a few minutes later. “Mom’s still sick, she said goodnight and to tell you that she loves you.”

Aaron almost started crying again. You were so caring. You always put him above yourself. “Thanks buddy.” 

Aaron tucked him in and closed his door over, wishing him a good night. The tears came shortly after. He tried to sleep in your shared bed, but it wasn’t right. You weren’t there. 

Sleep evaded him that night. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the morning sickness hit you like a truck. You had your head in the toilet for an hour, at least. You didn’t come out of the guest room until about 9am. You could hear the usual sounds of Jack and Aaron playing outside, probably soccer. You walked downstairs and got yourself a glass of water, the only thing you could actually stomach at the minute. You looked out the window that led to your garden and smiled when you saw your boys playing, then the nagging voice that you thought you’d gotten rid of all but screamed in your ear You’re such a terrible parent. Aaron’s just been trying to conserve your feelings this entire time. Jack probably hates you. You shouldn’t be having another child. 

You looked away. Focus on the party. You told yourself. Get through today.

You had a long list of things that needed doing before the party at 3. You had to pick up balloons, pick up the cake, pick up Jessica and her kids, pick up Sean from the airport (as a surprise for Aaron and Jack), and set everything up. You left a small note on the table explaining where you were, and left. You ran all your errands, leaving picking up Jessica, the kids, and Sean till last. When you walked back in, the house was set up and Jack was immediately excitedly by Jessica, his cousins, and Sean which gave you a moment to slip away from Aaron.

Soon enough, the party started and you were bombarded with around forty children and a party to have. You felt Aaron's eyes on you constantly, checking in on you or just watching you. Once the outdoor film started, Penelope, Emily, Jj, and Spencer came over to ask what was wrong with you and Aaron, saying it was strange to not see you all over each other. You told them about the fight (not the pregnancy) and they were shocked at his behaviour. How could he be so mean? How could he treat you like that?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron had been trying to talk to you for hours. Whenever he tried, a kid or one of the team would stop him with a dumb question, or needing help. You had Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Spencer crowding you the entire night, sending him the dirtiest of looks. That’s how he ended up at the end of the garden with David and Derek, who were both giving him a lecture about how what he’d done was wrong. 

“You can't say anyone is a bad parent!” Derek stressed. “That’s a very clear no-go!”

“I’m aware,” Aaron said, his lips tight in a frown. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Then why aren’t you apologising?!” Derek exclaimed, loud enough that a few kids turned around to shush him. 

“Because,” Aaron sighed. “Those four haven’t left her side in hours.” 

As the movie came to a close and the children left, you were left with just the team and family. 

You all sat down to dinner, chinese takeout- Jack’s favourite. There was laughter and true joy, especially at David’s insistence that he could make the meal much better than Jack's favourite take-out, considering he was a ‘chef’. 

You all sat down to watch Jack open his gifts, individually thanking each person who gave him something. He was especially taken by the gift Spencer got him, a book on dinosaurs, and he adored the bike. You’d gotten one that you'd made look similar to Sean’s motorbike, Jack was always obsessed with Sean's motorbike. You’d even drawn on specific details that made it even more unique. Everyone eventually trailed out and it was just you, Jack, Sean, and Aaron. Jack asked Sean to read his bedtime story. That meant you and Aaron were left to clean up together. You got up to start picking up plates but Aaron stopped you. 

“Can I?” He offered and you nodded, sitting on the couch. You hadn’t eaten at dinner, all food just meant more vomiting in the morning and you were not up for that. “Can we talk?” He asked. 

“About what?” You sighed, looking over at him. “I think we’ve both said enough.”

“I’m so sorry about last night,” he sighed, coming over to you and sitting beside you. “I was awful. I was disgustingly mean just because I was overwhelmed. You’re an amazing mother to Jack, while you’re not his biological mother, you love him as such and he loves you. You’re a great parent. I was just being reactive and mean. I was so cruel and I'm sorry. I don’t want an annulment. I want to be with you forever. I know that it isn’t a problem. I know how much you love Jack and me,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I know how little I deserve it.”

You took his hand. “What you said… it was probably my worst nightmare,” you chuckled flatly. “And what you said was pretty damaging, Aaron. I just… it completely restarted the voice in my head that says I’m a terrible parent. It made me scared to think about what’s going to happen when we have our baby. I was already terrified about being pregnant, and this was just…” you trailed off as Aaron’s heart broke. Your voice was raw with emotion. You were so hurt. 

“I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the best mother our children could ever have,” he promised and you smiled, but it lacked the regular spark your smiles usually contained. 

“The best mother Jack could have is Haley. We both know that.”

Fuck. Now you were comparing yourself to Haley again. Aaron had quite literally set you back about 4 years in your confidence as Jack’s mother. “Honey-”

“I know it sounds bad, but we both know it’s true. I’m good, but as you said, I’m nothing compared to Haley. Which is fine Aaron. I understand my place.”

His heart broke for what felt like the millionth time. He’d hurt you so badly. “Honey please, I was stressed and overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I meant nothing I said. You’re the best mother to Jack and our unborn child. You are the love of my life-”

“I’m the second love of your life,” you smiled sadly at him. “I’m going to bed, goodnight Aaron.” 

You walked up the stairs with a heavy heart. No matter what he said, you’ll always remember the look on his face when he told you that you weren’t enough, that you weren't Haley.

You fell asleep on your side of the bed, since you couldn’t exactly sleep in the guest room when Sean was in there. 

Aaron leaned against the counter as he washed dishes, thinking about how he could fix this. 

Could he even fix this?

——————————————————————————-------------------

criminal minds masterlist

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 13

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: 2800+

Part 1 | Masterlist

It’s nearly midnight on a Friday and Jake has already stated that he needs to leave at least six times. Bradley is due back any minute and if he finds Jake at the house with you, he’ll undoubtedly ask questions.

But, between his goodbyes, Jake continues to kiss you. On your lips, along your jawline, down your neck.

“I have to go,” he declares firmly, as though you’re keeping him hostage.

He proceeds to graze his teeth over your collarbone and flick his tongue at the base of your neck. You giggle. “No one is stopping you.”

Jake drops his head and nestles it under your chin with a groan. “Could you?” he asks, making you chuckle again.

His hand hovers uncertainly below your shoulder blades, over the clasp of your bra, while the other slips past the curve of your waist to your leg, noticeably avoiding your ass. Jake has done a remarkable job of keeping things PG since the two of you got together. This suits you just fine because, as much as you want him to touch you all over, you’re not overly keen on having to live up to every other girl Jake has ever been with.

You comb your fingers through his hair and he sighs blissfully into your chest. “Stay,” you say quietly, knowing full well what that would entail.

Jake lets out another groan and leans his weight into you, pushing you over onto your back on the couch. “Maybe I will,” he mutters defiantly, as though your offer had been a challenge.

You let out a soft laugh, certain that he’s bluffing. After all, staying would mean having to explain to your brother what he’s doing at your house past midnight while Bradley isn't home. “Do you really think he’s going to make you choose?” you ask as Jake settles himself behind you on the couch and drapes an arm over your shoulder.

He sighs and you feel his breath warm the back of your ear. “I wouldn’t blame him,” he replies.

You bite your lip anxiously. “We still have to tell him.”

Jake presses his mouth to the back of your head and mumbles, “I know,” into your hair.

You feel him shift behind you as he struggles to fit himself on the couch. He kicks the armrest by accident. “You want me to move?” you ask.

At these words, his hold on you tightens and he mutters, “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Jake moans into the throw pillow under your head and then reluctantly sits up. “I just want to spend the night with my girl!” he whines, repositioning himself so that he can rest his head on your chest when he lies back down.

You smile at him and pat his head sympathetically.

…

“I’ll be home late again tonight,” Bradley says, finally sitting down to eat his lunch after spending over half an hour building the perfect sandwich.

Jake, who’s just finished eating a second bowl of cereal, shoots a brief glance in your direction.

“Cool,” you say, ignoring Jake’s foot that’s currently creeping into your territory under the table. You kick him before he tries anything untoward and he winces in silence. “Have fun.”

Bradley looks at you suspiciously. “I haven’t even told you what I’m doing.”

You lift your eyebrows at him guiltily. “Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t be doing it if it weren’t fun.”

Bradley shrugs and goes back to his sandwich. You look over at Jake, who’s chuckling lightly into his bowl, and glide your bare foot up his calf. He freezes, blinking pointedly at the milk in his bowl. With a straight face, he lowers his hand and curls his fingers around your ankle. You panic, trying to yank it out of his grasp, but his grip is too strong. He eyes you mischievously, knowing he’s won this round. Meanwhile, Bradley bites into his sandwich, blissfully unaware.

“You should come, Seresin,” you brother suggests. “One of the bartenders told me she thinks you’re cute.”

Jake leans back in his seat and makes a face. “Nah.” You feel his thumb begin to stroke the top of your foot.

“Why not?” you ask him innocently. “Don’t you want to get laid?”

Jake throws you a smirk and squeezes your foot under the table. “Always,” he responds with a wink.

“Yes, dude!” Bradley exclaims happily, slamming the table. “Trust me, if you’re coming, you’re gonna get laid.”

Jake looks back over at Bradley uncomfortably. “Not tonight, man,” he says.

“Why?” Bradley slumps back in his seat, clearly disappointed. You can tell that he misses his days of debauchery with his best friend.

“You should go,” you tell Jake. “Maybe you’ll get lucky,” you add, shrugging, when Jake looks back at you, unamused.

“It’s got nothing to do with luck, little girl,” he says, leaning into the table to get closer to you.

You roll your eyes at him and finally pull your foot out of his grasp. “Please,” you say.

“Please, what?” Jake mutters, raising his eyebrows at you suggestively.

The insinuation makes your stomach leap into your throat.

Meanwhile, Bradley seems to miss the entire exchange. “Oh my good god, this is so fucking good!” he exclaims as he continues to devour his artisan creation of a sandwich. “What are you up to tonight?” he asks you between bites.

You gulp, suddenly unable to look Jake in the eye. “I kind of just want to make out with somebody.”

“Woah.” Bradley holds up a hand. “We did not need to know that.”

But Jake is staring at you unblinkingly. “Just with anybody?” he asks boldly as Bradley rises from the table.

You eye your brother as he makes his way to the kitchen sink, completely oblivious. You shake your head at your boyfriend's audacity. “Yes, Jake,” you retort. “Just with whoever walks into my face first.”

Jake snorts. “Good to know.”

…

That evening, about an hour after your brother leaves the house, there’s a knock on your front door.

“Since when do you not just barge in?” you ask, opening the door.

Jake, who’s got his hand behind his back, brings out a bouquet of flowers and holds it out for you. “Since I’m trying to make a good impression now.”

You snicker, taking the flowers from his hand and admiring the arrangement. “Well, so far so good, Seresin.”

“Good,” he says, stepping inside and putting his arm around your waist. “Because I’m here to walk into your face.”

You let out a laugh, letting him capture your lips in a kiss.

“So, listen,” he says. “I know you had your heart set on making out. But I thought that we could go somewhere first.”

“Go where?”

“It’s a surprise,” he says, winking at you.

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “If you say haunted house…”

He chuckles. “Good times.”

“For whom?” you exclaim as he ushers you out the door.

“For me, obviously. I got to hold your hand and everything.”

“Aww, you wanted to hold my hand?” You take his hand in yours as the two of you walk to his car.

“I wanted to do more than hold your hand,” he admits, bringing your hand to his lips and giving it a kiss as he opens the door for you.

“Like?” you ask playfully as you climb into the passenger seat.

Jake watches you with a smile as you buckle your seat belt. “Like walk into your face,” he says, kissing you on the mouth again.

…

“Uhh,” you utter, staring at the laundromat sign above the dingy door without stepping out of the car even as Jake pulls open your door. “So, when you said surprise… I didn’t realize we’d need to bring fabric softener.”

“Get out of the car, smartass,” he says, gesturing for you impatiently.

You climb out warily as Jake ducks into his backseat to grab a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses.

“C’mon,” he says, ushering you toward the door.

“Seresin, what the fuck,” you say, eyeing the homeless encampment at the corner of the establishment.

He pulls open the door and a bell rings as you enter. There are several rows of washing machines and dryers inside and the fluorescent lights overhead flicker every few seconds like you’re in a post-apocalyptic movie. The laundromat is deserted.

Jake approaches the third machine on the far left and opens the top. Then he proceeds to dump in his jacket.

“Jake, you can’t wash leather in a machine!” you hiss, still rooted to the spot by the front door as you take in your surroundings.

“Relax,” he says, and then he tosses in his sunglasses and drops the door.

You eye him skeptically as he beckons you to follow him. “Jake, we said no more haunted houses,” you remind him, slipping your hand in his when he starts toward the back. The flickering of the lights seems to intensify.

Jake glances down at you with a smirk but doesn’t respond. He stops at a vending machine that’s stationed against the back wall. “Twizzlers?” he asks.

“No way!” you say. “Nerds, please.”

“You're so polite today,” Jake notes and you glance at his face just in time to catch a cheeky smirk.

The throwback to your conversation in the kitchen makes your heart convulse for a moment, but you decide to ignore his comment.

Jake slips a bill into the slot of the vending machine. He gets both Nerds and Twizzlers and then starts entering a third letter-number combination.

“What else are you getting?” you ask, scanning the offers for the code he’s entered, which, you quickly realize, doesn’t exist. “That’s not an option.”

But before Jake can respond, the entire vending machine starts to slide to the side, exposing a dimly lit staircase in behind, leading down to a metal door.

“Jake,” you croak, clutching his hand again. “I’m going to murder you. Assuming you don’t murder me first.”

Jake laughs. “Don’t worry, darlin’. If I was gonna murder you, I’d have done it already.” He leads the way down the stairs, although you hang onto his arm so tightly, he might as well be giving you a piggyback ride. When you get to the door, he pushes it open, revealing beyond it a scene unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

You walk inside first, captivated by the warmth of the place; by the beauty. Jake follows, confirming his reservation with the host. The bar is like something out of a fairytale – if fairytales had bars. Low lights, glowing candles, a fireplace blazing in the middle of the room. You look up, wondering how you missed the chimney on your way in. Small tables with marble tops dot the floor. Elaborate sconces adorn the walls, and framed, faded photographs compliment the elegant wallpaper. “A speakeasy,” you breathe excitedly as Jake places a hand on your back and leads you to one of the tables.

“Thought we needed a place that was out of the way,” he said, pulling a velvety armchair out for you to sit on.

You give him a look as he walks around the table to sit across from you. “Well, it’s definitely out of the way.”

Jake grins. “It’s got darts,” he says, pointing at the corner to your right.

You give him a smile. “Of course it does.”

He chuckles. “It’s also got a bar that serves vintage cocktails. And their sliders are incredible.”

“How did you find this place?” you ask, perusing the extensive drink menu.

“I’ve uh, been here a few times,” he says vaguely, raising a couple of fingers to alert the server that the two of you were ready to order.

You look up at him questioningly as the waiter arrives. “I’ll have the Old Mule,” you say. Jake orders a whiskey sour and some sliders for the table. “Been here with whom?” you ask the moment the server departs.

Jake throws you a sheepish look. “Well, not with Bradley.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’ve taken another girl here?”

Jake scoffs. “I’ve never taken anybody anywhere.”

You nod, unsurprised. “Except to bed.”

He shakes his head at you with a smirk. “Wasn’t always in a bed.”

“Ew!” You cringe. “I don’t want to know that!”

“You started it.”

“You elaborated,” you retort. Then, after a moment, you press. “Come on, tell me. How did you know about this place?”

Jake sighs. “There was a girl –”

“I fucking knew it!” You shake your head.

“Just let me finish, woman!”

You raise your eyebrows cynically but allow him to continue.

“There was a girl in my squadron –”

“Whom you fucked,” you say nonchalantly, unable to contain yourself.

“No, I did not fuck her,” Jake says under his breath just as the server arrives with your drinks.

You and Jake each give him a polite – albeit uncomfortable – smile. “You didn’t?” you ask skeptically.

“No,” Jake restates. Then, he adds, “Her grandmother –”

“You didn’t,” you croak, horrified.

Jake fixes you with a glare. “I can wait,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Fine.” You sigh. “Go on and tell me how you fucked her grandmother.”

Jake presses his lips together to hold back a laugh. “Her grandmother was a phenomenal baker. She’d always send us pastries and desserts and, let me tell you, an éclair tastes a hundred times better after a long day of flying. Anyway, I ran into her one day at a farmer’s market. She had about a million bags, so I helped her get to her car. She asked me to join her for a luncheon she was dreading. It was with her old classmates from college. Apparently, this joint’s been their hangout for over half a century.”

You watch Jake with knotted eyebrows and a small smile. “You were her date?”

Jake shrugged. “Not officially. I think she just needed some support because those little old ladies were ruthless. Asking her all kinds of questions she didn’t seem very eager to answer.”

“I wonder why she went at all.”

“They were the only friends she had left, she told me.”

“That’s sad,” you say.

Jake purses his lips. “Anyway, I figured she needs a new friend. So, I’ve been seeing Margaret for close to two years now. This is where we come.”

You blink at Jake in awe. “You’re cheating on me with a grandma?”

Jake laughs. “She knows all about you, actually.”

Your jaw drops. “She does not!”

“It was her idea to bring you here.”

You feel as though you could cry, inexplicably touched that Jake has told somebody about your relationship. “I love her,” you say.

Jake chuckles. “You should come out with us next time.”

You smile at him, relieved that this place wasn’t the setting of yet another one of his hookups. “I’m surprised you never showed Bradley this place.”

Jake shrugs. “Almost took you here a couple times,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Really? Like, before we started dating?”

He nods, smiling sheepishly. “Before I realized why I wanted to take you here.”

You drink for a moment, then say, “I have to ask: what was with the machine upstairs? Your jacket?”

“It’s a donation. Kind of like a ‘pay what you can’ cover,” he responds, rubbing his hands together excitedly when the server arrives with the sliders.

“I love that,” you muse, picking up one of the little burgers and devouring half of it in one bite. “I love everything about this,” you add, covering your mouth as you chew on the most delicious slider you’ve ever tasted.

Jake grins at you proudly. “Now,” he says, changing the subject. “Why are you trying to pimp me out to your brother’s bartender friends?”

You meet his gaze with a smirk. “You know,” you respond casually. “Just trying to keep up the charade.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “I never asked you to do that,” he says.

You shrug. “Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Jake purses his lips in thought, studying you at length. You’re surprised that this doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable like it would have a few months ago. Now, you’re confident enough to maintain eye contact indefinitely if he so chooses. Unless, of course, he makes another suggestive remark.

He doesn't however, and you can't be sure whether you're relieved or disappointed by this. You spend the rest of the evening trying various cocktails and getting your ass handed to you at darts and, before you know it, the two of you are pulling up to your house at the end of the night, deciding which drinks you liked best, because neither of you wants to address the very real possibility that this might have been not only your very first but also your very last date ever.

“Bradley’s home,” you mutter, as though Jake can’t see Bradley’s Bronco in the driveway for himself.

Jake sighs heavily, pulling on the handbrake a little more aggressively than usual.

“You should go,” you say, because your brother would certainly be surprised to see you walk in past midnight with Jake, considering your original plans entailed walking into somebody’s face.

But Jake is already opening his door and stepping out of the car.

“Jake,” you begin, also climbing out of your seat and shutting your door.

But Jake doesn’t wait for you to finish. He walks around the front of the car determinedly and holds out his hand for you to take. “Let’s go,” he says.

You gape at him in alarm. “W-what?”

Jake takes your hand in his and starts for the front door.

“What are you doing?” you ask anxiously, running to keep up with his long strides.

“What I should’ve done in the very beginning,” he responds firmly. He reaches out to turn the doorknob, but the door opens before he even makes contact.

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

@atarmychick007

@callsign-sunshine

@shanimallina87

@wkndwlff

@thefandomimagines

@lunamoonbby

@xoxabs88xox

@Elenavampire21

@desert-fern

@averyhotchner

@Topguncultleader

@teacupsandtopgun

@lilyevanswhore

@sarcasm-n-insomnia

@avengers-fixation

@malindacath

@maddievevo

@widemiffyhappy

@dempy

@djs8891

@pono-pura-vida

@phoenix1388

@teaminator

@rascallyrascals

@kmc1989

@drakelover78

@hangmanscoming

@topgun-imagines

@thedroneranger

@joaquinwhorres

@abaker74

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@mygyn

@leigh70

@marriinachoo

@delicatetrashtree

@kembry107

@sydneejean

@alana4610

@misconceptionmistress

@hookslove1592

@itsmytimetoodream

@grxcisxhy-wp

@oliviasph

@buckysteveloki-me

@theweekndhistorybook

@books-are-escapes

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@maeleeme

@lynnevanss

[cordeliawhohung]

the prowl - single dad! Price x teacher! stripper! Reader (fem) taglist

[5] guys your age

“You doing okay?” 

No matter how hard you try, you cannot get the smooth vermilion lipstick to form correctly. It’s blurry. Refuses to crisply line the ridge of your lips. Lopsided and fuzzy, you feel more like The Joker than a stripper. It’s been five minutes, and you haven’t stopped quietly cursing at yourself as you try again and again to force it to comply — there are only so many times you can repeat the same thing before the brink of insanity begins to loom in the distance. 

“I can’t get this lipstick to work with me,” you mumble. You snatch a tissue off the counter — this is your fifth one — before wiping at the corner of your mouth. After this, you’ll have to fix your foundation, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were missing a layer or two near the corner of your mouth. 

Chuckling, Chrys slides into the seat next to you, vibrant xanthic outfit dazzling beneath the harsh lights that line the mirrors with fat bulbs. She’s covered her skin with a glitter spray, and with her darker complexion, the sparkling reminds you of radiant stars twinkling in the sky. 

“I’m not talking about that,” she clarifies, head tilting to the side and into your field of view. “I’m talking about you.” 

Crumpling the tissue and tossing it onto the counter with the others, you turn your full attention to Chrys. She leans against the counter, hand pressed against her cheek to prop her head up as she examines you with warm eyes. You suddenly feel less opaque than ever — glass skin, bones, and organs, she can see right through you. It’s like you’ve never had a properly formed body to begin with.

“What about me?” you ask, capping your lipstick and setting it to the side. You’ll deal with that little demon later. 

“Dunno. Been worried about you since last week when you nearly bolted out of here Friday. Now, you’re shaking worse than a wet dog,” she says, eyes flickering to your jittery fingers. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and caught in your throat as you swipe your thumb across the palm of your hand. A decent layer of sweat covers your skin and you try not to grimace. Usually, you’re better at hiding your emotions than this. Teachers often time have to mask disappointment or laughter, but this is different. 

“Yeah, uhm, I guess my mind is a little occupied,” you admit. 

“Work getting to you?” she asks. “I mean your actual job, not whatever the hell this gig is. Can’t imagine having to keep up your energy to work with kids and then come here and deal with rowdy men.” 

“It’s got… something to do with work, yeah,” you nod. 

Instead of questioning you further, Chrys stares. It’s white hot, boiling the truth inside of you until it sears the pit of your stomach, and you find you can no longer hold your breath. 

“I… might have given one of my student’s dad a private session last week,” you finally reveal in a whisper. 

Glossy lips curve in on themselves as Chrys hums, head nodding as she attempts to hide whatever emotion or surprise lurking beneath her facade. “Did he recognize you?” 

“See, that’s what I’m not sure of,” you sigh. “When I entered the room, I recognized him instantly. Chrys, I can’t lie, he’s an extremely attractive man, but I wanted to run. But I was worried that if I did, he would get confused or figure out who I was, so I sort of rolled with it anyway and… and fuck.” 

“So, you gave him a dance?” she prompts you to continue as you rub at the corners of your eyes. 

“No, he had me sit with him to talk.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s worse.” 

You groan, spine curving forward until your forehead comes in contact with the cold counter. It offers little reprieve for your hyperactive brain and it’s never ending thoughts, but sweat still builds on the palm of your hands. At this rate, you might as well go home before you hurt yourself dancing — too much moisture to grip the pole properly would send you crashing in a heartbeat.

“That’s not all,” you continue. “He bought me flowers on Monday.”

“To your teaching job?” Chrys clarifies. 

You nod as best as you can before you turn so your cheek is pressed against the counter. “Had his daughter bring it in and everything. Had a note too, thanking me for helping her out when she had fallen on the playground but it seemed… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m overthinking it or not. If this got out I could lose my job, but I can’t quit working here… I can’t live off of what the school pays me. It’s just not enough, not with the cost of living.” 

“Hey,” Chrys shushes. Her hand reaches for the exposed skin on your back where she rubs loving and soothing circles along your spine. It’s a tenderness you’d never expect to receive at The Florist’s. It calms the storm swirling in your brain, electrifying your nerves, if only for a moment. “I’m sure if he knew you would’ve found out by now. Besides, even if he did, he would have to admit where he was at in order to get you in trouble. Depending on what he does, he might not want to out himself to the school either.” 

“Unless he does it anonymously,” you retort. 

“Even then, it’s some random, faceless person’s word against yours. I’d like to think the school would have a bit more faith in you than that.” 

You take a deep breath, chest shuttering with the movement as you push yourself away from the counter. Unrelenting nervosity still grips you by the throat as that tempest builds in your mind, but you know Chrys’s words bear weight. John Price is a good man — at least, you think he is. Hopefully he wouldn’t be so willing to destroy your career, especially after thanking you with an expensive bouquet and kind card. 

“Yeah… you’re right. I just… I can’t get him out of my head. Even before he came here, I’ve had this stupid little crush on him. Like I said, he’s very attractive. But ever since then he’s just… constantly on my mind. This isn’t healthy and it’s so frustrating because I’m constantly going back and forth between some weird attraction or worrying I’ll be jobless because of him and-”

You’re spiraling. Body contorting and falling into some deep pit you’ll never crawl out of, and before you can gush further, Chrys cuts you off with a simple raise of her hand. Your mouth seals tight, tacky lipstick sticking to itself as you roll your lips out with a sigh. 

“Sounds to me like you’re living at work and visiting home,” she says with a chuckle. “You need something to do outside of work life. Something to take care of yourself, or at least take your mind off of whatever sticky mess you’ve found yourself in.” 

Defeated, you shrug. “Like what?” 

“Well, dunno about you but I prefer spa days. If not that, then Tinder,” she says flippantly. 

“Tinder?” you repeat incredulously. 

She smirks, lips curling up like a playful cat. “Going on a date would be one way to get this guy out of your head, yeah?” 

“Chrysanthemum!” 

Both of you turn your heads, snapping to the edge of the room where a technician waves his hand through the door in signal. Chrys turns back to you where she gives you a quick smile and a reassuring squeeze before standing to her feet. 

“Just think about it, yeah?” she requests before sauntering out of the room. 

You watch her leave with hips that sway in time with the clack of her heels and you groan. There’s no time for you to explain or dwell on your failed dating life. Men your age are avidulous and oftentimes dishonest in the best of scenarios. Most of the girls you had gone to university with were lucky enough to have a ring on their finger before graduation. Married, double income, and lovely homes — it’s something you can only dream of now. 

John isn’t your age. 

That thought hits you with such effusive force you nearly lose your breath. It’s… naughty. A perverted thought that shouldn’t creep into the depths of your mind, and yet it does. It grows long, swirling roots where it soaks the nutrients of the grey matter of your brain. It takes place with relentless force and refuses to let go. Judging by his looks and the air that surrounds him, he’s mid to late thirties minimum, perhaps even early forties. And you? Some new, not even tenured school teacher? 

Shaking your head, you bring yourself to your feet, chair scratching and squeaking against the tile floor as you back away from the mirror. No, you shouldn’t be thinking about that — you can’t think about that. About him. About whatever twisted delusion you’re fabricating and torturing yourself with. 

Your locker swings open with a squeak and your hands dive into the bag shoved in the back. It doesn’t take you long to fish out your phone, and it’s even shorter before you have your app downloader open. 

Downloading Tinder: 7%

If this is one of the steps you have to take to forget all about John Price, then so be it.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

hi!! i’m a big wuss and cry at least twice a week. could i possibly request a ghost x reader where reader is new to the task force and everyone but ghost has warmed up to them and really enjoys their bubbly presence? ghost says something kinda mean, reader cries, and then goes quiet for a few days/a week. everyone notices the change in their personality and gets confused until ghost makes it right <3

Thanks for this request!!🙃🩷 same same tho.

We All Have Our Demons

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of crying, swearing, angst w happy ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were recently just introduced to the 141 as the newest member. Your sniper skills were top tier, and Price had jumped at the opportunity to make you a part of his team.

The boys on the team had instantly taken a liking to you. You were a welcome addition to the team, and your presence alone helped shift the mood of the team tremendously.

Everyone on the team had been incredibly welcoming to you, all except Ghost. He'd been standoffish since you'd arrived, only giving you a nod when you'd introduced yourself. You had originally just chalked it up to him being weary if he could trust you. Which you more than understood, so while you kept your distance, you still made it a point to be nice to him.

He was always very curt and professional, never letting you hold a conversation with him, but that did not stop you from trying.

You'd always offer to help with various tasks, picked up coffee for him just the way he liked, and on multiple occasions had tried striking up conversations with him, to no avail.

One night, you'd decided you were going to try and talk with him. You weren't used to someone being so standoffish toward you, and wanted to know what you could've done wrong.

Making your way into the weapons rooms, you popped your head in to address your superior.

"Lieutenant?" You approached him with a wide smile.

He regarded you with clear disinterest and mumbled out a "What is it, Sargeant."

"I just wanted to check in with you, sir. I was wondering if perhaps.. I'd done something wrong?" Your hands started to grow sweaty, and you nervously rubbed them on your thighs.

He turned back to his weapon. "Wrong?"

"You just.. seem to not like me, and I'm not sure what I could've done to offend you."

"Like you? It's not my job to like you, and this isn't the place for annoying shit such as friendships. If that's what you're looking for, perhaps you should've looked to do any other field than this one, Y/N." Ghost sputtered, his eyes narrowing at you as he slammed his gun down in frustration.

Your mouth parted slightly, shock washing over you at his words. You knew he was a tough shell to crack, but you'd never thought he'd be so outwardly mean.

"Of course, sir. Sorry to bother you." You muttered meekly, turning to walk to the door. You blinked away tears, and aggressively wiped them from your eyes, not wanting anyone to see you cry.

~

For the next few days, you'd been rather quiet and kept to yourself. The boys would constantly come up and ask you to join them at the pub or for spar sessions, but you'd always politely decline.

Ghosts words had sunk deep, creating a wound you weren't sure how to heal. Were you really that annoying? Did everyone on base feel that way about you? The words ate and ate at you, and you'd ultimately decided to keep to yourself so as not to bother anyone around you. Perhaps Ghost was right. You weren't here to make friends.

The boys grew concerned, your normally bubbly attitude was gone, and they were lucky if they could even get a few words out of you.

"Anybody know what's going on with Y/N? They have been unusually quiet lately, and I'm worried about them." Soap had asked, sitting down to eat with Gaz and Ghost.

"I've tried talking to them a few times but can barely hold a conversation. You didn't hear it from me, but it was rumored that they left the weapons room crying Friday night." Gaz spoke, a sad smile forming on his lips.

Ghosts ears perked up at this information. You were with him in the weapons room Friday night. You left crying? Why would you have left- Oh. A wave of guilt came washing over him as he realized what had you so upset.

He truly didn't mean to make you upset. He was so used to keeping himself protected. He was afraid to let anyone else in. Then you came in with your bubbly attitude, and regardless of how much he tried to push you away, you still showed interest in him. He was so scared to open himself up to you, this ray of sunshine, and get himself hurt. He couldn't take more hurt in his life.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, he went to go and find you.

~

You were sitting in the courtyard watching the night sky. Your mind was racing with negative thoughts that you couldn't seem to push away. Deciding to turn in early for the night, you moved to stand when you heard a voice call your name. You turned around and were met face to face with Ghost.

"Oh, Lieutenant. Didn't know you were out here. Don't mind me, I was just leaving." You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and made for the entrance.

"Wait." Ghosts voice halted your movements. "I uh, I wanted to talk."

You turned to him, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, and nodded your head slowly.

Ghost looked to the ground for a moment before speaking. "I'm.. not exactly a guy known for extending warm welcomes."

You swallowed thickly, expecting him to continue, but he didn't.

"It's alright, sir. I understand." You said softly.

Ghost lifted his eyes from the grass to meet your warm ones. He felt his heart palpitate from the way you were looking at him. You'd looked so innocent to him.

"No. It's not. I don't give my trust out easily, not to anyone. But that's no excuse to treat you as I did." You could tell Simon was doing his best to apologize, in his own way.

"We all have our demons, sir. I can't fault you for protecting yourself and the team. But I assure you I have nothing but good intentions." You assured him, not breaking eye contact.

"I know." He nodded, his eyes shifting back to the ground beneath him. There was something about the way you looked at him. It made him feel things he'd never felt before. You were such a warm person, and he didn't know how to take you.

"Well, if that's all, I'll leave you to your night, Ghost." You turned to make your way out again, stopping when you heard him speak once more.

"Simon."

"Sorry?"

"My name, it's Simon." He lifted his eyes to yours, and held your gaze.

Your eyes lit up from the small bit of information he'd given you. It wasn't much, but it was a sign he was willing to try opening up to you.

"It's nice to meet you, Simon." You giggled, a vibrant smile covering your face.

He nodded, thankful his mask was covering the light pink tint that was forming on his cheeks.

"Theres... there's a coffee shop up the road. Usually, go to it every now and then. Good coffee there." He fumbled out, heart stammering in his chest. "Be my treat. It's the least I can do for being an arse."

"I would love that, Simon." You were practically beaming. You couldn't stop saying his name, and he sure wasn't complaining. He quite liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.

He held out his arm to you, and you gladly linked your arm in his. "Shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Wasn't too proud of this one, tbh I rewrote it quite a few times.

Was kind of thinking of making this a 2 parter?

[ariestrxsh]

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁┈

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, drugdealer!chris, mentions of drugs and weapons, exchange of sexual favors for drugs, oral, face fucking

✍️ Summary: ✍️ You're a little short when you go to purchase weed from Chris, but you offer him something more valuable than money.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁┈

"I need a re-up," I texted Chris. He was the smooth talker, the cool guy every guy wanted to be and every girl wanted to be with, and he also happened to be the local drug dealer. "Come thru," he responded shortly after.

It was about a 20-minute drive to his place since there was still snow on the ground, and it took me even longer because I had to stop at the ATM. The chilly winter air bit at my nose and my fingertips while I typed in my pin. Fuck, I'm $20 short. Chris and I weren't close or anything, but I'd never asked him for a favor before, so I figured maybe I could just this once.

I made sure to park on the street where he always asked me to, and I texted him "here" as I walked up the driveway. As I approached the door, before I could knock, it was swinging open and Chris materialized in front of me. He looked especially good today. He was wearing a dark green sweater, grey sweatpants, a silver chain, and a black beanie with Boston 'B' on it. I absent-mindedly bit my lip a little when I first saw him. His blue eyes were hazy and glassy, presumably from having just smoked, and he shot me a stoned smile.

"Hey ma, come on in," he said, placing his hand on the small of my back as I walked past him. Chris was always touchy and flirty like that with everyone. I think it was part of his charm. "Have a seat, I just rolled up. We can smoke while I weigh out your shit," he picked up the blunt off his coffee table and lit it up as we sat down on the couch.

"Listen, I know it's $60, but I only have $40 until I get paid," I winced, wondering if he would be mad for wasting his time. "That's alright, ma. I'll just weigh out $40's worth then," he smiled, passing me the blunt. "But here's the thing. I need $60 worth. I have a stressful week ahead of me, and I can't run out before the weekend. Do you think you could front me? Just $20 til Friday?" I begged him. I took a few puffs off the blunt and gave it back to Chris. "I don't do fronts, sweetheart," he scoffed at me. "But you can still smoke this blunt with me, and I'll sell you $40."

"Chris, please," I desperately whined. He shook his head no. "What if I give you something more valuable than money?" I asked him, looking him up and down. He really did look so good today. "Sweetheart, what could be more valuable than money?" Chris chuckled as he blew out a cloud of smoke and coughed. "My mouth," I said, reaching for his crotch.

"Woah, what are you doing?" He said, grabbing my wrist right before I touched him. "If I give you head, will you let the $20 slide?" I asked him. "Do you know how dangerous it is to offer up sexual favors for drugs from a dealer?" He asked in a deep, hushed voice, leaning in close to me and pushing a piece of hair back behind my ear. His hand lingered for a second, and he bit his lip. I shook my head no. "Well, you've gotta be careful about that, princess. There are some dangerous men out there who will do awful things to you, and you don't wanna get mixed up in their worlds," he said with his face only a few inches from mine.

"I wanna get mixed up in your world. Just for one night. Please," I whispered, glancing between his blue eyes and his plump lips. This was somewhat about the weed, but it was becoming even more so about the fact that I just really wanted to make him cum. He passed me the blunt, and I watched him intently as I wrapped my lips around the tobacco leaf, trying to be suggestive and took a long, slow drag.

"Yeah? I'll make you a deal. You're still giving me that $20 when you get paid, but I will accept the blow job as a down payment until then," he smirked at me. "Only if you promise to stay away from these other scumbags. They don't have your best interest in mind," Chris whispered, running the back of his hand across my cheek. I nodded and smiled up at him with innocent doe eyes. "Let's finish this blunt, baby, and then you can do whatever you want to me," Chris softly uttered, smiling. We spent the next few minutes passing the blunt back and forth, mostly giving each other bedroom eyes and staring at each other's lips.

I knew Chris was dangerous. He sold other substances besides weed, and he often times had really sketchy people over. I even saw guns in his house haphazardly laying around on many occasions. I knew he was bad news. I knew what I was getting myself into. And I knew that despite all the red flags I saw and despite alarm bells that would go off whenever I was with him, he made my pussy throb, and I wanted him so bad.

Once we finished smoking, he led me to his bedroom. I'd been to his house many times before, but this was the first time I'd seen his bedroom. He had blackout curtains, a simple bed set up with a flannel comforter and black sheets, and he had a few posters up in his room. He had money and drugs laying around his desk next to his computer.

I playfully pushed him back onto his bed, climbed on top of him, and my lips melted into his. Things were getting heated quickly as our soft pecks morphed into a heavy makeout session. He helped me out of my corduroy jacket, tossed it onto the floor, and his hands wandered to my waist. My fingers fell into his hair, and I moaned against his lips as we started grinding against one another.

I pulled away from kissing him and nudged him a little, so that he tilted his head to expose his throat. I started sucking, licking, and biting on his neck until he started becoming more responsive. I slid my hands under his green sweater, motioning for him to help me take it off of him, and after removing his own shirt, he removed mine too. His hands traveled from my hips to my tits, and he gently pinched my nipples, which caused me to let out a soft whine.

I put my hand down the front of Chris' pants and started stroking him while we continued kissing. He was bigger than I had imagined. The head of his cock was smooth, and I felt as a bit of clear liquid emerged from the tip. I stroked him until he was fully erect, and he moaned against my lips as we continued venturing each other's mouth.

With Chris laying back on the bed, I maneuvered my way between his legs, took out his dick, and began doing what I'd always wanted to do. There were many times I imagined how he would sound and how he'd look while getting head, and I was endlessly grateful to be experiencing it firsthand. I took the tip into my mouth, gently suckling while I descended down his shaft, taking him further into my throat. He gently rocked his hips forward as my tongue slithered around in circles around his sensitive head. His moans were soft and needy at first. He held my hair out of my face while I hungrily gagged on him.

As soon as he heard me choke on his member, it triggered something in him. Immediately, he became rough. He held my face, and started to fuck it. His groans became deeper and more urgent. His body started quivering beneath me. I loved making such a dangerous guy come unraveled at the seams using just my mouth and my sheer desire to make him cum.

That was my trick to giving good head, especially to Chris. All I had to do was really want it and make it my life's mission to make him feel good, and the rest came naturally to me. I loved that Chris knew what he wanted and made it easy for me. I hardly had to do any work. My eyes started to well up as he slammed against the back of my throat, earning a retched sound from me with every thrust.

"Shit," he muttered as he painted my tongue with his load, delving so deep into my throat that my nose was nearly touching his stomach. I swallowed up the remnants, making him smile. "Goddamn, you took that so well. Your mouth is more valuable than money. This one's one me. Just keep your $60."

taglist: @ariithereyet @bsturnzmtt @sofieeeeex @ribread03 @fratbrochrisgf @strnlxlqve @sturniolo-girl @chaossturns @blahbel668

[surftrips]

Maybe you could do single dad jj maybank he’s in college and has to do a project with the reader and has to bring the baby with them and they bond and start to hang out a lot then they start to date also maybe she’s a single mom I feel like that would be like a unique thing

thank you so much for this request! i hope you don't mind that i switched it up a bit (and got carried away lol) but reader is the single mom here and her and jj have known each other their whole lives :)

when you know, you know

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: y/n needs a babysitter and jj is the only person available.

word count: 3.5k

"Okay, I understand. Thanks, anyway," you sighed, running your hands through your hair and hanging up the phone. Your babysitter had just canceled on you, and the timing could not have been worse. 

You had been planning this night for months. Between your classes, a part-time job, and taking care of your 2-year-old Margo, it was nearly impossible to schedule anything. But you desperately needed a night out and your friend Emma had so kindly offered to set you up on a blind date. 

You scrolled through your contacts list, looking for anyone that was sober on a Friday night, a seemingly impossible task. Glancing at the time, you realized that you only had an hour left to find a babysitter and get ready. 

As panic set in, you received a text from the P4L groupchat. 

JJ: Wtw tonight?

Not now JJ, you thought. 

Y/N: Trying to find a babysitter, mine just canceled :/

Kie: Oh no, Y/N!! I'm so sorry :(

Cleo: Sorry babes, I totally wouldd but I already lost count of how many drnks I've had 2nite xxx

JJ: Wait, you guys went out already?

Sarah: JJ, we told you it's a girls night.

JJ: In that case, Y/N, I'll watch Margo! 

Absolutely not, was your first thought. JJ Maybank was probably the last person you wanted to take care of your child, he was practically one himself. 

Besides, since you had Margo, he was always acting weird around you. Before, you two would hang out all the time, but now he only saw you if there was another person there as a buffer. He hardly visited or called, but you were so preoccupied with raising a baby on your own that you hadn't had a chance to talk to him about it. 

In the beginning, people assumed it was his baby you were pregnant with, but you never crossed that line because your friendship meant the world to each other. He was the first person you told when you found out you were going to be a mother, and you remember how excited he was for you. It was hard to believe how distant he had become, and you wondered why he had volunteered himself tonight. 

You assessed the situation: you hadn't gone out in nearly two years, and who knew when the next opportunity would be? You sighed, hardly believing the words you were about to type on your phone. 

Y/N: Ok. How soon can you be here? 

Y/N: You better be sober, JJ. 

You turned your phone off before the others could protest, knowing that half of them were drunk anyway. 

"Uncle JJ is going to come over and watch you tonight, okay? Mommy is going to be gone for just a few hours," you said to your daughter, picking her up and placing her in your eye line so you could do your makeup.

"Jay Jay?" she repeated. 

"Yes, honey," you smiled, trying to reassure her, or yourself. Out of all the pogues, Kiara and Sarah babysat Margo the most. She had probably only met JJ a handful of times and you worried about how well she would do with him alone. 

As if he could read your mind, your phone began ringing and you looked over to see his face on your screen.

"JJ, please don't tell me you're canceling too."

"What? Oh, no, it's not that. I was just wondering if you needed me to bring anything for Margo?" 

"Oh," you relaxed. "Hmmm, I think we have everything we need here. But thank you for asking, JJ."

"Of course," you could hear him smiling on the other line. "You know, thanks for letting me watch Margo. I've been meaning to visit her more." 

"JJ, you know you're weren't my first choice," you teased. "But yeah, of course. Thanks, I owe you." 

You hung up the phone, thoughts from earlier creeping back into your mind. You always assumed that the baby scared JJ away, but sometimes you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more going on. 

However, now was not the time for you to be thinking about this, considering that you now had 30 minutes left until your date showed up and you had yet to pick out a dress.

"Hmmmm, let's see. Any suggestions, Margo?" you asked your daughter, combing through your closet for something appropriate. You settled on a short black dress with a boat neck, and black knee high boots to go along with it. 

"What do we think, sweetie?" you smiled at Margo.

"Pretty!" she clapped her small hands together. 

"Why, thank you, baby. Come on, let's go see if Uncle JJ is here yet," you picked her up and checked your phone for any notifications. 

Blind Date: Be there in 5! :)

Crap, you thought. Where is JJ? 

You shot back a confirmation for your date and looked out the window for any sign of JJ. You weren't sure if he was biking over or he had borrowed the Twinkie, but there was no sign of anyone outside. 

Growing anxious, you gathered Margo's favorite toys and books into the living room and tidied up your apartment to pass the time. 

Exactly 5 minutes later, the doorbell rang. You smoothed down your dress and checked your hair in the mirror one last time. Putting on your best smile, you went to open the door. 

"Hi–" you started. "Oh, it's you." 

"Come on, that's what I get for dropping everything and saving your ass?" JJ responded. 

"Sorry, weren't you the one with no plans on a Friday?" 

"You know, I can just turn around right now-" 

"Stop!" you pleaded. "Okay, sorry, I've been anxious about this all day and I just want to get back to Margo as fast as I can." 

"Relax, Y/N. I'm here now," he took in your appearance. "You look great, by the way." 

The last time he saw you remotely dressed up like this was prom night. 

You couldn't help but blush, looking around for Margo to hide your face. "Margo, look who it is!" 

"Jay Jay!" she babbled. 

"Oh my god, she knows my name!" JJ replied, looking a little perplexed. 

"You know what, I'm surprised too considering she's only met you, like, four times," you said. 

"Alright, you're no fun," he looked at you as you traded your daughter over to his arms. "Miss Margo and I here are going to have the time of our lives. Aren't we?" 

He tickled her, causing her to giggle. She seemed so comfortable in his arms, you wondered why you were ever worried in the first place. 

"Thanks again for doing this, I know we haven't talked in a while-" you started. 

"So, where's the lucky guy?" he interrupted you. 

"Uhh," you looked over at the clock. "He said he would be here by now." 

"Late to the first date? That's a red flag, Y/N." 

"As if you're not a walking red flag, JJ. What did you get here on? Your bike?"

"Hey! I refurbished that bike all on my own! It takes a lot of skill to do that."

Just then, the doorbell rang. You rushed to open the door, a smile plastered on your face again. 

"Hey! You must be Emma's friend! I'm Tom." he greeted you with a hug and a bouquet of flowers. "I'm sorry for being late, I went to get these flowers for you and was distracted by the girl scouts selling cookies outside. I had to support them, you know?" 

"Oh, no worries! Yes, how can you say no to them?" you laughed softly. You took the flowers from him and went to place them on the table closest to you, beckoning him to come in.

"Tom, this is one of my friends, JJ. He's babysitting my daughter, Margo, while we're gone," you said.

"Ah! What a pleasure," Tom went over to shake JJ's hand and politely wave at your daughter. "I promise not to keep your mom out too late tonight." 

"That's right, need her back before midnight," JJ remarked.

You playfully pushed him in response, grabbing your keys. "Alright, you have my number so please call me if you need anything. Bye Margo, mommy loves you!" 

With that, you and Tom headed outside and into his car. 

On the drive over to the restaurant, you learned that Tom was a psychologist, he liked to cook, and reality TV shows were his guilty pleasure. At the restaurant, which was a higher-end place near the water, he pulled out your chair for you. 

"I hope this place is okay, I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked so I thought somewhere nicer would be safe," he said. 

"Oh, this is perfect. Don't even worry about it," you smiled. "I haven't had a proper night out in so long, I wouldn't have minded if you took me to a burger joint." 

He laughed, "Margo is adorable, by the way. How old is she?"

"She's 2," you said. Then, feeling the need to clarify, "I had her when I was 20, at the beginning of my junior year in college."

"I see, how was that? How did you manage classes?" You were surprised at his demeanor, half-expecting him to judge you or run in the opposite direction any second now, but his inquisition was genuine.

"Well, I could still go to classes during the first trimester, but it got more difficult after that so I took a leave of absence. I'm taking night classes now because I work in the mornings." 

"Oh nice, what degree are you going for?"

"English, I want to be a teacher," you explained.

"My mom was a teacher," he smiled. "What age do you want to teach?"

"Oh no way! I want to teach elementary school kids. Everyone always tells me how hard it will be, but raising Margo... I don't love anything more than that." 

"That's really sweet, are you close with your family?"

You paused, trying to figure out how to answer the question. "Depends on who you consider my family, I guess," you laughed awkwardly. "I'm not close with my parents, but my friends? Those are the most important people in my life." 

He smiled, "I understand. I'm glad you have a support system, being a single mother can be hard." 

"Yeah, I'm super grateful. Actually, my babysitter for tonight canceled last-minute and JJ came to the rescue. I don't know what I would've done without him." 

Tom's smile faltered for an unnoticeable second. "How long have you known him for?"

"JJ? My whole life, probably. I can't imagine a time when he wasn't by my side. He was there for me throughout my entire pregnancy, but after..." you trailed off.

"After...?"

"Afterwards," you hesitated, not wanting to bad-mouth your friend. "I guess he started to distance himself more, I think Margo scared him away honestly."

"You think it was Margo and nothing else?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean," he sighed. "Do you think there could be any other reason why he would be so supportive of you before and not after you had Margo?" 

"I-I'm not sure. I haven't had much time to think about it, I guess."

"You want my opinion?" Tom asked. You searched his face for any sign of spitefulness, but came up empty. 

"I saw the way he looked at you and Margo, earlier. That boy is not scared of either of you. In fact, all I saw was love. Did you ever think he’s grappling with those feelings?” 

"His feelings? For me?" It was not the first time you thought about it, but it was the first time you heard it verbalized. 

"Yes, I know I sound crazy, but seriously, Y/N, what other reason could there be to explain his behavior?"

You racked your brain for all the possible explanations. Tom had a point, if JJ had feelings for you at some point in your friendship, or still does, he might feel the need to distance himself to protect you. 

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I told you, I'm a psychologist. I notice these things," he smiled.

"Is this how all of your first dates go?" you laughed.

"Not all of them, but I’ll admit, a few are like this. But tell me, am I wrong to assume there was something more going on between you two before you got pregnant?"

You sighed, "No, you're not wrong. Our feelings for each other were a truth that neither of us wanted to confront. We were young, we didn't want to be tied down, it was college. But he was always there, by my side, through everything. Of course, I loved him." 

"Well, there you go. There's your answer." 

Tom dropped you off around midnight. You assured him that there was no need to walk you to your door, you both knew that you needed to have a conversation with JJ.

"Thank you again for tonight, we seriously need to meet up again," you said, before shutting your door.

"Absolutely, I'll give you the address to my office," he joked.

You turned the key into your door as quietly as possible, in case JJ was also asleep with Margo. Inside, the lights were off and you pulled out your phone flashlight to search for him. 

You went into Margo's room first, seeing that she was fast asleep in her crib. "Hi baby," you whispered. "Where's Uncle JJ?" 

After making sure she was tucked in properly, you turned to go into your bedroom. Sure enough, there was JJ, fast asleep in your bed. 

You couldn't help but smile, recalling memories from high school when you two would have sleepovers. Being sure to keep quiet, you changed into your pajamas and got ready for bed.

Trying your best to not wake up JJ, you pulled open the blanket on your side of the bed and slipped in next to him. 

"Goodnight, JJ," you whispered. 

—

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes in the kitchen. For a second, you weren't sure you were even in your apartment, remembering that you live alone with Margo and surely, you weren't asleep long enough for her to know her way around the kitchen.

But then you remembered that JJ was babysitting last night and had fallen asleep in your bed before you got home. 

After a long stretch, you got up and went into the kitchen.

"There she is, good morning pretty," JJ smiled at you. 

"Morning... When did you learn how to cook?" you questioned.

"What do you mean? I've always known how to make pancakes."

"Okay, that is just a straight up lie. In high school you would have chips for breakfast."

JJ put his hand to his chest, taking mock offense. "If you must know, I started teaching myself how to cook last year when I moved off-campus." 

"Wow, I must say, I am impressed, Mr. Maybank."

"Please, that's my father. You can call me JJ," he said, causing you both to laugh. 

Were his eyes always this blue? You thought, as you admired his features in the morning light. 

After a moment, you broke the silence. "Uh- I better go check on Margo. How was she last night, by the way?"

"Oh, amazing. Best kid ever." 

"Really? She didn't give you a hard time at all?"

"Nope, must have remembered me from when she was in the womb."

You smiled, turning around to your daughter's room.

Sure enough, Margo was sleeping like the baby she was. You checked the clock, she wouldn't be up for at least another hour.

"Margo's still in one piece?" JJ asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"Yes, somehow,” you mused. 

"Good, want to try these pancakes now?"

"Yes, please, I'm starving," you sat down across from JJ.

"Starving? Your date didn't feed you last night?"

"Very funny, if you want to know about my date, you can just ask." 

"Okay, how was your date?" he relented. 

"He's a psychologist." 

"Cool, anything else?" JJ looked slightly confused. 

"He was very normal and nice," you added.

“I would hope so.”

“Yes, and he likes to cook too.”

“That’s great, how was the date itself?”

“Oh the date itself…” you trailed off. 

"Y/N, why are you acting weird?"

"Weird? Me? I'm just telling you about my date." 

"You're talking about him like he's your therapist."

"Well, in a way, it was like a therapy session."

"So the date went bad?"

"No, it was really nice." 

JJ looked around the kitchen, "Did I accidentally put something in the pancake batter to make you act like this or...?" 

"These are great, by the way," you said, pointing to the pancakes with your fork.

"Thanks, but can we get back to the date?" 

"Oh, yeah, well, basically," you started. 

"Y/N." JJ was rarely ever serious, but he was starting to look concerned with you. 

"Okay, fine. It started off really well, we got to know each other. Then, he was asking about Margo and my family, and I told him about my parents, you know. Then he asked about you, and I told him I've known you forever, but after Margo, you started distancing yourself and we haven't seen or talked to each other in a while, and then-" you rambled. 

"Then what?"

"And then, he told me, or rather he made me realize, that maybe we need to address the feelings we may or may not have had for each other before I got pregnant," you finished in a rush.

JJ was silent, you weren't sure if the expression on his face was scared or bemused. 

"JJ, please say something." 

"Was that all?"

"More or less."

He sighed, "Y/N, I think one of the reasons why our friendship worked so well was because we both knew that at any moment, we could pursue something more, but we didn't. We both knew that doing that would ruin our friendship, something we've had for nearly twenty years. I thought college was going to be four years of partying and distractions, but instead, I had to face reality”

“Distractions?”

“Everyone that wasn’t you was a distraction, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“Uh, no. It wasn't, actually. JJ, you kept telling me you were trying to meet ‘the one!’” 

“Well, I was lying! Okay? You were always the one for me. I just didn’t feel like I was the one for you. So I was stupid and I decided we would be better off as friends, but when you got pregnant…” 

“When I got pregnant…?”

“When you told me about Margo, I panicked. I knew you were strong enough to do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have had to. I told myself that I was going to be there for you every step of the way, and I was, until you gave birth. I saw Margo for the first time, and I-I’m sorry. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Do what, JJ? You know I never needed you to be her father.” 

“I know, I know. I saw her and I couldn’t imagine hurting her. I didn’t want her to know me, because to know me is to be disappointed by me,” he sighed.

“JJ,” you stood up now to wrap your arms around him. “Are you kidding me? I was never, never disappointed by you. I was just worried, babe, that’s all. You stopped talking to me after that.” 

JJ allowed himself to fall into your arms. “I’m sorry, it just felt like too much at the time. I loved- love you and Margo so much, that I didn’t know what to do with all of it. So I thought it was best to give you some space, until I was better.”

You chuckled, “Is that why you taught yourself how to cook?”

“Stop, I was actually starving and had no choice.”

“And are you better now?”

“When I heard you were going on a date, do you want to know what I thought?”

“What?”

“I thought, I let her go again. I let you go a million times in college, and here I am, letting you go again.” 

When you didn’t say anything, he continued, “You’re the one for me, Y/N. I came over here tonight to show you that. I’m ready for whatever this is going to be, whatever this friendship evolves into. I spent too much time denying the truth, and I think you have too.” 

There were not enough words to describe how you were feeling, so you leaned in to kiss your best friend. JJ held your face with such gentleness, you wondered if this was all in your imagination. 

Eventually, you pulled away. “I’m done lying, to myself and to each other. This is real, yes?” you asked.

“Yes, I love you, really.”

“I love you too, Maybank.” 

You leaned in for a second time, but not before you heard the familiar cries of Margo in the other room. 

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he smiled with that boyish grin of his that you loved so much. That you have always loved. 

[highvern]

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives. 

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?” 

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.” 

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary. 

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand 

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :) 

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s. 

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.” 

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically. 

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?” 

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time. 

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.” 

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?” 

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.” 

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?” 

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again. 

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect. 

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company. 

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.” 

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them. 

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter. 

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television. 

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body. 

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation. 

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again. 

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel. 

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between.. 

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm. 

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure. 

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in. 

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it. 

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge. 

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your  underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again. 

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover. 

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered. 

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough. 

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence. 

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine. 

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut. 

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing. 

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight. 

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing. 

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day. 

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door. 

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live. 

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat. 

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior  drowsiness transforms into irritation. 

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

 It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man. 

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.” 

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.” 

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra. 

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head. 

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came. 

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair. 

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago. 

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway. 

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet. 

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently. 

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.” 

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes. 

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy. 

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch. 

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up. 

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you. 

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.” 

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath. 

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones. 

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back. 

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt. 

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want. 

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place. 

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action. 

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start. 

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate. 

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls. 

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?” 

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples. 

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue. 

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own. 

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half. 

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper. 

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance. 

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught. 

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again. 

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you. 

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips. 

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” 

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing. 

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.” 

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy. 

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole. 

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant. 

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care. 

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[cheriladycl01]

Crash into my life - Lance Stroll x Civil Servent! Reader

Plot: You work in a fancy government job, pretty boring 9-5 but Lance Stroll and his insurance claim makes your job that little bit better

Your job wasn’t exactly fun, wasn’t exactly boring. It was one of those jobs that you’d got it at a young age and worked your way up through the ranks as you’d got better and better and because it was safe and something you were good at you stuck with it.

To keep it short and sweet you were a civil servant. Not like 007 kind of crazy stuff but you did work for MI6 in their fraud, tax and insurance department.

You basically took over insurance claims that were over a certain threshold and had to go through the government for … whatever reason whether they are a foreign National claiming in the UK or something.

Usually it was boring matters such as Chelsea Football Club claiming compensation for things as simple as water damages etc. You didn’t even really get to see anyone, you had the data and you analysed it against the scenario and hey presto you made your pay out.

Your favourite time of the year was winter. More claims came through and life was more unpredictable thanks to the whether. Delayed train into London St Pancreas? No tubes working so you have to make the 20 minute walk to your office building from the station. Slipping on ice, it was the only excitement you got in life which was honestly kind of sad.

For you it started at as a normal Monday. You woke up at 7am, brushed your teeth, got into a nice corporate appropriate outfit, got on the train, got a coffee from Pret before heading into your building.

That was your routine, and you didn’t often differ from it unless you had holiday booked. But working a 9-5 Monday - Friday often meant that you

But it felt like there was a different buzz today around the building like there was something going on.

When you all went into the morning briefing for the cases you’d get today, everyone was way too excited for 9am and the start of the day. You sat down next to your office buddy Shiv and looked around confused.

“What in earth is going on with everyone?” You ask looking over at Shiv who’s typing away on her laptop taking in information.

“Apparently there’s some really interesting cases to work on up for grabs today” she explains and you nod knowing once every blue moon some exciting things would crop up and have the whole office acting like kids on Christmas.

You’re all still waiting for the department boss to come in, joining in conversations about what could possibly be happening today.

“Ladies and Gents please take a seat for the meeting to commence. Thank you. Thank you” he offers smiling and everyone gets comfy.

“So we’ve got some exciting stuff today. I’ve formed a team to deal with the Train Networks Claim, that’ll be Shiv, Brayden and Ravi” he says and they all nod writing in their pads what tasks they’d have to do today.

He went through all of them apart from you, before dismissing the meeting. You were slightly confused and therefore packed up yours things a little slower than everyone else to see if you could stay behind and ask why you hadn’t been given an assignment.

“Y/N could you stay behind so I can talk to you for a moment” he asks and you nod, going to the end of the long conference table where he was stood.

“I like you, you’re young and learn quickly and I want you to progress more than you already have so I’m giving you a really important case. You’ll actually get to meet the said person affected, he’s … of high value so be considerate of your wording when talking to him. Alright thank you, here’s the case! Have a report to me by Friday” he offers and you nod happily. You take a seat opening up the material seeing the name of the claimer immediately.

Lance Stroll

You read through the facts, apparently he crashed his Aston Martin driving down the M1 to get to Silverstone into some sort of government van.

After analysing some of the data yourself, a knock comes on your office door from one of the younger interns.

“Erm, Y/N there’s two men in suits here to see you?” She asks rather than tells you, it wasn’t common for people to come in and out of the building due to the confidentiality of the work conducted here.

“Send them in please, but before you do ask them if they want anything. Tea, Coffee, Water” you smile and go back to reading another report from a police officer who was on the scene of the accident.

You watch as two men walk into your office space. One looking younger maybe the same age as you and one looking significantly older which you assumed was the dad.

“Good morning” you smile lightly before going back to some data on your computer. They took a seat, patiently waiting for you to address them.

Lawrence, who you’d just read about in the report who was indeed the father, cleared his throat as if to get your attention.

“Give me one minute Mr Stroll and I’ll be right with you” you smile, still nose in your computer.

“We’ve come all this way to the city centre to see you it would be appreciated if you didn’t waste our time” he huffs and even just from this reaction a bubbling of excitement started in you, just at the promise of actually seeing a client and talking to them in the flesh.

“I understand that, but I won’t be able to tell you much unless I see all the data” you say looking up at them through your glasses. This time you notice Lance and how he’s just sort of staring at you.

“Can I help you Mr Stroll?” You ask looking over him.

“No, I’m all good. Take your time” he smiles and you nod. In 5 minutes you believe you’ve combed through enough data to talk to them.

“This is awfully interesting I almost never get to see the people behind the claim” you smile happily and they both nod.

“Okay so so far from what I can see is there was a crash in your vintage Aston Martin that was for an event at Silverstone, the race track and that you got into a collision with a government van trailing a foreign national?” You ask.

“In short terms, yes … but” Lawrence tries to declare.

“And you weren’t present Mr Stroll” you say looking in the direction of the older man.

“No I wasn’t” he huffs out.

“Okay, then I will ask you to just step out my office while I get an account of the events from your son, if that’s alright with you. Just down the corridor there’s a waiting room there, help yourself to the food and drink in there” you smile hoping to butter him up a little to get him out.

“Alright” he says before taking his leave.

“Okay Mr Stroll lets…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Lance, please just call me Lance” he offers and you nod.

“Well Lance, it’s not … looking great” you start of slowly and he looks at you shocked.

“What do you mean? Your guys went into me?” He says raising his voice slightly and you give him a stern look that has him sinking into his seat.

“Don’t come into my office and raise your voice when I’m doing my best to help you!” You exclaim placing a pad in front of him.

“Sorry it’s just that my dad isn’t happy already that i totalled a car that was needed for race day” he sighs rubbing his temples.

“Ahhh so you’re an F1 driver. Or is it NASCAR because of the accent?” You ask and he looks shocked as if you were supposed to know who he was.

“Er F1” he offers and you nod.

“You any good?” You ask writing done some more notes as you watch the camera on the government vehicle as Lance’s car didn’t have one.

“Excuse me?” He chokes out and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I mean im currently looking at your claims for a super car that you totalled and so I can’t help but ask if your any good” you tease and once he heard the tone he gets it and just rolls his eyes.

“Oh haha laugh it up” he says and you do.

“Im sorry but this is quite possibly the most fun I’ve ever had in this job. It’s rather boring most days so I’m just making the most of it” you smile and he smiles back.

“Okay I can see that they did in fact turn into you. And of course I’m here for the people. The issue is where your Canadian. I can pay out what the car was worth when you originally brought it, but 50,000 for the fact that it was an accident on our part” you say and he thinks for a moment.

“No” is all he says and you look over at him in shock.

“Sorry? What do you mean no, no is my final decision” you say crossing your arms.

“I would like to add something else to the 50,000 on top of the car value” he smiles and you nod, wondering what it could possibly be and admiring the boldness of his statement.

“Id like to take you out to dinner” he smirks and your head shoots up from your laptop.

“I- i cant do that… it’s not professional. I could get told off. I could loose my job.” you admit knowing that if people were to find out about your payout and think it was bad then they’d be asking questions to you.

“Oh come on it’s just dinner to say thank you for being so … helpful” he smiles leaning forward in his seat and you shake your head.

“Fine, dinner it is” you smile.

That was the start of something way bigger than just dinner.

y/user

Liked by lance_stroll and others

y/user: Work has been rather interesting lately 👀🏎️

View all comments

Comments have been limited on this post

lance_stroll: thank you for having another look for me 👍🏼

-> y/user: 🫣you’re welcome Mr Stroll

-> lance_stroll: you’re making me feel old ☹️

user: is that whose car I think it is bestie?

-> y/user: it sure is 🏎️

user: need to catch up soon babe, Pret tomorrow morning?

-> y/user: sure thing!

user: Civil Service < Serving Cu*t 🥰

Instagram Story Caption:

Back in the Office wiv Shiv 🌸

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part four.

“Saw McLaren posted pics of the new car,” Jack says in lieu of a greeting when he sees you after the weekend. He picks up his pace and crosses the distance to meet you where you’re fumbling with the keys to your “office”, and then he takes a few of the many equipment bags you’re attempting to juggle, saying as he does so, “You take any of those or no?”

You laugh, “Ah, no. They actually hire on a whole studio crew that does that. They’ve got lights, green screens, special camera lenses, the whole lot. The post-production on those photos is mad though.” You get the door unlocked and usher him inside, “I got to sit in on it once, and it’s crazy how much work goes into getting just a couple week’s worth of promotional content.”

He sets your bags down where you direct him to and then offers you a snarky grin, “Still probably would’ve looked cooler if you took ‘em, to be fair.”

It makes you laugh again. Jack seems to be good at that, and it feels nice to get along so well with someone you work with. You’ve found a surprising friend in him. At the end of your conversation on Friday, you’d exchanged numbers and he’d made you promise to reach out if you needed him for anything. You hadn’t, but he’d still sent you an unflatteringly angled picture of Kyle Walker from after their match against Newcastle, followed quickly with━ “use this in the next media drop thx,” and the chatter had gone from there.

You set down your own bags. “Well, thank you. Pretty sure it’s not as fun as this job, though.”

And you mean it. You’ve had opportunities to switch over to studio photography, and though you respect the people who do it and the unique challenges it poses in its own right, there’s nothing like being upfront and personal with all the action, getting to see the athletes in their element and know them on a level that goes beyond an hour or two shoot. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Wait,” you pause, hands stopping just above where you’re ready to start sorting through your equipment, “since when did you keep up with Formula One?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t. But you work for that team, yeah? So I figured I might as well see what they’re all about.”

“Well, if you need something to do during the summer, let me know and I’ll see what I can do,” you tell him, resuming your sorting. “They give me extra tickets for each race but they usually end up going to waste.”

You don’t bring up the falling out you had with your parents at eighteen when you told them you were going to pursue photography or the fact that you haven’t really talked to them in years because of it. You also don’t mention that due to the strenuous, near-constant traveling and the strict schedule of your job, your friendships are limited to the athletes you work with and the other McLaren staff that travel with you━ all of whom have passes of their own, for obvious reasons.

Jack, thankfully, doesn’t ask about it either. Whether he’s made his own assumptions or respects that it’s probably a sore subject, he leaves it alone and the two of you carry on in companionable silence.

You get your equipment unzipped from the bags and organized across the room per your system, guiding your temporary helper with pointed fingers to where it all should go.

The silence is only broken again when he asks you a question. “You got a favorite driver?”

It’s so out of the blue that you nearly jump, startled by the suddenness of it against the quietness of the room. But then you laugh and shake your head. “Officially no, but just between the two of us, me and Lando started at the same time so he’s got a special place in my heart. He’s also my best friend.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?” Despite the persona he puts on, you think he secretly loves gossip. “How’d he take the news about you being with Ward, then? ‘Cause I’d have some choice things to say to any friend of mine if they got with a prick like that.”

You purse your lips, divert your gaze to avoid Jack’s eyes, and shrug, fiddling with the neck strap of your camera as you do so. “I don’t know.”

“You ‘don’t know?’”

You shrug again and feign checking over the settings as if your camera’s aperture is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “He hasn’t been picking up my calls,” you start, “or answering my texts since the paps released the pics, so.”

When you glance back up, Jack’s making a face. “So, your best friend finds out you’re dating a total bellend, and instead of asking you about it or at the very least taking the piss, he ignores you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel a bit stupid for being more sad than you are angry.

All you can do is shrug.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by mancity, jackgrealish, and 241,976 others

tagged: jackgrealish

yourusername ladies and gentlemen, jack grealish (i was threatened into posting these, send help pls)

comments have been disabled

You decide that if Lando gets to be petty, then so do you.

The thing is, you’d told Lando you wouldn’t replace him with any of the guys from Manchester City, and you’d meant it━ you still mean it, despite your frustrations and annoyances with him telling you otherwise.

But if he’s going to play games, then so are you.

Technically you hadn’t started the relationship with Garrett willingly, but Lando doesn’t know that, and even if you had that doesn’t give him the right to go about ignoring you. You’ve been supportive when he’s gotten girlfriends━ you even ate greasy pizza, drank cheap wine, and cried watching The Notebook together when he ended his long-term relationship back in 2022. He could at least pretend to be supportive, or better yet he could pick up the fucking phone. 

As pathetic as it sounds, you’d let him yell at and berate you if it just meant he’d answer your calls. Because having Jack around to gossip with and shoot the shit is nice, and he really does help you not feel so alone at Etihad Campus, but Lando’s your best friend and he has been for years now. There’s nobody that understands you as well as he does, even if he is a twat half the time, and what you need now most of all is that particular Lando brand of annoying to cheer you up.

The door opens, drawing your attention from where you’re scrolling through McLaren’s newest posts. Garrett stands in the opening.

The memory of that night still lingers like a bad taste in your mouth, bitter and unpleasant. You’ve managed to avoid him for the most part in the time since then, ignoring the looks he shoots your way out on the field or in the weight room, and lucky enough that his meetings with the physio team keep him preoccupied so that he can’t seek you out in between training sessions. You’d known it was inevitable that you’d have to face him, but that doesn’t stop the dread from pooling in your stomach when you see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as he surveys the makeshift office you’ve done up for yourself.

“They couldn’t find you an actual office?” He comments, looking disdainfully towards your desk and the large Manchester City logo emblazoned across the front.

You shrug, wishing he’d just get to the point. “I’m only here for a few months. Doesn’t matter much to me. What do you want?”

He takes a step farther into the room and closes the door behind him, taking his sweet time to cross the distance toward the seats. When he’s finally lowered down into one, he looks up to you with a nonchalance that fills you immediately with anger.

“I’m making some amendments to our agreement,” he announces.

“Like hell you are.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you seriously expect people to believe we’re a couple if we never actually do anything to give off the impression of being a couple?”

You scowl. Obviously, you hadn’t expected to just skate by on the coattails of pictures from a single night. You’d known from the very beginning that you would eventually need to make another public appearance together at the very least if you wanted to keep the paparazzi fed and encourage the idea to the media that you’re in a committed relationship with one another. You’d just been hoping you would’ve had more time until then.

“I’m not an idiot, Garrett,” you grumble, crossing your arms in your seat. You had been looking through pictures from the day’s morning practice, but now you think having to look at any more of Kevin De Bruyne’s grinning face will make you lose your mind when you feel the furthest thing from happy.

“Obviously,” Garrett scoffs. “But you’re the one who said I get one kiss and nothing more. Newsflash, love━” your scowl deepens, “━couples do more than just kiss one time.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

He pulls his phone from the pocket of his joggers and swipes across the screen for a few moments of anticipatory silence. “Well,” he finally says, “it’s the sixteenth now. We haven’t got a match until the twenty-sixth. Go on a date with me this weekend.”

You can’t say no. There’s no plausible excuse for you to get out of it, and deep down you know the only way you can get rid of Garrett is to just do what he says and hope the media make their conclusions about his change quick enough that you can ditch him before the summer break.

At least during the Formula One season, you can use traveling as a reason to get out of dates. When the Champion’s League starts back up he’ll be traveling around Europe a bit more than he is now, and there’s always a chance you could be in the same country at the same time, but the likelihood of your schedules aligning is slim and that means you’ll be safe from any ventures out into public.

But for the time being, you’re stuck.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He claps his hands, a deceptively cheerful grin on his face. If you didn’t already think of him as the worst prick you’ve ever met, you might’ve found it charming. It’s the same smile he used to flash at you in your first week when he was trying to cozy up and ease his way into your good graces. The sight of it makes you sick to your stomach, now.

“Great,” he rises from his seat. “We’ll do some shopping, get some lunch━ make a full day out of it.”

At this point, you don’t care what he has planned. You just want him to leave you alone so you can try to at least pretend like you’re gonna finish the rest of the work you need to get around to.

Garrett’s made his way to the door and has his hand reaching for the handle when he turns back around and gives you a smirk. “Might wanna work on your happy face, though, love,” he comments, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. “‘Cause if you look like that in front of the paps they definitely aren’t gonna be very convinced that you love me.”

Just to spite him, you let your scowl deepen. “I don’t need your advice. I know how to handle myself, Garrett.” You say his name like a curse━ like the very feeling of it on your tongue causes you pain.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment. His face turns thoughtful, but there’s still the smugness painted across his features that makes you so unfathomably annoyed. “You must be pretty familiar with the paps if you’re always around those drivers, yeah?” He knows the answer to his question already, so you’re not sure why he’s even asking.

He stays silent, though, like he’s genuinely expecting an answer, so you shrug your shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats back to you.

His laughter is all you hear echoing in your ears even once he’s long gone.

Until your phone starts to ring and Lando's name flashes across the screen.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght

━━ a/n: cliffhanger hehe~ also, i promise we're getting to ACTUAL formula one stuff soon

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Chapter Four

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

chapter rating: E (18+ ONLY, oral (fem rec), unprotected piv, dirty talk??, unedited/unbeta’d)

word count: 4.3k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

“Alright, everybody. Please remember to fill out your reading log during the break,” you talked over a room full of distracted tweens excited for the upcoming Spring Break. “Am I talking to air?”

“I hear you,” Sarah answered your question as she approached your desk, her backpack slung over her shoulder. “And I wanted to apologize for last Friday. I was having a bad day and Jessie was making a big deal about me leaving the sleepover—“

“Sarah, sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize,” you assured with a kind smile. “Have you talked to Jessie?”

“Yeah, dad took me over to her house on Sunday night and we talked it out. I guess she was offended by me leaving, but I explained to her that I just get anxious sometimes and can’t—“ She sighed. “It just feels better being at home with my dad. I don’t have to try to be funny or cool or whatever.”

You smiled at the tenderness of Joel and Sarah’s bond.

“But anyways,” she continued. “My dad wanted me to ask if you were busy tonight—he still hasn’t gotten a new cellphone which, if you’re wondering, is why he’s having me act as the messenger.”

“Isn’t he coming to pick you up today?”

“No, him and Uncle Tommy are in San Antonio meeting with a developer or something like that,” she informed. “My grandma is picking me up.”

“Oh, well, you can tell your dad I’m free like always,” you chuckled and tried not to think about the fact that as today’s parking lot attendee, you’d have to come face to face with the mother of the man you’d been casually seeing for three weeks now. “Oh, and tell him he needs to get a new phone so you don’t have to play messenger anymore.”

“Trust me, we’ll probably be waiting years until he finally breaks down and gets himself one.” The two of you shared a laugh.

“In that case—“ You jotted your landline and cellphone number on a post-it note. “Here.”

“Miss? My mom wanted me to let you know that I won’t be doing any of my reading logs this week,” another student approached your desk and very sassily delivered his news. You chuckled out a scoff and fixed your attention on him while Sarah went back to her desk.

“Okay, Michael, why won’t you be doing your reading logs?” You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for his response.

“Because it’s Spring Break,” he defended.

“Yes, I’m aware. That’s why I didn’t assign any homework. All you need to do is keep reading at least a chapter a day of your book—“

“I don’t want to read my book. That’s basically homework.”

You gave him an incredulous look as you tried to gather what little patience remained in you after a long year of teaching fifth graders.

“No, Michael. Homework is what Mrs. Hill gave her students—a packet a day. What I’m asking if you is to do what you’re already supposed to be doing—reading a chapter a day of whatever book you want. That’s not homework, that’s just an activity.”

“Well, I’m not doing it.” He remained firm, mimicking your stance by crossing his arms over his chest.

The bell ringing interrupted whatever onslaught of frustration you were just about to bestow upon him, his smug smirk boiling your blood as he turned and shuffled out of class.

“Have a good break,” you called out to the rest of your students as they shuffled out of the classroom in a single file line.

“Hey,” Joel sighed out his greeting as he entered his mother and father’s ranch home on the outskirts of Austin. Sarah was sat in the living room on the floral loveseat covered in plastic while her grandfather, Paul, sat in his rocking chair fast asleep.

“How did it go?” Sarah offered him a smile as he rounded the corner of the loveseat to plop down beside her.

“Went alright,” he replied. “Got a good chunk of jobs lined up for me and the guys, so we’ll be good on work ‘til the end of the year.”

“That’s good!” She beamed, bringing a hesitant smile to her father’s face. Joel never liked to celebrate his successes—something he likely learned from his father. “Oh,” she tapped his arm as she remembered your conversation from earlier, quickly informing him about your lack of plans for tonight. “She also gave me her number to give to you.”

Joel watched as Sarah fished the note out of her pocket before handing over the crumpled up piece of paper.

“You think she’s home yet?” Joel checked his watch.

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “But grandma was talking about all of us going out for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, was she?” Joel looked disappointed by the sudden emergence of plans when he spent all day hoping that tonight would be spent just with you.

“Joel?” Mary, Joel’s mother, came walking down the stairs with a smile. “Bout time you came to see us.”

“I’m busy with the new company, ma, you know that,” he argued as he stood up to greet her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Busy with the company or with your new lady friend?” she teased with a grin. Joel whipped his eyes over to his daughter who already held her hands up in defense.

“My bad.”

Joel chuckled out a scoff before turning back to his mother. “It’s new.”

“And? That’s all you gotta say about her?”

“To you. For now.” Joel followed her into the kitchen, Sarah trailing shortly behind.

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Hunt her down and force her to look at your baby book?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he retorted with a mischievous smile.

“Joel Miller, I swear if you do not give me at least a summary of this woman—“

“Alright, alright,” Joel sighed and looked to Sarah who was beaming with amusement. “She’s Sarah’s teacher. We met at a parent/teacher conference. She’s…nice.”

“Nice?” Both women repeated the descriptor as if it was an insult.

“Dad, you’re basically in love. I’m sure you can find a better word than nice,” Sarah reasoned.

“She is nice. Everything else is private,” he argued.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out at dinner tonight,” his mother shrugged with a smirk. Joel turned wild in the eyes and shook his head.

“No, no, no. She ain’t—y’all aren’t—no.”

Sarah laughed at her dad’s fluster and looped her arm around his waist hug him. “It’ll be okay, pops. Just breathe.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” Joel shook his head again, turning to his mother. “I haven’t even taken her out for a real dinner yet, ma. I’m not invitin’ her out to deal with y’all.”

“Deal with? Son, we are as civilized as anybody else—“

“Ma, you got a plunger? I clogged the damn toilet!” Tommy shouted from upstairs and Joel gestured in his direction as though to prove his point.

“Well not here. We’re in the comfort of our own home,” she defended as she made her way out of the kitchen to help her son. “She’s comin’ tonight! Better go on and call her up.”

“Christ,” he sighed and stomped over to the landline, his scowl fixed on Sarah as he dialed the number. “If she never speaks to us again, it’s on you.”

“She’ll love us.”

Although it wasn’t what you were expecting for the night, Joel’s call to invite you out to dinner with his family was impossible to decline just due to how much you missed him. Even if you turned into a ball of nerves every time you had to meet “the parents”, it was worth it just to be in the same room with him, especially after the day you had.

At seven, Joel, Sarah, and Tommy came to pick you up, but for once it was you running late. You invited them inside to wait while you finished getting ready, handing Sarah the TV remote and watching as her and Tommy instantly started bickering over what to watch while Joel followed you into your bedroom.

“How is this the first time I’ve ever been in your room?” He found a seat on the foot of your bed while you sat at your vanity, finishing up on taming your hair.

“Because I’m old fashioned,” you turned back to give him a wink. “But also because I can’t seem to get you alone long enough to give you a proper tour.”

“I know,” he sighed and walked over to you, standing behind you. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, the warmth and softness of his lips curing something that had been aching inside of you since the last time he kissed you. “I made a deal with my mom. She watches Sarah this weekend, and I suck it up and allow you to meet my chaotic family.”

“Mm, so I get you all weekend is what you’re saying?” You smirked at him through the mirror.

“All. Damn. Weekend.” He kissed your neck as a promise, your eyes fluttering closed as you relished in his proximity. “No interruptions. Just me and you.”

“S-sounds good,” you stuttered through your haze of lust and Joel smiled against your skin, seemingly amused by his effect on you.

“You got chills,” he rasped, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm. “That all me?”

“Just wait until you see what else you do to me,” you purred back, earning a groan of desperation.

“You two done yet?” Tommy called out from the living room. “We got places to be.”

“Save that thought for after dinner,” Joel mumbled against your cheek as he gave you one more kiss.

Five or so minutes later and you were on your way to the restaurant, nerves now replacing the butterflies you felt in your stomach as you thought about what his parents would be like. If they were anything like Tommy, Sarah, and Joel, you had nothing to worry about, but it was the uncertainty that drove you mad.

“You alright?” Joel stayed back with you as you pretended to have forgotten something in the truck, Tommy and Sarah heading into the restaurant to meet up with Joel’s parents.

“Just nervous,” you shrugged with a soft smile. “Anything I should avoid bringing up?”

“Politics. My dad’s a big Republican, so,” he winced. “But my mom is about as liberal as they come, so at least there’s that.”

“So I should stick to talking to your mom, then,” you joked.

“Come on,” he nudged his head towards the restaurant and laced his fingers with yours. “I’ll be right there next to ya, and as soon as we’re done with dinner it’ll be just us all weekend.”

You took a deep breath of courage and gave him a cheeky but bashful smile, bringing a similar one to his own face.

“God, I just can’t help myself—“ Joel cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to meet him as he leaned in for a surprising kiss, your hand finding purchase on his wrist to ground yourself.

“Mm,” you hummed as you pulled away from him earlier than he would’ve liked. “Let’s not stall anymore. Don’t want your mom to think I’m a bad influence.”

“She knows me well enough to know I’m the bad influence, but alright,” he tugged you off towards the restaurant with your hand in his.

As the hostess guided you through the busy dining room, you leaned further into Joel. He didn’t seem to mind the clinginess, his hand letting go of yours so that he could slide an arm around your waist.

“There y’all are!” A stout woman you presumed to be Joel’s mother stood up from the table where the rest of the Millers were seated, a big, dimpled grin on her face that resembled Joel’s.

“Ma,” Joel introduced the two of you by name, his eyes fixed on you as you shook her hand and allowed her to seat you beside her rather than next to Joel like you’d hoped. You gave Joel a nervous look from across the table as he sat himself directly across from you beside his father.

“It is so nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Mary fixed her attention on you. “Joel’s been pretty tight lipped about ya, so why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well,” you chuckled nervously, but Joel’s reassuring eyes from across the table helped calm the frenzy of anxiety coursing through your veins. “I’m a teacher, have been for a few years now but this is my second year in Austin.”

You found it surprisingly easy to talk to Mary, her warm smile and sense of humor similar to that of her children and granddaughter. You told her where you grew up, where you’d been before coming to Austin, about what you liked to do in your free time, but mostly you told her the story of how you and Joel came to be.

Across the table, his father continued to remain stern and silent, only mumbling to his boys or to Sarah every now and again to remind them to use their manners. He seemed like a tough egg to crack, and while you were up for the challenge eventually, earning his respect today seemed unlikely.

“Joel, you ever tell her about your singin’?” Tommy spoke up from down the table, his question bringing a blush to Joel’s face.

“Yeah, I mentioned it.” He looked over to you and cracked the most subtle of smirks, no doubt remembering what occurred shortly after.

“Well, you gonna sing for her?” Mary asked with mischief in her tone, bringing an amused smile to your face.

“Not here,” he sassed, tilting his head at her mockingly.

“Why not here?” You prodded with a smirk, your foot finding his calf beneath the table. Joel gave you a chuckle and shook his head. “Oh, come on. Please?”

“Ya know, I pride myself on my ability to not cave into peer pressure,” he retorted with a quirked eyebrow, daring you to challenge him. You bit your lip and looked down at your plate, too flustered by everything him to look him in the eyes—especially given the current company.

“So, Sarah, how are you likin’ the whole dad datin’ your teacher thing?” Tommy asked, and the question earned the attention of the entire table.

“I don’t mind it,” she shrugged. “Maybe I would if it was Mrs. Clarkson from last year.”

“God,” Joel shook his head at the mere idea. “That woman terrified me and I’m a grown man.”

“Oh,” Sarah called your name. “Did you tell dad about Michael?”

“Michael? Who’s…uh, who’s Michael?” Joel’s jealousy was as clear as day, bringing amused grins to almost everyone’s faces aside from the ever stoic Mr. Miller.

“Michael is my student,” you clarified and eased his concern. “A shitty student at that.”

“Oh yeah?” Tommy asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, he’s—well, I guess I probably shouldn’t be saying this around you, Sarah.”

“I promise I won’t talk about it,” she replied earnestly and you easily caved.

“He is just the absolute worst. And his parents are even shittier,” you lamented with a laugh. “Today he came up to me while Sarah and I were talking at the end of class, and flat out told me that he wasn’t going to be doing the reading log during the break because his mom said so.”

“Why doesn’t he just fake it like everybody else?” Tommy chimed in but quickly received an elbow from his niece.

“I don’t fake my reading logs,” she corrected.

“Yeah…right.” He gave her a sarcastic nod and turned back to you. “I’m just speaking from experience. I never did any of that shit and I turned out…well, I turned out decent.”

“Yeah. Maybe I am being too demanding,” you shrugged, turning back to your plate.

“No,” Joel was quick to interject. “Don’t listen to Tommy—he couldn’t even get into community college. You’re the one who went to school for six years to do this. You know what you’re doin’, that kid’s just a prick.”

You couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little bit as he stood up for you, his foot pressed to yours beneath the table acting as a sort of promise that he’d always be here to do this—to remind you of your worth.

“Thank you,” you mouthed just to him. “Anyways, it’s his loss—and yours too, Tommy. Reading is fun.”

Tommy mimicked your smile and chuckled. “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“Alright, don’t give your grandma a hard time,” Joel ordered Sarah as he hugged her goodbye in the driveway outside your house.

You watched the scene from the doorway, smiling at the way he swayed her and kissed the top of her head. If only all little girls could grow up with a father like Joel—not flawless, but as close to it as a man could get. There was no denying his love for her and vice versa, and the fact that you were being let into this beautiful family felt like nothing less than an honor.

“Alright, go on,” he ruffled the top of her hair with a playful grin. “I love ya, and I’ll see you Sunday night, alright?”

“Love you too,” she gave him one more hug before turning to you standing up the walkway. With a wave, she wished you goodbye as well, your smile widening at the gesture. “See you!”

“See ya, Sarah!”

Joel met you by the front door and watched Tommy and Sarah pull out of your driveway before he turned to you with an anticipatory grin.

“Well, just us now,” he husked, playfulness thick in his southern drawl.

“Whatever will we do?” you teased, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging him closer.

Joel cradled your cheek and jaw with both hands as he leaned down to kiss you, both of you still wearing your grins through it. Walking you backwards into the house, you giggled into his mouth as you nearly stumbled over before he caught you.

“Clumsy,” he accused in a rasp.

“Your fault,” you countered and he laughed against you.

Joel’s hands traveled to your hips to keep you flush against him as he kicked the front door shut, your smiles fading as the kiss deepened into something so filthy even the humor of the almost-fall couldn’t penetrate it.

“God,” he groaned against your lips as he continued walking you through the living room to your bedroom. “I want you so bad, baby girl. Fuck.”

“Remember what we were talking about earlier?” you purred against his jaw as your kisses trailed down to his neck, Joel’s body pinning you against your open bedroom door. He hummed against you in confirmation and you smiled, taking one of his hands off your waist to guide it beneath the linen of your dress, his breath ragged as his fingertip grazed over your thighs until they reached the soaked lace of your panties. “This is what you do to me, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin—baby, I need you,” he whimpered and sunk to the floor in front of you, his dark and dreamy eyes peering up at you for permission as he lifted the hem of your dress up. “Can I taste you?”

“God, you never have to ask,” you moaned back, taking the fabric bunched in his hands and holding it for him. Joel’s eyes dropped from yours down to the image right in front of him, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip at the sight of your white lace thong.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind, baby,” he groaned again, his hands now running up and down the outside of your thighs.

The anticipation could have killed you, your chest heaving and skin prickling with chills from the simple sensation of his breath fanning over the wet spot on your panties, the lust in his eyes. Combing your fingers through his hair, you attempted to silently urge him on and he seemed to pick up on it, his hands sliding back up to your hips to hook into the tiny band of your underwear and slip them down your legs until they were kicked off.

“Baby,” he cooed as you draped one of your knees over his broad shoulders to open yourself up to him, his mouth watering at the sight. “I’m never gonna wanna do anythin’ else but stay right—“ He placed a kiss to your mound and your entire body jerked. “Here.”

His tongue swiped through your folds and you melted against the door behind you, your fingers gripping his hair now as you struggled to stay upright. Joel practically growled at your taste, his hands gripping your thighs as if he was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he tensed his tongue to circle your swollen bud until your arousal started to drip down your thighs. “That’s so good.”

Your praise earned you another growl, his tongue now flicking and circling, lapping and sucking against you until your thighs were shaking from the pressure building in your lower stomach.

“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl.” He sucked your clit and made you cry out his name. “Yeah, just like that. Keep sayin’ my name, baby. Let everyone know.”

“Joel, fuck!” Your orgasm was imminent, the tingling in your thighs that traveled down to your toes and back up your spine fogging any sense of coherency you may have once had in his presence. “I—fuck, I—“

“I know, baby. Can taste it.” He shook his head and flattened his tongue against your clit, his eyes meeting with yours. You wanted to cry, but the pleasure you were feeling was too consuming. The only thing you could do as Joel sucked your now throbbing bud into his mouth was to cry out his name like a prayer—some sort of wicked salvation that beat out any other holier counterpart. “Come on, baby. Cum on my tongue. Wanna taste it…every fuckin’ drop—“

“Fuck!” You crumpled to the ground, your back sliding against the door until you were kneeling with him on the floor, your body shuddering as you rode out the waves of your euphoria.

Joel was quick to act, guiding you down onto your back while you were still lost in bliss. He kissed your face as if you were his most prized possession, his hands worshipping the curves of your still-clothed body.

“Need you, baby,” he whispered against your jaw as he placed a love bite there, your head nodding to give him consent to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to you after that mind blowing climax he just gave you.

You only heard the clinking of his belt buckle before feeling his cock stretch you open, a choked cry slipping from your lips in time with Joel’s wanton groan. You peeled your eyes open and looked down at the place you were joined, delighting in the fact that neither of you were undressed, the neediness of the moment turning you both feral.

“God damn,” he groaned and let his head hang as he stilled himself deep inside of you after only a few thrusts. “About to embarrass myself. You feel too fuckin’ good, baby.”

“Don’t worry about lasting long,” you stroked his beard. “I just wanna feel you.”

“God, I—” He choked on his words and leaned over your body, propping himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his jean-clad ass to urge him on, desperate to feel him spill inside of you.

“Want you to cum for me,” you moaned, pressing kisses into the side of his face as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. “Cum inside me—“

“Fuck,” he shouted as his cock thrust into you faster and deeper, your wetness squelching around him and filling the room along with both of your ragged moans. “I’m gonna—fuck, baby. You sure?”

“I’m on birth control, it’s okay,” you promised. Joel lifted his head to look into your eyes, his face scrunched up in something akin to agony but you were sure it couldn’t have been further from it.

“Gonna fill you up, beautiful,” he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. “Gonna have you dripping for me.”

“Yes!” His cock was hitting something inside of you that was making you see stars, your mind going back to that pleasure-dumb state you’d just been lost in, and before you had time to warn him, your walls fluttered in time with his cock spilling inside of you. “I’m coming, Joel, fuck!”

“Me too, baby,” he choked out through a string of profanity and moans. “Fuck, so fuckin’—you’re perfect.”

The two of you stayed there for a while, both of you turned into puddles of post-climactic bliss as you laid in each other’s arms. Joel hissed as he pulled out and rolled over onto the carpet beside you, both of you turning your heads to look at each other with wide, almost childlike grins.

“Be my girlfriend?” Joel choked out, nerves thick in his shaky voice. You laid there speechless for a moment, unsure of how to tell him that ever since you met him you’d been dreaming of the day those words would leave his lips. So, you kept it simple, a smile gracing your face as you reached over to hold his face.

“I would love to.”

[atomicladytimetravel]

Employees Only

Summary: No outbreak AU. Joel Miller owns Miller Contracting and you are his assistant. When Joel gets the bid from a huge client, he celebrates by doing what any sane man would do…banging the assistant.

Warnings: Porn with very little plot. Drug use (marijuana), Boss/Employee relations, Smut/Explicit. Contains sex under the influence of marijuana, nipple play/stimulation, oral (f and m receiving) light gagging, fingering, Joel’s a little cocky about his dick (pun intended). Joel is a simp for you. No physical description of reader, other than female.

18+ only - MDNI

Friday. Fucking finally. Not only is it the end of your work week, but it’s also the end of you spending longer evenings than usual helping your boss put together a bid for one of the biggest clients he could ever hope to acquire. You can’t do any real complaining though - Joel made sure you were well compensated for your extra time and (let’s just face it) he sure is fun to look at. Not to mention the, you know, huge fucking crush you’ve had on the man for…well, for probably about as long as you’ve worked for him. Suffice to say, you’d do juuuuust about anything Joel asked you to do.

You’re making your way to your favorite hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant, the air conditioning in your car blasting to combat the sweltering Texas heat. You have to pass the small office building that houses Miller Contracting on your way to get to the Chinese place and, even though it’s damn near ten o’clock, Joel’s old pickup truck still sits in its usual parking space. Curious, you pull out your phone and select his name from your recent call log. He answers on the first ring.

“Now why are you callin’ me this late darlin’?” he drawls. His speech is raspy and a little slow; he sounds so fucking sexy.

“Oh no reason really, just wondering why I see your truck parked at the office,” you respond. He chuckles a little.

“You stalkin’ me or something?”

You smile and roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“In your dreams, Miller,” you retort playfully. “I’m on my way to get some food and I just so happened to pass by.”

“Well, I was gonna wait until Monday and tell you in person, but…Avalon Premier Hotels accepted our bid.”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you hear yourself gasp.

“Joel, oh my god! That’s incredible news!” you squeal excitedly. On the other end of the call, Joel thinks to himself that he would very much like to hear those first four words again in a much different context.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel has been smitten since you stepped foot in his office for the first time. He internally cursed his HR department that day for hiring the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But they had done just as he’d asked and hired the best damn person for the job. Joel has told you on more than one occasion that he has no idea how he made it without you.

“I’m just over here celebrating a little. The sound system Tommy insisted we put in the employee lounge outdoes mine by a long shot and I wanted to hear some music,” he explains further. “You should come join me. You know I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You look down at your outfit - a tank top, no bra and a pair of what are quite possibly the shortest shorts you own - and contemplate the offer. You remember you’re off the clock and think, “the hell with it, he can’t dress code me now.”

“Sure,” you accept. “You want some Chinese food?”

——————

When you open the front door to the office, you’re immediately hit by the pungent aroma of marijuana. Ah, now his slow, raspy speech makes sense. When you enter the employee lounge, you find Joel manspread on the couch, a fat blunt dangling from his lips. He’s changed out of the button up you had drooled over all day and into a Miller Contracting t-shirt that hugged his delicious biceps. Nirvana is playing loudly over the sound system and he doesn’t realize you’re there until you plop the food down on the coffee table. His eyes rake over your body unashamedly and you find yourself blushing under his gaze. He reaches for the remote and turns the music down.

“God damn sugar, I didn’t realize I’d be gettin’ dinner and a show.”

“It’s like 103 degrees right now Joel. Besides, I’m off the clock,” you remind him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing,” he winks. You eye him suspiciously, but he just smiles innocently. He pats the couch cushion next to him and when you sit down, he holds the blunt to your lips. “You deserve t’relax a little, too.”

You take the blunt between your lips and inhale the smoke, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling through your nose. You’re not exactly a stranger to pot, but it has been a while since you’ve smoked any. It doesn’t take long at all for the foggy feeling to take over, your body feeling weightless. The munchies kick in soon after, and you and Joel practically inhale the Chinese food. As you eat, another blunt is passed back and forth and you’re soon the highest you can ever remember being.

Joel cleans up the remnants of your dinner and you sink into the couch cushions, your fuzzy brain content to just stare at nothing. When he returns, he sits so close to you that your thighs touch. He leans back and throws his arm around the cushion behind you. You’re close enough to smell his cologne and that plus the fact that he’s so close makes you want him, bad.

“This may have been a bad idea. Weed makes me so horny,” you say. You had wholeheartedly intended for that to be a thought and not something you said aloud to your boss. You’re mortified when you realize that the words actually came out of your mouth. Before you can even attempt to apologize, though, Joel responds.

“Oh yeah? You want some help with that?” He looks down at you expectantly and you stare back at him blankly for a moment before answering.

“I…y-yeah, yes,” you stammer. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled onto his lap; the fabric of your shorts is thin and you can feel just how hard he already is beneath the denim of his jeans. He kisses you with the passion of someone who’s been starved of affection. He holds you tightly close to his body, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

“Please tell me this is real,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“It’s real,” you giggle, resting your forehead against his.

“You are so pretty. Absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says softly. You kiss again, open mouthed and tongues swirling together. You grind your hips onto him, trying to relieve the aching between your thighs. He puts his hands on your hips to stop them.

“Ain’t gotta do all that now. I’ll take care of ya soon, understand?” he says sternly. You let out a tiny, pathetic whimper but nod in agreement. He shakes his head and uses his pointer finger to tap your lips.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, I understand,” you tell him.

“Yes what?” he asks, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yes sir.”

“That’s a good girl. Fuck, I just knew you would be. You want to be my good girl, hm?”

The whole time he’s been talking, his hands have been roaming farther and farther under your tank top. His fingertips brushing against your skin makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Yes sir,” you reply in a voice barely above a whisper.

He’s cupping your breasts now, thumbs swiping repeatedly over your nipples. The urge to grind on him again is overwhelming, but you hold still. You whine softly when he removes his hands and he shushes you.

“Relax sweet thing. I just want to get this shirt off of ya is all.”

He pushes the shirt up your torso and you raise your arms to let him pull it over your head. He groans appreciatively at the sight of your breasts and pushes them together before burying his face between them.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbles against your skin. He puts his mouth all over your breasts, sucking and nibbling and making you want to rock your hips so badly you can hardly stand it. You gasp softly when he latches on to your nipple, sucking until the bud has hardened. When he switches to the other side, you can’t help but roll your hips, craving some sort of relief.

“Ah, ah,” he admonishes, his hands holding onto your hips firmly. “What did I say?”

“I’m sorry,” you pout. “I just need you to touch me so bad sir.”

“Oh, is that all?” he teases, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He pinches both nipples between his fingers gently. “How’s this?”

“It feels good, but I need more sir.”

“Hmmm…no, I think I’ll see if I can make you cum like this first.”

No one has ever tried to make you orgasm this way, and you’re not even sure it’s possible. You tell him this, but he just shakes his head.

“Can I try? If it doesn’t work for you, we can move on, I promise.”

“Yes sir, you can try.”

He smiles softly and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I’m going to squeeze a little harder, just let me know if you start feelin’ anything besides good.”

It feels amazing. Pleasure surges through you and you tip your head back, your hands gripping onto his shoulders to keep you steady. He alternates between pinching and rolling and you concentrate on the throbbing between your legs. He squeezes just a bit harder and it feels so good that a drawn out moan passes through your lips.

“Yeah sugar? How’s that feel?” he asks.

“Good. R-really good,” you respond breathlessly. “Maybe a little harder.”

“How’s this baby?” he asks as he pinches a little harder. There’s a little pain this time, but it’s a delicious kind of hurt.

“Oh!” you gasp, surprised to feel the stirrings of an orgasm. “Don’t stop please, it feels so good.”

“You’re doing so good baby,” he praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your throat. He keeps the pressure and rolls your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Your eyes flutter and your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

“You’re close aren’tcha? What a good girl; go ahead and let it go baby.”

With his encouragement, an orgasm washes over you and you hear yourself shouting his name. With one hand still tweaking a nipple, he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady as you shake above him. When you come down, your eyes open to see Joel looking at you with a mix of awe and adoration.

“That was the most beautiful god damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he says before capturing your lips in a needy kiss. He sets you gently back on the couch and stands above you, squeezing the length of his cock through his jeans.

“God damn, I swear I stay hard for you,” he groans. “You know how many times I’ve shot my load thinkin’ ‘bout you?”

“Probably as many times as I’ve made myself cum thinking about you.”

“You mean we coulda been doin’ this all along?” he asks, still palming himself through his jeans. You lean back into the corner of the couch and press your middle finger to your clit over your shorts while you watch him; something about the action turns you on so much.

“You’re my boss Joel,” you point out.

“I also own this company doll. I can do whatever I want,” he reminds you. He pulls his shirt over his head and you finally get to see the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long. His shoulders are broad and his arms are thick. His midsection is soft, but you can still see v-lines disappearing into his jeans. He undresses down to his boxer briefs and you watch, mesmerized, when he slowly pulls his belt through its loops. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been more turned on. He kneels in front of you and taps your hip, signaling for you to lift them.

“Up,” he commands. You lift your hips and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. He drags them down your legs and is pleasantly surprised to see your lack of panties.

“No bra, no panties? What a naughty girl,” he tuts.

“Told ya I was dressed for comfort.”

He doesn’t respond, just tosses the shorts aside and admires your naked form.

“I can’t get over how gorgeous you are,” he says, shaking his head. He showers your body with kisses, sucking occasionally on your most sensitive places. You’ll be covered in hickeys later, splotchy red and purple reminders of how Joel worships your body. He places his palms on the insides of your knees and spreads them, giving himself a view of your glistening pussy. He spreads your lips with his first two fingers to admire what he considers a work of art.

“Look how pretty,” he murmurs. Before you can utter a response, he leans in and licks you from opening to clit. He alternates between this and kitten licking your clit and you have to fight yourself to not start riding his face.

“Fuck, you got the sweetest little pussy darlin’,” he groans into your center. He hooks his arms behind your knees and begins to eat you out with fervor. He swirls patterns on your clit with his tongue, dipping it into your entrance every now and then. You’re enjoying it too much to notice that he spells “J O E L” on your clit with his tongue, silently claiming your pussy as his.

“Mmm, fuck Joel, it feels so good,” you whine. You feel two thick fingers slide into your entrance and you buck your hips at the sensation. He flattens his free hand over your belly and pins you to the couch cushions. He curls his fingers into your g-spot as his tongue continues to flick over your clit and your moans mix with the wet squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Joel, oh my god!” you shout, your head falling back onto the arm of the couch. And there they were, those four words he’d wished to hear just over an hour ago. He’s never heard anything so beautiful in his life. You hear him moan and you lift your head to watch him. His eyes are hooded and his free hand is in his boxers stroking his cock. It’s undoubtedly one of the hottest things you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Oh god I’m so close,” you moan. He sucks your clit once, twice and on the third time, you come apart for him. He can’t help the satisfied smile on his face as he watches you tremble, his name tumbling from your lips like a chant. When he pulls his fingers out, they’re shiny with your spend. He spreads them apart and a string of fluid connects them.

“Look at the mess you made for me baby,” he marvels. He brings his fingers to your lips and you open for him; you suck his fingers clean, never breaking eye contact. You hear him moan softly when you swirl your tongue around the digits. He stands and you can see how painfully hard he is through his boxer briefs. You can’t help but stare at the outline of his cock, wondering how he walks around with that thing between his legs. He sees you staring and smirks.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” he asks.

“Yes sir,” you nod, blushing a little at being caught staring. You watch in anticipation as he pulls his underwear down, cock springing free and practically smacking him in the stomach. Your eyes widen when you see his size. He’s thick and probably around eight or nine inches. He wraps a hand around it and strokes a few times.

“Think you can put it in your mouth for me? I wanna see those pretty lips around my cock,” he says, smoothing his other hand over your hair.

“Yes sir, wanna make you feel good,” you respond obediently, sitting up from your reclined position.

“Oh, what a good girl,” he praises. You wrap your lips around his tip and suck the precum seeping out.

“Oh fuuuuuck baby girl,” he rasps. You hollow out your cheeks and slowly inch him in your mouth. You put your hands on his hips as you bob your head back and forth. His hand flies to your hair when you pull all the way back to his tip before plunging him down your throat. You gag a little bit and pull back some, tears prickling at your eyes. You repeat the process until there are tears trickling down your cheeks.

“Shit baby, you give such good fuckin’ head,” he says through gritted teeth. “Look at ya, chokin’ on my cock.”

He lets you gag a few more times before he pulls your head back gently. He looks down at you sweetly and wipes the tears from your cheeks before offering his hand to help you up.

“You did so good f’me baby, gaggin’ on this big cock like a pro. I wanna stuff that pretty pussy now, though. Get on your knees f’me.”

You settle onto your knees, resting your palms on the back of the couch. A stinging smack lands on your right ass cheek and you moan.

“There’s that gorgeous ass I love to look at,” he says, squeezing it appreciatively. He lays his palm flat on your lower back, his other hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He pushes the tip into your entrance and your walls stretch around him. He’s a bit bigger than anything you’ve taken before and it stings for just a moment, making you whimper.

“I know it’s big baby girl. I’m gonna go slow,” he coos. He rubs his thumbs in soothing circles on your hips as he inches himself inside.

“You’re doin’ so good, takin’ me so well,” he praises.

“Oh fuck, I’m so full,” you moan when he’s fully sheathed inside you.

“Yeah baby? You like bein’ full of my big cock?”

“God yeah, it feels so good.”

He squeezes your hips affectionately as he sets a languid pace. He’s only been inside you for a minute and you know that no other man will be good enough ever again.

“Fuck, this is the best god damn pussy I’ve ever had,” he says, as if reading your mind. “Like it was made just for me.”

You begin to push back and meet his thrusts, your bodies moving in sync. His grip on your ass is so tight that you’re sure half moon shaped indentions will be left behind from his fingernails.

“That’s it baby, bounce back on my dick,” he grits out. He smacks your ass and groans appreciatively as it ripples underneath his palm. “Does it feel good baby, hmm? Tell me how good it feels, lemme hear you.”

“F-feels so good. You’re making my little pussy feel s-so fucking good.”

He grabs your shoulder and pulls you up so that your bodies are flush; he moves your hair aside and puts his lips to your ear as his thrusts become faster and more aggressive.

“I’m gonna destroy your pussy this weekend baby,” he says in a gravelly whisper. “I’ve been waitin’ so long. Might have to carry you into work Monday.”

“Oh god, please,” you mewl in response.

“Yeah baby? You’d like that huh, takin’ this cock all weekend?”

“Yes, oh god yes, your cock feels so good!”

He reaches around to toy with your clit and your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you pant. He rubs your clit faster, pressing a frenzied kiss to your lips.

“That’s it, give it to me baby girl. Cum all over my cock.”

You grab onto his forearm to steady yourself as you cum hard around him. He talks you through it, whispering lowly in your ear.

“There ya go baby, let it go. Doing so good f’me darlin’.”

Once you’ve come back to earth, he pulls out gently and sits down on the couch. He takes you by the hand and guides you to straddle him again.

“I wanna see you baby,” he explains. “You’re a fuckin’ goddess.”

You sink onto his cock and he rests his hands on your hips. He guides your hips back and forth slowly and it feels so good that you attempt to speed up.

“No baby, let’s go slow,” he says, looking into your eyes. “Just enjoy this with me, yeah?”

You smile softly, saying, “yes sir” before grabbing his face and kissing him. His arms wrap around your torso and he holds you close, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“I want you to be my girl. Tell me you’ll be my girl baby.”

You respond without hesitation, “I’m yours Joel, all yours.”

The two of you share another kiss; Joel can no longer hold back and he plants his feet firmly on the ground so that he can thrust up into you.

“Can’t believe I get to call you mine,” he pants. “My pretty fuckin’ girl.”

“Oh god,” you whimper as he pounds into your g-spot. “Joel, fuck baby, I’m so close.”

“Me too baby girl. Should I pull out?”

“No! I want you inside me. Fuck, I want to feel you cum inside me so bad.”

“God damn, dirty little thing,” he grunts. “Gonna fill this little pussy so much.”

“Oh god, I’m cumming,” you announce, clenching around his cock. A chorus of, “fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck YES,” comes from your mouth. Joel makes a deep, guttural sound and spills inside of you, hugging your trembling body tight.

“Shit,” you giggle breathlessly.

“Yeah? Good?” he asks hopefully, just as breathless as you are.

“Good? Amazing. Incredible.”

He grins and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I could actually go again. How about you let me take you back to my place and I’ll put you in my jetted tub, hm? We’ll take a nice bath, maybe smoke a little more and then I’ll fuck you to sleep. How’s that sound?”

It’s your turn to grin and you give him a long, burning kiss.

“Sounds like an offer I can’t pass up.”

[mara-and-its-the-same]

let’s understand that this is Mara immediately post breakup so this means i get to have it as wild as i want it to be...but anyway, all i’ve been thinking about is rebounding with Danny, duh. Beyond suggestive, it's directly implied, 2k words and a big thank you to @frnchgirls, rose is a most gracious help. Enjoy 🥰

“What about like this?”

If anyone asked Danny the series of events that led him here, there would be no sane answer. Friday night he meets you at the Vandals’ bar, Saturday night he learns that you live in Chicago but were dating another Vandal in a different chapter and just suffered a messy break up, and by Sunday afternoon he’s got you posing on his bed with the brand new knowledge that before you got into that relationship you were a lingerie model until that guy made you quit. 

“Danny?” You ask him again, leaning on your elbows and one knee slightly bent to the side over the other.

He shakes himself out of his daydreaming to realize that reality is ten times better and hopes you don’t notice his dazed off gaze from your side of the camera. “Yeah?”

“Is this a good pose?” 

Kathy told you that you should get back into modeling, then offered Danny to help you practice, maybe get new photos to show some agents.  Neither of you were busy this weekend, so now here you are in a brand new soft blue babydoll negligee that she made you buy the minute she heard about the split, on Danny’s bed. 

God, how he washed those sheets and cleaned all over his apartment as soon as you asked if you could do it at his place. It hasn’t been so neat since he toured the place. But now there you are wanting him to tell you if you look good in your lingerie on his bed. But photography is his job, he’s a professional, he can do this.

He could do this, if his tongue wasn’t suddenly tied until he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, maybe you just lean back a little more?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He captures the picture and tries some more from a few different angles. “What about laying down?”

“Mhm,” you move a bit further down the bed and let your hair fall around you as best it could on its own. “Here?”

“Yeah, can I move your hair?”

“Yeah,” he rearranges your strands so they frame your face perfectly and look as effortless as possible.

“Gorgeous.” The shudder clicks right as he said it, so fast that he hits it a second time just to catch your smile when he says it.

“Really?” He catches the moment your face changes from eyes closed and sultry, to open and joyous.

“Beautiful.”

“Me? Or just your pictures? 

“You, and the pictures of you.”

“Thank you,” you roll over again and he gets one from another angle. 

It was never anything crazy, the sets you modeled. Just some odd jobs for more local boutiques, never anything obscene or ridiculously lavish. Danny refuses to believe that though. You make plastic rhinestones shine like diamonds. Machine spun cotton lace looks like hand threaded silk from Paris the second it touches your skin. 

“Do you think we got enough of this one?” you ask.

“I think so. I can get these developed and have them ready in a few days,” he starts packing his camera away. “What size did you say you wanted?”

“Oh I don’t know, but— Well actually I brought one more thing to try on. Unless you want to be done?”

He’s not sure how much more of this he can really take. How much longer can he be in the same room as you before he busts just from looking at you. 

“Yeah, sure- I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He tries not to stare as you slide of the bed and start looking through the bag you brought on his way out the door. 

3 minutes later your head is poked out of the door and into the kitchen, “Danny, you can come in now.”

Oh what a sight you are. The black nightgown reaches down all the way to your ankles, the silky fabric falls over your hips so perfectly, and the only thing between the air and your chest is a thin layer of the finest lace he’s ever seen. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

“That’s a shame.” He can’t believe he’s said that, especially in the tone he did, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even wear it just by yourself. You must know how you look in it, how it looks tailored to your body in every square inch. 

“I know. But he didn’t like it. It’s vintage Chantelle, all silk. Didn’t know how to appreciate it properly.” You sit back on the bed again and just then he notices the slit up one side that just about nears the top of your thigh. 

You’re about to take a new pose when he asks you a most peculiar question. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“Do you mind if I move you?” He says with more confidence this time and what a gift that he did.

“Sure.”

He sets the camera down on his dresser and comes towards you. With his hands on your shoulders— your nearly bare shoulders, his thumbs fitting perfectly just into the dips of your clavicles —he leads you to lay down against the pillows and rearranges your hair. He takes one of your hands and places it beside your head, the other he moves across your torso with your hand cusping your hip bone. He steps back a bit to consider your legs, with respect to the slit. After slowly, so slowly coasting down the length of your leg, he softly pulls one ankle down straight, and pushes the other slitted one up so that it is slightly bent at the knee and tilts it towards the other. 

He takes a second to look at you, really look at you, and he can’t believe anyone would ever try to keep you from this. 

Maybe he’s just getting to know your form, for the sake of the composition, you think. But only for a moment before you see him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, just for a second but you notice. 

Finally, finally, he takes the first picture of you like this. With the click of the shutter you’ve made your mind up, you decide to press your luck. “What if I like…” you bring the hand that was on your hip up to your mouth and bite the top knuckle of your index finger.

“Yes.”

“What’s the look you’re thinking though?”

“They’re your pictures. I’m thinking whatever you want me to think.”

“But you’re the photographer, the artist.”

“You’re the art.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He nearly drops the camera. “What?”

“They like when pictures tell stories, the story would be that I’m messy and ravished and the clothes are serving their intended purpose. If you’re alright with that?”

He so absolutely, most certainly, positively is more than just alright with that. “Yeah, ok.”

You push yourself back up on the bed while he positions himself at the edge. “So how do you wa—“ he’s cut off by your pull to his collar and the press of your lips. Surpassing his initial surprise he brings a hand up around you to hold your waist, and the other up to your jaw. Messy, you want it messy. And salacious, lascivious even. Beyond suggestive, obvious is what you need. He can tell from the way you continue to pull him into you even as his chest is flush against yours. 

You pull away panting for no more than a second to order “Get the camera off the bed.” How sweet of you to be concerned, he nearly leaps over you to put it on the nightstand and he’d like to say ‘if it were any less expensive’ he would have just thrown it, but he knows that the price of it wasn’t what stopped him, it was the fear of damaging even a single one of those pictures of you. 

As he’s leaning over you, you slide down a little further on the bed so he can reach you easier. Or maybe to muss your hair up a little more if it’s against the pillows, or any other excuse you could make to make it seem like this is all for the picture and not your own desires. 

From there it is licks, bites, tugs, sucks of lips. And you’re trying, you’re both trying to keep your hands out of it, but how could you when his hair is so soft and the back of his neck is the perfect shape for you to hold. And how could he when your skin is so perfect and your bare leg is right there.

“I want a hickey.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss my neck.” He kisses you twice more on his way to your throat and you can’t help the sound you make when he reaches the perfect spot. Already he has you gasping for air. “Oh god.” His hand slithers up the slit, sliding even higher in search of your hip bone or waist to hold. 

“Wait,” He lifts himself to be eye level with you, “wait—“

“Hm?”

“Sorry, just…You’re—This is real now, right?”

“Yes, yes, very real.” You rush to pull him back down to your lips and nearly crash noses with the way he rushes down to meet you. 

“Mmph,” he groans at the scratch of your nails across his scalp and just the sound makes your back arch. Moving down again, he passes soft kisses down the valley of your chest. You’re positive he can feel the beat of your heart through every inch of your skin. How you’ve missed this, being wanted, being adored. And how he’s missed crossing beyond the other side of the lens, the feel of sculpting another body just by the skill of his touch. 

As he’s pushing the side of your skirt up and away a sudden fear strikes you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” He immediately sits back and takes his hands away, looking into your eyes for any cause for concern.

“I’m so sorry, but I really don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh,” you see him immediately relax, “So…”

You make no answer, though you do sit up to your knees and move the skirt out from underneath you. With a gesture to the strap that has fallen off your shoulder, he finally gets the message. However, in the spirit of fairness, his own shirt is the first thing to go and before you have time to remember your original intent you both rise on your knees just to kiss again. You feel before you look while your hands roam his torso. 

And slowly, so slowly, through wandering presses, pulls, and squeezes, he reaches the sides of your thighs and takes your nightgown by the seams to lift it over your head. He takes it by the straps to hang by the corner of the headboard rather than tossing it to the floor. 

You guide him forwards as you move to your back again, his knee moves between your legs while his fingertips smooth along your jaw. His eyes dance around your face, and as embarrassed as he may be to admit it, he takes a fleeting glance down the space between your bodies. An idea flashes before him, a bold one, but at this point in the afternoon he’s not sure there’s much left that could happen between you two that’d be too bold. He reaches for the camera slowly enough that you knew exactly what he wants. You resist the instinct to shy away when you still see his soft gaze over the camera. The shudder clicks and he drops it back on the nightstand, “That one’s not making it into the book,” Danny smirks at his own teasing before leaning back into you to finish what he started with a smile still on his lips. 

[cherryrouge]

acquit

lawyer!harry x lawyer!y/n

warnings: profanity, angst, mentions of murder and death

work count: 2.3k

please read action, part I of this fic, before reading this!

“are you still at the office?” y/n speaks into her phone, the gentle whir of the car she sits in acts as white noise.

“it’s ten at night on a friday, where else would i be?” mitch’s grainy voice replies, the sounds of the copier and the flipping of papers indicating that he’s working away in the file room.

“great. i need you to get me a copy of every financial transaction simon bernstein has made in the last twenty years. along with the distract attorney’s office, clifford brown, and mark jensen.” she orders, the car coming to a halt, denoting her arrival at her destination. 

“yeah, no. it’s not like i have a girlfriend to see, a family to call, or a life-“ mitch sarcastically remarks back.

“perfect. and if you could cross reference them and highlight any overlap, that would be amazing.” the sound of the car door shutting seemingly grabs the attention of her associate. 

“where are you anyway?” 

“out with harry.”

“oh? willingly?” she laughs at his response, exiting out of the car after harry opens her door for her.

“we are meeting with harry’s old client.” the old client in question being mark jensen. mitch scoffs from over the phone.

“why hasn’t harry already run a financial screening?”

“i think you could guess.”

“harry won’t let go of the goddamn dna samples.”

“bingo,” the clearing of her company’s throats signals her to wrap up her conversation, “i’ll see you in my office tomorrow morning.”

with that she hangs up the phone and turns her attention to the man beside her.

“finished telling your associate how to do his job?” harry replies with a straight face, snarky in every sense of the word.

“figured i might get us some real, tangible evidence while you continue to have a conniption fit over a goddamn t-shirt that we cannot use.” she offers him a tight-lipped, faux smile before facing in the direction of the bar they were supposed to be able to find mark in.

“what’s your plan with this, anyway?” she asks, earnestly. 

“you’ll see.” as cold and confident as can be, harry starts walking for the door. y/n is quick to hop into motion. 

“to quote your earlier statement: if we are going to work together, you are going to need to understand something about me. i appreciate and expect clear communication of motives before meeting with any client.” she snaps, walking at a faster pace in order to keep up with him as they approach the door. 

“well, isn’t that a shame,” he mockingly retorts, opening the door for her with a fake smile mirroring hers. she narrows her eyes as she steps into the bar. the scene is dim, space filled with music and the chatter of the patrons of the establishment. as far as bars go, this one is quite classy. but she supposes she should expect nothing less from harry or his clients, present or past. 

she feels a hand brush against the small of her back. her head turns toward the culprit, the culprit shockingly being harry. without even sparing a glance in her direction, he beckons her to follow him deeper into the bar with a nod of his head, eyes set on one man. she’s never seen this infamous man, mark jensen. he’s the only name she’s heard for the past couple of days, and she’s excited to finally see the son of a bitches face.

when they are finally met with him at the bar, he turns from his spot flirting with a redhead. he has a slightly horrified look, genuinely not expecting for them to intrude on his night. one she could only imagine he had big plans for. he’s blonde, has blue eyes, a distinct sloped nose and sharp jawline. he’s the perfect all-american man. upon meeting his new, unwanted company’s gaze, a scowl forms on his thin lips.

“what are you-“

“you might want to leave, this guy’s known for killing women. wouldn’t want you to be next.” harry says abruptly towards the woman standing beside mark, who all but runs away from the group after hearing such a worrying accusation.

“what the fuck?” mark says, a hot flush coming to his pale, freckled cheeks.

“i have two questions for you: did grace winfrey reject you? and is that why you killed her?” harry fires back, nonchalant as if he was telling him the weather. y/n’s mouth gapes in shock at her partners words, momentarily wishing he’d quiet down. however, she remembers the case she’s working on and who they are speaking to and quickly regains her composure. 

“you can’t talk to me without my lawyer present.” he retorts.

“oh right, the d.a. you know, i’m shocked he wasn’t with you already. considering you guys are so friendly.” 

“what are you even talking about?” his eyebrows furrow, imitating confusion and anger but his eyes are glazed with worry.

“you and i both know what im talking about.”  harry easily chokes him up, mark gulps down his whiskey and sets his glass on the bar. 

“whatever,” mark rolls his eyes, grabbing his coat from the chair he was sitting in before their arrival, “i’ll see you in court, asshole.”

mark leaves and y/n looks to harry, who’s eyes follow mark as he walks out of the bar and into a car. y/n is shocked, and a little disturbed by harry’s behavior.

“the hell was that?” y/n exclaims in a hushed tone, a bewildered look in her eyes. harry turns his attention to her.

“a means to an end.” he says simply, a smirk on his lips. 

“and how’s that?” she questions incredulously, hands resting on her hips as she looks at harry. 

“because without that,” he points to the door mark just exited out of, “we wouldn’t have that.” he points to mark’s glass of whiskey, absolutely covered in finger prints and spit. y/n’s eyes widen as she realizes his ploy.

“what does that matter if we don’t have the shirt?” she points out as she watches put the cup in a ziplock bag, his hand now gloved as to not tamper with his prized possession.

“who said anything about the shirt? i can still cite the murder weapon.” 

“we,” she corrects, “and the murder weapon has been tested and is covered in our clients fingerprints.” 

“so the district attorney clifford brown, then judge, said.” he states, giving her a pointed look. she processes his words, nodding her head in understanding.

“if your associate can find anything in those bank statements, we have evidence that mark jensen bribed the d.a. to bury and tamper with evidence. then we have a good old fashioned murder trial.” 

y/n walks into the firm with more conviction than usual. confident and hopeful that mitch found something to indicate bribery in the financial records. her heels clack against the hardwood floor and her bag sways with her arm as she walks. she’s happy to see a familiar long-haired man sitting in her office as she gets to her door. 

“find anything?” she says, expectantly as she walks into the space, setting her purse down by her chair and putting her coat on the coat rack.

“good morning to you, too. and yes, actually.” mitch plops the files down onto her desk as y/n takes a seat. 

“great. brief me.” she orders, opening up the top file in her stack. 

“there’s a transaction of fifteen million dollars from jensen’s father to simon bernstein on march sixth, two-thousand four. just two days after the suspects were named and bernstein was employed by the family. they weren’t paying bernstein’s rate as that was done one day before grace winfrey’s body was found. then that fifteen million was deposited and then sent to the district attorney’s office.” mitch states, alluding to what they both knew. mark was a criminal. 

“thank you, mitch.” she says with a smile, happy with the results and excited to show harry exactly what they need to win this case.

setting the files down on his desk, y/n stands tall with a proud smirk on her face. harry looks at the new items place in front of him then to the woman who put them there with a questioning look.

“mr. jensen was protecting his little boy.” she alludes to the evidence of bribery within the stack of papers. harry’s eyes soften with a nod. 

“you got it?” 

“yep.” she replies, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. harry sifts through the papers, finding exactly what evidence she was suggesting. after finding it, he nods his head. 

“you know, a normal response would be a ‘great!’ or a ‘thank you!’” she mentions. harry just rolls his eyes. 

“that should do it.” now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“our hearing is tomorrow, correct?”

“my hearing.” harry corrects. y/n’s brows furrow and her head tilts to the side, displaying her confusing.

“i’m sorry?”

“i said that should do it, y/n. i’ll be taking the case from here, on my own.” he states, still not making eye contact with her.

“you’re kidding right.” 

“nope.” 

“on who’s authority.” she parrots his question from the beginning of this situation.

“mine.” she laughs, dryly. dumbfounded by his behavior.

“you know, you’re a lot of things but i didn’t think ignorant was one of them.” she crosses her arms as she stands before him. utterly stunned and angry with the man sitting so calmly in-front of her. 

“i’m unsure how i’m being ignorant-“ he begins.

“letting a childish rivalry get in the way of doing your goddamn job, that’s how,” she fires. for the first time since she’s walked in that room, he looks at her and takes in her appearance. her face as she stares sternly at him, eyes narrowed and a frown on her painted lips. if looks could kill, harry would have dropped dead on his desk.

“ever since i started working here, you always had some negative, demeaning thing to say to me. about my work, my accomplishments, anything. and i thought that things were changing, that we were working well together, and that we would start seeing eye to eye but i was incredibly naïve. because if i know one thing about you, it's that the only thing you love more than winning is attention. and you want it all to yourself. so much so that you'd disregard justice."

“this isn’t about us, or you’re ridiculous need for attention, or my need to feel respected. it’s about bringing justice to a girl who was murdered twenty years ago and her family. it’s about freeing a boy who was wrongfully convicted for the murder of a girl he hardly knew.” she barks at him, his eyes set on her’s. he’s hearing everything she has to say but offering no words in return. she scoffs at his non response.

“you know what, maybe you are right. maybe, i’m not ready for the 'big leagues.' because if this is what it’s really about, i don’t want any part of it.” with those final words she storms out of his office.

harry can admit, he has been an asshole. he can also admit that everything y/n said to him was correct. he hadn’t liked y/n in the start. her intelligent quips, her confident personality, the way she held and dressed herself. if you looked at her, you’d just assume she was a lawyer, a good one at that. she had accomplished more in her two years at the firm than harry did in his first five. she was praised, rightfully so. and harry hated it. 

it was indeed very childish for him to be as resentful towards her as he was. she had done nothing to him, except be successful. something he should be happy about because the firm was benefiting from her presence so everyone was. but harry’s ego took a hit. his place at this firm, the most powerful firm in new york, was compromised. each time he made a mistake, he was vulnerable. audrey had made that clear to him. y/n had replaced others in the firm and if he wasn’t careful, she’d replace him. an idea harry loathed. 

he was threatened by her mere presence and she didn’t even have to speak to him. so harry took it upon himself to diminish her, in hopes that she would feel the same way about him. 

all it seemed to do was ruin any chances of them possibly being able to work together in a cohesive and beneficial manner. so when harry went to audrey’s office to persuade her into taking y/n off the case, harry said exactly that.

“i understand it’s disappointing to hear but due to mutual dislike, it would be best if i were the only one on this case.” harry states, calmly. audrey stares into him, face unreadable and mood level.

“bullshit.” 

“what?” 

“‘mutual dislike.’ you can’t stand that someone finally matches your level.”

“that’s far from the truth.” lie.

“she might even be better.”

“i don’t think that is fair to say.” lie. audrey laughs, dismissively. 

“whatever feelings you have about her, drop it.” she says in a stern tone, ”this is a case that requires the focus of two people and i firmly believe that an adult man should be able to see past whatever resentment he has for his colleague to put a clients best interests first.” harry nods.

“you will rectify this misunderstanding, understood?” 

“yep.”

harry styles harrystyles@holmesharrison.com

jensen vs. the state

to: y/ny/l/n@holmesharrison.com

y/n,

the court hearing is tomorrow at 10 am. i expect to see you there.

harry styles 

senior partner 

-

aaaannnddd that's part II. i hope you enjoy!

with love, rory.