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dixons-sunshine · 2 days ago

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‘Cause I’m So Into You | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone could see the hearts in your eyes whenever Joel Miller entered the room. The way you naturally gravitated towards him, the way you sought him out in a crowd, all of it. Joel, however, appeared oblivious to your crush, not having any idea about your feelings... or did he?

Genre: Smut

Era: Jackson!Joel

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of unrequited feelings, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, a lot of petnames from Joel (darling, baby, etc), no use of y/n, maybe ooc Joel.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: This took embarrassingly long to finish writing, and I’m not 100% sure how I feel about this, but I hope you all like it nonetheless! And thank you to the amazing @dixonsdarkelf for hyping this up 💜 (and for having to listen to me say “I need to finish this Joel fic” for two weeks lol)

Anyone could see that you had the biggest crush on the brooding, grumpy Joel Miller. Anyone could see the way your mood brightened whenever he entered the room, how you hung on to every word he uttered, how you jumped at any opportunity to be around the man, no matter how insignificant the task was you offered to help him with. Anyone could see the hearts in your eyes whenever Joel Miller was the topic of discussion or anywhere in your vicinity.

Everyone except the man himself. Joel appeared completely oblivious to your feelings, and it both relieved and frustrated you to no end. Relief because he didn’t know about them, yet frustrated because maybe if he did know about them, he could inevitably let you down and you could try and get over the crush you had on him.

But he didn’t, and despite your best efforts, the man infiltrated every crevice of your mind. He was the starring attraction in your daydreams, and that was not about to change anytime soon.

Bounding up the porch steps with a heavy sigh but a polite smile, you knocked on the front door and waited for a response. You tightly gripped the container in your hands, two sandwiches inside of it. You quietly braced yourself as you heard the unmistakable sound of Joel’s voice yelling “come in!” from someone inside the damaged home, opening the door and pushing inside.

“Joel?” you called out tentatively, your eyes scanning over the mess that was the inside of the run down house. Dirt and grime covered the walls, the wood of the floor had begun to rot and somehow, an astonishing amount of small rocks covered every area of the house.

The home had been neglected for years, and it clearly showed.

“In here!”

Following the direction of his call, you made your way down the narrow hallway and into what appeared to be a bedroom, if the lone mattress in the corner was anything to go by. There, smack in the middle of the room, sitting cross legged on the floor, was Joel Miller, clad in a gray button down shirt, black jeans that had seen better days, his hair an unruly mess of curls on top of his head, and sporting a pair of reading glasses. His eyes, brown like the sweetest chocolate, flickered up from the object in his hand to meet yours, sending a nod of acknowledgement towards you.

“What can I do for you, darlin’?” Joel asked easily, his gruff, southern twang sending shivers over your spine. Was it just you, or was there something insanely hot about the way his accent made his speech sound?

Clearing your throat, you lifted the container in your hands, showcasing the sandwiches you had prepared for him—all under the guise to potentially spend more time with the man. “I made lunch,” you said, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Tommy said that he couldn’t get you to leave and eat something, so I thought I’d bring you some food.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply stared at you, peering up through his glasses—the glasses that made him look so much hotter, if that was even humanly possible—before allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. Clearing his throat, he placed the object—what appeared to be a broken cuckoo clock—down on the ground and pushed himself up, dusting his hands on his jeans before stepping closer to you.

“Well that’s awfully kind of you,” Joel began, reaching to take the Tupperware from your grasp. “Thank you.”

When Joel’s fingers brushed against yours, it was like electricity shot through your veins and spread through your whole body. Your heart sped up to a rate that was unnatural, your skin felt warm and your palms felt clammy. It was insane how Joel could affect you this much with something as simple as a mere brush of his fingers against yours.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to compose yourself. You would think that after months of this one-sided pining, you’d have gotten better at pretending like Joel didn’t have any affect on you. But alas, he did.

And those goddamn reading glasses did nothing to stop your mind from drifting in far more nefarious directions.

“You’re welcome,” you said with a smile, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your pants. After a few beats of silence, you spoke up again, “What are you working on?”

Meeting your eyes once more, Joel offered an easy—albeit slightly awkward—smile, something that you’d seen him do more and more as he settled into Jackson and got familiar with life inside the safety of the walls, though it never failed to make your heart skip a beat. “A clock for Maria,” he explained, opening the lid of the container and taking one of the sandwiches out. “I accidentally broke it a few days ago and she seemed real upset ‘bout it. Figured it’d be a good way to get back into her good graces, fixin’ it and whatnot.”

Laughing lightly, you nodded. “Oh, so that’s why she told me not to waste the ‘good meat’ on you.”

“Probably.”

Joel managed a small chuckle, taking a bite of the sandwich and closing his eyes in satisfaction, a deep, low groan resonating from his chest, and it made a jolt of heat flash through your body. Not now, you reminded yourself. Now is definitely not the time.

“Good?” you asked shakily, your eyes unwillingly trailing down to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Joel nodded. “Real good.” He took another bite. “I didn’t even realize how hungry I was,” he told you through the mouthful, his words truthful. He hadn’t eaten all day, so this meal was a godsend.

You were immensely surprised by his admission. You remembered the time you could barely get a word out of the man, much less a confession like that.

Subtly shaking your head to bring you back to reality, you smiled at him. “That’s what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, Miller,” you joked, trying your hardest to keep your eyes locked on his.

Joel chuckled a little. “Guess so.”

The silence between the two of you stretched on for a good number of seconds. In the few months that you’d known Joel, you had come to realize that he was a man of few words, keeping conversations straightforward and to the point. This was probably the longest conversation you’d had with the man since meeting him.

Yet despite that fact, your crush grew stronger with each day that passed.

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, nervously fiddling with your fingers. You tried your absolute best to appear confident, nonchalant, like his mere presence wasn’t doing things to you, making your mind wander in every unholy direction it could. The term “down bad” fit you like a glove to a hand.

“Well I should probably leave you to… all this.” You vaguely gestured around the room. “You probably didn’t just come here to fix a broken clock.”

Joel took the last sandwich and closed the lid of the container. “Wish it was that easy.” He handed it back to you, and you watched the way those glasses of his slightly slipped down the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for the food. Appreciate it.”

“No problem. See you later?”

Joel nodded. “See you.”

With a parting smile, you walked out of the room, before stopping in the hallway. You wanted to leave, but you also wanted to plant yourself down with him and keep him company. However, you knew Joel liked the silence, and he hadn’t asked you to stay, so you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. You knew what you had to do. You needed to leave, go back home, possibly go immerse yourself in tidying up the place or relaxing on the couch with one of those crappy romance books you borrowed from Maria.

So why couldn’t you bring yourself to leave?

Your feet started moving on their own accord. You made your way back into the room where Joel was, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw he hadn’t moved from the spot you left him in. The sandwich you had made him was gone, probably eaten in your temporary absence, his glasses perched atop the small, wobbly table behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you…

Knowingly? Was he looking at you knowingly?

Your breath got caught in your throat, your heart speeding up at the prolonged eye contact. Joel stayed still, silent, waiting for you to make the first move. His brown, coffee-like eyes flickered over your face, and you suddenly felt naked under his gaze, despite being fully clothed. It was like he could see into your soul, read your thoughts like they were words in a book, and it sent shivers over your spine.

And then, unable to stop yourself, the words came out like word vomit.

“I like you,” you blurted out quickly, your mouth working faster than your brain. Stop, you told yourself. Run away and forget this ever happened. Say that you were just joking and move on with your life.

Joel quirked an eyebrow at you, his face stoic and neutral, not showing anything about what he might be feeling. “What?”

Fuck, now look what you did, you chided yourself. However, despite your fight or flight kicking in, with the latter feeling extremely tempting, you didn’t go anywhere. You sighed and straightened your posture, deciding that it was now or never. Maybe by doing this, he could finally let you down and you could move on with your life. Maybe by letting you down, you would be able to look back on this moment years from now and laugh at how ridiculous this little—well, huge—crush was. Just maybe.

“I like you,” you reiterated, screwing your eyes shut. “I like you a lot, more than I’m probably supposed to like you. I tried not to, but I can’t help it. You’re just… you, and this stupid crush just keeps getting bigger. So please, let me down so that I can get over it and move on with my life.”

The silence that followed your confession was almost deafening. One could hear a pin drop, that’s how quiet it was. You kept your eyes closed, unable to even look at Joel. You weren’t sure what you would see on his face. Would it be anger? Amusement? Indifference? Or worse... disgust?

The sound of the floorboards creaking filled the air, and then you felt a presence in front of you, accompanied by the press of something warm against your cheek. You gasped and opened your eyes, standing nearly toe to toe with Joel, his eyes locked on yours. If your heart was beating fast before, it was nothing compared to the way it galloped like a horse now.

“Oh, darlin’,” he spoke up, his words slow, careful, almost like he was testing the waters, “you think I didn’t know?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

Your breathing grew quicker, Joel’s gaze intense as he peered at you, that half smirk you had grown accustomed to present on his handsome features. His hand—still cupping your face—was rough, calloused, marked with years of hard work and labour, both before and after the world went up in flames, both metaphorically and literally speaking.

“You really think I’m that blind?” Joel spoke up, snapping you from your thoughts. “Sweetheart, I don’t need glasses to see how you’re feelin’.” He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, the action sending goosebumps over your flesh, and used his other hand to remove the now infamous reading glasses. “You think you’re so good at hidin’ it, but you ain’t. Not really.”

You were left speechless, both from the close proximity to Joel—you had never been this close to him before—and the fact that he knew. He knew all along? No, that wasn’t possible. Wouldn’t he have said something?

“I—what? You—I—”

Joel’s smirk grew the tiniest bit. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay, baby. Calm down.”

Calm down? With him standing close enough that you could feel his body heat? With his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin so softly, so tenderly, like you were fine porcelain he was scared he would break? With his lips so close, all you had to do was lean in and capture them with yours and finally make that dream a reality?

Yeah, you definitely would not be calming down anytime soon.

“You knew?” you finally managed to choke out, your eyes wide.

Joel nodded, raising his other hand so that he could cup both of your cheeks in his hands. “Subtlety ain’t your strong suit.” He tilted his head slightly, his eye contact never wavering. “You want me to let you down? Say that I don’t think ‘bout you?”

“I—” you began, before getting cut off.

“You want me to lie to you? ‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’m afraid that I can’t make that happen.”

You were speechless. There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. You must be dreaming, because there was no way Joel Miller was saying all these things to you.

Joel wet his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, his eyes darting down to your lips. “May I?”

Your heart was pounding out of your ribcage at this point. There was no way this was happening. You were convinced you were dreaming. Was Joel Miller actually asking if he could kiss you?

Slowly nodding, you said in a quiet whisper, “Yes.”

With that, Joel ducked his head and slanted his mouth across yours, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. There was nothing gentle about this kiss; it was messy, urgent, almost yearning, like two lovers reuniting after years apart. You wrapped your arms around his neck and eagerly matched his movements, savouring the feeling that you had wanted, had craved, for so long. If this was the only time you would be able to experience this, you wanted to have it engraved into your mind for eternity.

Joel’s hands moved from your face, trailing down your shoulders, the curve of your waist, down to your hips and curling around your body to gently squeeze your ass. You gasped, and Joel didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned at the taste of him—the aftertaste of the meat that had been in his sandwich, mixed with the faintest hint of whiskey and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He tasted delicious.

Joel pulled back slightly to look at you, your mouths connected by a single string of saliva. “Jump,” he said breathlessly, tapping the side of your leg.

Eagerly complying with his command, you jumped, easily being caught and held in Joel’s strong embrace. Without wasting a second, his lips were back on yours, kissing you deeply, like it was the last thing he’d ever do and he wanted to make it count. He carefully walked over to the mattress in the corner of the room, his hold on you not faltering, and without breaking the kiss, he slowly crouched down and lowered you onto the mattress. How he did that without falling over, you did not know, nor did you particularly care in that moment.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, your hands trailed down to the buttons of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning the top one. Joel pulled away from the kiss, his hands working at the buttons and helping you remove his shirt, albeit a bit clumsily. When the grey fabric parted and slipped from his shoulders, it made way for the most mouthwatering sight you had ever seen. Joel looked like he was sculpted by Greek gods. Salt and pepper hairs littered the skin above his defined pecs, his stomach soft with age but simultaneously still toned, and good lord, the trail of hair that disappeared down his jeans made your imagination run wild.

“Your turn.” Joel grabbed the hem of your T-shirt, tugging it up and over your head, being met with absolute zero resistance from you. You wanted this. You had dreamed of this. You’d be damned if you backed out now.

As soon as your shirt was off, Joel skillfully reached around to unclasp your bra, letting the garment fall from your shoulders and carelessly tossing it somewhere to the side. Joel sat back and let his eyes roam all over your body, his chest heaving and his eyes darkening, black covering the beautiful brown hues you’d come to love. His tongue swept over his bottom lip, almost like he wanted to devour you.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered, before leaning back down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, down your chest and going lower.

Your breath hitched in anticipation when he kissed the skin right above the waistband of your jeans. However, you didn’t stop him. You wanted him to do this. And you showed him just that by kicking off your shoes, allowing him easier access to pull your pants down.

With practiced ease, Joel swiftly unbuttoned your jeans, tugging both your jeans and underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side with your shirt and bra, leaving you completely naked and exposed to his gaze. He groaned at the sight before diving in face first, licking a long, delicious stripe from your core up to your clit.

The moan that escaped your chest was damn near pornographic. Throwing your head back against the flimsy mattress, you arched your back, pushing up against his face. Joel groaned, sending vibrations through your body, which only drew another moan from you.

After kissing the skin on your thigh a few times, nibbling at the tender flesh right next to where you craved him the most, Joel dove right back in, devouring you like a man offered a banquet after weeks of starvation. His tongue moved in and out of your core confidently, showcasing skills you never would have known he had. He groaned at the taste of you, which only added to the blinding hot pleasure that you felt.

Whining and bucking your hips up against his face, your fingers disappeared into his curly locks of hair, lightly tugging on the roots in the hopes of grounding yourself back to reality. Not even your wildest, wettest dream could have prepared you for how absolutely amazing Joel was making you feel. He definitely knew what he was doing, and he was doing it extremely well.

“Joel,” you moaned softly, gasps and breathy whines slipping past your lips. “Oh my god, Joel! Jesus… Christ!”

The noises you made were like music to Joel’s ears. They only spurred him on, and without even really thinking about it, his hand trailed up your thigh, brushing against your clit—which made you jolt—and he slipped his middle finger into your hole, replacing his tongue. Instead, he used his mouth to suck on your clit, pumping his finger in and out at a steady pace.

You were full-on whining at this point, quiet. Breathy ‘fucks’ and ‘Joels’ filled the air, accompanied by the lewd sounds of Joel pumping his fingers into you, his middle finger now joined by his pointer- and ring finger. The pleasure was toe curling, star seeing, absolutely fucking amazing. You could feel the coil in your stomach winding tighter with record speed. You were teetering right on the edge of pure ecstasy.

Joel could tell you were close. He upped his game, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion, flicking his tongue against your clit just right. He wanted you to finish all over his face. He needed it, in fact.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

With one last pump of his thick digits and one final suck on your clit, the knot in your stomach snapped. You came undone with a shout of his name, pulling at his hair and bucking your hips up against his face. Waves upon waves of pure, unadulterated bliss washed over you, and you were sure that if Joel wasn’t holding onto your thighs, you would descend into heaven.

Slowly coming down from your high, you lifted your head with great effort, peering down at Joel, and you gasped at the sight. Joel had lifted himself onto his knees, his face coated with your juices, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal. His pupils were blown with lust, and when you looked down, you finally noticed how rock hard he was.

“Joel…” you trailed off in a way that almost resembled begging, your voice shaky and breathless.

Joel knew what you meant. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he quickly made work of removing his jeans, somehow managing to kick his shoes off while he was at it. When his jeans were taken off, followed by his boxers, his cock sprung free, red at the tip and leaking with precum, and your mouth watered at the sight of it. You wanted to scramble up onto your knees and take him down your throat, show him the pleasure he showed you. However, as if reading your mind, Joel shook his head and moved to hover over you, his body warm and solid against yours.

“Next time, baby,” he promised you, not even needing to give any context as to what he was talking about, because you knew exactly what he meant.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “I’m keeping you to that.”

A deep, throaty half-chuckle resonated from Joel’s chest. Lowering his head, he slanted his mouth across yours, all teeth and tongue. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you moaned into his mouth as Joel gripped his cock and slid it through your folds a few times, the tip catching on your oversensitive bundle of nerves each time, making you moan even louder.

After repeating that action a couple of times, Joel lifted his head to peer down at you, his eyes—brown like the earth—searching yours for any indication that you didn’t want this. That he was crossing a line you didn’t want crossed. However, he was met with nothing but pure need, your legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him closer, silently pleading with him to make the next move.

And he did. Lining himself up with your entrance—and quickly giving himself a few light squeezes—he slowly pushed his cock in, groaning at the way your warm heat welcomed him, the way your walls hugged him just right, beckoning him closer and closer until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You felt like heaven.

Oh, but when he slowly pulled back and thrusted back in, the noises you made were anything but holy.

“Fuckin’... Christ,” Joel cursed through gritted teeth, keeping his pace slow and steady at first. A slow pull out, a gentle thrust back in. Another slow pull out, another gentle thrust back in. And repeat.

“Joel,” you whined, your eyelids fluttering when his tip nudged that one spot deep inside of you. “Joel, please.”

“Please what, darlin’?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

He snapped his hips forward, making you gasp loudly. “Joel!” you nearly yelled, your hands coming up to grip at his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh.

“That what you want, baby?” he cooed almost condescendingly, lowering his head to nibble at the skin on your jaw. When you eagerly nodded, he merely chuckled. “Gotta use your words.”

“Please, Joel,” you began, sounding almost desperate as he continued with his slow, torturous pace. “Please. Need—ah!—need you to go faster.”

Lifting his head to look at you, he smirked. “Good girl.”

With that, he snapped his hips against yours, making your body jolt. And he didn’t stop. He set a brutal, unforgiving but delicious pace, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Your boobs moved in time with his movements, and Joel couldn’t help but admire them, moving one of his hands down to grasp a handful of your right breast, thumbing your perked, sensitive nipple.

The noises you were making were downright sinful. Your grip on Joel’s broad, muscular shoulders tightened, desperately trying to keep yourself tethered to reality. You were already sensitive from your first orgasm, and you could feel your second one approaching faster than the first one did. And Joel could tell as well. It was like he knew your body better than you did.

“You gonna come f’me again, baby?” he asked breathlessly, his thrusts not faltering. He let go of your boob and instead snuck his hand between your legs, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing small, tight circles against it. He let out a noise that resembled something close to a gasp and close to a groan when he felt your walls squeeze him tightly, drawing his cock even deeper. “Yeah, you are.” Thrust. “Can feel how close you are.” Thrust. “Squeezin’ me so tight, eager for it.” Thrust. “Then let go for me, baby.” Another thrust. “Come all over my cock. Wanna feel it.”

With one last snap of his hips against yours, you came undone, your shouts of pleasure echoing off the walls. Your orgasm washed over you like a river, making your legs tremble and your vision blur from pure bliss, the kind you haven’t felt in a while. It all felt so good.

Joel followed closely behind you. With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his seed spilling deep inside of you. All types of profanities spewed past his lips as he came undone, his arm trembling and struggling to keep his weight up. He quickly brought his other arm back up to support his weight, not wanting to crush you, but he let his head drop down to hide in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of your deep, heavy breaths. You were slowly coming down from that euphoric high, your mind still foggy and trying to distinguish between fiction and reality. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve felt this good. Hell, you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this good. No amount of dreaming could ever compare to the real thing.

Coming back down from whatever ether his mind had disappeared to, Joel raised his head, his eyes sweeping over your face. He was still heaving like he had just ran a marathon, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you in a way you couldn’t quite decipher.

Deciding to break the silence, you spoke up. “That was… wow.”

Joel allowed a small, barely noticeable smile to tug at the corner of his mouth, and you counted that as a win. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly.

And then it was silent again. You knew there was a lot to talk about. You knew that this made things between you and Joel difficult, made it different. But for now, you chose to bask in the afterglow of what happened, chose to enjoy it.

The difficult stuff could come later. For now, you would enjoy the moment.

Everything taglist: @francisofthespook @angelsanarchy @negansbestie (Comment/DM me to be added/removed!)

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holeforzenin · 14 hours ago

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Toji secretly loves supporting your studio Ghibli addiction <3

Toji doesn’t get the obsession at all. But the way your eyes would light up when you talk about it? The way your face goes soft and dreamy whenever he mentions it, even in passing? He gets that. It’s why he’s got a habit of slipping little things into his pockets whenever he sees them—keychains, pins, those overpriced plushies that dangle off your bag. He never buys them all at once, just picks them up here and there, pretending like it’s no big deal when he drops them onto your lap.

“You’re gonna run me broke, kid,” he grumbles, handing you a Totoro mug he picked up from a pop-up market on his lunch break. It’s wrapped in a crinkly plastic bag, the receipt still tucked inside. His expression is gruff, but there’s a flicker of softness in his eyes when you gasp, cradling it like it’s made of fragile glass.

“Oh my gosh, Toji! Look at it! It’s so cute!” you squeal, holding it up to the light as if inspecting its every detail. He just shakes his head, leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed and a faint smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. You keep squealing like that and the damn neighbors are gonna think I’m killing you in here”. He’s teasing, but the way his eyes soften when you set the mug down with care and launch yourself at him isn’t. Toji catches you easily, hands stable on your hips as you wrap your legs around his waist and presses your face into his neck, babbling about how sweet he is.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” you mumble against his throat, words muffled but warm.

“Yeah? Maybe I like spoiling you, ever think of that?” His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he lets out a low chuckle. “Gotta keep my girl happy, don’t I?”

And he does. He’s got a knack for it—leaving tiny Ghibli trinkets scattered around the apartment like breadcrumbs for you to find. A Spirited Away necklace tucked under your pillow, a Howl’s Moving Castle notepad waiting on the kitchen counter when you wake up. It’s his way of saying he’s thinking about you, even when he’s busy with work.

“You really don’t have to—” you start to protest one morning when he hands you a Totoro plush, its soft belly squished against his broad hand. He just scoffs, pressing it into your arms.

“Shut up and take it,” he grumbles, reaching out to tug you closer by your waist. His thumb rubs slow circles against your hip, eyes flicking down to the plush in your grip as you try to hide the excitement. “Besides…you look cute with it”.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you clutch it tighter. “I love you, y’know”.

Toji huffs out a laugh, rough and genuine. “Yeah, I know, baby”. He leans in, lips brushing your forehead. “I love you too”.

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jawllines · 13 hours ago

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“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.” Niall answered, his voice lowered while they sat across from each other in a cafe booth. It was a relatively nice day, the weather was beautiful, so they were planning on doing something – what that would be, they weren’t sure, but they started it with lattes and croissants and discussing something that shouldn’t be discussed in public (but what’s new), “Seriously, like – and I just need to take a deep breath because you’re finally listening to me. I don’t know how to tell you this but I bought you a collar like a month ago because I knew you’d pussy out.”

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!”

“I did,” he nodded, “I didn’t get the rest of all the things because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it,” he swallowed, then shook his head, “No, I’m lying, I wanted you to fully commit to the bit so I ordered everything. Leash, tail. . .I mean, fuck it, I got ears too.”

Y/N likes Harry, and that's convenient, because Harry likes her too

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

(8.4k+ words)

vi.

Y/N has never been very good at science.

Life sciences, like biology, she could figure out easily enough if there were pictures, and chemistry, she could fumble her way through after spending at least an hour screaming into her pillow about how much she didn’t want to do it. Things like physics, though, always zipped right over her head. With a limited understanding of whatever the hell Newton and Einstein were talking about also came a limited understanding of anything that may have to do with space. It was interesting, but actually learning about the concepts that shape their whole universe? Terrifying. Y/N would rather not know how big the galaxies are, because then she needs to start considering the existence of extraterrestrial life, and she feels like as soon as you go down that rabbit hole, you’re asking to get abducted.

But she does know about supernovas. Only because of a song that she really liked mentioned them, and she had to see what it was. There was a long, intricate explanation as to why they happen, but what Y/N took away from it was that they were an explosion, and it was so bright, it could outshine galaxies. Beautiful colors emerge, blues, purples, pinks, greens, oranges, impressive and intense.

Whatever is happening in her chest right now, Y/N thinks is close to a supernova. It feels just as colorful and complex. As bewitching, and as dazzling. As captivating, and as terrifying. Her heart races with it, confused, excited, overjoyed, hopelessly giddy. She probably needed a moment to sort through all the thoughts spinning around in her head, but right now, she knew she wouldn’t get one. She didn’t mind that either – not right now. Not when this is a version of Harry that she’d never been privy to. One that she’d never believed she’d ever get to witness.

Harry, from the moment he’d stepped through her door, was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. And she’d seen him with his cock out and everything, consumed by lust, his bare bum walking to her bathroom – all pretty vulnerable positions, she’d say. Like, he definitely wouldn’t want to be caught by a bear in that state. But this emotional vulnerability was something else entirely for such a typically emotionally guarded, closed-off person. The impassive and at times apathetic man that she had come to know had been dipped in honey and set before her. Or, better yet, maybe dipped in an acid, to erode the outer shell and reveal the honeyed center beneath.

He’d taken her to the sofa immediately, sat down across from her, his hands held out with his palms facing upward, and Y/N wasn’t sure if it’d been a silent request or a silent offering. Maybe both – she took it, no matter what it was, and slid her fingers between his own. Their hands were tight around one another's, as Harry curled his over her knuckles, his thumb stroked her where it lay.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Harry started, measured and sure, despite the way his cheeks flamed hot and fiery with what she could only imagine was immense embarrassment. Not that she thought his reaction was anything to be embarrassed about – had roles been reversed, she probably would have cried the moment she saw him then tried to crawl up under his shirt or something. But she knew that Harry wasn’t used to expressing himself or his feelings this intensely, so she understood the nerves behind it. “I should have warned you that Maren would be there, but I wasn’t sure how. . .how to explain why I was telling you? I guess that’s the easiest way to put it. And I really didn’t think she’d be a problem – she’s always been a thorn in my ass, but she usually isn’t so pointed with her advances.” He shook his head with a soft sigh, “But that’s beside the point. You mentioned me not messaging you as much?” Y/N nodded, and Harry nodded with her, “That had nothing to do with Maren,” he explained, “I was. . .if I’m honest, I was worried that I had been too overbearing while you were out for that week.”

Y/N tilted her head, “Overbearing? I didn’t think so.” She shook her head, “You really took care of me. If you want to see overbearing, you need to meet Ni’s aunt – she checks his forehead like 5 times in the span of 10 minutes to make sure he isn’t too warm.”

A small smile wormed onto his mouth, warmed and soothed the worry off of his face, “That’s good to know,” he replied, “I suppose I got into my head too, about it all. Especially when you didn’t want to talk to me.”

With a grimace, Y/N explained herself, “Yeah, that – I didn’t handle that well, I don’t think,” she swallowed hard, “I just – um. . .like I was – I kind of thought I walked in on you two kissing?” Then she hurriedly adds, “Which is within your right to do! You aren’t not allowed to do what you want, I just didn't –” she huffed a sigh, unsure of how to articulate it beyond the easiest way, which happened to be the most humiliating, “I know we aren’t technically together or anything, but it made me jealous. I was jealous, and petty, and wanted to ignore you until I could sort myself out. I get it if the whole jealousy thing makes you uncomfortable, and like...I mean, I want to promise that it won’t happen again, but I don’t know if I can.” She swallowed even harder, chin tipped down, staring at their hands. Even just two weeks ago, Y/N would have rather worked with notoriously difficult Chhurpi cheese than tell Harry that she was jealous. To even allude to the fact that her feelings for him might be beyond what they had started this with.

But tonight, it didn’t feel so hard. It took her a while to spit it out, sure, but she still was able to get there. Part of what encouraged her was the way his hands felt against hers, the expanse of their palms pressed together so warmly that it thaws out her usually cold fingers. Another part was the blatant, and unremitted display of affection he’d doled out to her as soon as he stepped through the threshold of her flat, as if he didn’t peck her face with a hundred kisses, she’d disappear in a puff of smoke. And another – the way he was looking at her. His eyes were softened in a way she only vaguely recalls after they had sex, when she’s only a couple of minutes from passing out, pressed tightly to his side.

“When I called you the other night and you were with Youngjae, I was so jealous that I could barely see straight,” he admitted suddenly, honestly, “Surely, you realized that? I threw a fit, practically – covered you in all of those marks. Even before then, when he’d only just complimented your meal, invited you to practice under him, and I was just so mad that he’d asked right in front of me. So I took you home and I fucked you that night. Don’t you remember?”

Y/N nodded, but still, she considered his words, “I kind of figured. Or, well, at least Niall kind of figured and then told me that you were jealous.”

“Niall is smarter than he looks.”

“But I guess I just wondered what it was you even had to be jealous of? I mean, you and YoungJae are kind of carbon copies of each other, only he’s Korean!”

Harry clicked his tongue, “No,” he disagreed, “That’s not the only difference. He’s more personable, more gentle, he seems sweeter, and more patient. Adam told me you had a dedicated crying corner to go to when I yelled at you. It’s different,” he seemed stressed, remembering it, “He’s different than me, and I figured that you’d go and realize that you could learn with someone nicer, who was attractive, and probably had a crush on you.”

“A crush on me?” Y/N gaped, then sat up straighter, “What the hell? What made you think that?”

His eyes go wide, “What, you don’t think he likes you? He looked at you like you’d given him a star or something. It was so irritating.” Y/N couldn’t help it when she snorted, a giggle bubbled from her throat, and she had to slip one of her hands from his to cover her mouth, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not!” She bit down on her lip to suppress it, but it still slipped free, “It’s just – Harry, he looks at everyone like that! He even looks at you like that – actually, he looks downright dreamy when he even thinks about you.”

Y/N has never seen Harry truly, genuinely pout until tonight. His bottom lip jutted out, and he still looked grumpy, but Y/N wanted so badly to slip her hands onto his face and pull him to her mouth. To dig her teeth into his lip and nibble and pull at it until he whines, too. She took his hand again, then chanced pulling his hand up to her face, running her cheek along his knuckles, “You’re just saying that.” He muttered.

“You’re so silly,” Y/N replied. This is such a refreshing development, she thinks. Never would she have expected this from Harry – this pouting, jealous, slightly insecure version of him that thinks she’d run off with Youngjae because he was nice to her. She doesn’t even have time to consider being mad at Niall for exposing her crying corner to Adam, because all she can think about is how upset Harry seemed that it even had to exist. There was a guilt clear on his features, but whispered between his words. Honestly, Y/N hadn’t even thought about how Harry used to yell at her for a long time. “I’m not just saying it! He didn’t give me any vibes like he might like me.”

Harry tipped his chin up and looked to the side, and wow, she wondered if she reached out and touched his ear, if it’d feel as hot as it looked, “Well, I don’t know how much I trust your detection skills, if I’m being honest.” He mumbled, “It seems like Niall has to do most of the ground work.” Still, despite a grumbled reply, he flipped his hand around so that he cradled her cheek instead, resting it against his palm.

This giddy feeling that overruns her is nice. It’s fun – she likes it, after so long of being so upset and confused and distraught. She thinks she’s finally starting to understand, though. . .that she’s finally getting it. What Niall had been seeing this entire time.

“Harry?” She inquired, and he hummed, eyes following Hazelnut as she sat across from them, and looped her tail around her bottom paws. When she doesn’t say anything to immediately follow it, Harry turned to look at her, his green eyes bright, “If I asked to see you and we didn’t have sex, and we didn’t cook something. . .would you be okay with that?”

Harry answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

“And if I. . .if I said that I only wanted you to do stuff like this with me? Sex, and…and seeing each other outside of it?” The nerves almost stop her from saying it, threatening to clog her throat.

“Then I’d tell you that it’s been like that from the start,” he replied again, immediately, “I’d tell you that you’re the only person I want to see. The only one I want to sleep with. The only person I’d like to be with.”

Y/N grinned. She scooted across the sofa to wrap her arms around his shoulders, and Harry slid his arms around her waist. It was warm — Y/N wondered when the last time they hugged like this was. If they’ve ever even hugged like this. There’s so much that they have done together, but still so much they hadn’t, and if this was them opening the door to all of that, she was more than enthusiastic.

With her chin hooked around his shoulder, Harry’s face is dipped into her throat. He takes a deep breath, then a slow exhale, “This is a lot, for me,” he told her, “I wish that you could just siphon information from my brain instead of me having to say it.”

“Ah, you might need to get used to saying it, though. I’m kind of dense – Niall says so at least.”

Somehow, they had ended up in her bed. Nothing crazy, nothing sexual, just the two of them tangled up in each other’s limbs, and for the first time, Harry falls asleep first. He had all but demanded that she let him spoon her, so she didn’t get to look at his face, but with the way his breathing had slowed and how heavy his arm felt around her waist, she knew he was resting. This is a sort of content that she seldom gets to feel and still be all in her head to truly enjoy it. Harry’s body is pressed warm against her back, he sounds sweet with little snores, and Y/N can’t help but melt into him entirely.

All the vulnerability must have tuckered him right out. Y/N smiled to herself, stretching her arm over his, her hand resting over his hand. Even in his dreams, he raises two fingers for her to curl around. Twists his fingers up in hers.

Her insides feel bright, wicked, an ebullition of colors that rival a supernova.

. . .

The thing is, Y/N feels bad.

Listen, she knows she shouldn’t! She and Harry have discussed their feelings, and they’ve communicated relatively decently about the entire situation and how to avoid it in the future. Harry only implores her that if she has an issue, she bring it to him directly, no matter how intimidating she might think he is. Whether it be work-related or not, Harry is not the type to let issues fester. He’d like to nip it in the bud immediately, as soon as possible, even if he’s the one who is upset.

So they’d discussed it, and they’d apologized for the misunderstandings, and it should be in the dust by now. Just something they had learned and grown from – something in the past.

But Y/N replays how Harry had walked into her flat, how he’d cradled her face, kissed her a thousand times, told her to never completely ice him out again. To never not speak to him, to leave him in the dark, and it’d only been a few days – barely.

She feels bad, though. He’s told her dozens of times that she shouldn’t feel bad, because it wasn’t her fault – the situation was just an incorrect interpretation of the other’s thoughts and feelings at the time. That he wasn’t upset, to stop apologizing, that if she said sorry to him one more time, he would get upset.

So she has an idea. And she takes her idea to Niall, because he hadn’t steered her wrong at this point, and he would let her know if it was stupid or not. If she would look ridiculous doing it. If she should just make him a meal or something to quell the ache in her chest.

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!”

“Niall!” She exclaims, but he pulls his phone from his pocket and quickly drags up the link from an email, “How much was – why am I so shocked?”

Niall clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why you’re shocked at all, actually, I told you I was going to,” he spun the phone around, sliding it across the table, “S’crazy right? It wasn’t that pricey, consider it a birthday present. So, I’ll kind of guide you through this because I know you’ll get in your head and freak out. I was actually intensely into pet play like three years ago, so this is perfect.”

That’s how Y/N ended up here, after extensive teachings from Niall, examples, and demonstrations that make her face feel so hot it might melt off. It all led to her inviting Harry over to her flat on their day off, with a medium-sized collar around her throat that had his name stitched into it. A leash was clipped to the metal clasp at the back of it, which she looped around her wrist while she moved around so she didn’t get tangled in it. She had a set of ears clipped in neatly on her head, flopping, similar to her hair color, but stuck out enough that it was clear what they were. The most shocking of all, however, and the most time spent between her and Niall, was him teaching her how to open herself up for a plug.

He showed her how to on his Fleshlight, which looked like a bum, and he’d promised her he’d cleaned it out before he pulled it out for their “fingering-lesson” as he continued to call it. Y/N thinks that if she had said it was okay, Adam would have been on the phone guiding her as well, but she was feeling way too bashful for that. Hell, even talking about it with Niall was a lot, as he described how much lube, the depth she should start with, how many fingers, but even before that – her diet and how to clean herself out to prepare for it. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever stared so hard at a fleshlight in her life, as she watched him spread it open, talk about the right and wrong way to do it.

So, spreading her open, a plug with a tail fixed to the end of it caressed the insides of her thighs every time she moved. It was insane, all of this, but they had talked about it before – briefly. Discussed what they wanted to do, how he wanted her to be a proper puppy, and Y/N wanted that too. She just wishes she could skip to the part where she was so cock dumb and empty-headed that she didn’t feel all the anxious, jittering nerves inside of her.

Because what if Harry was just saying that as pillow talk? What if he’d just been trying to work her and himself up, but the actual thought of it he didn’t want. Maybe they needed to sit and have a proper chat about it, before she just balls to the wall went all in and dressed like a fucking dog then invited him over to her flat. This is actually insane work, honestly, and yeah Niall is right about most things but he’s also a horny freak who typically has partners equally freaky and horny as him. She doesn’t think he’s ever not thoroughly discussed a scene before he did something new with someone either, so when Y/N had mentioned that they’d spoken about it, he probably thought she’d meant actually discussed it. Like sitting across from each other, going through hard nos, dos, and don’ts, and not when Harry was twisting a hand around his prick, and she was a hairpin trigger away from cumming untouched.

Y/N has nearly completely talked herself out of it by the time she hears her front door open and completely stills. She was sitting on her bed, feeling stupid, silly, and a ton of other negative adjectives that did not instill any confidence in her before something she probably needed a lot of confidence for. She was trembling, her stomach turning, her heart kind of felt like it might be thudding in her throat, and her blood roared through her ears when Harry called for her. First, just her name. Then, “Baby?” Which is a new development – a welcomed one, but one that gets her all fuzzy inside, no matter how many times he’d begun to casually refer to her as such.

Eventually, she hears his footsteps get further inside. The floorboards shift at the beginning of her hallway, then again right outside of her door, and his hand presses against the wood as he swings it open quietly. He probably thought she had fallen asleep waiting for him or something, which would explain why he was attempting to be so quiet. Instead, he is met with her, sitting on her knees, her hands were supposed to be in her lap per Niall’s instructions, but instead they were curled up in the blankets at her side.

Harry’s gaze falls upon hers. He blinks a couple of times, like he might be trying to adjust his eyesight to the lower lighting of the room. Or maybe he’s just trying to make sure that this wasn’t some elaborate hallucination that he’d suddenly uncovered. When he stops blinking, the image of her stops disappearing and reappearing before his eyes, and there she still stays. Did he think this was embarrassing? Maybe he was experiencing the world’s greatest second-hand embarrassment – so bad that they could put it in a world record book. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh at her. She probably looked ridiculous, didn’t she? She’d barely looked herself in the mirror once she put the ears in – just enough to make sure they were level with one another before she fucked off into the bedroom. There’s no bra, there’s no underwear – she’s stark naked, just sitting, waiting, like a dog would. Like a puppy.

“Ohhhh, I see,” his voice is careful, as he takes a step forward, “My baby isn’t here, hm? I just have a sweet little puppy instead.”

Y/N swallows hard, dipping her head down and lowering her front half against the mattress. When Harry outstretches his hand, she rubs her face into his open palm; her cheek, her nose, her mouth. It felt good, especially when he curled his fingers up in her hair and scratched gently at her hairline, caressing upward through it, to stop at the ears. There’s a soft tug, and her head jerks with it before she settles again, letting his hands explore and move around her new accessories.

It’s when his fingers dance from her head, along her human ears, down to her neck that the pads trace around the collar. He follows the border of it, the threading, slips two fingers between her throat and the leather. It’s tight–not so tight that it’ll choke her, but it’s definitely a weighty presence–one that’s hard to ignore. That must be when he sees it, though, as he strips around the material, because he pauses, he reads, his breathing hitches, and –

– he moans. Something loud, a little whiny, erupting from the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” he mumbles out, dragging his thumb along the embroidery, “Oh my fucking god.” YN lets him continue to pet her but shifts forward, nudging the back of her head against his hand. He slides his fingers to the front of the collar again, twists the thin leash around his knuckles, and gives a soft, gentle tug, “C’mon, you know better. No puppies on the bed.” He helps guide her down, on hands and knees, carefully dismounting from the mattress in the most awkward, limb-filled way she could have. Eventually, she is on the floor, the carpet digging into her nails and into her knees, her face flaming hot when she rubs her cheek against his calf, which may be more of a kitten thing than a dog thing. Niall told her that it could be interchangeable a bit, because typically, all the non-geared-up person in the dynamic cared about was that the other person was giving in to base desires and acting like an animal.

From this angle, he must be able to see the tail because another murmured curse slips from his mouth, before she feels the same gentle, prodding fingers that usually nudge at her lips, move around her bum. The rim is stretched and messy with lube, so when Harry carefully pushes into it, Y/N whines and lurches forward. Her skin is sensitive, where it’s soft and slick, and he goes from moving around the plug to letting his fingers drag through the tail, “Such a filthy fucking thing. Where did you even get toys like this?”

Y/N doesn’t answer, because she’s a dog and dogs don’t speak. She does shake her bum, though, move her hips from side to side so the tail swings and tickles the back of her thighs. It’s humiliating in a way that she can’t describe but the way Harry is looking at her, the heat that flurries through his gaze, the lump in his trousers where his cock is pressing up against the zipper. It’s worth it. It’s well worth the way part of her wants to crawl her way right under the bed and not let him pull her out until science can figure out a way to wipe her memory clean.

But it also feels. . .good. Kind of, she doesn’t know – she needs to stay like this for a little longer. To really get the feel for it. Really see how deep into puppy space she could get.

Y/N, let’s Harry guide her out of the bedroom. He leads her carefully, doesn’t tug or pull, and Y/N appreciates it. Since they weren’t able to sit down and discuss every avenue of this, she could tell that Harry was approaching it cautiously. He doesn’t just automatically start tugging her around because he doesn’t know that she’s okay with that yet. Doesn’t start spanking her and fucking her with her plug because he doesn’t know that she’d like that. Doesn’t shove her nose into his crotch and make her mouth at him wetly, because he has no clue that the thought makes her want to start drooling.

He guides her to the sofa, and when he sits down, Y/N sits pretty beside his feet. Harry pets her head like she really is a puppy, cooing at her sweetly, “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to her jaw, his fingers caressing her skin, “Knows exactly how to be a good puppy already, don’t you? Might not even have to train you.” He hums, “But if my puppy wants to stop this at any time, all she has to say is Duck, okay? And if you can’t talk, then just squeeze my hand three times.”

Y/N nods and shudders, dips her face against his knee, and nudges against him. Harry chuckles, grabs a pillow off her couch, and sets it on the floor between his spread feet. Once again, he gives the leash a little pull and coaxes her with sweet words, “Knees on the pillow, Pup. Why don’t you rest your head on my thigh for a little bit?”

That’s easy enough, Y/N could do that. Niall had told her the brunt of this – what makes this all so sexy – is the complete control that Harry would have over her. If he told her to bark, then bark, if he wanted her to pant with her tongue hanging out and drool all over his cock, then she’d do it. Of course, she doesn’t think they’d get too intense tonight, because Harry is – above all else – a good, dominant partner in the dynamic. He knows when to lead and when to step back, how far to take it, and what to relax with.

So she trusts him implicitly. Even more so when his fingers press against her lips, Y/N opens them eagerly so that he can feed them into her mouth. She sucks on them, licks around his knuckles and sighs contently – it’d been a while since he’d had his fingers in her mouth like this. Y/N forgot how much she liked it; the weight of his fingers against her tongue, the scrape of her teeth along his nails, the salty taste of his skin. She likes how full she felt with only two of them in there. Even more than that, she likes that two of her holes were plugged, and wondered how it might feel to have all three of them. The thought alone makes her shiver.

They stay like this for a while. Harry turns the telly onto something, but she can’t tell if he’s really paying attention or not. Just feels him stroke the top of her head, fuck his fingers inside of her mouth every so often, stretch them against the inside of her cheeks. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, lulling her somewhere else–somewhere sweeter and softer, as the insides of her legs get sticky from how much she’s leaking down between them. Y/N had been good at first, perfectly still just sucking on his fingers, but she starts to wriggle more. Adjusting her hips, pawing at his calves as she slowly began to get restless.

Y/N doesn’t realize she’s whining until she feels her throat vibrate with it, and Harry clicks his tongue softly, “What is it, puppy?” He inquired, and Y/N’s brain is full of cotton and clouds when she looks up at him. There’s drool building up at the corner of her mouth, dribbling out of the sides that Harry drags away with his thumb, “Hm? Are you feeling needy?” He pressed down on her tongue before slipping his fingers out of her mouth entirely. Y/N whines, chasing after them, but he uses his grip on the leash to keep her in place, “You can talk, Honey. Can my dumb puppy speak?”

She opens her mouth, “Please,” her voice sounds wrecked already, “Please, I want – I need it, daddy.”

There’s a flash in his eyes that has her clench around the plug, only making her more painfully aware of how empty her pussy was. “Yeah, you need it?” Harry repeated, biting down hard enough on his lip that the flesh blanched around the indents of his teeth. She swears she saw his cock twitch in his bottoms, which were doing very little to hide how worked up he was. “Okay, baby, show daddy how much you need it, hm?” But when Y/N starts to lift her hands toward his thighs, Harry grabs for both of them, curling his fingers around each one, “Mm, no, no, Sweetheart. Remember, puppies don’t use their hands.”

Y/N nods, swallowing hard, not even worried about it. She could do it without her hands – she didn’t need them. All she needed to do was stretch forward and rub her face into his crotch, which should be more embarrassing than it feels right now. The way she buries her nose against him, breathing in deep, mewling when the pure scent of Harry slithers through her. Her mouth is wide open, tongue pressed out against the fabric of his thin linen trousers – the lavender ones that she was fond of – and soaking it around his cock. How he’d had it trapped against his body had made it hard at first, but the harder he got, the easier it was for her to find the head, to lull her tongue around it. She whimpers, brows curling, lips pursing at the tip and suckling through the fabric like it was all she knew how to do.

Her hands are slid beneath the sofa cushion, so she really wouldn’t use them, but her neck and jaw start getting a little tired from how she has to move without any support. Harry must be able to tell because he tucks his fingers around the back of the collar where it lay against her nape and pulls her away. He laughs when she whines at him, her tongue hanging from her mouth, drool spilling from her, “Wow,” he murmured, “I thought it might take a bit more to get you into a sweet little spot like this, but I forgot how easy you were for it, hm? You trust me, baby?” Y/N nodded – she trusted him more than anything, “Yeah? G’na let me make you feel good?”

Again, she nods, leaning forward when he slackens his grip and runs her tongue over his cock several times, in wet, long strokes. The fabric’s taste isn’t what she wants, though, and Harry lifts his hips and pushes the bottoms down so that his cock is out.

He’s hard. The tip is red, leaking already, and it sways a little with the motion of him pulling it free. Y/N barely waits for permission to get her mouth on him, and while she thinks on a different day, when Harry was more prepared for a scene like this – he might have scolded her. Instead, today, he just lets her do what she wants. Laughs through his nose and strokes the side of her head as she mouths out at his cock, which feels bigger right now for some reason, than it usually does. Especially when she can’t use her hands to help guide it, she just has to part her lips and chase after it. She thinks she probably looks dumb, but she doesn’t care. She wants him in her mouth – needs it, actually.

“Ah, maybe I will have to train a greedy puppy like you after all,” he hums thoughtfully as she slurps around his cock, taking him deep, deep, deep until it touches the back of her throat and it convulses around the intrusion. Y/N slips off, takes barely a breath to compose herself, then goes right back in, “But it’s your first time being my puppy for real, isn’t it? I’ll be more lenient now than I will in the future,” he murmurs and it sounds a little like a warning, when she drools over his cock, down to his balls, lapping at them. He groans, wanton and loud, needy as she was, “God – fuck, c’mon, g’na take care of you. Bet that pussy is so messy, isn’t it baby?”

There’s some maneuvering involved, but Harry ends up on the floor with her, slipping out of his trousers the rest of the way. When he pulls his top over his head and tosses it to the side, Y/N reaches out for it, grabs for it – she doesn’t know why, but she wants it near her, kind of. Lays it next to her head so she could smell him some more, and if she were more in her head, then she’d realize how very omega-like of her this was, and how prideful Niall would be if he realized she’d done this. But she’s nowhere near that level of conscious thought right now. She’s swimming somewhere so beautiful and brainless that she doesn’t even feel shy to press the fabric to her nose and breathe in deeply. Smell his cologne and his sweat from the day.

Harry’s cock twitches when he watches her, and he splits her thighs and looks between her legs. She probably is messy right now, lube and her arousal dripping all over the place. Y/N had been worked up after stretching herself open and sliding the plug in, imagining what Harry’s reaction would be to her, and how hard he might fuck her made her touch herself a little bit too. She’d only gotten to two fingers and only did enough to get herself a little more needy, so she feels deprived and restless right now.

He starts with one fingers, and when her hole sucks him in greedily, he gives her two, right down to the knuckle, “Always so ready for it. Slutty fucking pussy,” he is tentative as he preps her, and with the plug in her bum, it somehow feels more intense. There’s more pressure everywhere, so much so that three of his fingers feel like four, and four of his fingers feel like five. Still, Y/N moans, keens, whines, whimpers – does every sound but bark for him – as he splits her open. It’s so good, she feels so fucking good right now, but all she wants is his cock. Wants him to fill her up and fuck her dumb, even stupider than she is right now. Wants to drool, wants him to fuck her hard and deep, and split around him, and feel the head nudge against her g-spot. She wants to squirt on him and get him messy. She wants him to keep going even when she’s too sensitive and is wiggling away, she wants him to drag her right back to him.

Y/N starts fucking her hips down into him, her arms slung beneath her knees to keep them spread but her hips moving tirelessly. Harry places a hand on her thigh, fingers stretched wide, but he doesn’t stop her from moving. He almost seems amused by it, above anything else, his eyes watching closely, his lips curled into a smile, cooing little encouragement like, “Yeah, there we go, baby, that feels good, doesn’t it?” She nods helplessly, and he curls his fingers relentlessly as her legs tremble, getting tired, “Why don’t I give you something a little bigger, hm?”

This time, she nods as enthusiastically as she can. As soon as his fingers slip from her, she rolls onto her belly unprompted, lifts herself onto her knees, and presents herself for him. Years of omegaverse lore aid her subconsciously as she rests herself on her shoulders, reaching back and pulling herself apart to show him where she’s wet and needy for him. Nobody can ever resist that, and at the end of the day, Harry is only a man. He makes a sound kind of close to a growl behind her, cursing beneath his breath when his left hand covers hers to keep her steady, and his right hand guides his prick to her hole. Even though they both knew she was more than ready enough, Harry is still slow about sliding into her. Makes sure she feels every single inch that slides inside of her, stretches her out further. Y/N wonders if it feels tighter because of the plug inside of her. Harry does show an interest in the tail, smoothing it out of his way so that he could look at her again, where she’s stretched taut around the plug.

“Can’t stop thinking about you getting ready for me,” Harry grinds inside of her deep, and Y/N cries out, her fingers digging deeper into her flesh, “How did I find such a naughty, greedy puppy, hm? Fuck, you were made for this,” he prods at the skin around the plug, threatens to dip his thumb in too as his he slowly starts to build up a rhythm. Y/N wishes she could see him – even if she craned her neck, it would do the view no justice. She wants to watch him from the side, from the back, from between her legs – wants to see how big his cock is, how far it stretches her, how his balls slap against her with every stroke he bottoms out in.

She can feel herself drooling, and later on, she would cringe about it, and how it smears against her cheek while her face rubs against his shirt. Oh! His shirt, she’d forgotten – she slides her hands from holding herself open and curls her arms around his shirt. Presses her nose into it and breathes in so deeply, taking in every lick of Harry’s scent that she can from it. For some reason, it made Harry’s hips stutter behind her, his fingernails digging into her skin as he paused deep inside of her. Y/N whines, and he must be able to feel that she’s going to move her hips again because he tightens his grip, “No, just – fuck, just give me a minute. You almost made me cum.”

“Want it,” she whines, “Want it, want it, want it –”

Harry stretches himself across her back, slips his fingers into her mouth, and muffles her mid-beg, “Shh, dumb puppies like you don’t need to talk or think,” he groans as he slides out of her, slowly rolling his hips, wary to start where he left off right away, “God, you love being my little doggy, don’t you? You’re so fucking wet,” Y/N quivers, holding his fingers uselessly in her mouth, unable to suck or lick or bite, just pant and drool around them, “You wanna cum for, Daddy, Sweetheart? Get me all nice and sticky with it?”

His pace picks up again, the slide of it easier as he makes more space for himself inside of her. It’s much more intense with Harry pressed up against her like this, and it doubles when his fingers slip between her thighs and swirl around the swollen bud of her clit. It flicks beneath his touch, stiff and engorged, and just the press of his index and middle finger pads against it makes her cry out. The ears are flopping against her head with each thrust. Her legs want to close, but there’s no easy way to, and her back arches against him. But her mouth is full, her clit is being played with, the plug still sits inside of her and Harry rocks his hips into her like he’s trying to make sure the shape of him never leaves, hard and deep, an impression of himself in her insides.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she sounds around his fingers, and it’s muffled, a staccato sound with every collision of their hips together. Words escape her; she just feels, and she feels everything so intensely right now.

Her whole body shakes when she cums. It starts with her thighs, shaking hard, making the rest of her legs tremble, and the heat of her arousal swells into a tight balloon that expands rapidly, the latex filling out until it pops, and the warm wave of water that was inside of it flows through her. Washes over her whole body as she pulsates around him, milking him, and Harry fucks her through it, despite how difficult it gets when she squeezes so tightly around him, “Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmured, “I’m not g’na stop, baby, not unless you say your special word.”

Duck, Y/N remembers, or to squeeze his hand three times. Both are far away from her now though, even as she comes down from her first orgasm, she feels oversensitive as he fucks into her but not in the way where she’d need to shove him off. So she starts working her hips back against him again and Harry curses beneath his breath, then starts fucking her earnestly again.

She’s unsure for how long it goes on, or how many times she cums. She just knew that around her fourth orgasm, Harry had flipped her around so that she was facing him and had pulled her nipple into his mouth. And she knew that he had started fucking the plug in and out of her bum too, and Y/N felt a bubble in her belly that popped, forcing Harry out of her body when a swell of liquid followed his cock’s exit. He’s made her squirt before, and Y/N had wondered if it was just a one-and-done type of thing, but clearly not. It’s fully within his capability to do it, and leave her breathless, shaking, gasping.

This time, Harry isn’t able to slip back into her. He peels the condom off, slips his hand through the mess of her pussy and uses that as lube to fuck himself with. Y/N watches through lidded eyes as he strokes his cock, “Yes, yes, such a messy fucking puppy, so perfect for me,” he rambles, “So good, and fucking perfect, made for me, shit – only me,” before he starts to cum, all over her belly, in thick spurts that land heavy on the skin. Some of it even reaches her neck, and the knowledge of it makes her open her mouth, let her tongue hang out in hopes of catching more of it. None comes organically like that, but Harry does smear his fingers through the mess on her belly and feeds it into her mouth. Y/N licks it away, the taste heady and Harry, and so good because of it.

Y/N can barely move. Her muscles are kind of achy, and her head is so feather-filled she might as well be a pillow. Harry, above anything else, drops to her side and pulls her into his body, not caring about the sticky, drying cum on her skin when he pulls her into him. Rolls her over and maneuvers her limbs until she’s lying on top of him, running one of his hands up and down her back, “That was so beautiful, baby,” he says it so gently, Y/N almost wants to cry for some reason. She feels emotional and exhausted and like, maybe in love, a little bit, she doesn’t know – maybe it was just post-orgasm endorphins or maybe Harry was actually her soulmate, who could tell right then. “Did so well for me, for your first time. So perfect.”

As he is with all things, Harry is more than careful as he removes the floppy ear clips from her hair, unbuckles the collar, and slowly slips the plug out of her bum. For a moment, one of his fingers does slide around into the little gape that was left, and when she twitches and whines, he kisses the side of her head, “Sorry, Honey, couldn’t help myself,” before slipping it away, “We’ll have to play with that pretty hole too, it was getting jealous.” Y/N manages a laugh, though it’s just breathless and soundless enough to sound like a puff of air through her nose.

They stay there for a while, until Y/N feels like she can move, but even then, words haven’t come back to her yet. This was the deepest into subspace she thinks she’s ever been, but she isn’t scared of it. Y/N revels in it. With Harry there, she feels safe, and cared for, like she doesn’t need to worry about a thing at all. And she’s right, because he takes her to the shower with him and they get clean together. Harry wipes her down first, tenderly, slowly, and goes quickly for himself so that she isn’t standing there for too long. He coaxes water into her, too, at least half a bottle until she’s pulling her face away. Eventually, they find themselves in her bed, Y/N in a big shirt, her favorite band’s last album cover on the front, and Harry in one of her big shirts with a bunny on the front. He slid her underwear onto her, tucked them nicely around her hips, and then brought her up under the covers. Harry rubs her elbows and knees for a little bit, where they were rubbing against the carpet kind of hurt, and the skin was irritated. He pushes kisses to all the spots that seemed sore.

“I liked that,” she finally spoke, after what might have been 20 to 30 minutes of silence. Harry doesn’t seem startled, and she wonders if it usually took her a while to start talking anyway, “A lot.”

“Me too, Sweetheart. You play the role of a greedy puppy very well,” he rubs up and down her arm, where it’s stretched across his chest, “And you were very cute. I’ll probably touch myself to that for weeks.”

Y/N makes a noise in her throat and tips her face into his chest, “Shut up,” she grumbles, then continues, “I – um – like you a lot,” she sighed out, her lips rewarming, preparing for a ramble that she just knew was going to happen soon. Not that she had anything in particular to ramble about, except the fact that she’d seen a really pretty garden today, before she’d puppy-fied herself.

Harry, who had begun to play with her fingers, seemed delighted. “Is that so? That’s convenient, because I like you too.”

“Yeah, and we should probably plant a garden together,” she rumples her lips, “But neither of us has any yard to plant a garden, so we’d have to steal someone’s yard or something. Or buy like a little patch of dirt on someone’s property. Do you know anyone who has a yard?”

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he replies, amused, “You like gardening?”

“I’m so bad at it, actually, but you seem like you’d be good at it, so that’s why we should plant together. Are you good at planting?” Y/N feels him nuzzle his nose against her temple, “I feel like you’re good at everything.”

Harry hums, “No, m’not,” he murmured, “I’m actually not great at folding laundry.”

“Really?” She tilted her head to look at him, “Like – how?”

He shrugged, “Dunno, it always looks messy though. You haven’t seen my drawers?”

“No, was I supposed to see them? Should I be looking through your drawers?”

“If you wanted to, you could,” he offered, then immediately took it back, “Actually, no, I want you to pretend I’m good at everything still, I don’t need you to see my folding.”

Y/N laughed, then nestled close to him again, “You’re silly,” she murmurs, sighing again, letting sleep weigh heavy in her bones, “I’m glad I was delusional enough to think that you were obsessed with me.”

Harry squeezes her close.

“It’s not delusional if it’s true.”

#OMGGGGGGG #OKAAYYYYYYY #I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTT #REAL SMUTTY #MOSTLY SMUT HONESTLY #BUT I HOPE YOU LOVE #I LOVED WRITING THESE GUYS SO MUCH #WRITING #HARRY SMUT #WOOOOO #YAHTZEE #HARRY STYLES SMUT #OKAY YAY #LOVE YOUUUU

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killishin · 2 days ago

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domestic hcs with jason

oookay so domestic jason? cus why not.

heavily inspired by the prompts from this post by @novelbear (i love her prompts so much)

dividers by @cafekitsune

in the beginning of your relationship, both of you were kinda awkward, yet less so because it took both of you quite sometime to get over the cautiousness and trust issues, and during that time the awkwardness had shredded to an extent.

it was almost smooth sailing after becoming official, sure there were still a lot of areas that were left unexplored, going wrong somewhere, having long talks or none, because sometimes neither of you needed words. you just knew what the other wanted.

and so slowly both of you eased into each other's lives, like puzzle pieces truly molded and shaped for each other, not a mere gap left. at this point nothing weirded either of you out. best friends along with lovers.

as lovely and cosy this domesticity was, it had its fair share of little bickerings.

"no. no no no. no—" jason took hold of your shoulder with one of his hand while the other easily pulled the cart away, and guided you in the opposite direction from the aisle of biscuits.

you let out a small 'tut' of disappointment before looking up at him with semi puppy eyes, since there was a hint of warning in them.

he lets out a huff of disbelief before giving you a pointed look, "no."

"oh come on what's the issue here?" you ask as if you don't know and his eyes simply become more pointed, "really? really sweetheart?"

you shrug as you take on a sort of diplomatic demeanor, as if negotiating, "trying new things isn't that bad."

"it is when you choose those horrendous new oreo flavours."

"some turn out good!"

"some, sweetheart. most don't, and then you push it away like some cat and i gotta eat it all."

"i promise I'll eat it full this time." you swear with such sincerity that he almost falls for it, almost. his lips quirk up into a smirk as he pinches your jaw in between his index and middle finger, squishing your cheeks a bit.

"not falling for that again."

"jay–"

"its the normal flavour or nothing."

"babe-"

"normal or nothing."

"fine!" you hiss in irritation and he has the audacity to smile triumphantly, leaning to brush a kiss on your forehead, "atta girl."

well jokes on him, cus the moment you approach the aisle, you put the normal one in and then your eyes inevitably pause at that new flavour, gaze fixated on it.

"sweetheart no—"

you push the packet in the cart, silence engulfing you both as you both stare at the packet in the cart.

"i am not finishing that."

you share a lot in common with him, reading is one of them. when jason is off to do his nightly duties you read to occupy your time, as that is one of the things that give you peace, other than your boyfriend. now it is not always that jason gets a night off. so when he does, you'd rather you spend it cuddled by his side, having the best sleep, since having been tired by your prior activities.

and since he has a night off, he really wants to catch up on his reading. so he does, perched on the bed with a book in hand while you were cuddle beside him with your arm thrown over his lap and head beside his thigh, fast asleep. sleep is just much much better with him, but you cannot, for the love of god, sleep with any sort of noise. light sleeper, unfortunately.

you let out a small sleepy groan, nudging your face in his thigh, tapping on his arm. "can you stop that?"

he raises a brow, brushing your hair away from your forehead, an amused smile on his face. "stop what?"

you huffed before groggily opening your eyes and propping yourself up on your elbows, "you know what? no more reading before bed. you keep waking me up with your dramatic gasps every time you turn the page."

he lets out a surprised chuckle, ruffling your hair, irking you more, "well, i'm sorry that i engage and connect deeply with literature!"

"well gasp quieter!"

"its not a gasp then!"

you give him a deadpan stare while he just gives you a pointed look with a smug smirk. not to worry he acquiesced later on, getting under the covers with you while partially draping himself on you like a weighted blanket.

".... you gasp too while reading— wha– ow! alright!"

mornings are mostly quiet between you two, neither being a morning person so naturally you're both grumpy in the morning, you more than him specifically.

you're brushing your teeth in front of the sink with a dazed look in your eyes when he enters the bathroom behind you, yawning and scratching at his abs. he nudges you gently, breaking you out of your daze as if he knew you had dissociated for a while.

as you spit and wash your mouth, your eyes hone in on his brush, particularly on the amount of toothpaste he took. and maybe normally you wouldn't have cared, it isn't even an issue.

you quickly splash your face with water before leaning your arms against the sink and staring at him through the mirror, not even drying off your face yet. "thats a lot."

he pauses as his brows furrow, ever so cutely as he looks down at his brush and then back at you, "the toothpaste?"

"yeah?"

"thats the normal amount."

"sure. normal amount for a dinosaur."

he scoffs as he leans on one of his legs, resting his arm on his hip while holding the brush in his other hand , "so how much should i take? like you? that's not enough even for a mouse?"

"how do you know how much a mouse needs?!"

"well how do you know how much a dinosaur needs?!" he retorts back and you roll your eyes as you pat your face dry.

"im just saying you don't need that much— hey!" he snatches you away by hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you snug against him. he leans down with a smirk and your brows furrow in an almost glare.

"you wanna know how much i need hm? you wanna check?" he teases as he dips his head, pecking at your lips, coaxing you into a deeper kiss while you swat lightly at his lips.

"jason!" he pecks your lips, "you-" another one, "stink!"

jason is jason for you, for the world he reserves none of his smiles, none of those charms— none. its the red hood, and if in his civilian state, he is simply a big unit with a glare that can freeze sahara. his heart along with his scars are reserved for you, but his anger and disdain is all for the world to take.

the world and anyone who hogs your attention. now, jason is protective, and maybe even jealous— to an extent, but he would never cross a line that would make you feel uncomfortable. doesn't mean he appreciates people thinking they have a chance with you, or in this case, take his place beside you.

his glares aren't as subtle as he thinks, his arms crossed as he looks at the plushies on your bed. his glare drops into an exasperated groan when you bring out a new one.

"oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch." yet he sounds rather petulant than angry, and of course, hell would freeze and he still he wouldn't dare let you take the couch.

"but they're so nice and warm and fuzzy and cuddly, like you—"

"yes and apparently im not enough."

"you should at least try—"

"i have you."

you chuckle under your breath as you slip out the bed and pass him, pressing a chaste kiss on his downturned lips, "nice try but they're staying."

cleaning the dishes is something that if prolonged, it starts getting on your nerves. more so when you're nearing the end of the pile, and a new dish is added. a sharp sigh leaves your lips as your hands go lax and you turn to stare at jason, who's looking back at you like a deer caught in headlights.

"i was about to finish."

"... saw that."

as you sigh again, more so in frustration as you continue scrubbing he laughs nervously, mumbling quiet apologies as he nears you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he rests his chin on your shoulder, pressing a kiss on it.

"tired? i can finish the rest, you should go and rest."

"no i–" you sigh as you hold the washed plate towards him and he takes it, immediately falling into a natural synergy. "you were way too tired from your patrol last night. and besides im done anyways."

"two dishes won't tire me out, you know."

"yeah i know but i think you work better in cuddling me so stay there."

"whatever you say."

again, jason is a protective man. he never tires from caring for you, be it outside or even in the confines of your shared home. he always has an arm around you, shielding you from potential creeps who unnecessarily push their bodies onto you, holding hands is an absolute necessary when walking, his eyes are always on you in any gathering— like a very doting bodyguard.

but thats when you're out, at your home somehow its even more intense and it shows in those small moments. he always keeps his hands on the sharp corners if you're near, maneuvers you around the walls if you're about to smack right into them, blows on the hot pipping food too much to the point it isn't even warm— he just loves you a lot.

"you going somewhere?" he asks as he straightens up on the couch, lowering the book in his hand and you could see just how desperately he wanted to go with you.

"yeah, i promised to meet my friends over dinner." you respond as you recollect your things after pulling on your shoes.

"need me to tag along?" he asked and you could just see the tail wagging, you sigh with a smile as you wave your hand dismissively, "no no. I'll come home early don't worry."

"im still coming to pick you up."

"i know." of course he will.

"that's a really thin jacket." he points out as his eyes narrow and you pause to look down, "is it?" your lips tug in amused grin.

"take an extra jacket. its cold out." he said as he relaxed back on the couch, picking up his book again.

"okay, mom."

"i heard that!"

its not that you don't have any serious arguments, you do and they are often but they don't last long. they can't, not with jason. he can't stay away from you for much longer, he silently agrees for some space after exchanging heated words but it rarely ever prolongs to more than an hour or so. guilt and worry gnaws at his heart while his arms ache for the solace in your skin.

because at the end of the day, you are what he comes home to. that after a grueling night of wear and tear, being and living as red hood takes its toll on him. so he returns, he returns and hopes to everyday, fights to return everyday— all to see that sweet smile that comes onto your face as he comes back home.

you should be long asleep, he doesn't like it when you stay up for him. but he wouldn't deny how his heart always warms up at it, how it beats faster.

as he closes the window you straighten up on the couch, your head tilting a bit as you smile while beckoning him over.

"you okay big guy?"

somedays he banters, somedays he absolutely smothers you— but somedays, when it was particularly rough, he is quiet. so he took off his helmet, picked off his gloves and discarded his jacket just as his knees hit the floor beside you. you didn't question, you just knew he needed you and the silence.

a soft sigh left his lips as he rested his forehead on your lap, arms circling your waist and your hands immediately tangled in his hair, carding through them softly. your nails lightly scratched his scalp, then you knelt down and pressed a kiss on his head, illiciting another sigh.

"missed ya."

"missed you too."

he may one day be beyond saving, maybe his scars would just run too deep, yet even then he wouldn't dare submit to death— not when you still exist in his life.

NOTE: this was supposed to be a small drabble but i got carried away....

#jason todd headcanons #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood x reader #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fluff #dc fanfiction

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moonstruckme · 3 days ago

Note

obsessed with the sirius and remus drabbles where the reader is getting her attitude in check

how we feeling about the spicy version of it with either of them! 🤭

We are definitely feeling some type of way about that babe. Thanks for your request!

cw: smut mdni, dom/sub dynamics, overstim, mention of "punishment" but of course everything is consensual

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 571 words

“No,” Sirius laughs, swatting the inside of your thigh as you start to droop down onto the mattress. “Stay up for me, you know the deal.”

Earlier in the night you might have muttered some retort, but now you only whine, nuzzling your face into your pillow anxiously but keeping your hips up. “It hurts.”

Sirius tsks, giving the vibrator a nudge when it starts to slip from your dripping cunt. You make a half-muffled, afflicted sound. “I know it does, sweetness. It’s a punishment, remember?”

You’ve been made to cum thrice. The first had gone easily. Sirius hadn’t let on yet that he remembered your little attitude incident from earlier, so you didn’t have the foresight to hold back. But you’re a clever thing; by the second time, when Sirius didn’t let up as your body went limp and your ass was likely growing sore from his handling, you began to catch on.

Now, your trembling doesn’t ever seem to stop. It only waxes and wanes as he tries different things with you, the insides of your thighs quivering with excitement and exertion. Sirius takes some pity on you.

“Alright, you want to roll over?” he asks, smiling when you nod into the pillow. “Come now, I know you’re not so tired you’ve forgotten how to use your words.”

“Yes,” you say, voice pitchy and muffled into the pillow. “Please.”

“Okay. Let me see you, baby.”

He gives your hip a tap, and you all but collapse sideways, sighing in relief. Sirius readjusts your legs when they start to fall closed, positioning himself between your bent knees.

It’s heartbreaking how lovely you are like this. Loose-limbed and glassy-eyed, large pupils fixed on him. Laying yourself bare, offering yourself up to be teased and tormented, kissed and licked and touched until you’re gasping, whining, nearly begging for more. Sirius lays his palm flat to your cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds and the vibrator pulsing in your hole, and pushes his thumb into your clit as he leans over your for a kiss. The whimper that slips past your lips seems like it takes you by surprise, your eyes widening slightly as embarrassment flits across your face. Sirius can’t help but laugh.

“Having some second thoughts about that attitude of yours?” He pushes harder with his thumb, and you moan as your face turns to the side, overstimulated tears sinking into the soft cotton of your pillowcase. He sizes you up. “What’s your color?” he asks, voice dropping a decibel.

“Green,” you manage.

Sirius hums. He uses his free hand to give the underside of your thigh a warning squeeze. “That first question wasn’t rhetorical, babe.”

“Yes.” You raise your eyes to his again, trembling. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I know,” he croons. He lets his expression soften some, easing the vibrator from your overworked hole. “I know you’re sorry, I know you didn’t mean it. You’re just my sweet girl, aren’t you?”

You look wary, but you nod tearily.

Sirius pouts. When he pushes into you, it’s all in one motion, enough to make you seize up on the bed. Seems you’re not really so tired after all. “We just have to learn not to say things we don’t mean, then, yeah?”

You cross your arms over your face, breaths audibly quickening. Sirius smears a cruel kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Don’t worry, sweetness. I’ll help you remember.”

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joshujin · 2 days ago

Text

dude, nice try! part one

series masterlist • submit a request

joshua hong has had the immense privilege of living 30 whole years without ever feeling so much as an ounce of jealousy. that is, until you come prancing into his picture-perfect life on your dumb burner account with evidence that his long-time girlfriend is cheating on him… with your boyfriend.

as he gets tangled up in your chaotic plan to get back at your adulterous partners, he begins to wonder if this growing discomfort in his chest was ever even heartbreak to begin with, or if it’s something entirely new to him—something that has the ability to eat him alive from the inside out.

♫ get him back! olivia rodrigo ⟡ hot girl bummer blackbear ⟡ lackin’ denise julia ⟡ mascara xg part one: 9.4k words pairing: joshua x fem!reader cw: strong language, mentions of/implied sexual activity, reader is highly emotional and tbh kind of crazy maybe even toxic but idc bc i support women’s rights and wrongs <3 tags: strangers to partners-in-crime to partners PERIOD, joshua pov, pining, he fell first AND harder oops, he’s also so incredibly whipped from the jump, a few smau bits but mostly writing, no smut, inspired by get him back! by miss rodrigo, basically john tucker must die except joshua is sophia bush hehe iykyk a/n: as stated in the teaser, this was a request for jealous!shua, though you should consider joshua’s affair with jealousy a slow burn in this one haha. if you read the teaser, i suggest you do not skip the parts you recognize here because i did cut some stuff out for the sake of length when i posted the preview! okay enough blabbing, enjoy!

dividers by cafekitsune! cover by yours truly!

prologue

the first message from you came in the middle of the night, as if the idea of reaching out to joshua had kept you up and tortured you mercilessly until you just couldn’t physically take it anymore. in retrospect, the thought of that is silly to him considering your first and only message was ridiculous and absolutely ineffective for what you were trying to do. but it makes him smile anyway. you’re just… so you.

of course, there was also the fact that joshua had been sound asleep at 3 a.m., so your plan really wasn’t well thought out—more a product of the rage that joshua isn’t sure whether he admires or should have you committed for.

his instagram notifications had been off back then, back before he felt the need to see everything you were doing and saying and posting on the stupid app.

it made sense that he kept you waiting, not noticing your first message until about halfway through his sunday morning.

he remembers feeling like it was an unfair assessment to make of his own long-term relationship, especially coming from a stranger. he also remembers having to sit back in thought for several minutes after reading that to contemplate what on earth you could even mean.

of course he loved mina. she was his girlfriend of a little over a year. you don’t stay with someone for a whole year and not love them, right? it was such a bizarre idea to him at the time—the thought that anyone could be in a relationship and not love their partner.

unfortunately, he learned that you were right pretty early on in your friendship. you've proven it enough times now that joshua knows you often are—right.

as he sits here next to you now, frowning at the odd sensation in his chest and listening to you frantically explain yourself to the bewildered officer across from you two, he realizes that not only did he never love mina, he's also starting to wonder if he ever loved anybody.

he has let go of all his ex-girlfriends so frighteningly easily when he thinks about it. on the other hand, he’s had a single month with you and he can’t imagine his life without you in it anymore. the thought makes him nauseous.

so now, it’s not a question of whether or not he ever loved mina; he knows he didn’t. now… he’s wondering if maybe, without even knowing it, he was just letting each relationship he’s been in happen to him—if he was just passing time.

passing time until what?

he doesn’t have the courage to respond to his own thoughts with the obvious answer, but he knows it’s the wrong question.

he watches you speak at a million words a minute, your cuffed hands waving in the air erratically and your brows pinching in the middle as you plead your innocence. he was sure you thought it was a pitiable enough expression for the officer to let the two of you go, but really, it was just painfully cute.

he bites back a sigh.

yeah. it was the wrong question. passing time until *who?

one month ago

“i believe her.”

joshua looks up from where he’s pulling up your messages on his phone and glares at jeonghan. “she’s a stranger. and you haven’t even seen what she said. how on earth can you already believe her?”

his best friend shrugs casually, bringing his straw to the corner of his mouth and sipping his americano nonchalantly like they’re not discussing the possibility of joshua’s girlfriend cheating on him. “i have eyes? ears? literally any one of the five senses? pick one and it can definitely pinpoint mina for the absolute snake she is.”

“okay, you’re biased, you hate everyone i date,” he mutters, returning to his phone so he can show jeonghan your conversation—if he can even call it that. most of it was just you screaming.

“yeah,” jeonghan agrees easily. he never made an effort to mask his feelings, something joshua still wasn’t sure if he appreciated or loathed. “because you date the most vapid, boring people.”

“oh, i’m sorry my tastes aren’t up to your standards,” he snarks, not bothering to look up.

“y’know, i’m glad you apologized—someone had to,” jeonghan says dramatically, making joshua roll his eyes. “i don’t know why you keep dragging these duds not only into your life but my life as well. why should i have to suffer too? you don’t even like any of these people.”

joshua immediately puts his phone down on the table. this is now the second time in 24 hours someone has claimed he doesn’t love or like mina. jeonghan raises an eyebrow at his sudden attention.

“what makes you say i don’t like mina?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

the man sitting across from him scoffs before putting his drink down and leaning his elbows on the table. “do you like mina?” jeonghan dodges the question.

“of course i like mina,” he says incredulously. “why would i stay with her this long if i didn’t like her?”

“beats me, i’d like to know too,” he retorts.

“jeonghan.”

he sighs, knowing he’s wearing joshua’s usually never-ending patience thin today. “okay, fine. you like mina,” he says in a way that blatantly confirms he doesn’t believe him. “what exactly do you like about her?”

“what?”

“what do you like about her?” he repeats easily.

“what do you mean?” joshua asks when his best friend doesn’t clarify.

jeonghan looks at him like he has two heads. “what do you mean what do i mean?” he asks, irritated. “it’s not some kind of trick question. what do you like about your girlfriend, dude?”

joshua is dismayed at his own silence. he realizes the first things that come to mind when he thinks about mina are physical traits. he likes her long hair. he likes the way she dresses. he likes the way she does her makeup. he likes her lip gloss—wait, no, not really because she doesn’t let him kiss her when she has it on… which is almost always. sure, she’s pretty, but… what does he really like about her?

he doesn’t have the time to ask himself what it could mean that he doesn’t have a meaningful answer, and jeonghan doesn’t have the time to laugh in his face and drive his point home. because at that moment, his phone pings, and it’s one message from you, just a little over 24 hours since your last message about him being heartless went ignored.

joshua glances down and feels his stomach turn.

i have evidence.

an hour later, joshua and jeonghan are sprawled across the latter’s living room. when they’d seen your message, both of them had quickly and wordlessly vacated the cafe they were holed up in, gotten to jeonghan’s apartment frighteningly fast, and rifled through the series of messages you sent—all of them photos you took of your boyfriend’s phone screen.

at first, joshua was just annoyed at how hard snapchat made it to read messages; most of the ones sent by whoever your boyfriend was were deleted. he was ready to wave you off and call your “evidence” a reach. but then, he got to more damning photos—photos he was a little vexed jeonghan got to see too.

because they just proved his know-it-all best friend right. mina was a fucking snake.

he’s shocked at the lengths they went to to be able to communicate with each other without being caught.

but perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of them all comes last: a photo of a woman’s naked back as she laid on her side in a bed—that wasn’t joshua’s or mina’s—away from the camera. it could’ve been anyone. the small tattoo at the base of her neck told joshua exactly who it was.

it wasn’t something he could refute anymore; you were obviously not a random person and you definitely weren’t mingyu playing some kind of sick prank.

“so what now?” jeonghan asks, both of them still starfished on the floor and staring at the ceiling after spending several minutes furiously swiping and cussing at his screen. “let’s fill all her shampoo bottles with hair remover,” he answers his own question before joshua can even open his mouth. “oh! or we can follow her around, inevitably find this tool, and kidnap him! i’m sure this y/n person will appreciate that too!”

joshua doesn’t bother entertaining his best friend with a proper response, choosing to ignore the suggestions altogether. his mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to find the point in his relationship mina might have started straying away. has it been happening the entire time? or did she recently decide joshua wasn’t fulfilling her needs to her liking?

“… his car and it’ll probably break down and explode at some point later that week?”

he frowns, realizing jeonghan has been suggesting ridiculous things they can do to mina and your boyfriend the entire time he was contemplating his relationship. it’s his first time getting cheated on, but he isn’t surprised at his best friend’s reaction to it. he’s more surprised when silence blankets over them for several long seconds before jeonghan asks:

“are you okay?” he sighs. “i know that’s a dumb question to ask. you’re obviously not going to be okay after finding out your girlfriend cheated on you.”

his frown deepens at that. it’s a fair statement. he always imagined this kind of thing would throw him into some kind of jealous rage—emotions he’s not really familiar with. rage like yours.

he wonders if he had been the one to find out about this, would he have had a meltdown the way you did? make a burner account and find you to tell you the way you did? try to find someone to commiserate with—even if it’s a stranger—the way you did?

no, probably not. he was telling the truth when he told you that all he would do is break up with mina.

and he’s incredibly confused to find that, contrary to what jeonghan is saying, he feels very okay with that. he can’t really imagine caring enough to do anything more, and he doesn’t know why. shouldn’t he care more?

if you and jeonghan were wrong about him loving mina the way he was so convinced you were, why didn’t he care more?

“joshua,” jeonghan reaches over and pokes his shoulder. “speak. you’re scaring me.”

he snorts. “i’m fine.”

“okay…” he responds slowly. “so still in shock?”

“no, i really think i’m fine,” joshua says, shaking his head at the ceiling. “i feel… normal. i guess just confused about when and why she decided to cheat.”

“you did nothing wrong. she’s just a conniving, slutty ingrate who doesn’t know that she’s throwing away the most decent man in the universe,” he assures him. “which brings me back to my initial question. what should we do now to punish said conniving, slutty ingrate?”

joshua sighs. “we’re not doing anything. i am breaking up with her as soon as she gets off work.”

jeonghan perks up, rolling over onto his stomach and crawling to him until his head appears in his line of vision. his best friend has a shit-eating smile on his face that makes him instinctively roll his eyes.

“can i be there?”

he knows he should say no. it’s an absurd request and it shouldn’t even take joshua more than a second to answer. but as he thinks about it, jeonghan continuing to smile at him like a little devil on his shoulder, he thinks it might be nice to have him there and shame mina for cheating in a way he knows he doesn’t really care to do himself.

he shrugs. “sure, why not?”

jeonghan squeals with delight, scrambling to get up. “come on, we have to make sure you look smoking hot so it hurts her twice as bad. you can borrow my leather pants.”

“leather?!” joshua repeats. “it’s the middle of summer!”

joshua texted mina to let her know he wanted to talk to her after work and he would be dropping by. she told him several times that tonight wasn’t a great time and insisted they wait until tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about her convenience, so here he is, with jeonghan practically vibrating with excitement at his side, standing outside her apartment building.

“i still think you should’ve worn the leather pants,” his best friend says, “but you look killer. she’s gonna shit herself.”

joshua recoils at the idea but thanks him anyway.

“ready?”

he sighs. “yeah, i guess. ready as i’ll—oof!”

he stumbles a few steps and right into jeonghan as someone violently shoves him, continuing to push and slap at both him and his best friend until they’re several steps away from the entrance to mina’s apartment.

“what the—”

“and what the hell are you doing here?!” a female voice shrieks.

he wants to yell at this stranger for putting her hands on him. he wants to tell her to have some manners and to get away from him. at the very least, he wants to glare at her until she shrivels up in shame and scurries away. but all ideas of even attempting to do any of that die as soon as he lays eyes on the stranger.

your instagram photos don’t really do you justice (of course he looked. he really thought mingyu was pranking him and had even mentally applauded him for his effort to find a cute girl to post so consistently). your photos were well-taken and curated perfectly for your profile, but now that you were—for some weird reason—standing in front of joshua and jeonghan, he can confidently call your photos dirty liars. he can’t blame them, though. he has a feeling no camera in the world can capture how pretty you actually are in real life.

prettier than anyone i’ve ever dated, his intrusive thoughts remind him. prettier than mina.

“well?!” you screech when neither of them answer you, making them both flinch. you don’t notice your effect on them, though, because you’re busy frantically looking between them and the entrance of the building like you’re scared the three of you will be seen.

he knows jeonghan is thinking the same, exact thing he is because he is never rendered silent.

“i—uh,” joshua stammers for what he thinks might be the very first time in his life. “we…”

jeonghan glances at him, face twisted in amused confusion before he schools his expression and points his signature stunning smile at you. “you’re y/n! hi!”

“who the hell are you?” you turn back to them, cross your arms, and practically bark at him.

his best friend’s laugh is exaggerated and several decibels louder than it has any business being. it grates joshua’s nerves. he glares at him but jeonghan pays him no attention. “i like her,” he mutters to him before saying, “i’m jeonghan.”

“okay, jeonghan,” you spit his name like venom, obviously unimpressed, making him giggle.

joshua rolls his eyes at him and his increasing giddiness. his best friend doesn’t date often, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he enjoys this kind of vitriol. jeonghan is, at his core, attracted to the same chaos and mischief he himself is made of.

“what are you doing here?” you ask again, raising an eyebrow at joshua to make it clear you’re talking to him.

“i’m… here to break up,” he answers weakly. “with mina! i’m here to break up with… mina.”

he doesn’t know what’s come over him, but being confronted by you in person and unnervingly close in his vicinity has him forgetting how to properly communicate. the thought of blocking you was a lot easier when he had no idea if you were a real person. now, he feels like there’s no escaping you.

“what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks the question he forgets to return to you.

you ignore him, eyes staying trained on joshua as you speak, and something about you pretending like his best friend doesn’t exist forces him to fight down a smile.

“you’re not breaking up with her today,” you order him confidently, like you know saying it is enough for joshua to agree. if the way his palms start to sweat are a sign, you might be right. “she’s up there with siwoo.”

“who’s—”

“my boyfriend,” you answer before jeonghan can even finish his question. “i followed him here when he told me he was getting drinks with coworkers.”

joshua’s stomach flips. he’s not really sure how anyone can even think about another person in your presence, let alone cheat on you. maybe your intensity scares siwoo, though. it definitely kind of scares him.

“you mean… they’re up there right now… and they’re probably…” jeonghan’s sentence trails off, but you’re you and you don’t shy away from finishing it.

“fucking?” you ask with a biting and sarcastic enthusiasm. “yeah, jeonghan! probably!”

joshua winces. your rage was already palpable via DMs, but it’s near suffocating in person. it grabs him by the neck and shoves his face back into the dilemma he was quietly contemplating back at jeonghan’s apartment: why isn’t he sharing the same anger? why isn't he doubled over, throwing up at the idea of mina having sex with someone up in her apartment at this very moment?

“are you hungry?” you direct the question to him.

“what?” he asks dumbly.

“are. you. hungry?” you repeat, irritation laced in your voice.

“i am!” jeonghan announces.

you give him a blank stare before looking back at joshua. when he fails to say anything, you sigh, your temper appearing to deflate infinitesimally.

“they’re going to be a while,” you inform him like you’ve done this before. “there’s a fried chicken shop i like nearby.” okay, so you’ve definitely done this before. “we can eat and… talk, i guess.”

“we would love to talk. right, joshua?” jeonghan asks, pinching his side with more force than necessary. he fights to keep from jumping.

"sure," he finally agrees. "i could eat."

"thanks for ignoring me amidst my weekend-long menty b, by the way," you say sarcastically as you set down a pitcher of beer and three glasses next to the tray of friend chicken on the table.

"ment—?"

"mental breakdown," jeonghan whispers to him as he reaches to pluck a piece of fried chicken from the tray.

instead of depositing it on his own plate, he stretches across the table to put it on yours. joshua's eyes involuntarily narrow at the gesture. he doesn't realize he's glaring at his best friend until he speaks again.

"what?" he pouts at him but his eyes glint with mischief. "ladies first."

"thanks," you murmur, not-at-all sounding thankful. jeonghan snorts. "well? explain your rude behavior." he looks back over to you to find you sulking. you add more chicken to your plate even though you haven't touched the one jeonghan gave you.

"ah." joshua shakes his head. "i was just... not all the way convinced you weren't my friend trying to mess with me."

"mingyu," you say the name a lot like you said jeonghan's and for some reason, it makes him smile.

"yeah," he confirms, laughing a little. "mingyu. he's been known to play a prank or two on me."

"our joshua is just very gullible," jeonghan supplies as he serves joshua chicken now. the statement feels like a crack to the ribs. it's what mina called him when she was messaging siwoo. gullible. "so he's slow to trust."

joshua doesn't have a chance to argue that because you're, once again, ignoring jeonghan to ask him another question. "and now?"

"now what?"

"i take it you're all the way convinced?" you clarify as you tear into your first piece of chicken like you haven't eaten in years. with a full mouth, you add: "i mean, i assume you are if you're here to break up with your girlfriend."

"uh... yeah..." he nods slowly, distracted.

joshua is often described by his friends as a gentleman—elegant even. with the exception of jeonghan and mingyu—the two people who know him best—he is always polite and accommodating. he's careful that his clothes are always pressed and lint-free. he always has good posture, and he does his best to remember his table etiquette, especially in the presence of elders. he tries to be buttoned up and put-together almost all of the time, sometimes even to his own detriment.

so staring at you, wiping soy garlic sauce off your mouth with the back of your hand and talking with your pieces of chewed up chicken tucked into one, puffy cheek, he should absolutely feel repulsed.

he frowns at you and knows it probably looks like he is repulsed by you. but really, he's just confused about why you look so endearing sitting there, eating like it pains you to while taking turns glaring at your drumstick and glaring at him and his best friend.

"hello?" you wave your saucy fingers in front of joshua's face. "is he always this... spacey?" you ask jeonghan without taking your eyes off him.

"i'm glad you asked! no," the man next to him answers—also through cheeks full of chicken. "i've actually never seen him this nerv—"

"sorry, what were you saying?" joshua interjects before everyone at this table, including him, has to face the fact that yes, he is very much nervous and he's unsure why.

you sigh as you wipe your fingers on a napkin. "what is it about me that men's eyes just begin to glaze over as soon as my mouth opens?" you complain, the signature rage joshua has come to expect from you in the one hour he's known you bubbling back to the surface.

his eyes widen in horror at the thought of you mistaking his fascination with disinterest. "oh! i didn't—no, i'm not—i—"

"what joshua is trying and failing miserably to say," jeonghan cuts in, sneaking him a look that screams get it together, "is that no one here is ignoring you. he's just... trying to process all of this. after all, you had all weekend to think about this, and he just realized you were telling the truth, what? two hours ago?"

you stare at jeonghan with the same unimpressed expression you’ve been forcing on him since you met him. after a moment, your gaze travels to joshua, and he gives you a meek smile. you finally hum in understanding.

“sorry, i know i’m projecting. i’m just all…” you wave your hand wildly near your temple to mimic a muddled brain. “siwoo has done a number on me.”

joshua finally gains enough composure to string a sentence together. “i’m sorry i ignored your messages… and blocked your burner account.” you cringe at that but nod an acceptance of his apology. “and i’m sorry i’m not fully present right now. jeonghan’s right.”

kind of. not really. he was processing your existence more than he was processing being cheated on, to be frank.

“i’m just… trying to understand what’s happening, i guess. for what it’s worth, i find it really unbelievable that anyone would ever cheat on you.”

he ignores the way jeonghan inhales deeply and slowly through his nose. only joshua would be able to tell it’s the equivalent of him scream-giggling and kicking his feet when he’s trying to be discreet.

your eyebrows rise like you’re shocked joshua is capable of more than grunts and one-word replies.

“ditto,” you say plainly. joshua can’t help the immediate laugh that escapes his mouth at that, and he’s pleased when you smile for the first time since you met. “mina seems dumb. and not just because she and siwoo are ruining my life. you’re very handsome. and if you blocking me on instagram so fast is any indication, you seem very loyal too.”

you say it easily, as if giving out compliments like that is no big deal to you. maybe it isn’t, but even if that’s true, he’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.

unfortunately, that appreciation manifests in a fierce blush joshua feels spreading across his face like wildfire, much to his mortification. he doesn’t remember the last time he blushed like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush. it was probably when he was an actual pathetic schoolboy with a crush.

he clears his throat, choosing to ignore the compliment. “yeah, i guess we have the same, bad taste in dummies.”

you suddenly groan, throw your head back, and blink rapidly at the ceiling like you're trying your best not to cry. both men glance at each other and fidget awkwardly at the abrupt change of mood, neither of them being great at handling a crying woman. joshua has little to no experience with it and jeonghan tends to fall back on ill-timed jokes during times of distress.

"i followed him here months ago," you tell them unprompted. “i followed him here so many times because he was always so fucking sketchy. but his lie always involved ‘one of the guys,’ so i just thought his friend lived in that building.”

“and you found out this weekend…?” jeonghan asks carefully. joshua rubs the back of his neck nervously.

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before bringing your line of sight back to them. your eyes are glassy but your efforts to keep from crying were mostly successful.

“he lent me his laptop because mine stopped working,” you explain, rolling your eyes like having a broken laptop on top of all this is almost enough to send you over the edge. “his texts are connected on there too. i was at a cafe with a friend, and one of those verification texts came through. i ignored it but a few seconds later, it messaged again and i saw that he’d replied on his phone.”

“he told her it was safe to text,” joshua says, remembering the photos you sent.

“yeah…” you breathe, hugging yourself tightly and rubbing your arms as you try to self-soothe. “and i just sat there in front of my friends, watching him make plans with her in real time… brainstorm the lies they agreed to tell us… and i just had to pretend to be normal or else i would’ve burned that cafe to the ground.”

jeonghan coughs as he chokes on his chicken a little. joshua pats him on the back absentmindedly, eyes never leaving you, even as his best friend stretches across him, still coughing, to pour everyone a glass of beer. you sniffle as you accept your glass with a small nod, your body visibly relaxing as you take your first sip. he tries not to gawk when you down it all in one go.

joshua thinks this is probably what someone in love should look like when their heart has been broken: drunk and sad. now that the initial shock of seeing you in person has worn off, he can see how tired you really look. there are dark, bruising circles under your eyes, visible even under your makeup, and your hair looks like it was haphazardly put up into a ponytail to avoid having to wash or brush it. your eyes are tinged pink, a little swollen, and dull, like you’ve been crying all weekend. you have been crying all weekend.

and joshua? he’s asking himself why he hasn’t felt the urge to cry at all yet because right now, he could be the poster child for soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend who is going to be okay has been okay, is okay, and will always be okay. aside from his irritation with mina and her insane audacity, today is like any other day.

he’s never had his heart broken before this, but maybe it’s just different for guys. he read somewhere that men’s emotional intelligence develop a lot slower than women’s; maybe he just hasn’t reached a level of maturity you have.

“anyway,” you say as you stifle a tiny burp that makes jeonghan giggle for the nth time tonight, “i’m going to ruin his life.”

okay, so maybe maturity is the wrong word.

“wh…” joshua glances at jeonghan for confirmation he heard correctly.

his best friend’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he leans forward with impossibly even more interest in what the pretty lady across the table has to say. joshua would slap him if they were alone. what for, he doesn’t know, but he would.

“sorry, what was that?” he asks, trying not to sound judgmental at the risk of setting your anger off again.

“she’s going to ruin his life,” jeonghan answers for you giddily. “what are you going to do? i told joshua he should fill mina’s shampoo bottle with hair remover.”

that earns the two men another smile from you, but this time, joshua finds himself annoyed it was because of something jeonghan said.

“oh my god, that’s vile,” you say even though you’re grinning and obviously love the idea. “maybe i’ll add that as a little cherry on top for siwoo.”

“oh, he’ll be so ugly,” jeonghan claims like he’s already daydreaming about it.

“you don’t even know what he looks like,” joshua murmurs.

“i don’t need to,” he responds, smiling as he stares off into the distance. “a stupid motherfucker who can cheat on our lovely y/n, here, like that has to look like ass.”

you roll your eyes at the compliment but your cheeks turn a cute shade of pink anyway.

“well, making him bald will look like child’s play when i’m done with him,” you match jeonghan’s dreamy tone, and joshua feels a chill of fear from having the two of you at the same table crawl up his spine. why was he a magnet for agents of chaos?

“is that why you haven’t broken up?” he asks. “you’re scheming to ruin his life?”

you frown. “what makes you think we haven’t broken up?”

joshua shrugs. “maybe the fact that you followed him here and then shoved me and my best friend into next week to keep us from attracting any attention?”

jeonghan snickers and your cheeks turn a darker shade.

“ah, right.” you nod once. “sorry about that.” you don’t look sorry at all and joshua finds himself thinking it’s amusing. “i suppose that was a bit… rude.”

joshua hums like he’s contemplating your apology but he knows it’s clear he’s fighting a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.

you sigh. “anyway, yes. that’s why i’m still with him. he doesn’t even know i know. i’m trying to get my ducks in a row and figure out the most devastating way to leave him.”

jeonghan smirks. “my kind of girl.”

joshua’s foot finds his best friend’s and stomps on it as hard as he can without thinking twice about it. it almost shocks him—how much it felt like instinct—but after the day he’s had, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a tantrum. maybe this is how he is when his heart is broken. a little mean.

“ow, what the fu—”

“so what’s the plan?” joshua asks loudly when your eyes snap up to jeonghan mid-sip over the glass of your beer.

you lick your lips clean of foam before setting the glass down, and joshua forces himself to look away when he notices how plump and pink they are.

“well, to be honest… i haven’t been the smartest,” you admit, seeming timid for the first time since you barged into his DMs. it’s an odd look on you. “i—um. i kind of rely on him… financially.”

the explanation comes tumbling past your lips after that like you’re afraid the two of them are going to judge you if you allow even a second of silence to pass.

“i had a job! i had a great job! but siwoo’s a bit traditional, and he comes from a more conservative family that really buys into gender roles, and i mean, fuck that, right?”

you give them no chance to agree.

“i’m a feminist! i swear to god i’m a fucking feminist!” you’re practically shouting now and the two men are so stunned, they can’t bring themselves to notice or care that the other patrons of the restaurant are starting to look over. “but i was in love! and i thought i was going to marry this moron! so i convinced myself i wanted to stay home and i wanted to clean the house and take care of a man—”

you say the word with so much disgust, both joshua and jeonghan struggle to keep from laughing.

“—and he was so happy when i quit my job like he’s been asking me to, and i thought i was happy too, like, what woman doesn’t want to be taken care of by a rich man?!”

you pause to burp briefly but it still isn’t enough time for either of them to get a word in.

“though again, i was in love! i was looking at that shithead through rose-tinted glasses! he’s nothing but a spoiled mama’s boy with a rich family! that asshole doesn’t have to do anything for the wealth he has! so, like, really… what woman wants to be fake-taken-care-of by a 30-something-year-old mama’s boy?!”

the words come with even more disgust than “man.”

“and he had the nerve to act like he was better than me because i had to work for everything i had before him! like, dude. if your bank account is still connected to your fucking mom’s, lower your goddamn voice when speaking to me!”

his best friend’s mouth drops open in absolute joy-filled shock at your biting remark. he’s enjoying meeting someone as chaotic as he is too much.

“and what was it for?! empty promises that he would propose soon?! endless faked orgasms for a man who’s afraid to give a woman head?!”

jeonghan chokes again, this time on nothing. joshua has more decorum but he can’t help the way his face turns bright red.

“you’d swear i was harboring a monster down there the way he cringed at the mere mention of oral, like, what is he, 12?!”

joshua has to avert his eyes to the ceiling of the restaurant at the mention of your “monster,” and he can’t even get it together long enough to nudge jeonghan when he bursts into hysterical laughter. they might as well be nonexistent, though, because you keep barreling through your rant.

“i was on track to be a director before 30! i was a fucking star! and look what he made me!” you screech, words slurring.

it takes your slurred speech and yet another burp for joshua to realize with mild horror that the pitcher of beer is almost empty, and that he and jeonghan are still on their first glasses. he elbows his best friend, who’s still cackling, and motions at the pitcher. jeonghan sighs happily as the last of his laughter leaves him and mutters a quiet: holy shit, pretty aggretsuko can drink.

“he turned me into a housewife! and i remind you: I AM A FEMINIST!” you slam your palms against the table to each word to punctuate your point. joshua can see why you picked aggretsuko for your burner account. “i support a woman’s choice to be a housewife if that’s what she wants, but my dumb ass didn’t realize that this isn’t the life i wanted until this fucking weekend! god!” you groan miserably. “all of this heartache and for what?! he cheated on me and now i’m jobless and about to be homeless and completely broke, and i…”

you abruptly run out of steam, slumping in your seat and looking at your near-empty glass of beer pitifully. joshua has the urge to round the table and give you a hug, but he stays put, trying to process the whiplash of witnessing what he imagines is a mini “menty b.”

you take a few breaths before quietly saying, “i can’t believe this is what being in love got me.”

something violently lurches inside joshua’s chest when you say that.

“i can’t believe something that’s supposed to be as beautiful as love blinded me so badly.” your voice cracks. your eyes well with tears and this time, you make no move to stop them as they begin to streak your face. “how the hell can love hurt this much?”

joshua’s mouth falls open to say something—anything. any kind of comfort or kindness or advice. but no sound escapes his lips as he watches your heart break into tiny, little pieces in front of him.

he’ll look back at this moment and realize this was the first time his heart knew something before he, himself, did: what he had with mina wasn’t love—that he had actually never even been in love before. there’s no world where mina would ever have the kind of effect siwoo has on you on him, and there isn't anything mina can do that would make joshua scorn the concept of love because it's something he never even experienced with her in the first place.

but for now, all he can think is that, despite barely knowing you and despite being somewhat afraid of you, he has an insatiable want to fix this for you. he wants you to stop crying. he wants to see the rare smiles they were gifted tonight on your face once more. most of all, he wants to make the man who made you cry sorry for ever entering your life.

the words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about them.

“i’ll help you.” you immediately stop crying and look up at him with wide eyes. “i’ll help you ruin this idiot’s life. and when the two of us are through with him, i promise you he’ll be afraid to breathe within a 10-mile vicinity of you.”

joshua is surprised you haven’t already responded to tease him about his fickle typing bubbles because for the last ten minutes, he’s tried and stopped, tried and stopped (stopped, stopped, stopped) to find a response to your question that was not only honest with you, but with himself.

it’s not lost on him how unconcerned and unbothered he was with the repulsive and heinous death his relationship suffered last night. jeonghan made sure to point it out the entire way home, all while nearly choking him and stimming his socked, shoeless feet against his torso during his piggyback ride.

“so are we going to talk about the fact that you had zero reaction to mina having a guy up in her apartment?” jeonghan muttered not one minute after demanding joshua carry him home.

“we were in the presence of a stranger,” joshua grumbled, adjusting jeonghan higher on his back. “how should i have reacted?”

jeonghan hummed in thought. “i guess if it were me, i wouldn’t have really cared about strangers. i would’ve started with busting into her apartment and hoping you were present to keep me from committing second-degree murder. that’s a start, no?”

joshua sighed. “you’ve known me practically my entire life. i’ve never been like that.”

“i know.”

he said it in a resigned way, as if a visceral reaction was a healthy one and joshua was depriving himself. as if jeonghan wanted more for him—like he wanted him to cause a scene and make a fuss. the thought confused him but he stayed silent as his best friend continued.

“i kind of just… i don’t know, worry?”

joshua smiled. he could practically hear the wince on jeonghan’s face from having to be serious as he spoke.

“i lowkey expected a meltdown like y/n’s from you at my place. are you sure you’re okay? i feel like i’m waiting for the aftershock of an earthquake.”

“are you saying you think i’m emotionally repressed?” he asked, putting the pieces together and saying what jeonghan was dancing around.

“well, if you think that’s what i’m saying, who am i to argue with your interpretation of my words?”

he snickered. “i literally cried when you told me about that deep-sea anglerfish that swam to the surface of the ocean to see the sun before it died. i wouldn’t call myself emotionally repressed.”

“okay, repressed isn’t the right word,” jeonghan conceded. “it’s just—ugh, hold on.”

he suddenly started wriggling in his hold, obviously asking to be let down without vocalizing it. joshua squatted down to let him off his back, and before he could straighten all the way up, jeonghan had him by the shoulders and was turning him around almost violently.

“ungh!” joshua grunted as he came face-to-face with him.

“listen,” he said, capturing joshua’s face between his hands, forcing his wide, surprised eyes to meet jeonghan’s. “i��m going to ask you something seriously, and i want you to answer just as seriously, okay?”

joshua frowned. “okay…”

jeonghan nodded curtly once before speaking. “your girlfriend of over a year is cheating on you.”

“dude. i kn—”

“uh-uh, i’m speaking,” he deadpanned, tapping a finger against joshua’s temple.

he sighed. “okay, go on.”

“your girlfriend of over a year is cheating on you,” he repeated, this time slower and with more emphasis, as if it was something he was convinced joshua didn’t totally understand. “she went out of her way to sneak behind your back, and not only lie to—your—face!” he practically shouted. “but laugh about lying to your face with that scumbag asshole. and when you went over to break up with her, she was entertaining her side-piece in her apartment!”

joshua fidgeted under his hold. having it repeated like this did hurt him, and although he spent a lot of this time wondering why he wasn’t as affected as you were, he felt a little sad and lonely now, standing there being reminded that his relationship just imploded.

“in all of this,” jeonghan continued, “the most reaction i saw from you was some quiet cussing when we looked through y/n’s screenshots, and i know you’re capable of being upset.” he smirked. “anglerfish aside, i know that you can express emotion healthily. so…” he took a deep breath.

when he didn’t say anything for several seconds, obviously hesitating, joshua raised his eyebrows. “so…?”

jeonghan’s gaze flicked down to him from where he had been frowning at nothing above his head.

“so…” he inhaled slowly. “do you think you really… truly loved mina?”

he hadn’t been able to answer a barefoot jeonghan last night, and even after tossing and turning for hours and thinking of nothing else this morning, joshua finds that he still doesn’t have an answer.

if he measured love by how heartbroken someone was after it ended, he’d say you were (are?) madly in love with siwoo and he’s basically been in a committed friendship with mina—apparently a shitty one at that. but is that even the proper way to measure love? did the way he cared for mina for the past year count for nothing? a tender, aching hurt bloomed in his chest when jeonghan stopped him and forced him to look at his love life closely, and it has just grown since then. he doesn’t know if it’s telling him that love is more than the way it ends or if it’s telling him he’s been living life without it.

the jarring sound of his phone ringing interrupts his introspection, and he’s startled to find your contact on the incoming call. he quietly gets up from his desk and vacates his cubicle, where he has been neglecting his work to figure out a way to respond to you. he slips into one of the office’s private phone rooms and answers.

“hello…?” he rolls his eyes at how confused his sounds. smooth.

“you’re taking ages to reply,” you inform him, forgoing a normal greeting. “thought i’d call and see what has you so committed to sending me nothing but typing bubbles.”

joshua sighs harder than he needs to, sinking into the seat in the booth. “do you have nothing better to do than stare at my messages and wait for a reply?”

“no,” you scoff. “should i remind you i’m a stay-at-home girlfriend?” you spit the words out like you’re ashamed of them. he knows that you are and winces, silently chiding himself for the poorly timed joke. “i’m not doing anything for that cheater and his apartment while i have to continue living in this hellhole.”

“fair,” joshua says quickly. “sorry. forgot for a second.”

you snort. “it’s fine. what are you thinking about?”

“um, i’m at work, so… work?”

“no, dude, in regard to my question,” you remind him, laughing. he squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to groan. he knows he’s not doing a good job of convincing you that you don’t make him nervous. “why are you overthinking your answer so hard?”

“i’m not overthinking,” he mutters petulantly. “i’m just…”

“thinking overly hard?”

he hates that he cracks a smile at that. “fine, i might be overthinking.”

“oh! well, welcome to my page. i’m glad we’re now on the same one.” he can’t help but grin even wider at your apparently never-ending well of sarcasm. “so what are we overthinking about?”

we. you just met last night—barely agreed to help each other last night—and already, there’s a we. and already, joshua feels comfortable with the notion of that.

he shrugs even though you can’t see him. he slides down until his neck meets the curve of his seat and he stares at the ceiling as he speaks. “i was there to break up with her last night.”

you hum. “i remember. and you still want to.”

it’s more an observation than a question.

“well, i guess that’s what i’m overthinking about.”

“bro, i get it,” you say, shuffling around in what he assumes is your bed. he narrows his eyes at the word bro. “staying with your awful partner and pretending like everything’s okay when all you want to do is strangle him is certainly not for the weak.”

“okay well, thankfully, i don’t want to strangle mina.”

you laugh again and he suddenly wishes he’d gotten to see and hear you do that in person last night. “so what do you want to do to mina?” you ask as the sounds of you moving around the apartment come through the phone. “please don’t say nothing. i already feel like a horrible enough person as it is.”

the statement derails joshua’s train of thought. “why do you feel like a horrible person?”

“probably because i’m committed to doing whatever it takes to burn siwoo’s life to the ground instead of just breaking up with him and moving on like a normal, well-adjusted adult, and if you say ‘nothing,’ it will just remind me moving on is exactly what i’m supposed to be doing. and i don’t want to do that! not without fucking some lives up first!” you end your ramble with a grunt of frustration.

“i don’t think that makes you horrible,” joshua counters. “i think that just makes you… human? i feel like the normal reaction is to want to hurt someone as badly as they hurt you, right?”

at least from how joshua sees it, he thinks that’s probably the normal reaction. if jeonghan’s pressing questions say anything, it’s that his lack of reaction isn’t normal.

the sounds in the background pause like you’ve stopped to think about what he said. after a few moments, your only response is: “thanks.”

“i’m just being honest.”

“i know. thanks for saying it anyway,” you sigh as you continue to do whatever you were doing. “well?”

“well, what?”

“you haven’t answered my question.” you repeat it for him. “what do you want to do about mina?”

he groans, letting his eyes fall shut. “i want to break up with her and forget she happened.”

“do all men move on that fast?” you ask, sounding genuinely curious. “like, do you all just decide you don’t love someone anymore and move on after, like, a week?”

“i’m not moving on fast,” he argues, opening his eyes once more and sitting up. “i just want to give myself a chance to move on at all.”

“so mature of you,” you comment. something tells him you don’t believe that, though, and you prove him right with your next sentence. “or you just don’t love mina as much as you think you do.”

“what is with you guys and insisting i didn’t love my long-term girlfriend?” he complains.

“who’s ‘you guys’?” you sound too excited to realize more than one person in his life has made this observation about his relationship.

“nobody,” he practically hisses, not wanting to give you and jeonghan something to bond over and tease him about.

if he had his way, he’d probably make it so that you two never hung out again; your threatening energy as a duo honestly freaked him out a little and something about the way his best friend acted around you irritated him to no end. but he knows that helping you with siwoo will probably entail jeonghan butting in somewhere at some point.

“i loved mina, okay?” he insists, annoyed with the way he sounds like he’s trying to convince not only you but himself. “why do you even think otherwise?”

he doesn’t think he needs to point out that ultimately, you two don’t really know each other. you don’t have enough evidence to make such a massive assumption about him.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, “ugh.” he hears something clink against what sounds like porcelain. “i guess i’m having a hard time knowing that i’m devolving into this… child who’s having a world-war-sized tantrum, but someone who’s going through the same, exact thing i am is able to handle his emotions maturely... and gracefully… and just walk away. you’re so level-headed. meanwhile, i feel like my anger is consuming me.”

he rolls his lips over his teeth and bites, like that will help him from saying something too intimate to someone who’s still virtually a stranger. he suddenly feels sad for you again. it shoves away the newly formed pain in his chest that jeonghan forced there last night and burrows deep in his ribs the same way it did when he was watching you sob over fried chicken and beer.

“it’s kind of funny,” he starts, his voice soft and hesitant. “i thought something was wrong with me for not reacting the way you were.”

“nothing’s wrong with you,” you assure him. “sorry, i know me joking that you didn’t love mina probably makes you feel that way. i’m just trying to find an excuse for why you’re doing this so well and i’m… not. guess it’s easier to tell myself you’re moving on so fast because you didn’t love her in the first place.”

“you know,” joshua starts making his own observation as he thinks about the way you apologized for projecting your feelings about siwoo on him last night, “you’re super self-aware.”

“pfft, well as my therapist would point out, what good does that do if i’m aware i’m being self-destructive and i do it anyway?”

he smiles. “does that make me an accomplice to your self-destruction?”

“of course. you’re still willing to help with project destroy-siwoo-and-maybe-y/n-in-the-process, though, right?”

he grins wider. “of course,” he parrots before getting serious again. “but hey, i’m definitely not a good bar to set yourself against when it comes to break-ups. i’ve had too many to be someone you want to compare yourself to. you’re not not doing well.” he frowns at himself. super eloquent, joshua. “i think you’re handling this as best as you can. plus, i’m not going to pretend like siwoo doesn’t deserve everything that’s coming to him.”

you giggle like the thought of siwoo’s life crashing to the ground excites you. he knows it does. “okay, well if you’re committed to enabling me, i’m not going to make you stop.” joshua laughs loudly at that and you join in. “you have a nice laugh,” you tell him once you both stop.

“yah,” he whines. “are you always so bold?”

“didn’t we already establish that i am? what’s the big deal, anyway? i think we should all compliment each other more. it balances out my devotion to rage and revenge.”

he shakes his head, smiling once more. his cheeks are beginning to hurt. “fine. i’ll try to get used to it.”

“good!” you chirp as he hears more clinking in the background.

“what are you doing, by the way?”

“uh, i’ll tell you later,” you give him a non-answer before quickly directing his attention elsewhere. “so are we leaving mina out of this? should i just let you move on and grieve however emotionally healthy people grieve and tear up the mina section of my revenge plans?”

he snorts. “wow, okay, i need to stop letting your antics surprise me.”

“i agree. it’ll make this friendship easier for you.”

“i’ll bite. what’s in the mina section?”

“oh, nothing huge yet since i know nothing about her. i have jeonghan’s brilliant hair remover bit in there though.”

joshua glares at the wall across from him. he agrees that jeonghan is generally brilliant but he’s irked to hear you say it anyway. “right.”

“mhm,” you hum.

“well,” joshua sighs, knowing that after several minutes on the phone with you, he has yet to give you an answer and he should really get back to work. “i guess that’s what makes the most sense for me. tearing up the mina section of the plan.”

honestly, nothing really sounds better to him than getting her out of his hair.

“okay,” you agree quickly. “i can’t lie, i’m a bit disappointed because the scorned woman in me of course also wants to ruin mina’s life, but you’re the boss.”

he has no idea why he’s the boss when this is all your master plan, but he appreciates the grace you give him. he knows it’s probably not easy for you to redirect your disdain for mina and refrain from including her in your mission to ruin lives. well, life—one life: siwoo’s.

“at least i can keep my girl’s girl reputation in tact.”

he smiles at your priorities: 1. ruin siwoo’s life 2. remain a girl’s girl.

“exacting revenge on mina would do nothing to your girl’s girl reputation,” he assures you. “she’s the one who isn’t being a girl’s girl. she’s the asshole here.”

“oooh,” you sing, very clearly delighted, “joshie’s getting mad!”

he’s glad you’re not here to see him blush for no reason. when he’s too flustered to respond, you chuckle.

“i guess we don’t really need to go after mina, anyway, huh? you’re probably just as angry at siwoo for stealing her away too,” she thinks aloud.

he stills.

joshua is a little embarrassed to admit he didn’t even consider that. he’s typically a proud man—humble and grounded, but he takes pride in himself nonetheless. is it weird that he didn’t think twice about the fact that siwoo disrespected him and his relationship by pursuing mina? up until now, his anger was mostly feeding off of your sadness.

“joshua?”

“uh, yeah,” he stammers. “yeah. siwoo’s enough.”

“figured. we’ll make him pay real good for the both of us then.”

joshua nervously squirms in his seat. “yup. well, i should get back to work,” he says awkwardly. if you notice, you don’t point it out for once. “let me know what we should do next whenever you’re ready.”

he can practically hear the smile in your voice. “okay, and you let me know how breaking up with mina goes.”

if he had his wits about him, he'd probably give you shit for sounding so happy about the looming end, but he doesn't. so all he does say is:

“bye, y/n.”

“later!”

just a few moments later, he’s back in his cubicle when another text from you comes in.

he wasn’t scared, just like he wasn’t annoyed that you ate like you were discovering food for the first time. the right word didn't come to him until he was almost done with the report he had been working on before you texted: he was charmed.

a/n: thanks for waiting! hope you liked it! as you can probably tell, this is already way longer than i planned on it being so i’m not entirely sure how many parts this will be, but it’s my priority fic rn so i’ll work hard on updates! for now, keep reading to see a teaser for the next part! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

if you’d like to be added to the tag list, comment here or send me an ask! if you requested to be on the list but weren’t tagged in this post or the reblog, it’s bc you don’t have an age indicator on your page. pls add that if you want to be tagged next time.

part two teaser

and when he felt a little better in his own skin and ready to put a “realer” version of himself out there, he met mina. mina, his longest relationship, and up until now, someone he was convinced was his first love. he said as much anyway. he was the first to tell her he loved her, he reminded her he did every day, and he thought they had a nice, long future ahead of them. what he pictured in that future exactly, he had no clue. but after an odd and somewhat unlucky streak in dating, he finally felt like mina was a nice and comfy place to land.

he’s never been more wrong about something in his entire life.

and after the laughable amount of breakups he’s experienced, he’s also never been angrier after the end of a relationship in his entire life.

mina was proving to be a lot of firsts for him—first cheater, first master manipulator and liar, first person who’s ever made him wonder if he could possibly switch over to dating men instead… or simply stop dating at all! sure, he would die alone but he would die in peace.

whatever the case, he's quickly approaching the conclusion that “first love” is not among those firsts, and it probably never was. no amount of teasing from you or jeonghan did it, but in less than a handful of minutes spent breaking up with mina, he is a million percent sure this was not someone he could have loved. or else what did that say about him and his taste?

sixteen minutes earlier

joshua arrives at mina’s apartment exactly two hours after work ends for her—5 p.m. every day because she always scheduled a pilates class at 5:30 p.m. thirty minutes for her to get to her class, one hour for her to finish it, 30 minutes for her to get home, zero minutes for her to get clean because he doesn’t care how presentable she is when he dumps her.

plus, however long it takes joshua to end this.

he hadn’t bothered to tell her he was coming over; he didn’t think she really deserved that courtesy. he may be intent on a clean break, but he also wanted this to be as annoying for her as it has been for him.

so at a prompt 7 p.m., joshua finds himself casually leaning against the elevator’s railing, ascending the floors of mina’s apartment and feeling almost excited to be free of this experience.

after he got off the phone with you, he decided he would bite the bullet when work was over. he spent the rest of his day absentmindedly finishing his reports, periodically stopping to scribble an idea for what he would say to his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

he takes the folded piece of paper out of his pocket now and runs over his options again.

his levels of shame and self-pity were sky high when he first pulled out his notepad at the office to write his thoughts out, but after texting you and letting you know what he planned to do, you insisted on meeting at a cafe beforehand to brainstorm together while he waited for mina’s pilates class to end. and once you both workshopped the entire list, his embarrassment diminished almost completely.

it was clear you took this a lot more seriously than he did. he doesn't know what he expected; you probably have a manila folder stuffed full of notes for what you plan to do to siwoo.

as such, you were very helpful. sure, you were also really distracting, with your subtle, spiced perfume he recognized as lola james harper, and your daunting and unrelenting eye contact, and the way your eyes smiled all on their own when they weren’t busy crying over siwoo, and the fact that you graced him with your laugh in person for the first time (every bit as fun as he thought it would be), and everything else that came with just existing in your presence.

all of it was really distracting—almost to the point of it being entirely counterproductive for him. almost, if it weren’t for the fact that you were so determined on his behalf to make this the most unpleasant experience for mina. he was mostly pleased with where you two landed, and if anything, he at least had a better idea of what he wanted to say. he reads the completely ruined paper, a mess of his black ink and wrinkles where you kept trying to grab the paper out of his hands. it was already a vulnerable enough occasion talking about this with you; he did not need you seeing his notes on top of it.

TALKING POINTS FOR BREAKING UP WITH EVIL GF i know you’ve been cheating on me, and don’t try to deny it because someone sent me proof! — cannot say this without exposing that y/n knows about siwoo!!! i know you’ve been cheating on me, and don’t try to deny it because i went through your phone and saw your text messages! — better, but am i willing to look crazy just to cover for y/n? yes what am i saying NO this will do ✓ how could you do this to us, mina? i loved you! — seems disingenuous? note: yell at jeonghan and y/n for putting ideas in my head later! i literally gave you everything you could’ve wanted, and that still wasn’t enough? what does any other man have that i don’t? — ok met with y/n for feedback. she says this sounds pathetic and that i can't let her think this has affected me. but she cheated on me? this LITERALLY affects me. i will come back to this one ok y/n made a different, better point: i am perfect and i should not present myself as lacking. so true. she's very good at this! do you really think anyone with half a fucking brain cell who's willing to homewreck a relationship is really going to give enough of a fuck about you to be capable of putting up with your insufferable ass and treating you as well as i did? — y/n suggested this one. had to workshop bc she's alarmingly vulgar. plus, it sounds a little toxic to say i "put up" with mina ??? not sure do you even regret hurting me? — y/n says this is silly bc siwoo and mina obviously do not regret anything, but i told her i do want mina to feel guilty even if i'm not sure that i'm all that hurt. she now agrees and says i should add: "or are you just so heartless you don't care?" she said this more colorfully, but i will remain respectful why should i remain respectful? mina is literally the most disrespectful person i have ever met. i will say what y/n suggested: ↳ my bad, i forgot your commitment to being a heartless fucking asshole has you by your ugly ass neck and it's squeezing with both hands and i hope it kills you GET HELP! — more for catharsis. will not be yelling this at her you're going to regret this and if you think there's a world where i take you back when you do, you're mistaken — wow, no notes from y/n! must be very good. definitely say this one!! please never contact me again — note from y/n: "why are you being so goddamn polite? tell her to fuck off and if you ever see her number on your phone screen, you'll set up an appointment on her behalf to get a lobotomy." ????? note from ME: have a serious discussion with y/n at a later time about why i, a MAN, can't just talk to WOMEN like this!

tag list: @coupsma @tokitosun @nothingbutadeadesceane @ateez-atiny380 @minghaofied @reiofsuns2001 @turtash @https-seishu @gaslysainz @dawn-iscozy @mrsjohnnysuh @sunnysidesins @thepoopdokyeomtouched @faizaa09 @hearts4itoshi @iamdkayyyyy @randojeon @iwannakisspoutycheol @youre-on-your-ownkid @justanotherkpopstanlol @sanaxo-o @seokqt @bath1lda @ilouvwonwoo @littlemisshyperfixation @mxelatrix-x @papichulomacy @o-schist @sumzysworld @alyssa19123456

#svthub #joshua x reader #joshua x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #joshua x y/n #joshua hong #joshua hong x reader #seventeen smau #svt smau #{ 📝 } → joshujin fic

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prythianpages · 3 days ago

Text

Come Back To Me | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader ft Azriel | Experiencing some pregnancy complications, Azriel is left with no choice but to seek out Eris for help.

a/n: This is pt 10 and a little under 4.5K words. It's nearly 1am where I live but I couldn't help myself & needed to finish this lol.

warnings: angst, reader is pregnant, mentions of high risk pregnancy, things get a little tense between Eris and Az

Shadows clouded around Eris, blurring his vision and muffling his hearing. Even his keen sense of smell was dulled as Azriel’s shadows coiled around him further. It infuriated him—the lengths the shadowsinger was going to protect your location from him. Your mate.

Azriel had made certain there would be no trail for Eris to follow after this. Not scent, not sound. Not even magic as Azriel had forced him into a bargain, the ink etched onto his arm fresh and burning. Azriel would bring him to you to aid in your situation, but only under strict conditions: Eris would remain only for as long as Azriel allowed and under no circumstance would he be permitted to take you back with him.

Two of the shadows bound themselves around his wrists like shackles, pulsing faintly. As if the bargain was not enough for Azriel. It didn’t matter. His shadows were not enough to suppress the power simmering just beneath his skin. Eris could have fought against the makeshift shackles, easily burning the dark tendrils away. He didn’t though. If the shadows hadn’t picked up on it, he knew it was smarter to let Azriel think they could actually suppress his power.

When the shadows blinding his sight finally lifted from his eyes, Eris found himself standing in a hallway. The first thing he saw was an older fae woman approaching. She wore plain robes, the symbol of a healer embroidered in silver thread on her sleeve. Her gaze landed on Azriel first, the two of them exchanging a look.

Eris’s patience frayed with each second of silence. Azriel had told him almost nothing—only that it urgently concerned you and the baby. And his mind had done the rest, conjuring horrors, each one worse than the last.

“Where is she?”

The healer didn’t flinch. She must have heard that tone countless times in her line of work. Her eyes swept over him, calm and assessing. “You must be the father,” she replied simply.

The word hit him like a blow. Father. He was going to be a father. A title he didn’t think he would acquire so soon. Though, this wasn’t the reason why he hesitated to answer.

It was what him claiming that title meant.

To say the words out loud was to admit a truth that carried weight and danger. It meant putting you and the baby in the crosshairs of enemies who would use them against him. He could only put his trust in Azriel to have picked a discreet and trustworthy healer, even though the paranoia in him was screaming not to trust anyone.

There were very few people Eris trusted and Azriel was not one of them. Not even close. But the way Azriel had held you before he took you away, the unquestionable look in his eyes when he showed up in Autumn to bear the bad news…had the Shadowsinger fallen for you?

Eris couldn’t blame him. You were a precious gem. One he failed to treasure and hold onto as he should’ve. Not because he stopped caring but because he found himself caring too damn much.

And now, he has lost you.

Or as he would rather say, he was losing you. He only had himself to blame, realizing the grave mistake he had made. He would never forgive himself for this, for the way he broke you. He’d give anything to go back, to have been brave enough to say those three words back.

The past was done, and now, he had to fight as he was not ready to admit defeat quite yet. Because even if he’d already shattered whatever future you might’ve had, he had to keep trying with all his might. You meant too much for him not to fight for you back. Especially when the one he was fighting against was Azriel—that Illyrian bastard.

He could lose you and he would have to live with that, if it’s what you wanted. But Eris could not lose you to him.

“I am,” he finally said quietly. He felt as though his throat was closing. His tone was much less demanding when he spoke next. “Who are you?”

The older woman’s lips curved slightly in a polite greeting. “I’m the healer tending to y/n,” she confirmed. “You can call me Madja.”

His eyes flicked to Azriel, who he had no qualms on restraining his emotion on. So he directed all his anger and frustration to the shadowsinger instead. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

It was Madja who answered, her tone somewhat somber. “Come and see for yourself.”

She moved to the door, painfully slow, and Eris nearly shoved it open himself. His chest ached, heart thudding as he stepped into the room.

The sight stole the breath from his lungs.

The room was warm—too warm— and it seemed, all the heat was coming from you. You were submerged in a porcelain bath that stood out like a sore thumb in the room. Barely conscious, your head rested on a pillow cradled in the lap of a woman, who looked similar in appearance to Azriel.

“‘S’hot…” you murmured, moaning in discomfort.

Eris took a step forward instinctively. The shadows binding his wrists tightened. His stomach twisted as he looked you over. Your skin was flushed and your breathing shallow. You didn’t look good, you looked….

He didn’t let himself finish that thought.

The woman behind you lifted a bucket, pouring ice into the tub. He watched as your body slackened with relief and despite the warning of the shadows, he took another step toward you.

That’s when he saw it.

It wasn't the clearest view, the rippling of water and ice blurring your body. But there was no denying the mottled, angry marks that were spread across your stomach. You were hurt…and the baby…?

“Your fire gremlin is burning her from the inside,” Azriel snarled, venom lacing each word.

“Azriel!” The woman at your side immediately reprimanded.

Eris’s vision tunneled and flames erupted at his fingertips. The shadows at his wrists let out a sharp hiss, immediately fluttering back to their master. So much for pretending. That bastard—that bastard—had the audacity to call his child a gremlin?

Eris’s head turned, amber eyes blazing as they locked onto the shadowsinger.

But Azriel didn’t flinch as the shadows around his wrist had. If anything, he took a step closer toward Eris. There was a challenge in his stance, his wings flaring just enough.

Madja stepped between them, diffusing the spark before it could become a wildfire. “At first, I thought it was a fever. I tried everything I could think of. The ice baths help… but only temporarily,” her voice was tired, her gaze lowering to Eris’s burning hand. “It seems your child has inherited the fire in your blood. Y/N is being burned from within.”

Burned. By their child.

Eris’s eyes hadn’t moved at all from Azriel’s. “How long?”

Azriel hesitated, and that hesitation said more than words ever could. His normally unreadable expression cracked, guilt seeping through the breaks. “Three days.”

Three days. Eris’s rage detonated. Three fucking days. Fire burst from his hands now, licking up his forearms in spiraling flares of molten gold and red.

“You waited that long to come for me?”

Azriel’s guilt twisted swiftly into fury. His eyes darkened as he took another step forward. The two males were no more than a foot apart. “Can you blame me?” he shot back, not wincing when he could feel the dangerous heat radiating off of Eris. “All you’ve ever done is hurt her. She’s like this because of you!”

Flames surged higher around Eris while Azriel’s shadows swarmed in a frenzied storm, like a furious hive on the brink of breaking loose. The room quaked beneath the weight of barely restrained power.

“Well, it doesn’t matter who did and didn’t do what,” Madja cut through, once again diffusing the tension. “The damage is being done as we speak. Y/n is in pain and though I’ve been giving her sedatives to ease it, I don’t know how much longer her body can endure this.”

Eris’s flames went out immediately. His heart squeezed so tightly it ached. That’s why he couldn’t feel you through the bond—why your side of it had gone so still. You’d learned how to shut him out but he felt you every now and then. When your emotions were too much to bear on your own, the bond would crack open just enough. You may or may not have known it but he felt those emotions with you.

“And the baby?” Eris asked, voice barely more than a rasp.

“Restless,” Madja said grimly. “But alive for now. If we can’t find a solution, I fear the child’s life will be in danger. Y/n’s body can no longer safely support the child’s growth.”

Eris swallowed. His gaze turned to you. His mate. The one he had pushed away, trying to protect you from the dangerous politics of his court. He had thought distancing himself would save you.

Instead, all it had done was hurt you. And now, it is killing you.

His thoughts raced back to his mother. To her pregnancies, the sleepless nights she had, the ice baths to keep her from overheating. But his mother had come from a family born of fire. Just like his father. Just like him.

You were not.

This child growing inside you was made of the same flame and now threatening to consume you.

His hand trembled at his side, helplessness threatening to take hold. A feeling he absolutely hated. Until a thought struck him. A memory. A possibility. Maybe, just maybe...

“I think I know how to help,” he breathed.

Eris crossed the last of the distance between you, dropping to his knees beside the tub. One hand clutched the porcelain edge with white-knuckled desperation, while the other reached for you. Your skin was searing to the touch. Too hot–far too hot. And terrifyingly wrong, because your skin had always been much cooler beneath his touch. Always.

You whimpered, wincing away from his touch.

Azriel stepped forward then, his shadows slithering like wild snakes across the floor. “What are you doing—”

“Don’t.” The word was sharp, near feral, spoken through clenched teeth. Eris’s eyes did not leave you. Fumes released from his body, providing a barrier between him and Azriel’s shadows. A warning.

The woman beside you must’ve sensed something in Eris’s gaze. Perhaps, it was his desperation or his determination. She gave him a small nod, shifting her legs and adjusting your head carefully. “Tell me what to do.”

“Just hold her still.”

He tried again, brushing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. You winced—again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered with a small frown.

He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for anymore. For letting you go? For not being here sooner? For giving you a child that was hurting you?

He drew a shaky breath, lifting his hand from your face. He conjured a flame onto his palm. It shimmered and twisted until it gathered into a single, pulsing orb of bright red magic. A kernel of his power. He stared at the orb for a second, sending a prayer to the Cauldron, to the Mother, to anyone or anything that would listen. That this time, he could do something right by you.

Then, he released it. The orb floated from his hand and moved toward you. It hovered above your chest and then, slowly sank into your skin.

There was a stillness. A moment when even Azriel’s shadows held their breath.

Then, you exhaled. A soft, low sigh. Your brows unfurrowed, expression smoothing out. The burn marks on your stomach dulled. The fevered flush began to fade from your cheeks. And finally, the ice in the bath stopped melting so quickly.

Eris felt the bond stir.

You were there on the other side again.

He bowed his head, overcome with relief. A ragged breath left him, silently thanking all entities who heard his prayer. It worked. It had actually worked.

He hadn’t been sure it would. He’d only ever seen something similar like this once. Under the mountain, when his father had given a spark of life to Feyre after she had saved them all. Eris had only hoped that by sharing a kernel of his own power with you, it might do the same. Might change your body, mold it to help carry the fireborn child.

Eris had seen people burn from the inside out before. His own fire could be a gift or a curse depending on how it was wielded. He had never feared it, never hated it. Until now.

Guilt clawed further into his chest. It seemed never-ending at this point. All he seemed to do was bring you pain—trouble after trouble. It’s not like he planned for this. Becoming a father wasn’t something he expected at all. Not now, not yet. And certainly not like this.

None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to hate him, to move on. He thought if he was cruel enough, you'd leave and eventually, you’d forget him. You’d go live the life you wanted. The one he couldn’t give you. You’d live free from the curse of loving a man like him.

Eris had never intended for you to carry this burden alone. He had intended to be the only one suffering.

But this fire had already taken root, whether either of you were ready for it or not.

Parenthood was no longer a distant concept. It was here, knocking at his door, demanding to be faced. With it, came fear. For you. How could something so small and unborn already wield such power? How could he not have seen this coming?

He remembered his mother having similar troubles but it wasn’t until her last month of pregnancy that they arose. You couldn’t be that far along. He would’ve definitely noticed then as he could pick up on the shift in your scent now.

Had he known the risks you’d undergo, he would’ve done this for you the moment he found out you were pregnant. Without hesitation, without question. He would’ve handed over every last ember of his power, if it meant you wouldn’t suffer.

Madja was at your side, her hand moving across your fevered skin. First your forehead, then your chest, and finally, she dipped her hand beneath the water to feel your stomach. A look of relief crossed her face as she nodded her head.

“The fever is broken. She seems to be stabilizing now.”

“Thank the Mother,” the woman, still holding you, breathed.

Eris didn’t need Madja to know you were feeling better. He could feel it, the bond awake once more. Your breathing grew more steady. Exhaustion now took over your features, body slumping further against the woman.

“Let’s get her out and dressed,” Madja instructed the other woman.

Eris immediately stood on his feet, ready to help.

Madja stopped him. “We can take it from here.”

Eris told himself to not get upset. It’s clear she meant no harm from it. Though Eris has seen you countless of times, he realized that if you were fully conscious, you may not have wanted him to help you dress. So he took a step back and averted his gaze, letting them help you instead.

His eyes found the shadowsinger’s wings. Azriel, wanting to also protect your decency, had turned his back, facing the wall. Eris’s ears were attentive to the movement behind him. He listened as the women behind him moved and dressed you, bringing you to bed.

One of his fists clenched in unease when he finally heard you speak, your voice a faint murmur.

“My baby…is…okay…?”

“Yes, your baby is okay,” he heard Madja comfort you.

“Good,” you breathed. “M’tired…so, so tired…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he heard the other woman, whose name he still hadn’t bothered to ask for. He should, considering how caring and attentive she’s been to you. “You can rest all you need to.”

A strangled noise came from you, a cry from exhaustion.

Eris hadn’t meant to look. His chest flared with protectiveness at the distressing sound you made, his body moving on instinct. His eyes flicked over his shoulder—just for a second—and they widened.

Your undergarments were in place, the women working together to slip a sleeping gown over your body. It wasn’t the sight of your skin that had his eyes widening. it was what had changed.

He knew your body like the back of his hand, had memorized every inch of it with his eyes and lips. He knew it well enough to immediately pick up on the changes. Your hips had widened and stomach rounded, all to accommodate the baby growing inside you. His baby.

The awe that pierced through him was drowned quickly by guilt as the women blocked his view, settling you further onto the bed. When they drew back from you, he was comforted by the peace slowly easing onto your face. The Illyrian woman smiled down at you as she brushed your hair back.

“I’m going to finish some tonics that she can use to build up her strength again.” Madja said before walking out of the room.

“It’s time for you to go.” Azriel finally spoke, addressing Eris. “There’s no need for you to be here anymore.”

Eris’s body tensed, that anger from earlier flaring back up. He forced his gaze away from you, though it felt like tearing flesh from bone, and turned slowly to face the shadowsinger. “She needs me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she doesn’t want you.”

Eris winced, as if he had been struck. The blow landed deep. He didn’t know if it was true and that was the worst part.

Though, it didn’t matter if you wanted him or not. What if another complication arose? The power he gave you was a sliver of his but one you never wielded before. He had centuries of mastery while you had none. If something happened, he could help you. Not Azriel. Him.

And what of the baby? Who would be there to guide them once they were of age? Or if they started manifesting them much sooner as it already was proving to be?

“She’s carrying my child. They need me. She can’t go through this alone.”

“They’re not alone,” Azriel said sharply, stepping forward. His shadows were stirring behind him, emphasizing the bright pulsing of his blue siphons. “They have me.”

Eris laughed bitterly. A sound with no humor—just disbelief and hidden pain. “You?” His lip curled. “You expect me to trust you? You knew what was happening and still—still—you waited three days to come find me.”

Azriel’s wings twitched, whether in irritation or restraint, Eris couldn’t tell. But the room suddenly felt smaller. Like it might close in under the pressure of their magic. The two males stood nearly toe-to-toe, just as they had before.

“Because you broke her trust,” Azriel shot back, his shadows coiling tighter, like leashed beasts waiting for the order to strike. “And I don’t trust you. Never did and never will. You always have a selfish motive for everything.”

Eris’s nostrils flared, pure jealousy flaring beneath his skin now. “And when exactly did you earn her trust, shadowsinger?”

“Enough, the both of you!” the Illyrian woman snapped, stepping between them with a might of her own. She winced as the bed behind her rustled, you stirring in bed. “If you are going to fight, then do it outside."

Neither male moved at first.

They simply stared at one another. Hate and grief and guilt writ in every tense breath between them. Then, finally, Eris stepped back, muttering a curt “sorry” to the woman. The flames in his hands flickered out, though the heat in his eyes remained.

“Eris.”

It was you calling to him.

Azriel blinked, taken aback, and a small, unexpected victory pulsed through Eris’s veins.

Azriel reluctantly stepped back, his shadows retreating with him. Still, they lingered close and Eris swore they had eyes of their own as he could feel them staring him down.

“She's been through enough," the woman said with a sigh, her gaze lingering on Eris, as if she were assessing him. She turned to Azriel. “She’ll probably wake up hungry, poor thing hasn’t eaten much either. Won’t you help me prepare something?”

Though it’s phrased as a question, there’s an underlying demand in her tone. One Eris can’t help but feel grateful for.

“Sure,” Azriel replied after a brief pause, his voice taut. He turned to follow, but not before glancing back. “Five minutes,” he said over his shoulder.

Eris’s eyes caught the clutter on your nightstand as he approached your bed. For a moment, he froze. The letters–his letters– were stacked unevenly, some edges bent from being reopened too many times. There were small things, too. The other gifts he had sent.

None of his letters have been returned and it appeared that the gifts he had sent were unused.

But they were here. They’d at least been opened and kept. Not thrown away as he feared.

The smallest sliver of hope pushed into the cracks of his chest. Perhaps, there was still a chance. You hadn’t shut him out entirely. He exhaled slowly and then, finally, he turned back to you.

The bed dipped slightly as Eris sat on the edge, and for a moment, he just looked at you. The fever had dropped but it left behind a sickly sheen of exhaustion. Reaching out, his hand hovered over your face. There was a moment of hesitation before he gently lowered his hand to rest against your cheek. You were no longer searing to the touch, just slightly cooler in comparison to him now.

You didn’t flinch like before. Instead, you leaned into his touch and the movement stole the breath from his lungs. His lips parted, a tremor of a smile tugging at one corner.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted downward to the gown draped across your body. He could see the small curve of your stomach beneath it and it made his chest tighten.

There. Right there. Life–Life the two you had created.

His hand moved from your face to rest lightly on your bump. His touch was featherlight like he feared even pressure might hurt you further. The contact was both grounding and devastating. He really wished things didn’t have to be this way.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself whispering again. He was full of so much regret and so much yearning.

“Eris,” you rasped, your lashes fluttering faintly. “Is it really you?”

Eris knows it must be the exhaustion. He can see you fighting it, struggling with the weight it pressed upon your eyelids. The hand that had been resting over your stomach drifted lower to reach for your own hand. “Yes,” he replied. His hand tightened around yours, bringing it to rest over his heart. “I’m here.”

You hummed softly, your fingers twitching in his grasp. He watched you, observing every shift of your expression, every flutter of your lashes as if it were some fragile miracle. The tears he’d been holding back finally slipped free, tracking down his cheeks in silence.

“When Azriel came for me, I thought the worst. I thought I was protecting you by pushing you away. I thought…” He trailed off, swallowing hard and struggling with his words.

He gave you space to respond, though he knew better than to expect it. He wondered if the exhaustion won, sleep finally taking over you. Good, he thought. You probably haven’t been able to properly rest these past couple of days.

Your breathing remained steady and no more words from you followed. Just the soft rhythm of your body. He could hear your heartbeat and he swore he could hear the baby’s too. It was quiet but quicker. A ticking sound, almost.

Before you, he hadn’t believed himself capable of feeling for someone this deeply. But you—you had carved out a place in his heart, built a home there, even when he tried to board it shut. And now, there was someone else nestled in that space too. Someone so small and unseen but already adored with an intensity that terrified him.

The bond between you stirred faintly, dulled by your fatigue. Maybe you wouldn’t remember this. Maybe it would all fade into your dreams. It didn’t matter. He had to say it anyway.

“I’m going to fix this,” he whispered, pressing your hand to his lips. “I swear it. Even if you never forgive me... I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting for and protecting you. The both of you.”

Eris closed his eyes, forehead resting briefly against your joined hands. And then, with a tremble in his chest, he said the three words that had haunted him since the day you spoke them first. The three words he had felt long before you ever gave them breath. The ones he had buried beneath fear and duty and pride.

“I love you.”

It left him in a broken whisper. A confession and a promise all in one. He only hoped he’d get the chance to say them to you when you were awake. He wanted to sit here with you, holding your hand as he waited for you to wake up. He didn’t want to leave. How could he, when everything that made his life worth anything was here in this room?

The tattoo on his arm from the bargain with Azriel flared, as if sensing where his thoughts had headed. It pulsed against his skin like a second heartbeat and it was followed by a knock at the door. Azriel must’ve felt it too.

Eris looked at you one last time, his gaze trailing over your face. Then down to the bump beneath the thin gown, where your hand now rested. You looked at ease now and it made it even harder for him to leave when all he wanted was to curl up beside you. His legs felt heavy, as though the weight of what he was walking away from had rooted him in place.

He burned the image of you into his mind before he forced himself to stand. He didn’t know how, didn’t know when. He just knew he would find his way back to you. Even if he had to bleed for every step back to you.

And then, he walked away, closing the door softly behind him. He didn’t hear the faint words that left your lips moments later, voice cracked and barely there.

“Don’t go.”

a/n: Hope you enjoyed this part! <3 In my head, iI have a little HC that f Eris and reader had consummated the bond, this pregnancy wouldn't have turned high risk so early. I have 2-3 more parts planned but I'm going to take a small break from them so I could write little drabbles/scenes in between them. Basically, it would be scenes I couldn't figure out how to incorporate into the next parts but still wanted to write out.

Help me pick what to focus on here.

If there's anything you'd like to read, let me know! I'm open to suggestions and also love hearing your thoughts.

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@elisha-chloe, @cwallace02sblog, @randomramblesfanfiction, @moonlitlavenders, @booksnwriting

@sunny1616, @holb32, @gamarancianne, @daemyratwst, @ratgirl2020 @balufy

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #eris angst #the mark eris left behind

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witchywithwhiskey · 2 days ago

Text

safe harbor

pairing: dr. jack abbot x day shift resident!female reader

summary: you've been pining for the night shift attending dr. jack abbot ever since you started at the hospital, and when you wake up in his bed—alone—after having too many drinks in the park after a particularly bad shift, you finally do something about it.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), unspecified age gap, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, come marking, hand job, pussy job, dry humping/thigh riding, big dick/tough fit, tit play/nipple sucking, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, pet names (angel), begging, teasing, aftercare, cuddling and snuggling, drinking and drunkenness (nothing happens while reader is drunk), mutual pining. this fic is inspired by the scene of the doctors and nurses drinking in the park after work in the pitt season 1 finale, but it could take place after any rough shift.

word count: 8.3k

a/n: here's my entry for the a doctor a day writing challenge!! thank you to @letsgobarbs, @ananonymousaffair and @clubsoft for hosting this event!! my prompt was "You are my heaven, my obsession, my prayer and bliss." and my color was orange—and i'm really happy with how this turned out!! technically this is my first proper jack abbot fic (though i'm sure it won't be the last), so i hope y'all enjoy ♡♡♡

The soft orange light of a spring sunrise filtered into the room behind your eyelids, and for one hazy, wonderful moment, you drifted in the contentment that only comes from the liminal space between sleeping and waking. You were ensconced in warm blankets and the smell of earth and sunshine, and you wanted to live in that moment as long as possible.

Then, an almost gentle throbbing began behind your temple, a headache blooming to life as you slipped further into waking. Unbidden, memories from the night before flooded into your mind and you had to bite back a pained groan.

You’d had far too much to drink after work. Or, rather, you’d had too many beers for how exhausted you’d been after your particularly long and terrible shift. But you’d been riding high on surviving the day from hell, and it had been a pleasantly warm evening. And Dr. Jack Abbot had been there.

It had felt like some kind of small miracle—to get to share a couple drinks with the med students, doctors and nurses in the park across the street from the hospital. You hadn’t been the only one laughing too loudly, as if grasping onto the relief of making it through the day, because the alternative was sinking into the darkness.

You’d known that if you’d gone home and dragged yourself into your cold, lifeless apartment that you never had time or energy to decorate, you’d have ended up crying yourself to sleep. Instead, you’d accepted the invitation from your attending, Dr. Michael Robinavitch—Dr. Robby—and joined the others for a drink.

The amber glow of the lamplights lining the paths of the park had been welcoming beacons, and you’d felt the weight of the world slowly slip from your shoulders as you accepted a can of beer, letting the conversation flow around you. As everyone talked, sharing stories from the day, things hadn’t seemed so bleak.

So you’d lingered in the park long after you should’ve gone home, drinking far more than you should’ve considering how exhausted you were, and letting your eyes drift to Dr. Jack Abbot far more often than they should’ve. You couldn’t help it, though. You’d been drawn to the night shift attending ever since you met him at the start of your first day shift.

You were Dr. Robby’s resident, and he was a capable mentor—firm when he needed to be, and kind when you needed it. You’d gained a lot working with Dr. Robby on the day shift, and you’d become a much better doctor learning from him and everyone else in the ER.

Yet you couldn’t help but be intrigued by Dr. Jack Abbot. You’d always admired the older, silver-haired doctor, the way he carried himself, coming in as your shift was ending and taking over easily. You always knew your patients were in good hands when you gave them over to Dr. Abbot.

He was so competent and capable, and always so calm, even on the busiest nights in the ER. He was like a rock in the middle of a raging, tumultuous storm. Strong and steady. Safe.

And you wanted to climb Dr. Jack Abbot like a tree, to live in his strong and steady embrace, to allow his presence to keep you safe and sane. You wanted him to be your safe harbor—and to be his, too. You wanted to be the person he’d come home to and slip into bed with, and trust to keep him safe and sane.

In the park, under the amber lamplights, your thoughts had drifted to the idea of sliding into bed with Dr. Jack Abbot, curling your body around his beneath warm blankets, and sleeping the entire day away as you lay entwined together. You imagined waking up together, warm skin and gentle hands, soft kisses giving way to something more…

You hadn’t realized you were staring until light brown eyes caught yours and you’d startled back into the moment, heat rising up your neck and blooming in your cheeks. You’d known you should look away, but you hadn’t been able to, not with the electric tension thrumming between the two of you like a livewire.

Dr. Jack Abbot was as calm as ever, holding your gaze for a long moment.

His eyes were dark and inscrutable in the dim light of the park, but you noticed a glint in his gaze that made the breath catch in your throat. There was something in his eyes, something like wanting, which had your heart beating harder against your sternum and warmth pulsing between your thighs.

Then he’d tipped his can of beer toward you and dipped his head, giving you a nod while a smirk flickered at the edges of his mouth. Something in you had fluttered, low in your belly, and you’d wanted to squirm. You’d wanted to throw yourself at him, hold his face in your hands and kiss him until you were both panting and needy.

Instead you’d looked away and taken a sip of your beer, wondering if you’d imagined the warmth and hunger hidden deep in his gaze. You’d told yourself it must’ve been a trick of the dark amber light, the result of too much exhaustion, too much beer, and too many dirty thoughts about Dr. Jack Abbot.

The night had gone on, time unspooling slowly and leisurely the way it never did in the ER, and you’d drifted along on the current of conversation ebbing and flowing around you.

You’d tried not to look back at Dr. Abbot too often, but couldn’t help yourself. More often than not, though, you found him already looking at you, that ghost of a smile on his face and that look in his eye that had you questioning your sanity.

At some point, you’d ended up on a bench between Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot, listening as the men commended the work you’d done in the ER that evening. Their words of praise had flitted in one ear and out the other, even as you nodded along like you were paying close attention.

The smile on your face had everything to do with their praise, and nothing to do with Dr. Abbot’s warmth seeping into your side—at least, that’s what you’d told yourself.

Your memories got hazier from there. You remembered your cheek falling against Dr. Abbot’s shoulder, and staying there as your eyes slid closed; deft fingers gently prying the half-empty can from your hands; the smell of beer and something earthy, like moss; the deep rumbling of Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot’s voices as they talked over your head.

You hadn’t blacked out—you hadn’t had that much to drink—but the rest of the evening was too hazy to make out in your mind. You’d been so tired from working a 15-hour shift, and the alchohol had only exacerbated your exhaustion, leaving you to fall asleep on Dr. Abbot’s shoulder.

You remembered breathing in the smell of him, an earthy scent that reminded you of hiking in the woods on a bright, sunny day. It was the same scent you were surrounded by in the morning light, your eyes still stubbornly closed as a headache throbbed behind your temple.

Rolling over and pressing your face into your pillow, you took a deep breath. The fabric smelled so much like Dr. Jack Abbot that it made your head spin with confusion.

Even as your mind reeled, your body responded to the scent of him, the memory of his caramel brown eyes. You could perfectly picture the way his freckled arms flexed when he crossed them, his t-shirt sleeves hugging his biceps lovingly—the way you wanted to.

Heat cascaded gently down from the crown of your head, coasting down your spine and pooling between your thighs. Even with the slight edge of a hangover at the periphery of your mind, you couldn’t help the way your body yearned for the ER’s night shift attending, wanting him so badly it ached.

Your heart and your body wanted Dr. Jack Abbot. You wanted the older doctor who could be your rock, your light in the darkness, your safe harbor. And neither your heart nor your body would settle for anything less.

Your fingers were just beginning to slip down your stomach, trailing toward the needy, throbbing place between your thighs, when the soft click of a door opening sounded beyond the bed. Your eyes flew open for the first time that morning and, for one disorienting moment, you had no idea where you were.

The orange light of dawn was familiar enough, but the bedsheets and pillows looked nothing like your own. Flipping onto your back and sitting up quickly, you ignored the annoying pang of your headache to peer toward the door.

A sigh of relief gusted from your lips when you found Dr. Jack Abbot framed in the doorway, his brow creased with concern as he raked his eyes over you, as if checking for injury or illness.

You took the moment to look around the room, taking in the comfortable, masculine decor. Warm wooden furniture occupied the space, with plants positioned around the room in places that you were sure got the most light. A thriving monstera sat in a pot beside the dresser, a goldfish in a glass bowl on top of the wooden ledge.

On the floor next to the open door, there was a camouflage backpack, the only thing that appeared to be out of place. You recognized that backpack as the one Dr. Abbot always wore on his way into work.

Suddenly, your sleep hazy brain caught up and you realized you were in Dr. Abbot’s apartment—you were in his bedroom. In his bed.

The soft sheets of Dr. Abbot’s bed slid against your bare legs as you brought them up to your chest, his warm, orange duvet draped around your waist. It was the same color as the sunrise that lay beyond the windows, which were half covered in blackout curtains, like he wasn’t sure which way you’d prefer them.

It was all—all of it—almost too much for your mind to process. The headache behind your temples pounded a little harder as your body caught up to your sudden change of position, and you winced.

The expression of pain on your face seemed to spur Dr. Abbot into moving.

“You’re up,” he said, his voice low and soft like he was trying not to startle you. He padded to the bedside table beside you and set down a glass of water. “Do you remember how you got here?” he asked in that same tone, which you recognized as the one he used as patients.

You frowned as you watched Dr. Abbot open a bottle of aspirin and shake two pills into his hand. You tried to think of an answer that didn’t make you seem like a silly lightweight of a resident as you plucked the medecine from his palm when he held it out to you.

A shiver raced down your spine when your fingertips brushed Dr. Abbot’s warm, calloused skin, delightful tingles dancing along your nerves. You attempted to hide your reaction in a shake of your head, answering his question silently. But you couldn’t hide the way your shoulders trembled, so you busied yourself with taking the pills.

Thankfully, your hand was steady as you reached for the glass on the bedside table and swallowed the aspirin with a gulp of water. The cool water felt like salvation to your parched throat, and you ended up drinking the whole glass before you could even think to stop yourself.

When you were done, your found Dr. Abbot watching you, a hint of a pleased smile in the twist of his lips and pride in the glint of his gaze. You had the wild thought that if he looked at all his patients that way, you understood why his satisfaction scores were so high.

He took the glass from you, his fingers brushing against yours, the movement feeling more deliberate than before. You were grateful when he turned away to set the glass down, because your shoulders trembled with another shiver at the electricity in his light touch.

“You fell asleep in the park,” Dr. Abbot explained in a voice that was endlessly patient and calm as he set the glass down. You noticed your phone beside it on the bedside table, plugged in and charging. “You were so exhausted, we couldn’t send you home on your own. My place was closest.”

Dr. Abbot straightened as he gave his explanation, arms crossing over his chest and staring down at you in a way that made you squirm. He didn’t look disappointed or disapproving, just concerned. And the knowledge that he cared enough to be concerned sent your heart pitter-pattering inside your ribcage.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Dr. Abbot,” you murmured, dropping your gaze to your fingers, which were twisting in the blanket on your lap. “Yesterday was…difficult.”

“Jack, please,” he said, his voice almost imperceptibly softer.

Your eyes flicked up to him, looking at the silver-haired doctor from under your lashes. His smile was wry and your belly gave a happy little swoop—and that was before you heard his next words.

“You’re in my bed, you don’t need to be so formal.”

It was clear that he meant his words as a teasing kind of joke, but they only succeeded in reminding you that you’d woken up in his bed. Alone. Lamentably alone. The warmth between your thighs stoked higher, until his words fully penetrated your mind.

Your gaze drifted to the other side of the bed, which was still made with military precision. It was clear he hadn’t slept there, and you realized that meant he must’ve slept somewhere else…

“Oh god, I’m so sorry for kicking you out of your bed,” you rushed to say, looking back to Jack with wide eyes. “Where did you sleep?”

“I got a couple hours on the couch,” he answered, a little bashfully. He seemed eager to move on from the subject as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You should get some more rest,” he said, unfurling his arms from his chest and reaching for your empty water glass. “Your scrubs are in the wash with mine, they should be done in a bit.”

A memory from the night before surfaced in your mind: Jack standing with his back to you as you swayed on your feet and stripped out of your scrubs—leaving you in only a tank top, bra and panties.

You’d removed your bra and left everything in a heap on the floor before dragging yourself under the covers of his bed, snuggling deep into their warmth and his comforting scent. You were asleep before you’d even heard Jack turn around.

Not only had Dr. Jack Abbot taken you to his home so you would be safe, given up his bed so you’d have somewhere comfortable to sleep, but he was washing your scrubs for you.

There was something about the domesticity of it that pricked at your heart. You could so easily imagine throwing your dirty scrubs into the laundry with a load of Jack’s, washing them together, working side by side to put them away in the room you shared.

You yearned for the life you pictured—and you wanted it with Dr. Jack Abbot.

Before you could think about what you were doing, your hand darted out. Your fingers wrapped around Jack’s wrist as he reached for the water glass on the bedside table. You could feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, strong and steady, if a little fast.

“Stay with me.” You hated how small you sounded, the desperate pleading in your voice, but your fingers wouldn’t let go. Instead, you squeezed his wrist tighter. “Please, Jack.”

For a long moment, long enough that you began to think he’d deny you, Jack just stood there. Half hunched over, his hand reaching past you, he stood and looked at you. His eyes stared deep into yours, his brows pulled together over his light brown gaze.

“Are you sure?”

The question was rough and raspy, like he’d dredged the words up from the very depths of his soul. His eyes were bright and intense as he stared at you, his gaze searching your face for any hesitation.

The sound of his voice and the weight of his stare sent your heart fluttering, and your thighs squirmed beneath the blankets of his bed. But you weren’t uncomfortable, only eager. You were excited that he hadn’t brushed you off and denied you outright.

“I’m sure,” you said, nodding your head for good measure as you began sliding toward the center of the bed, tugging on Jack’s wrist. “I want you to stay with me. Please.”

Jack stared into your eyes for a beat longer, then nodded his head. He flipped his hand around in your fingers and squeezed your wrist before pulling away and giving you his back.

You watched the muscles shift and move beneath the white t-shirt Jack wore across his broad shoulders while his hands undid the button and fly of his dark cargo pants. Before your mind could wrap around what he was doing, he was pushing them down, revealing so much more of his pale, freckled skin below the edge of his navy boxer briefs.

Jack shucked off his pants and sat down on the corner of the bed, removing his prosthetic and massaging his leg for a moment while you watched unabashedly, unable to resist the opportunity to look your fill of the doctor you’d thought about for ages.

You wanted to press yourself against his broad back and wrap your arms around him, clinging to his warmth and burying your face between his shoulder blades. You wanted to hold him and take comfort in him, you wanted to be connected to him.

Looking over his shoulder and breaking you from your thoughts, Jack caught your eye and you could see the question in his gaze. His quirked eyebrows were asking again if you were certain you wanted him to join you.

A smile curled the corners of your mouth and instead of answering him with words, you flipped down the corner of the blankets in a clear invitation. He held your gaze for another moment, but when you remained steady and smiling, he pushed himself up and slipped between the sheets.

Immediately, you felt his warmth and you let out a happy little sound while he settled on his back against the pillows—the same ones you’d pressed your face into after you’d woken up. You waited until he’d gotten comfortable, his gaze finding yours.

His light brown eyes, looking like warm caramel in the soft, tangerine light of morning, were a wondrous sight. It was a miracle, the way he looked at you in that moment, letting you see the hesitant hope in his eyes.

Slowly, as if seeking permission with every tiny movement, you slid closer to him. With a small, flickering smile, he lifted his arm, making space for you, and you slipped into it delightedly, making another happy sound.

Your cheek lay pillowed on Jack’s chest, the soft curves of your body pressing into his side. Without questioning the impulse, you slid your leg over Jack’s, hooking it around his thigh and shifting even closer, until you were practically plastered to his body.

Contentment settled heavily around your shoulders, and you took a deep breath, letting Jack’s earthy, sunshiny scent fill your senses and comfort you. As you exhaled, your body softened and you snuggled deeper into the older doctor’s chest.

Jack’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers settling on the bare skin of your arm, and you made another delighted noise. His fingertips trailed lazily up and down your arm, like he was learning the softness of your skin, and he made a rumble in his chest that sounded content.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice even deeper and raspier than you’d ever heard it.

The tenor of Jack’s voice sent little sparks of desire dancing down your spine to settle between your thighs. He wasn’t using the voice he used on his patients anymore, and you couldn’t be happier that you were seeing a new side to him, one you suspected few ever got to see.

“Mhm, sooo comfortable,” you mumbled, hiding an elated grin in his chest.

It was true, you’d never been more comfortable, but you couldn’t seem to ignore the restless need in your body. You squirmed a little against Jack’s side, like you were trying to find an even better position, and all the while enjoying the feeling of his thigh pressing between your legs.

A soft, bitten-off whine squeezed from your throat and you shifted even closer to the older doctor, needing more of him pressed against more of you.

“Jack,” you whimpered, your fingers fisting in his cotton t-shirt while your hips writhed against his side, your body searching for something you couldn’t quite grasp.

“You need something, angel?” Jack asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. When you lifted your head to pout at him, his eyes were hooded, and his mouth was curved into a knowing smirk. “You need some help before you can settle down and sleep?”

The hint of patronizing teasing in his tone was like a drug, making your mind go hazy and soft while your body melted in his strong arms. Your lashes fluttered as you fought to keep your eyes open, biting your lip while heat flooded your cheeks.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded in answer to Jack’s question.

Jack’s eyes dipped to your mouth, the warmth in your face cascading down your body until it settled heavily between your thighs. You could feel yourself growing damp, your nipples hardening and pressing against the thin fabric of your tank top.

But all you could do was stare at Jack’s mouth, framed by grizzled cheeks and freckled skin. How many times had you thought about kissing that mouth? Too many times to count. And you could hardly breathe when it seemed you might finally get to make your dreams come true.

Slowly—oh, so slowly, Jack’s hand came up and cupped your jaw, his head rising from the pillows as you leaned into him at the same time. Your mouths were drawing infinitesimally closer and closer like there was some kind of magnetic pull between them.

He tilted your face until your mouths were aligned, and then your lips brushed his. Sparks zinged through your body and you sucked in a sharp breath at just that little touch, your exhale slipping from your lips in a keening, desperate sound.

Whatever was left of Jack’s self-control seemed to snap, and he crushed his mouth to yours, as if intent on drinking down that needy sound while a hungry groan rumbled in his chest. Another whimper was silenced by his mouth, and you pressed even closer, like you wanted to crawl inside his heart.

Your first kiss with Dr. Jack Abbot was hungry and greedy, with an edge of mutual adoration that made you light-headed.

Jack’s hands on your body were strong and steady, but for the slight tremor in his fingers, his mouth careful and hot as he explored yours. When his tongue licked into your heat, dragging a moan from you, he huffed a pleased sound, angling your face so he could kiss you deeper, more thoroughly.

Your hips rocked against the older doctor’s thigh as you tried to squirm closer, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and clinging to him while you whimpered into his mouth. Jack responded by trailing his hands down your back, curving around your ribs and dragging your body more on top of him.

“Oh god, Jack,” you panted, gasping for air while his mouth trailed kisses down the line of your neck. You tipped your head to the side, giving him more access as your wanton moans filled the room. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea.”

The confession spilling from your lips had Jack slowing, and even though you were practically on top of him, he eased back into the pillows so he could catch your eye. The light in the room was shifting from a honey orange to a golden yellow, but Jack’s eyes were still bright and warm like caramel as he stared into yours as he spoke.

“You are my heaven, my obsession, my prayer and bliss.”

The depth of emotion in his words, the evidence that he felt the same way you did, brought unexpected tears to your eyes and you cupped his face. His silvery stubble was rough against your palms as you surged forward, capturing his mouth in a rapturous kiss.

“You’re mine, too,” you mumbled against his mouth before pulling away to look at him so he could see the honesty in your gaze. “You’re my calm, my safe harbor, my happiness and heart.”

“Angel.”

The endearment was rough and ragged, an undercurrent of pleading in Jack’s tone as he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in. He kissed you harder, stealing the words freely given from your lips and locking them away in his heart—just like you’d done with his.

Emotion swirled in your chest and you nearly sobbed with need at the wet slide of Jack’s tongue between your lips, your mind going hazy as an aching need pulsed between your thighs. A desperate whine built in your throat, your hips squirming clumsily against his thigh.

Jack’s hands trailed down your spine, deviating from their path to slide beneath your tank top and curl around your ribs, his thumbs brushing the soft mounds of your tits. You huffed a needy whimper, feeling him smirk against your mouth, before his hands slid lower, his strong grip guiding your body to writhe against his thick thigh.

Your hips rocked in time with his guided movements, grinding your core against him while you whimpered into his mouth. You were so far gone in a pleasant haze of your desire, that you didn’t pay attention to what you were saying when you whined, “Daddy, please.”

There was the briefest stutter in Jack’s movements, and then his hands gripped you tighter, his thigh pressing deeper between your legs. Against your lips, his mouth curved into an indulgent smirk.

“Please what, angel? Tell daddy what you need.”

The patronizing teasing tone had slipped back into his voice, and it made your core throb between your thighs, a whimper escaping your lips before you could bite it back. It had been a slip of the tongue that you’d called him daddy, but to hear it echoed in his deep, raspy voice was another thing entirely. It was exactly what you needed.

Your fingers gripped his shirt tighter, your body squirming harder in his hands, rolling your hips and grinding against his thigh while you finally responded to his command.

“Need you,” you huffed, as if the answer was obvious.

A gruff chuckle rumbled in Jack’s chest and his hand slid up your back, thumb skimming the curve of your breast so teasingly, your body chased his touch. Arching your spine, you pushed your tits against his chest, but Jack’s hand kept moving. His calloused palm followed the line of your arm until his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist.

Gently, he moved your hand down his front, over his soft belly, until your palm settled against the twitching bulge in his boxer briefs. He felt so thick and heavy already, even though he wasn’t fully hard yet.

“This is what you do to me, angel,” he rasped, breath ghosting over your cheek, his mouth moving against the corner of your lips. “You have me—any time, any way you want.”

Your fingers wrapped around his girth through the soft cotton of his briefs, squeezing him gently and learning the weight of him in your hand. You stroked your palm up his length, thumb swiping over the tip and feeling the wetness of his arousal.

Jack grunted, his hips rising up off the bed to buck into your touch and the movement had his thigh flexing and pressing between your legs. You moaned into his stubbled cheek, the sound mingling with his heavy breaths as you stroked his length and rocked against him.

“Jack.” His name was a gasp for salvation, a desperate plea on your lips that had him shuddering under your touch.

“Nuh uh, angel,” Jack chided in an endlessly warm tone, his smile pressed into the corner of your mouth. “Don’t stop calling me daddy now—not when it makes me so fucking hot for you.”

“Daddy, daddy,” you babbled breathlessly into his scruffy cheek, your desire thick in your veins at the teasing command in his tone. “I need you inside me, please—please, I need you so bad,” you whined, your fingers squeezing his cock through his boxers.

“Christ, you’ve got me, angel, just take me out,” Jack rumbled, his hips rocking up against your palm while you worked his length.

Not needing more invitation than that, you reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. He was still hardening and thickening beneath your touch, the velvety soft skin growing taut the tighter you stroked him.

Jack groaned at your pleasurable attention, and the sound went straight to the slit between your thighs, your arousal leaking into your panties. You were so drenched, you were certain he could feel it against his thigh, but when you rubbed your pussy against him, he only grunted, his cock twitching in your hand.

“Want more,” you keened against Jack’s stubbled cheek, both your heads tilted to stare down your bodies and watch your hand pump adoringly up and down his length while he grew harder beneath your touch. “Want your fat cock sinking into my needy pussy, daddy, please.”

“Fuuuck,” Jack groaned, the edge in his voice almost pained. His hips bucked off the bed as he fucked into your fist, precum beading at the tip and leaking down the side, slicking your strokes. “Keep talking like that, angel, and I’m gonna blow my load before I even get inside you.”

“But daddy, we can’t have that,” you whined teasingly, laughing softly as you turned your face and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then you were pulling away only long enough to shove your panties down over your ass and thighs, kicking them off into the sheets at the base of the bed. Once done, your hand wrapped around Jack’s cock again, greedy for the feel of him, loving the weight and warmth against your palm.

Sliding your leg over both of Jack’s thighs, you moved your body until you were straddling his hips, your hand guiding his cock to press between the slippery folds of your slit. Your wet pussy pressing down on the length of his thick cock, your clit bumping against the ridged veins lining the shaft, had both of you moaning.

Jack cupped your jaw and guided your face back to his, his tongue sliding along your plump lower lip and licking lovingly into your mouth. He kissed you deeply, devouring your sounds of pleasure and groaning his own satisfaction like he’d never tasted anything as sweet—and he couldn’t get enough.

His other hand slid beneath the soft cotton of your tank top, his thumb brushing over your nipple and teasing the sensitive bud until it tightened into an achy, needy peak. Heat and desire pooled between your thighs, leaking from your pussy and coating his length as you rocked against him.

You broke apart only long enough for Jack to tear off your top, tossing it somewhere in the room you didn’t see because you were too busy slanting your mouth to his and greedily kissing him again. Your lips were swollen from kissing, but you couldn’t stop, you didn’t think you’d ever get enough of him.

It felt like the opposite of standing in the calm center of a storm—your body was a riot of pleasure and sensation, desperately rocking against the man between your thighs while the bedroom around you remained undisturbed, the light shifting and glowing brighter as the sun rose outside.

And Dr. Jack Abbot was still your rock, your tether to the earth, grounding you with the rasp of his calloused hands over your soft curves, his expert fingers plucking and stroking your nipples while his hips lifted from the mattress to grind his hard cock into your cunt.

You were so wet for him, so empty and aching, your pussy pulsed against his hard length, your desire coating him from root to tip. A sob was lodged in your throat, your hips working against his thick shaft in increasingly desperate movements.

“Jack,” you cried, the sound pitiful even to your own ears. You needed him, you needed him more than you needed your next breath. And you knew he could hear it in the ragged edge of your voice as you sobbed his name.

Thankfully for you, Jack Abbot was just as much of a competent, capable man as he was a doctor. He heard the anxious wanting in your tone and knew exactly how to handle you. He stroked his hands soothingly over your ribs and down your spine, cooing soft sounds of comfort against your cheek.

“Take me inside your sweet pussy, angel,” Jack rumbled, the steel of his order softened in the honeyed warmth of his tone. “Let me feel you—need to feel your heat hugging my cock.”

“Daddy, yesss, please, can I?” you babbled, burying your face in the weathered skin of his neck. His scent was stronger there, and you huffed greedily, breathing in the smell of sunshine and earth on his skin. It filled your head with amber clouds of comfort.

“Go on, angel, you’ve got this,” Jack murmured encouragingly, the calm warmth of his voice settling around your shoulders like the coziest blanket. He pressed a kiss to the pulse at the base of your throat, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, daddy,” you breathed on a exhale, shifting your hips until the tip of his cock caught at the entrance of your leaking hole. Sitting up on your knees, you lifted your hips and guided his cock to line up with your pussy. Then you pressed down determinedly.

A breathy cry burst from your lips when the fat tip of Jack’s cock pushed into your tight channel. He was thicker than anyone you’d taken before, and your heart fluttered against your ribcage in panic, the devastating thought occurring to you that he might not be able to fit.

“Oh god, fuck, you’re so big, Jack, I don’t know if I can—”

“You can take me,” Jack said firmly, interrupting your panicked babbling as he sat up to face you. He caught your wobbling chin in his steady hand and guided your eyes to look at him. “You can take me, angel,” he repeated, ducking his head and looking at you with confidence and pride written in the lines of his face. “You can do this.”

The belief Jack had in you—even about something as base as taking his cock—was enough to have tears gathering in your eyes. Your lower lip quivered and instead of giving in to the spiraling thoughts about how no one else had ever believed in you the way Jack did in that moment, you surged forward and kissed him.

You kissed Jack Abbot the way you’d never kissed anyone before. You kissed him like he was your past, present and future, like he was the calm in the storm of your life. You kissed him like he was your safe harbor, the steady dock under your feet and the man who was your home.

All the while, Jack kissed you in return, meeting the fervor of your lips with an adoration that had your heart singing in your chest. With every sweep of his tongue and nip of his teeth and pull of his mouth, he exulted your existence and promised devotion for as long as you’d have him.

“Jack,” you gasped his name, wrenching your bee-stung lips from his as you pressed down further on his cock, incandescent pleasure radiating from where you were joined through the rest of your body.

“Feel so good, angel,” Jack rasped, kissing his way down the curve of your throat and past your collarbone. His mouth left goose bumps in its wake as he trailed kisses down to your chest. “More, angel, you can take more.”

Jack’s words were muffled in the plush curves of your tits, cupped in his big, strong hands. His head ducked down until his tongue was lapping at their tightened peaks, torturing the sensitive buds while your head tipped back and you moaned. He sucked one of your soft tits into his mouth, tongue swirling teasingly around your nipple.

Your back bowed and you thrust your chest into Jack’s face, your fingers sliding into his curly silver hair and clutching his head tight. A cry of pleasure tumbled from your lips, the sound devolving into a filthy moan as you sank down on his cock, taking half of him inside you.

“God, daddy, you’re breaking me in half,” you whined, your hips writhing in his lap, lifting up and pushing back down for more of the stinging stretch. The pleasure bordered on pain, but it felt so good, you couldn’t get enough, pressing even further down on his hard cock.

Jack chuckled, pulling away from your chest with an obscene wet sound, your tit falling from his mouth while he looked up at you. His brown eyes were sparkling with mischief in the bright daylight.

“You love it, don’t you, angel?” Jack teased, in the warm, patronizing tone that sent your belly swooping. “You love the feeling of my fat cock sinking deep into your pretty cunt, splitting you open and spreading you so wide, huh?”

The filthy words went straight to your pussy, your tight hole pulsing around Jack’s hard shaft while you nodded your agreement. “Yuh huh, I love it, daddy, it’s sooo good,” you babbled, your fingers idly twisting in Jack’s hair as you clung to him and pressed your hips down on his thick length.

A small grin pulled across his face and he caught your eye, wrapping his lips around your other nipple and sucking hard enough to wring a squeal from your mouth. Your body bucked on his lap, and it was only his sinewy arm around your lower back that kept you anchored on top of him.

Spreading your knees wider on the bed, you pressed down hard on Jack’s cock until you were fully seated. The full, fat length of him was buried inside you to the hilt, stretching your tight cunt and punching the breath from your lungs.

A surprised yelp slipped from your lips at the sudden, overwhelming fullness, but the sound soon dissolved into a deep, dirty moan when the slight sting gave way to scorching pleasure. Your body melted against Jack, his head lifting from your tits to take in the look of ecstasy on your face.

“There we go,” Jack rasped, one of his hands pressing to your lower back, keeping your bodies locked together and still for a moment. “That wasn’t so hard, huh?” he teased, capturing your lips in a playful, nipping kiss.

You huffed a laugh against his mouth, and shook your head good-naturedly, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you clung to your strong, steady doctor.

Jack pressed his forehead to yours, his voice lowering to deep rasp. “You’re taking me so good, angel—you’re such a good girl.” He brushed a kiss to the apple of your cheek, and it was only then that you realized you were smiling, pleased by his praise. “Are you ok, does it feel good?”

“Mm, yes, daddy,” you murmured, sinking into the feeling of having Jack’s thick cock seated inside you, pleasure pulsing from where you were joined. “Feel so good filled up with your cock—you fill me up so good, I wanna stay right here forever.”

Your mumbled words were half lost to a moan as you rocked your hips gently, feeling his shaft drag ever so gently against your inner walls. It was intense and wonderful and felt so good, you couldn’t stop.

Jack’s hands fell to your hips, and he gripped your soft curves, helping you grind down on him.

“That’s it, just like that,” he urged, his own hips rolling beneath yours, bringing your bodies together in a delicious push and pull that wrenched a pleasured grunt from him. “Fuck, angel, you’re so tight and you feel so fucking good—so wet and warm. You’re making daddy feel so good.”

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” you chanted, lips parted and breaths panting against Jack’s grizzled cheeks as you bounced on his lap. Still, you wanted more, and you knew Jack would give it to you, all you had to do was ask. “Will you suck on my tits, daddy, please?”

“Fuck, of course, angel,” Jack rumbled in response, his head ducking down, mouth latching onto a nipple and sucking until your hips gave a reflexive kick. “Ya like it when daddy sucks on your tits, angel? Your perfect fucking tits.”

His words were muttered, almost like he was talking to himself, and he didn’t wait for an answer before burying his face in your soft mounds. His lips and tongue worshiped your tits, showing you just how much he adored your body.

“Yes, yes, daddy, I love it,” you cried, rocking your hips faster, rolling them in a steady rhythm that had your clit grinding against the base of him. The pleasure was building fast in your core, until you were suddenly on the precipice. “Please, Jack, ‘m so close.”

“Come on my cock, angel—fuck, I wanna feel you clench around my fat cock while you’re screaming my name,” Jack rambled in between wet, suckling kisses to your soft flesh. His hands cupped your tits, thumbs stroking maddeningly over your nipples before pinching them roughly. “C’mon angel, give it to me, show me what a good girl you are and come for me.”

“Jack—JACK!”

His words and his cock and his hands and his perfect mouth sent you tumbling over the edge of your release, making you come on his cock. Your hips worked furiously as pleasure crashed over you in waves, helpless moans and cries spilling from your lips while Jack held you tight and thrust into you from below.

He was hot and hard and everywhere, his thick cock still deep inside you, his arms wrapped around you, his chest and belly pressed against your soft curves. He was the calm in the center of the storm that was your release, and he carried you through it, whispering words of praise in your ear.

You were still coming down from the height of your pleasure when Jack rolled you onto your back, his hips sliding between your thighs and thrusting his cock deep into you. It felt so good that you moaned loudly, your arms and legs wrapping around Jack and holding him as he fucked you, chasing his release.

“You’re such a good girl, angel, taking me so well and coming on my cock like such a pretty slut. Fuck, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you, never felt anything as perfect. You’re perfect, angel, so fucking perfect—fuck.”

Jack bit off a groan and pulled his cock from your tight cunt. He stroked himself to completion, his come spilling across your belly and mound between your thighs while you watched pleasure contort his face.

He let out a fierce grunt, his shoulders shaking and arms shuddering as he hunched over your body. The hand not wrapped around his cock was gripping your thigh tightly—like, for once, you were his rock, his anchor tethering him to earth.

Bathed in the bright golden light of morning filtering into his bedroom, he looked magnificent, and you couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed Jack’s face and pulled him down for a kiss, tasting the pleasure from his tongue.

His knuckles brushed your bare skin, more come leaking from the tip of his cock and onto your belly. He was covering you in ropes of his come, but you didn’t care, not when his lips were moving against yours in a sensual slide, his tongue slipping possessively into your mouth and groaning his pleasure.

With a final pull on his cock and one last kiss, Jack rolled off you, collapsing onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes while his chest heaved. He was still wearing his t-shirt and you pouted at it.

Still gasping for your own breaths, you slipped your hand beneath the hem of Jack’s shirt and raked your nails through the hair dusting his belly. He let out a shuddering breath, his cock twitching as another drop of come leaked from the tip of his softening length, seeping into the cotton shirt.

If you weren’t so limp and sated—and you weren’t afraid of making a mess of Jack’s bed with the come slowly drying on your skin—you would’ve leaned over and licked him clean. But that could wait for another time, when you both weren’t so tired.

Jack settled a hand on the back of yours, stilling your fingers where they were softly stroking his belly and giving them an affectionate squeeze.

After a few moments of catching your breath together, he heaved himself up and reached an arm over his shoulders to yank off his shirt. He rolled onto his side and used the soft shirt to clean you up while you giggled happily.

“You good, angel?” Jack asked, his face hovering above yours, dark caramel eyes searching your expression for anything amiss.

A soft smile curved your mouth and you reached up to cup Jack’s grizzled cheeks, thumbs stroking over his skin. “I’m good,” you murmured, lifting up and pressing a sweet kiss to his mouth. “Thanks for pulling out—I can’t believe I forgot to tell you to use a condom.”

Jack made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, but it was softened by the teasing smile on his face. “Not very responsible of you, doctor,” he said in a deep, playful rasp that had you laughing.

“Don’t act like you didn’t forget, too, Dr. Abbot,” you retorted, batting good-naturedly at his shoulder. He laughed along with you before sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed.

“Do you need anything while I’m up?” he asked, putting on his prosthetic then standing and tossing his soiled shirt into the laundry. He paused at the foot of the bed to wait for your answer.

Lifting your arms above your head, you stretched languidly in the warm sheets of Dr. Jack Abbot’s bed, smiling like the cat that got the cream as you reveled in the feeling of him watching you unabashedly.

It felt like warm, orange flames of flickering heat licking at your skin, his eyes bright and intense in the morning light as they trailed over every inch of your bare skin and naked curves. That adoration you’d felt in his arms was clear in the gleam of his eye and the slightly awed smile on his face.

“I could use some more water,” you finally answered, exhaling deeply as you relaxed and settled into the bed. You were eager for him to return so he’d wrap you back up in his arms, and you could snuggle together.

“You got it,” he rasped, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Then he wrenched his eyes away from you and seemed to force himself to walk out of the room.

While he was gone, you got up and went to the bathroom, cleaning yourself up a little better. When you were washing your hands, you heard a knock on the door before it opened a crack.

“Got you a shirt if you want something to wear,” Jack said, opening the door only enough for his arm to slip in. He hung a t-shirt on the hook by the door and then closed it again.

With a smile, you dried your hands and slid the soft cotton shirt over your head. It was plain white like the one he’d had on earlier, but clean, and it smelled like his earthy, sunshiny scent. You took a deep breath of the fabric, your nipples tightening and pushing against the fabric as warm pleasure flooded you down to your toes.

But then you remembered the man himself was waiting for you, and you eagerly exited the bathroom, finding Jack reclined against the pillows on his bed. He was sipping a glass of water, another full glass on the bedside table for you. You picked it up and drank half before setting it back down and climbing into bed.

Without hesitation, Jack lifted his arm and you slid into the space next to him. The two of you settled beneath the blankets together, your head laying on Jack’s chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Your fingers idly traced the veins and freckles of his other arm, brushing through the hair dusted across his skin.

Outside, the soft, suffused orange light of dawn had given way to the bright, blinding light of morning. The sun was still climbing higher in the sky, but you and Jack needed rest.

So your bodies relaxed together, laying entwined in each other’s arms. You drifted to sleep in the calm, still bedroom while the rest of Pittsburgh carried on in the world beyond.

From that day on, Dr. Jack Abbot was your rock, your calm in the storm, the man whose arms were your home. He was your safe harbor. And you were his.

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 21 hours ago

Text

The Dangers of Dream Walking -Oneshot

Word count: 5748

Y/N hated her power. The ability to dream walk was at times nice, but mostly it was a literal and figurative nightmare. People dreamt crazy and unhinged things all the time, so it was rare to ever step into a happy dream. She couldn’t understand why she was born with it, what good it did her or anyone else. It wasn’t like she could manipulate the dreams. She could only watch on as a casual observer. Until she met the Avengers.

She had been knocked out by a piece of debris during another fight the Avengers were having, and had dream-walked right into a memory of Wanda Maximoff, who was temporarily knocked out as well. But this time, Wanda turned and looked right at her in the dream and talked to her.

“You can see me?” Y/N asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Wanda said simply as her memory played out behind her. “How are you here?”

“I…I dream-walk,” Y/N explained, walking toward her. “I think I got knocked out and now…” The image of a young Wanda and what Y/N figured was her brother playing in a field of wildflowers distracted her. “I’m sorry,” she said, sensing the sadness in Wanda’s eyes. “I don’t have control over it.”

Wanda tilted her head and analyzed her. “But you can,” she replied. “I can see it in your mind. I’ll come find you, dream-walker.” Then she and the memory disappeared, and Y/N hopped into a new dream. A week later she was surprised to open her door to Wanda Maximoff in the flesh. “I told you I’d find you,” she said cheekily.

From that day on she had been taken in by the Avengers. She wasn’t an official team member, but had been working with Wanda on honing her power and using it to be able to tap into specific people’s dreams, then using the connection of being in their mind due to the dream and then going through their memories and thoughts. She even learned how to start manipulating the dreams, changing the circumstances or interacting where she could to make it so nightmares turned into softer dreams. It proved useful when she was able to get into an operative’s mind and find the coordinates and plans for the next attack. And it proved even more useful once the Avengers fell apart, the Blip happened, and then Wanda disappeared. After everyone came back she was lost for a while until Bucky Barnes asked for her help.

“We’ve got a new guy that has…well, some mental issues,” he explained. “And I think your abilities might be able to help him work through those issues and make it so he can access his powers without the dark side taking over so easily.”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I can try,” she said.

That’s when she met Bob and started working with him extensively, and was recruited back into the New Avengers. They became like family to her, and she loved being able to be a part of something bigger again. She, Yelena and Ava would have girls nights. Alexei would compliment her abilities heavily and praise her for her efforts with Bob. Bob was awkward and quiet, but seemed to enjoy their quiet moments of reading together and then forming their own two-person book club. Walker was still an asshole, but she was able to get him to simmer down most days. Then there was Bucky. Sweet but serious, sarcastic but kind, dangerously strong but soft, and devastatingly handsome Bucky.

Y/N pushed her feelings for him down deep, not wanting them to affect her working relationship and new friendship she had made with him. But it was getting harder the more he tended to seek her out after rough missions or bad mental days and she would help him drift off into a dreamless slumber, or as he sat next to her during team movie nights, or as the little friendly touches started between them that eventually morphed into long hugs and him kissing the side of her head before they left for another mission. He was usually quiet, not the one to start a conversation and preferring to be a casual observer, but when they were alone he talked and asked questions.

At night she usually took heavy sleep aids to help her completely knock out so she wouldn’t accidentally walk into the team’s dreams. Something about the pills helped her mind go fuzzy enough to have her own dreamless sleep and not unwittingly walk into other’s minds as she slept. Then one night a year into living at the Watchtower with them she had fallen asleep after a long day working with Bob. The mental exhaustion had worn her out, and she hadn’t taken the sleep aids. That was the first time she had seen it.

Her eyes opened in what looked like…Bucky’s room? She looked around in confusion, then heard heavy breathing. He wasn’t in his bed. The edges of her vision looked blurry, and she realized she was dream-walking. Shit, she thought. I’m in his dream...dammit. She didn’t mean to, and willed herself to try and wake up, but then the breathing got louder and turned into grunts. Her curiosity got the better of her, and if it was a nightmare maybe she could at least help him ease out of it. She followed the sounds to his bathroom where the door was slightly opened. She peeked inside, then silently gasped, her mouth dropping open dramatically.

It was partially a memory from a few weeks back when he’d come home from a mission with a nasty wound along his chest and she had tried to help him clean it up since he refused to go to the med bay because, “I’m a super soldier, doll, I’ll heal soon.” Bucky was sitting on the lid of the toilet like he had been weeks ago, shirtless with a bandage on his chest that she had placed there after cleaning it, but in this dream he was fully naked and she was now on her knees between his legs sucking him off. Y/N’s eyes widened in comical shock as she watched herself suck Bucky’s cock lewdly, letting out little mewls, moans and gags as she tried to take all of him, her right hand fisting what she couldn’t and stroking him at the same speed as her head bobbed up and down on him.

“That’s it, doll, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his metal hand holding back her hair and his right hand cradling her jaw. “You’re so good at this, you know that? Such a good girl.”

Dream Y/N made an affirming sound as she pulled up off of him for a moment to breathe then smiled up at him. “Your good girl,” she said seductively before lapping at the head of his cock, her spit dribbling down his shaft.

“Damn right,” he huffed. “My good girl.”

Y/N had walked into wet dreams before, always quickly walking out of them with her hands over her eyes or ears, but this time she stayed and watched. It was strange to see herself doing something so vulgar, so dirty, and enjoying it. But all she could really focus on was Bucky’s face. The way the ever-present crease between his brows was now from a look of lust and desire, his mouth agape as he breathed, every once in a while biting his bottom lip as his head fell back, then looking back down at dream-her with the most lovesick expression she’d ever seen. The way his lips said the dirtiest words and praises to her, how gently he cradled her head and she could see him struggling not to thrust into her mouth.

His breathing got faster, and the sexiest whimper bubbled up from his throat as he tensed. “I’m gonna cum!” he whispered, then a moment later he held her head down and shuddered as he let out a long, loud moan that echoed in the bathroom, his hips rutting into dream-her’s mouth. Dream-Y/N whimpered as well, swallowing as much as she could. Bucky sat there for a moment before pulling her up and off his cock, wiping at her lips with his flesh thumb and smiling at her. “Let me see, Y/N.” Dream-Y/N obediently opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed it all. “Atta girl,” he smirked, then kissed her deeply.

Y/N felt the pull in her mind and watched the vision go hazy, then she woke up, gasping for air as she sat up straight in bed. She was in her room again, looking around frantically as she pieced together what she had seen. There was a deep ache and wetness between her legs that made her groan in discomfort and she fell back on her bed in a huff. “Fuck me,” she breathed exasperatedly.

***

She knew she shouldn’t pry, that she should take the sleep aids and forget she ever saw it. But she didn’t. She let herself fall asleep naturally from then on and purposefully sought out Bucky’s dreams. He didn’t dream about her every night, but more often than not he did and she was the star of his fantasies. His wet dreams were quite…colorful. The positions he put Dream-Y/N into were intense, and the way he spoke to her was dirty but also sweet and endearing. Every time she would leave his dream she’d have to cum afterwards, pathetically muffling her cries as she pleasured herself to the memory of his dreams night after night.

During the day when they interacted nothing changed, but she felt herself looking at him more often, which was quickly picked up on by Yelena and Walker. They teased her about it, and she tried to deny it but ultimately would just roll her eyes and walk away. “I mean, he’s nice looking,” Yelena said as she nudged Y/N’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go for it?”

“Go for who?” Bob asked.

Y/N jumped in her seat and wheeled around to face him. “Jesus, Bob! How do you just appear out of nowhere?”

“I don’t,” he chuckled. “But seriously, who are you going for?”

“Bucky,” Yelena said.

Y/N turned to her and smacked her arm, making Yelena yelp as Bob nodded. “Oh, yeah, you should,” he said with a small smile. “He stares at you, too.”

She turned back around and smacked his arm, making him yelp and step away. “Both of you stop it,” Y/N hissed.

“Why are we smacking people?” Bucky’s voice chimed from the other side of the common room.

They all whirled around to look at him in surprise. “‘Cause they deserved it,” Y/N said quickly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, adding a little shrug at the end of the sentence.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at each of them then huffed a laugh and shook his head. “I’m sure,” he smiled. “Ready for your lesson, doll?”

“Yep! I’m coming!” Y/N said in a more chipper tone, then turned to Yelena and Bob once Bucky was out of sight. She made a “zip it” motion over her mouth to them, and they both snickered as she jogged away to catch up with Bucky. He led her to one of the many training rooms, holding the door open for her as she thanked him and stepped in to find a table set up with guns lined up on it.

“Alright, first, I’ll teach you how to put one together,” Bucky said, his tone turning professional. “Then we’ll practice shooting. Sound good?”

“Okay. Remind me why I need to know how to shoot a gun?” Y/N asked teasingly as she stared at the array of guns on the table.

“It’s a good skill to have,” Bucky said, coming up behind her and grabbing one of the assembled guns. He flicked the safety off then with his other hand handed her some ear plugs. She quickly took them and put them in her ears, then watched as he raised the gun and took merely a second to aim and shoot at a target on the opposite side of the room. It hit the bullseye perfectly, the gunshot still ringing in her ears and making her wince. He then met her gaze and shot at the other four targets without looking. Her eyes widened as she held his stare, then looked at the targets. Each of them were perfectly shot through the bullseye.

“That was hot,” Y/N said with raised eyebrows and a blush on her cheeks.

Bucky laughed, a blush painting his cheeks as well as he put the safety back on and set the gun back on the table. For the next hour he taught her how to put one of the simpler guns together, how to load it, unload it, clean it, and then it was time to practice shooting. Y/N wasn’t good at it. The feeling of the gun in her hands felt unnatural, and the kickback made her flinch each time. She still hit the targets within the outline of the body drawn on them, but not in any fatal areas.

“You gotta get behind it,” Bucky said with a slight laugh in his voice after watching her tense up after the last shot. “The recoil won’t be as rough if you do.” She took a deep breath and aimed, angling her body a little differently. It helped as she shot, the recoil not making her feel so off balance. “Good. Again,” he said with a smile. After a few more rounds he stepped behind her. “Left foot forward,” he instructed, slightly kicking her shoe to make her step forward. “Right foot back. Square shoulders,” his hands directed her shoulders to face the target better. “Lean forward to anchor yourself. Elbows slightly out to absorb recoil,” his hands slid down her arms to put them in proper position. “Engage your pec muscles to squeeze your hands together, wrists locked.” His hands slipped back and down to her mid-back as a secondary anchor, barely touching her. Then he leaned in toward her ear. “Now aim.” His voice dropped, and she had to suppress a shiver as she aimed carefully. “Take a deep breath,” he said quietly, his breath tickling her ear. She inhaled deeply. “Let it out, and shoot.”

Y/N slowly let out the breath and shot. The recoil wasn’t nearly as bad that time, and it hit right in the middle of the forehead of the target. She let out a surprised huff of a laugh, and felt Bucky’s hands squeeze her sides. “Good girl,” he said proudly.

She froze. He said it. He fucking said it. In real life. To her. She tried to school her expression as she set the gun down and he stepped away on shaky legs. “Um…thanks,” she said, clearing her throat. “I, uh…excuse me.”

“What? Where are you going?” Bucky asked as she stepped around him. “We’re not done yet.”

“I just need a minute,” she said, walking fast out of the training room and towards the nearest bathroom. The second the stall door was closed she leaned against the wall and stuck her hand down in her pants. Once her fingers made contact with her clit she moaned, shutting her eyes tight as her mouth hung open. She was already so wet just from him touching her during the lesson and calling her a good girl that she immediately pumped two fingers inside her sopping pussy, causing a full body shiver to roll through her. Did she Pavlov’s Dog herself into nearly cumming every time he called her that from watching his wet dreams? Just as her thumb was flicking at her clit and getting her close she heard the bathroom door open.

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice called out. She silently cursed, her hand stilling in her pants as her eyes snapped open. “What happened, huh? Did that freak you out? I’m sorry, sometimes that first lesson can be a little intense, actually shooting the target like that.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” Y/N said hastily. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She heard him sigh and then walk toward the stall she was in. “It’s okay, Y/N, just talk to me,” he said softly.

“I’m fine. Seriously.” Her wobbly voice did not help her case. Her fingers twitched inside her and she lightly gasped, trying to be quiet.

“Y/N, what are you…” He stopped, then she heard the almost imperceptible sound of a deep sniff. Goddammit, she thought. Damn that super soldier serum. There was a long pause, then he shuffled closer to the stall door. “Are you…touching yourself?”

Y/N wanted the earth to swallow her whole. This was so embarrassing. Of course he knew. How would she explain this? There was no good explanation. She’d have to tell him about the dream-walking, watching him fuck her crazy in his wet dreams for the past couple of months. She ripped her hand out of her pants and flushed the toilet with her free hand, tucking the wet one behind her back as she opened the stall door. Bucky stood ramrod straight, his eyes looking dark and analytical as he stared down at her. “That’s crazy,” she said, skirting around him as best as she could.

As she tried to walk away he suddenly grabbed her and pushed her toward the tiled wall. She squeaked in shock as he caged her against it with his arms, his left knee moving between her legs and invading her space. His metal hand reached around and gripped her wrist she was hiding and pulled it back around carefully and up to his face. His bright blue eyes looked sharper than usual as he looked her over, his breathing heavy, and when her fingers were close to his face he broke eye contact and stared at her wet fingers, still soaked with her arousal. His eyelids fluttered as he tilted his head and his nostrils flared as he sniffed her fingers. He then met her gaze again and brought her fingers to his mouth, opening wide and licking at them.

Surely this was how she would die. Her heart thundered in her ears, she blinked rapidly and her mouth fell open as she watched him lick then suck her fingers into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he tasted her, and the hum he let out vibrated around her fingers. She sighed, her head falling back against the wall. Her knees shook, threatening to give out, and his flesh hand wrapped around her back to hold her flush against his body and keep her upright. He finally pulled her fingers out of his mouth and opened his eyes, licking his lips as he stared at her. “You taste delicious, doll,” he whispered. “Why were you touching yourself?”

She swallowed thickly and dropped her gaze to his chest. “I…I needed to,” she said weakly.

“Why?” he asked firmly, his metal hand letting go of her wrist and then pulling her chin up to make her look at him.

Y/N couldn’t handle the intense look in his eyes and the shame so she shut her eyes. “I’ve been dream-walking into your wet dreams for the past few months,” she confessed quickly. “I didn’t mean to, I just forgot my sleeping pills one night and suddenly ended up in your dream and I saw myself giving you head. I’m sorry.” She felt overwhelmed and inhaled shakily, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything at first, then she felt him move and kiss the side of her mouth. Her eyes snapped open as he pulled away and he smirked at the look on her face. “What else did you see me doing to you?” he asked.

Y/N huffed. “Y-you…you fucked me in the shower,” she whispered. “And on your bed. Then during a mission. Basically everywhere,” she stifled a laugh at the memory of all the places and ways he’d dreamed of fucking her.

“What was your favorite?” he asked, his metal hand sliding down to her throat and wrapping his fingers around it. He didn’t squeeze, just held her there as he stared at her.

“I…all of them,” she breathed. “I loved all of them.”

His smirk widened into a wicked smile. “Especially when I called you a good girl?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head unwittingly and she whined in his face. “Yyyeeesss,” she grunted through gritted teeth.

Bucky moaned and kissed her. Y/N gasped through her nose, kissing him back and trying to keep up with how passionately he was kissing her. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she could taste the remnants of her arousal as she entangled her tongue with his. His flesh hand moved down her hip, over her ass cheek, then up to her breasts, kneading them and leaving a tingling sensation in his wake. His metal hand slightly squeezed her throat, pulling another whine from deep in her chest.

“Fuck, doll,” he groaned against her lips. “So responsive. Just like in my dreams.” He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers as they both breathed heavily. “Lesson’s over. Let’s go upstairs and you can choose which dream we recreate first.”

She nodded frantically. He let her go and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the bathroom and walking with purpose toward the elevator. The entire ride up he didn’t say anything or move, watching the floor numbers rise as he held her hand firmly. When the elevator dinged he nearly ripped her from the elevator and dragged her to his room, shutting and locking the door behind her and then pushing her against the door. He kissed her again, his hands roaming over her eagerly. Y/N melted against him, letting him move her and kiss her any which way he wanted to.

“How do you wanna start, Y/N?” he asked as he licked at her neck. “You wanna suck me off like that first time you saw me? Or do you wanna fuck me? I’ll do whatever you want.”

Her hands were shaking as she gripped his shoulders, trying to ground herself so she wouldn’t collapse. “Do you…do you actually want to do this?” she stuttered, her self-doubt kicking in. “I u-understand if you’re…mad or–”

“Stop that,” Bucky said, gripping her cheeks and making her look at him again. “What you saw in my dreams is exactly what I want. You. I want you. I’ve been falling for you from the moment we met, doll. I want your body,” he kissed her lips. “I want your mind.” He kissed her forehead. “I want your heart all to myself.” He dipped down and kissed the spot over her heart, making her almost sob. “I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours.” The look on his face and the hope in his eyes was almost too much to bear as he gazed at her.

“I want that,” Y/N nodded. “I want all of that. I’m yours, and I want you to be mine.”

“Already am,” he shook his head with a knowing smile. “I’m yours.” He kissed her again, but this time it was softer, sweeter, and the tenderness made her whimper against his mouth. Her hands moved up to hold him by the back of the neck and keep him close to her, and he used the leverage of her hands there to lift her and make her wrap her legs around his hips. Bucky turned them towards his bed and laid her on it, continuing his kisses as he stayed there with her for a moment.

When he moved his kisses to her cheek and down to her neck she finally found her voice. “I want…I need you to make me cum with your fingers,” she said. “I need to cum so bad, Buck. Please…please honey…”

“Mmh, I like that,” Bucky smirked against her neck. He quickly stripped her of her clothes, leaving her naked and splayed out on the bed. His eyes hungrily gazed at her as he stripped himself, and she ogled him openly as his flesh hand moved closer to her pussy.

“No, not that one,” Y/N said.

Bucky looked like he short circuited for a moment, his eyes widening as he stared at her in shock. Then his eyes narrowed and he brought his metal hand forward, hovering it over her pussy. “You want my metal fingers?” he asked, sounding perplexed and in awe. She nodded, smiling softly at him. He let out a long sigh, like he was relaxing after a long day, then brought his metal hand up to her face. “Open up,” he instructed. Y/N opened her mouth and he dipped his middle three fingers into her mouth. She licked and sucked them, loving the way the metal felt against her tongue and giggling at the clink sound they made against her teeth. When he felt like they were lubed enough he pulled them out of her mouth and brought his hand back down between her legs. “Good girl,” he praised her with a knowing smirk.

She visibly shivered at the praise, and he sunk two fingers into her without warning. Y/N gasped, her back arching at the sudden but pleasant intrusion that her body had been yearning for. He pumped his fingers slowly, letting her get adjusted to them and watching her carefully, making sure she wasn’t in any pain or discomfort. His eyes couldn’t seem to decide whether to stay on her face or her pussy, mesmerized by the slick sounds coming from between her legs and the moans and whimpers falling from her lips.

She was so close already, and whimpered at the need and desperation that made her hips tremble in his hand. The metal felt amazing inside her, somehow staying cool against the immense heat radiating from her pussy. Bucky could tell she was struggling to finish and leaned over her a little bit, bringing his face close to her pussy. He suddenly spit on her clit, and she flinched at the added warmth as well as the sound, her breathing getting even heavier at how hot that was. His metal thumb started circling around her clit, rubbing in his spit as his fingers continued to fuck her. He watched her squirm for a moment before getting close again and then licking at her clit. Her hips bucked into his face, but that only seemed to drive him on as his flesh hand held her left thigh tightly to hold her down, his metal fingers moving faster inside her as the tip of his tongue flicked her clit.

“Holy fuck, doll,” he mumbled against her. “So good…let go and cum, Y/N. Be my good girl and cum.”

The build-up of her orgasm was finally about to tip over the edge. She reached down and gripped Bucky’s hair in her fingers, tugging at it as her hips grinded against his mouth. He moaned, sucking at her clit hard, then teasingly nibbled at his with his teeth. She came with a shriek, her legs clamping against his head as she bucked against his face again and again. Bucky kept moaning into her, his mouth and fingers refusing to stop and letting her ride out the orgasm as long as she wanted.

Once she stopped shaking he gave her one last broad lick and eased his fingers out of her, then put them in his mouth and licked them clean. She watched him enjoy her cum, the arousal rebuilding quickly. “Honey,” she breathed. His eyes flicked up to her face as he pulled his pointer finger out with a pop. “That was so good…thank you,” she huffed.

Bucky smiled and wiped his hand on the comforter before climbing over her and slotting his hips between her legs. His cock was heavy and hard laying on her pussy and lower stomach. Her hips squirmed again at the feeling, and he smirked watching her writhe uncomfortably, her lustful frown as she looked down at him making him beam. “So desperate for my cock, doll?” he teased, leaning down to kiss, lick and suck at her tits insistently.

“Yes,” she said unabashedly, her fingers back in his hair and scratching down his scalp.

“Is this how you want it?” he asked, dragging his lips across the skin of her chest. “The dream where I fucked you hard and fast on my bed, with you begging me to fill you, huh?”

“Oh my…GOD YES!” she grunted.

He chuckled against her sternum before moving back up and kissing her. “On your stomach, doll,” he instructed. Y/N immediately rolled over, planting her knees on the bed and raising her ass in the air with her face down in the bed. She heard him huff another laugh and then position himself behind her, rubbing his cock through her soaked lower lips. His flesh hand slapped her ass cheeks, and she whimpered again at the sting that he rubbed out gently. “Such a good, obedient girl,” he said lowly, teasing her pussy with the tip of his cock over and over again. “Go on. Beg.”

She turned her head to try and look at him as best as she could, her eyes pleading with him as she shook her ass back against his hips. “Bucky, honey, please…please? I need you to fill me. I want your fat cock to fuck me and fill me up, please. Please please please, honey? I’ll be so good. Your good girl.”

His eyes rolled back at that and his mouth dropped open. “Damn right you are,” he groaned, then thrust forward and filled her completely. Y/N yelped at the sudden stretch and fullness, her face smooshing back into the bed as she dropped her head down and her own eyes rolled back. He was perfect. She had never been so full in her life, and she knew instantly that she was ruined for any other man. Bucky let her adjust for a minute, a deep hum vibrating in his chest that she could surprisingly feel through her pussy, then he rolled his hips. That pulled a whine from her, and from then on it was like a bargain between them. A roll of the hips for a moan. A hard snap for a whimper. Widening her legs for a grunt and hands squeezing her ass cheeks. They were playing with each other, learning what the other wanted and responded to the most. Y/N had never felt so turned on or completely loved and cared for, and it made her sniffle as she started to cry.

“You crying, doll?” Bucky asked, laying his front over her back and kissing between her shoulder blades. “Does it feel that good?”

“Yes, honey,” she moaned, her fingers grasping the comforter in a death grip. “Never been so…mmh, full before,” she said.

“Really? Aw, buttering me up, huh?” he asked, the teasing tone coming back full force, his lips tracing along her back and his teeth nipping at her randomly, making her tense up. The way his beard was leaving goosebumps along her sensitive skin was tantalizing. “Gonna keep praising me ‘til I cum deep inside this pretty, sloppy pussy? God, you’re better than my dreams, Y/N.”

Y/N shivered at all the different sensations coming together to make her start tipping over the edge of another orgasm. Her face thrashed against the bed as the pace of his thrusts picked up, snapping into her hips so hard that the slapping of skin echoed in his room. His fingers gripped her hips hard, and she knew she’d be bruised and sensitive the next day, but that somehow made it even hotter. “Oh fuck…fuck, fuck, Bucky I…ungh,” she groaned as her pussy pulsed around him. “Fuck me full, honey! Please!”

“Yeah,” he huffed, the pace getting even faster. He leaned over and adjusted his feet on the bed, making it so he was mounting her. He tucked his face into the side of her neck, his heaving breaths heating her ear. “Take it, doll. Take all of me like the good girl you are. And all mine.” Bucky bit her shoulder, not hard but enough to make her shudder. “Mine,” he growled around the muscle in his mouth.

Y/N came careening over the edge, cumming so hard around his cock that she screamed and shook violently beneath him. Her pussy pulsed in waves as the orgasm rolled through her body and to each extremity, her vision going white as her voice was muffled into the mattress. Bucky clenched behind her, his hips pistoning into her a few times more until he whimpered in her ear and then shoved himself as far in as she could and stiffened. Another deep hum vibrated through him as he came, and she could feel the warmth increase inside her as he filled her up just the way she wanted.

It took her a few minutes to come back to herself, but when she did she could still feel him rutting into her from behind, his lips still at her shoulder but kissing and licking at the bite mark he left, and his hands generously massaging over her back, sides and hips. He gripped his cock between them and squeezed, making sure to get every last drop of cum was emptied into her still undulating pussy walls, her hips twitching periodically.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl,” he said, his voice sounding tired. “Did so good for me, doll. That was amazing. Thank you. Thank you for walking into my dreams. My pretty dream girl. Fucking hell…”

She giggled as he turned to his side and pulled her with him, keeping his cock tucked inside her as best as possible as he settled them more comfortably. “My dream man came to life,” she teased, reaching back and pinching his hip.

Bucky laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing her fingers. “Your dream man. My good girl.”

She nodded and leaned her head back into his chest, and he kissed her top of her head near her hairline. “Your good girl.”

@nerdreader

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #ask #request #anon ask #oneshot

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hyunjincanraptoo · 3 days ago

Note

No. 8 with Chan plz I beg of yooou!! 🙏🏻

Hi, baby! I'm sorry it took so long... I got carried away. This was also requested by my beautiful @ktxoxoxo . And the twins are 5yo (read foive haha)

8. "But I was wondering if maybe we can… go to… a date"

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: smut

Pairing: single dad!Chan x kindergarten teacher! reader

Alexa, play Eternity by Bang Chan

Christopher Bang wasn’t late. Not technically. He just wasn’t…early. Which, in kindergarten time, might as well not have been a big deal.

“Come on, Seojin, your shoe is on the wrong foot again,” he said, crouching down to help the little boy stumbling beside him.

His twin sister, Jiwon, clung to his leg, holding a crumpled paper flower they’d made together the night before. “We’re gonna miss the morning song, daddy!”

Both kids were dressed in matching outfits— gray shirts with little cartoon animal prints, denim overalls with faded patches on the knees, that hinted at many backyard adventures, and backpacks that were easily half their size, dangling comically from their shoulders.

The sight of them, so small but so determined, made Chan smile as he helped Seojin adjust his shoes.

By the time they made it through the gates, the classroom door was already open. And there you were— Miss Yn— kneeling beside a table covered in crayons, your face lit up in that soft, welcoming smile that had always made Chan’s heart race.

“Good morning!” you greeted, your voice warm as your eyes landed on the three of them. “Rough start?”

Chan ran a hand through his curls, a sheepish laugh escaping him. “Let’s just say two kids and one missing sock is a recipe for chaos"

You knelt down, greeting the twins first. “Jiwon, is that a flower for me?” you asked, your voice gentle, eyes soft as they looked at the crumpled creation in her hands.

Then, turning to the boy, you grinned. “Seojin, did you try to put your shoes on by yourself? I’m proud of you"

The twins grinned, their eyes shining with pride. Seojin’s cheeks flushed a little at your compliment, and Jiwon grinned as she bounced excitedly on her toes. Chan’s heart hiccupped in his chest, a feeling that was both sweet and unfamiliar.

"Thank you, Miss Yn" Jiwon said, her voice a little higher than usual. She clutched the paper flower tighter, her little fingers wrapping around it protectively.

And for the first time that morning, everything felt calm.

You stood up and faced Chan, a knowing look in your eyes. “It’s okay, Mr. Bang. I get it. Mornings are always a bit of a battle.” You winked playfully, making him chuckle.

Chan glanced at the twins, now excited to begin their day. Seojin tugged at your sleeve, his eyes sparkling.

“Miss Yn, can I put the flower on the table? For you?” he asked shyly, his voice small but full of earnestness.

“Of course”, you said, gently guiding him to the table where he carefully placed the crumpled flower next to the crayons.

As you stood up, you caught Chan watching you, a tender smile on his lips. There was something in the way he looked at you— his expression was soft, his shoulders less tense, as though, just for a moment, he had forgotten the chaos of the morning.

He wasn’t just their dad, the one who had to juggle work and kids. He was someone who had to trust others, someone who could relax when things weren’t perfect.

And in that moment, with the kids happily occupied and the morning song about to begin, it felt as though everything, for once, was exactly as it should be.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

You hadn’t meant to make it sound so serious. You just wanted to talk about the twins— Jiwon’s creativity, the way Seojin seemed to be reading well beyond his age group. It was a good thing. A proud parent teacher conversation.

But when you pulled Chan aside at pickup and said, “Do you have a moment sometime this week? I’d love to talk about the twins potential”, he stiffened like you'd handed him a surprise bill.

“Are they okay?”, he asked, brows knitting immediately,

“They’re wonderful”, you reassured quickly, a soft laugh escaping, “It’s not a bad thing. I just want to talk about how we can keep nurturing their strengths”

Relief washed over his face, followed by something more thoughtful.

“Uh… I mean, I’m off work around six most days, but it gets a little wild at home until…”, he hesitated, “Well… Until bedtime”

You nodded, sensing the chaos without needing details, "Understandable"

“But after bedtime, I’m free”, he added, then suddenly flushed, “I mean…. I didn’t mean that. Not like my bedtime. Theirs. I meant their bedtime. I don’t… uh… have a bedtime”

You bit back a smile, “After their bedtime sounds perfect”

“Cool! Yeah, I could…make tea or something?”, he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking to the ground.

“I’d like that”, you said, voice light “I’ll bring the files and the cookies”

He smiled, lopsided and relieved, “Okay, yeah… That’s perfect”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

When you arrived at the Bang residence, the porch light was on, making the front step glow. Chan opened the door before you could knock, and for a second, your words caught in your throat.

He was in simple clothes— a plain black tee that clung just a little to his chest, and loose grey joggers slung low on his hips. His hair was still damp, curling softly like he’d just gotten out of the shower after wrestling bedtime routines into submission.

He smelled faintly of baby shampoo and his toned, firm arms flexed subtly as he stepped aside to let you in.

"Sorry for the mess”, he said with a shy laugh, and you followed him inside.

It was the kind of mess only a home full of love made— drawings taped to the fridge with crooked magnets, some spelling ‘DADDY IS THE BEST’ in trembling letters. A blanket fort half collapsed near the hallway. LEGO scattered across the coffee table. Tiny mismatched socks clinging to furniture corners like they were forgotten for a long time. The place smelled like fabric softener and desperation

He led you to the kitchen where two mugs sat on the counter beside a dish of cookies you recognized from the classroom snack rotation.

“I hope chamomile tea is okay”, he said, scratching the back of his neck, “Or I could make dinner. I didn’t know what you’d want, so I kinda didn’t… plan anything”

Your heart softened, “Tea’s lovely. But if you have spaghetti, I’ll never say no”

He smiled, shy as usual, “Spaghetti it is, then”

As he cooked, you sat at the counter, watching him move carefully and methodically, checking the pot three times just to make sure. You wondered how often he’d made dinner with a child on each hip, how many nights he spent with no one to tell him he was doing okay.

Halfway through stirring the sauce, his voice dropped quieter.

“Most days, I feel like I’m just… trying not to mess them up”, he admitted, “Hearing that they’re doing well from someone like you it’s... It means a lot. I don’t get to hear that much”

You stood, walking slowly around the counter until you were beside him, “You’re doing better than okay, Mr. Bang. Those kids love you more than anything. I’m proud of you, honestly”

He blinked at you, his breath catching slightly at your words then quickly looked away like he didn’t want to cry over noodles.

Dinner was simple but good. The spaghetti was eaten in a comfortable silence and afterwards, the tea was easily replaced with wine, and you found yourselves on the couch, side by side, sharing stories.

At some point, you asked gently, “Can I ask about their mother?”

He paused. His thumb circled the rim of his glass.

“She left when the twins were about two”, he said finally, “Said she wasn’t ready. Said she loved them but couldn’t do this. I kept thinking maybe she’d change her mind. But she didn’t”.

Your hand rested over his, warm and comforting.

“And yet, here you are. Loving them enough for two people”

He exhaled, heavy, “Some days I feel like I’m barely holding it together. I lie awake wondering if I said the wrong thing, if I’m giving them enough, if they’ll remember their childhood as something happy or something chaotic”

“They’ll remember love, Mr. Bang”, you said, “They’ll remember those spaghetti nights and LEGO castles and their dad kissing their foreheads even when he was exhausted”.

His eyes had drifted down to your lips. Slowly. Intentionally. Then back to your eyes. Then again to your lips, “You can… call me Chris at this point. Ir Chan. It's up to you"

You pretended not to be too excited about that and just nodded.

Eventually, you stood, saying softly, “Can I… give them a goodnight kiss?”

He looked surprised, but smiled, “Yeah. They’re light sleepers, but… go ahead. They’d like that”

You tiptoed into their shared room, kissed each forehead. Seojin murmured something about Jupiter, Jiwon curled deeper into her pink blanket. Then, you came back to find Chan watching from the hallway, arms folded, soft smile on his face.

At the door, just before you left, he hesitated.

“So… Jinnie has been really into science lately”, he said. “And Wonnie thinks spaceships look like marshmallows”.

He rubbed the back of his neck again— nervous, but hopeful, “They’ve been asking to go to the science museum and I thought maybe, if you’re free… you could come with us?”

You smiled, tilting your head, “As a chaperone?”

He shook his head, a little shy laugh escaping, “As a friend. Or maybe more than that. If that’s okay”

Your heart flipped in your chest, warm and glowing.

“It’s more than okay”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

The museum was a whirlwind of tiny sneakers squeaking on polished floors and gasps of wonder echoing off high ceilings.

Seojin had grabbed your hand the moment you arrived, dragging you straight toward the “Build Your Own Rocket” exhibit.

Jiwon, who had glittery butterfly clips in her braids, was less interested in space and more fascinated by how the spaceship models looked like “giant marshmallows ready to melt”.

You laughed with them, knelt down beside them, listened carefully when Seojin explained about Mars' atmosphere like he’d been doing it his whole life. You caught Chan watching from a few feet back, arms crossed, smile soft and full of something deeper.

He joined you in the planetarium, sitting beside you in the low light, shoulders touching lightly. The twins sat between you, leaning against each of your sides. When the stars lit up above, Seojin whispered, “I wanna be an astronaut”, and Jiwon added, “I wanna paint the stars with glitter”

Chan chuckled beside you, low and quiet, then he looked over at you, his voice barely a murmur in the dark.

“You’re good with them”, he said. “Better than I imagined. And I imagined a lot”

You glanced at him, your lips curving, “They make it easy. You did a good job with them”

But really, you meant he made things easy.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. Golden light spilled over the parking lot, catching in Chan’s hair making him look even more attractive as he lifted Jiwon into her car seat. Seojin was still clinging to your hand, reluctant to let go.

“Do you gotta go now?”, he asked, looking up with wide eyes.

“Yeah, sweetie. But I’ll see you soon”

He frowned a little, “You’ll come next time too, right?”

You leaned down, brushing a curl off his forehead, “Anytime you want, sweetheart”

Jiwon peeked from the back seat, “Next time we can show you the jellybean galaxy!”

You grinned, “Deal”

As you stepped back, Chan walked you to your car, hands shoved into his pockets. He looked like he was working something out—- something big and maybe a little scary.

Just before you opened the door, he spoke.

“Hey. So this was… really nice. They loved having you. I loved having you around”

You turned, heart pounding.

He swallowed, then tried again, softer.

“I know we’ve kind of been… circling this. But I was wondering if maybe we can… go to… a date? No kids, no science museum… Just us”

You smiled, eyes warm, “I thought you’d never ask”.

He laughed, relief breaking across his face like sunshine. “So that’s a yes?”

“Hell yes”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Chan picked you up at 6:30 sharp, wearing a soft blue sweater, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, a delicate cologne clinging to him that smelled like sandalwood and cozy days. He smiled when you opened the door.

“You look amazing”, he said softly, like he’d been waiting for say it the entire drive there.

He took you to a quiet Italian restaurant. It was rustic chic— exposed brick walls, soft jazz playing in the background, and lit candles between you. The kind of place where conversation came easily and time slipped by unnoticed.

He let himself lean into it, lean into you. He laughed, talked about the twins but also about music, late night ideas he used to chase, what he missed about himself before life got so heavy.

At some point, between sips of red wine and bites of pasta, he glanced at you and asked, “Do you ever feel like there’s a version of you out there somewhere? I mean, untouched by responsibility or grief or fear? Someone still wild enough to dream without a plan B?”

You tilted your head, eyes tender,“Who is that person for you?”

Chan exhaled slowly, like he hadn’t expected you to ask but needed the answer more than he realized.

He paused, “He used to stay up all night writing songs no one would hear. He believed things could work out just because he wanted them to. He didn’t think about failure or bills or being enough. He just… lived”

You nodded, “Do you miss him?”

“I miss how he felt, he admitted, “But I think... I think you bring that version out in me”

You touched his wrist gently, letting silence wrap around the moment before answering.

“I think that version of you still exists. I see him when you talk to your kids. When you laugh. When you look at me with that glint in your eyes”

He smiled, soft and a little shy. And when dessert came, he didn’t look away when he said, “I haven’t let myself want something just for me in a long time. But I want this. I want you”

You reached out for his hand over the table, squeezing it lightly, “I want you too, Chan”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

As he drove you home, you both laughed over the failed dessert.

“I mean, how can someone mess up tiramisu that bad?”, you teased, shaking your head, “It tasted like damp paper towels and whipped cream”

Chan laughed, “I was trying to be polite about it, but yeah… my mouth is still confused”

You turned to him with a playful smile, “I should make you my strawberry crumble instead. That never disappointed anyone”

He turned to glance at you at a red light, his expression softening, “Strawberry crumble?”

You nodded, “It’s kind of my specialty. A little tart, lots of cinnamon and just the right amount of crispy topping”

Chan hummed, clearly intrigued, “Now that... sounds like a dessert worth staying up for”

You smiled, playful, “Are you asking me to make you some?”

His gaze flicked to you again, “I’m saying I’d love to try anything you make”

“Well, then maybe I do”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Back at your place, you kicked off your shoes and bounced to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients while Chan watched you from the doorway, leaning against the frame like he belonged there. Like this moment had been waiting all along.

“So”, you smiled, tying your apron, “You still up for my famous strawberry crumble?”

“I’m up for anything if it means more time with you”, he said, his voice low.

He stepped closer as you moved around the kitchen, brushing past him to reach for the cinnamon. You felt him behind you before he said a word, his hand found your waist without thinking.

“You have no idea what you do to me”, he murmured, voice grazing the shell of your ear, “I’ve been trying to keep it together all night”.

You turned, breath catching as he caged you in against the counter, hands bracing on either side of your hips. His mouth found your neck, lips soft and open, tongue teasing your skin as he pressed closer.

“Every time you smile at me like that”, he whispered, voice raspier, “I forget how to think. You make me feel like a man again. Not just a dad, running on caffeine and Disney movies. Like I still exist like that”

Your hands curled in his sweater as he kissed down to your collarbone, and then up again, stopping at the curve of your jaw. His hips nudged forward against you, demanding without being possessive

“I want you so badly”, he murmured, lips brushing yours, “But I don’t wanna rush this. I just… need you to know”

You kissed him, soft at first, then deeper, your hands tangled in his hair, his fingers pressing into your waist. It wasn’t just lust— it was weeks of glances, of bedtime giggles and science museums and stolen smiles finally turning into something more.

Eventually, with the crumble forgotten in the oven and your lips swollen from the make out session, he pulled back with a breathless smile.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to taste anything but you after this”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Weeks had passed since that first dinner. Since the bad tiramisu, since he walked you to your door with the promise to call.

And he called, and texted, and showed up with warm drinks and tired eyes after long days.

Your dates became routine in the best way— quiet dinners, evening walks, music shared between car rides. But even more than that, there were mornings spent with sleepy kids climbing into your lap and afternoons at the park with juice boxes and way too much energy. You weren’t just seeing Chan anymore— you were becoming a family.

You were at the Bang’s residence, the living room smelled like pepperoni and fresh dough. There was a kid sized mountain of pillows on the floor, and Ratatouille was playing in the background. But the real action was happening in the kitchen, where you stood in front of the counter with Jiwon and Seojin on a stool, each one beside you.

“Hold on”, Chan said, squinting at the recipe book, “What even is a ‘heaping tablespoon’?”

You laughed as Jiwon whispered, hand to her mouth, “Daddy always looks confused when he is around you”

Seojin nodded, “Daddy gets all blushy when people say your name”

“Like this”, Jiwon said dramatically, puffing out her cheeks and smearing flour on them for effect.

Your laugh echoed through the kitchen, full and bright.

“Do I really blush?”, Chan asked from the sink, ears already pink.

“Yes”, both kids said in unison

“It’s okay”, you said, nudging him with your hip as you passed, “I think it’s cute”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Later, with their bellies full of pizza and cookies, you helped Chan carry two sleepy, cookie drunk kids up the stairs. He tucked Jiwon in with her favorite stuffed wolf, pressed a kiss to Seojin’s forehead, and turned to flick off the light when the little boy’s voice stopped him.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Can Yn live here with us someday?”

The girl blinked up sleepily, “I want her to help with bedtime stories”

Chan swallowed, heart catching in his throat.

“We’ll see,” he said softly, already daydreaming, “But that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Downstairs, you were just finishing drying the dishes, when you felt a presence behind you. Chan’s hand slid across your waist, his touch needier than before.

He turned you around, guiding you gently but firmly toward the laundry room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click.

“Chan… what’s that?”

He didn’t answer. Just walked you backward until your back hit the dryer machine, then kissed you. Not sweet, not teasing.

Starved.

Tongues tangling, teeth grazing, hands gripping. His mouth devoured yours like he’d waited his whole life to be allowed this.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?”, he rasped between kisses, his breath hot on your lips, “I want you in this house. In my bed. I want to wake up next to you. Watch you make breakfast in my t-shirt. I want your voice in their bedtime routine”

You gasped, fingertips clenching his shirt.

“I want you to be mine”, he whispered against your jaw, kissing down your neck, slow and hot, “Not just here for the cookies and movies. I want you here everyday. For real”

You tilted his chin up so he could see your face, see your smirk softening into something serious.

“So make me yours, Mr. Bang”, you said, already breathless.

That word— Mr. Bang— drawed a raw, shaky breath from him.

His hands slid under your shirt, warm palms against your skin, pushing it up until you lifted your arms and let him tug it off. His lips find yours again— desperate, hungry, but still slow like he was savoring this. Like he was not ready to rush anything that’s taken him so long to let himself want.

He lifted you effortlessly, placing you on top of the dryer machine. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as he settled between them. You tugged at his shirt, and he took it off, his muscles flexing. You couldn't help but touch him, dragging your fingers down his chest, his abs, until he groaned.

“You look like a fantasy”, you whispered

“Keep your legs around my waist”, he demanded, dragging his palms up the outside of your thighs, “And your hands on my shoulders”

Your breath caught.

“You can’t be noisy”, he warned, dragging his lips along the column of your throat, a teasing scrape of teeth just under your ear, “They’re asleep upstairs. Can you be quiet for me?”

You nodded, breath catching as his fingers teased down between your legs, slipping past your waistband and finding just how ready you were. He groaned into your neck as he slid your panties aside just to find out how wet you were.

“Fuck, baby… all this for me?”

“You make it hard not to want you”, you panted

He teased, circling two fingers slowly over your entrance, before sliding them in. You answered with a gasp, back arching as his fingers work you open, making you clutch at his shoulders to stay quiet. But you fail. A soft, broken moan slips out, and instantly— he stops.

He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, thumb dragging gently over your bottom lip, “Didn’t I say quiet?”

“I tried”, you whispered, flushed and needy.

He rewarded your honesty with a kiss, tongue sliding against yours as he fumbled with his pants. He lined himself up, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, until you whimpered, and finally pushed inside in one long, delicious thrust. You squeezed his shoulders, swallowing a moan as he filled you.

“I’ve wanted this for so long”, he muttered against your lips, “You feel like mine. All mine”

He fucked you like he meant every word he said earlier. Like he was claiming every second of the life he wanted with you.

Your body trembled, the pressure building until you were gasping, your eyes pleading.

His hips moved in devastating rolls, each thrust deeper, dragging soft whimpers from your throat. His hand clamped over your mouth, his own face contorted with the effort to stay quiet too. The rhythm stutters, then picks up— rougher, needier, but still careful not to knock over anything or make too much sound.

You were close, he felt it.

“Come for me, baby”, he panted

When you came, your body clenched around him so tight he choked on a groan, pulling out just in time, pumping himself hard with his hand as his release spilled over his fingers and your skin,chest heaving as he tried not to groan too loud.

He cursed low under his breath, panting into the crook of your neck, resting his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck… I couldn’t risk it. But god, you make it so hard”

He leaned into you after, kissing you softly.

“I’ve been dreaming about that”, he murmured, “And now I need round two. Where I can ruin you in every position I’ve imagined”

You laughed softly, nose brushing his, “You sure you’re not too old for round two?”

He narrowed his eyes playfully, “Oh, baby. You’ll regret that”

You giggled as he helped you get down from the machine, both of you half naked and buzzing with heat when you heard…

“Daddy?”

You both stopped immediately.

Chan mouthed a fuck, then looked for his shirt. You yanked your own top down and slid into the hallway, flushed and breathless.

There she was Jiwon, holding back tears.

“I can’t find Bubbles”

You kneeled, smoothing her hair, “Let’s go find him, sweet girl”

You searched together—under blankets, pillows, even behind the fridge— until you spotted the bunny tucked behind the couch. She smiled and hugged you tight.

From the doorway, Chan watched you. Hair messy, shirt a little crooked, still glowing from what just happened. And at that moment, all he knew was— if there was one thing he was doing right in this life… was choosing you.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Epilogue:

It was just past lunch time when Chan told you to wear something cozy and not to ask questions. He held your hand the whole drive, humming under his breath, stealing glances at you like he still couldn’t believe you were actually there.

The road led to the edge of the city, to a quiet hill bathed, where the breeze blew through swaying grass. The twins had fallen asleep in the backseat, curled against each other like they were sharing the same dream, and Chan smiled as he parked, kissing your hand before stepping out.

“Come on”, he whispered, , “I have something for you”

You helped him lay down a few blankets near the car,on the grass. Then, from the trunk, he pulled out his acoustic guitar. You blinked, surprised.

“You wrote me a song?”

He grinned slyly, “Tried to”

When he started playing, it was tender. Every note carried the weight of memories: late night talks, messy mornings, little hands reaching up for yours, flour on cheeks, stolen kisses when both kids were giggling in the next room.

Then came the words, wrapped in that warm tone only Chan had.

I'm never letting go

Let's go on a little walk, see the world outside

Don't wanna let you go

The way that you give me your hands, I'll fly

Eternity

You didn’t realize you were crying until he leaned forward, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. His voice cracked on the last chorus, but he kept going, like the song was the truest way he knew how to speak.

When it ended, you sat in silence, your hand on his chest, feeling the way his heart still trembled under your touch.

“Was it… good?”, he asked

You nodded, tearful and smiling, “It was perfect”

He cupped your cheek again, foreheads touching.

“You’re it for me”, he whispered, “This… us, the kids… this is everything. I just wanted you to know… I’ll love you like this. Always”

Under the open sky, with the twins sleeping nearby and his voice still lingering in the air, you kissed him like a promise.

“I’ll love you too, my Channie. Forever”

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dolcecherub · 12 hours ago

Text

only girl in the world ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

❀ pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

❀ tags: op81, dirty talk, nonchalant oscar lol, pining, smut, unprotected sex, miami gp, jealous oscar, start of relationship, mild usage of y/n, 18+

❀ yap: this is my first time writing for oscar as well as any f1 setting so lmk any feedback y’all have but i had so much fun writing this and i hope y’all like it!!

❀ very loosely based on the lyrics "I wanna make you beg for it Then I'ma make you swallow your pride," by Rihanna

❀ word count: 6.1k

The paddock was bustling with pre-sprint quali nerves and excitement, the Miami heat beating viciously. You sent a cheerful smile to Ollie, who walked past quickly, seemingly trying to get ready before he got in trouble. You let out an amused huff at the rookie’s antics and continued your way to the McLaren team area. Grabbing a stray biscuit from the various platters set up around the booth, you pulled your phone out from your pocket to check for any new messages or updates. Snacking on your biscuit, you wiped your hands on your jeans, making a mental note to respond to the few brand promotions that had come through.

It had been just over a year and a half since you had joined the McLaren team, aiding with PR and social media management. It was one hell of a journey, but you vividly remember your excitement after receiving the confirmation email that you had gotten the job for McLaren’s social media team. So many weeks of cup noodle dinners and managing marketing for smaller driving companies, but it had all been worth this exact moment. Basking in the sun before the Miami race weekend, working with people who were nothing but welcoming, frankly, it warmed your heart.

You felt an arm aggressively throw itself over your shoulders, causing you to jolt forward a bit in shock as you turned to see who it might be. Seeing Lando’s beaming smile staring down at you settled your nerves as you returned a grin. “Hi Lando, how was your week?’ You asked, placing a hand on his back in a friendly manner. You had grown quite close with both of the McLaren drivers, being able to have hours of laughter with Lando. Setting foot on the Formula 1 scene, similar to when Oscar had, allowed you two to grow close as well; however, he was far less touchy than Lando, less chatty, and less expressive. The more you thought about it, perhaps he didn’t actually like you as much as you thought.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of that thought, as Lando responded, “Not bad, y/n, excited for the weekend. Happy to be catching a tan,” He says with a laugh. You snorted, always shocked at how easily Lando managed to tan. It did wonders for him, not that he wasn’t already handsome, frankly, both the McLaren boys were. “I wish I could tan half as well as you do, imagine me all sun-kissed.” You joked, swishing your hair sarcastically as Lando laughed. “At least you’ve got a better tan going than Oscar, man's still as pale as he is in the winter,” Lando jokes, loudly enough that it catches Oscar’s attention from just around the corner of the booth. “Heard that mate, watch it!” Oscar yelled back before returning to his conversation with an engineer.

Oscar was wearing a simple pair of black shorts with the McLaren jersey clinging to his fit frame. His hair sat neatly and soft, freshly cut from what you could tell. His arms were crossed, brows furrowed from the sun as he conversed, nodding along every now and then with a small smile.

It was the first time you had seen him this weekend, and your breath hitched a little, something that became increasingly common as you saw in the last few months. You’re not quite sure when it began, presumably sometime at the end of the 2024 season. You recall the end of the 2024 season, although neither driver had won the championship, McLaren itself winning the Constructors’ Championship called for celebration. Watching calm and collected Oscar drunkenly ramble and giggle to Lando seemed endearing. His cheeks flushed at his intoxication and warmth in the air, hair tousled from trying to keep it out of his face. He looked beautiful, you thought, nursing a drink. You locked eyes with Oscar as he slung an arm around Lando, shooting you a winning smile, lopsided and sheepish as he winked. Since then, you’ve been a lost cause. Stealing glances at him around the paddock, cheering a little louder when he wins a race, feeling your heart speed up when he’s in high-stress situations. It needed to stop, this infatuation needed to be dealt with before it became too much. Of course, Oscar wasn’t interested like that. Just friendly.

You returned your attention to Lando and continued with light conversation before both the McLaren boys were swept away for pre-race interviews. You checked your wristwatch, seeing the clock push just over 4:00 as the drivers began making their way into their garages and putting on their suits. You chatted with another crew member moving towards the garages yourselves, as media teams bustled around the booths.

Your eyes landed yet again on Oscar, pulling on his black balaclava, biceps bulging as his race suit hung folded off his hips. You felt your heart speed up at the sight, his muscles rigid through his clothing. Your mind drifts to the thought of your nails scratching down Oscar’s back or grabbing his biceps as he hovers over you. You hadn’t realized how long you had been staring till his eyes caught yours, dark and focused. You looked away quickly, cheeks surely flushing pink as you tried to resort to casual conversation elsewhere.

☆.｡.:*

Sprint qualifying was definitely one for the books. You felt quite happy for Kimi and were excited for the McLaren drivers following. The hour following sprint qualifying was filled with interviewers hounding Lando and Oscar while attempting to update the media for McLaren accounts themselves. Excitement flowed through you at the liveliness of the Miami weekend, and you had high hopes for the boys this weekend.

You heard your stomach growl loudly, departing with the team begrudgingly as another team member insisted they would be able to finish up any media engagement necessary. Walking back towards the hotel, you pulled out your phone, checking any notifications before mindlessly scrolling through stories.

Dinner was short and sweet, chowing down a hearty bowl of pasta and nursing a glass of red wine from a local restaurant neighbouring the hotel. The walk back was beautiful, lights lining the streets and palm trees as the warm breeze comforted your skin, salt in the air heightening your senses.

Entering the hotel lobby, you headed towards the elevator, brushing your fingers through your hair, detangling any knots. A ding notified you that you reached your floor. Walking out, you fumbled around in your bag for your key card, walking towards your room. You heard footsteps approaching and looked up, catching sight of Oscar leaving his room, conveniently next to yours. You flashed him a smile as he glanced at you, returning the grin. The distance between you two grew smaller as you spoke. “Congratulations today.” You said to him, pausing in front of your hotel room. “Thank you,” He said, voice low and appreciative. The air seemed tense as your nerves settled. You fumbled to regrab your key card before facing the door. “Hopefully tomorrow’s even better, I’m expecting it.” You joked, flashing a small grin as you grabbed the door handle, turning your head towards him. He smirked, letting out a small chuckle, and you felt a sense of accomplishment. “I’ll do my best for you, yeah?” He teased back, your heart speeding up at his tone. You swiped your key card, turning the handle and opening the door. “Goodnight, Oscar.” You spoke lightly, sparing him one last glance. “Goodnight, y/n.” He said, walking away towards the elevator.

Closing the door, you bit your lip, dropping your bag near the entrance. You shook your head. You couldn’t possibly be smitten by such a short interaction with a man who surely didn’t think twice about you. Grabbing a pair of pyjamas, you snuck in a quick shower, and prepared yourself for bed. Climbing into bed, you set an alarm for the morning before cozying up and drifting off to sleep with the smell of salty air.

☆.｡.:* sunday - race day ☆.｡.:*

Saturday had gone well for the team, the McLaren boys scoring a double podium on the Miami sprint. You remember cheering loudly, seeing Oscar send you a grin following his podium. You giggled at the subtlety of it and continued celebrating the extra points. Race qualifying had ended well for Lando and a little less exciting for Oscar, but still great overall, sending them both a thumbs up in passing as you were whisked away into posting and media management with the team.

Sunday was going well so far, pre-race nerves definitely settling into some drivers despite the excitement of Miami. Engagement was fantastic, better than it had been in months, at least you were doing your job right, you thought sarcastically. Clouds had begun moving in but you had hoped they would split and avoid any rain and dangerous conditions.

The race itself was nerve-wracking and exciting, watching Oscar overtake Max with such confidence was riveting. The cheers from the paddock were undeniably loud as Oscar and Lando finished the race with yet again a 1-2 double podium. The Miami weekend had been a wonder for the McLaren team, and the team was bound to want to celebrate the wins. Interviews ensued with posts making appearances from all teams and drivers. You let out an embarrassing snort watching Oscar attempt the griddy, fulfilling his promise to Justin Jefferson. You were certainly going to tease him about that later.

As the excitement settled, you heard chatter of the team deciding where and how to celebrate the double 1-2 podiums and points from the weekend. Leave Miami with a bang. You snuck away into a more secluded section of the paddock, sipping water as you scrolled your phone, needing some time away.

“Did I meet your expectations?” A familiar voice teased. You felt the presence behind you as you shivered slightly despite the warm air. You turned slightly, causing your body to lean into his. Sending a teasing smile back, you spoke, “I’d say so, Osc, congratulations, especially on the three in a row.” Although it began teasingly, you were sincere in your praise. His smile softened, eyes fluttering happily. “Thanks,‘ppreciate it.”

“Gonna come out and celebrate with us, hm?” You asked, hopeful, eyes running over his face as he looked at you. “Yeah, probably gonna jump in the shower first, but might as well celebrate such a good weekend in Miami.” He chuckled out, a low rumble that warmed your chest. “Perfect, I’ll see you out then.” You winked, gaining a surge of confidence before walking away back towards the larger team huddled up.

☆.｡.:*

You bent over the bathroom counter, bringing your face closer to the mirror. A brown lip liner steady in hand as you lined your lips. You had tugged on the singular party outfit you had brought for the weekend, a simple navy lace top paired with a denim mini skirt. You layered necklaces and bracelets to accessorize a bit while keeping the makeup a bit simpler, with smoky liner and a dark lip. You had left your hair as it naturally dried, touching it up a little with your fingers. Another one of the girls on the team had lent you a pair of black knee-high boots, claiming it would complement the outfit perfectly. You had to admit it made your thighs look killer. Applying a bit of gloss and spritzing perfume, you grabbed your essentials before heading out of the room.

The team had decided on a club just a few blocks away from the hotel, making transport quite easy. You laughed with the team, enjoying the relaxed vibe compared to the intensity of the weekend. The club was busier than you had expected, but you had immediately spotted Lando near the bar. Walking closer, you noticed Oscar nursing a drink next to him, laughing at a joke Lando had made.

Placing a hand on his back, you stood a little taller, loudly congratulating Lando on his podium with a smile. He smiles back and offers a shot, which you down quickly, noticing Oscar’s gaze run down your throat as you tip the drink back, eyes dark. Your body shuddered before requesting another shot. Downing that, you returned to a few of the other girls on the dance floor and joined in.

Drinks came and went as you continued dancing, your mind feeling fuzzier. The bass reverberates in your chest, grounding you slightly.

♪baby I’ma say your aura is incredible♪

♪if you don’t have to go, don’t♪

Hands brushed your waist as you pulled yourself closer to the body, feeling drawn to the warmth, mind fuzzy with need.

♪do you know what you started? I just came here to party♪

Pushing yourself back against the body, his hands grabbed your waist, slowly sliding further down towards your hips. You reached a hand up, grabbing his neck, back flush with his chest as your head lulled back a bit.

♪but now we’re rockin’ on the dance floor, actin’ naughty♪

♪your hands around my waist, just let the music play♪

Swaying your hips, you spun your body around, arms going up around his neck as his hands tightened on your hips, chests pressed flush together. For the first time, you can see the face of the man you’re dancing with. He was handsome, slightly taller than you, with blue eyes intent on your face as his blond hair dropped in strands over his forehead.

♪we’re hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we’re face to face♪

You bite your lip as his eyes follow the movement, eyes alight with desire. You continue to dance with him as he leans his head down, mouth close to your ear. You glance over his shoulder, his chest incessantly pressing against yours, as your eyes lock with Oscar’s a few feet away. His expression is neutral, but you see his jaw tick as his eyes zero in on the man's hands. The man is whispering something to you, and your body shivers. Not from what he had said, but rather how Oscar was looking at you.

“...d’you say?” You heard the man ask, not quite catching the first part of his question. “Sorry?” You said, breathlessly, bringing your attention back to his face. “Really are drunk aren’t you babe,” He teased, your mouth souring at the nickname. “Asked if you wanted to leave this place.” He reiterated, his hand grabbing your ass as he smirked. You slid your hands off his shoulders and took a quick step back, stumbling slightly. Shaking your head, “No, I-I’m good, thanks.” You hiccuped out, he rolled his eyes, hands pushing you off, suddenly offended at your reaction. Clicking his teeth with his tongue, he walked away towards the bar. You felt a sense of relief at his reaction, grateful it wasn’t worse.

Your eyes followed him, noticing a lack of Oscar near the bar. You scanned the club, trying to find him and failing. You took a breath, your head feeling dizzy from the drinks, as you decided it was probably time to head back to the hotel. Leaving the club, the fresh air did well to steady the fuzziness a little as you stumbled back towards the hotel.

You rummaged through your bag for your key card as you rode the elevator. Reaching your door, you swiped the key card and tried turning the handle. A red flash appeared, signalling you to try again, and so you did. Again, the handle refused to turn. Frustratedly, you tried again, swiping the key card slowly before jiggling the handle angrily. Your toes slightly hurt from the boots, your mind still a bit blurry, but far more sober than before. You let out an annoyed huff as the door swung open. You took a step back, eyes widening, your head whipped to the next door, and you read the number, realizing you had been trying to open the wrong door. Your head turned back to the person who opened the door.

Of course. It was comedic, really.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice low and seemingly tired. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I-,” You stuttered, cheeks flushing a bit in embarrassment as his arms crossed over his chest. “Congratulations today, you were incredible out there.” You spoke truthfully, unsure of what to say.

“Like you actually care,” He scoffed, grabbing the handle to the door. Your brows furrowed at his words. What was he talking about? “Seemed quite busy celebrating my win.” He said sourly. “What are you talking about?” You asked, confused.

“Surprised he didn’t come home with you.” Pondering for a second before it clicked. He was talking about the guy from the club, “We were dancing.” You laughed out, smiling. “You were all over him, enjoying yourself.” Oscar’s expression was stone-cold. “And you looked like a child sulking in the corner.” You snapped, “So I guess we both saw what we wanted.”

That hit, jaw clenching as he looked away. You took a step forward. “Why do you care who I spend my time with? You can’t spend all season avoiding me and acting like I don’t exist, and then get jealous over me. Who do you think you are?” You snapped, cheeks flushing with anger.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling. You kept going, your thoughts spewing out at a mile a minute. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you all season, I’ve tried to get along with you, and you look like you want nothing to do with me. So what!? You basically avoid me all season til some guy puts his hands on me an-”

“Fuck’s sake, I like you!” Oscar exclaimed exasperatedly, interrupting your tangent. It was like a bucket of ice water showering your body. Your mouth shut quickly, opening again to say something, but no words formed.

“I- fuck, forget it. You’re drunk.” He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the already messy locks.

“I’m not, not like I was.” You emphasized.

“Go back to your room y/n,” Oscar spoke sternly, looking away.

“Did you mean it?” You asked, your voice quiet compared to your outburst. He stayed silent, eyes scanning your face as your heart dropped to your stomach. You bit your lip nervously, his eyes following the movement wantonly.

You took a breath, lowering your gaze. “Either you tell me you meant it and say it again, or I leave and we never have to talk about this again.” You posed, his eyes locking in on your eyes.

His silence is your answer. You turn to walk next door, chest aching.

It all happens quite fast.

Oscar grabs your wrist, pulling you back as he steps forward, his lips landing on yours. You freeze up for a second as his lips move. Dropping your purse, you stand a bit taller, wrapping your arms around his neck, reciprocating the fervour of his kiss. His arms snake around your waist, leaning into the kiss as if he’s been starved. His teeth nibble your bottom lip before his tongue pokes out, running over your bottom lip, soothing the bite.

You pull back from the kiss, letting out a sigh, his face still close to yours. His cheeks are flushed as he catches his breath, leaning his forehead on yours and closing his eyes. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Osc…” You whispered, his arms pulling you impossibly closer as if you'd disappear.

“I’ve liked you since my first grand prix win, when you yelled louder than anyone on the team and raced around the paddock congratulating and thanking everyone.” Your breath hitched, the 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix, which was months ago. He ran his tongue over his lips, eyes opening to catch yours.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked breathlessly, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment.

“What could I have said? you’re on the team I didn’t wanna ruin anything, and surely you’re going to regret this in the morning so actually I’ve just fucked everything.” He rambled. Your heart leapt, his usual calm and collected demeanour replaced by one of vulnerability. Your heart ached with excitement.

“So you were avoidant and acted like a dick because you liked me?” You laughed out, finding the mere circumstance of it outrageous. He nodded solemnly, “You’re such a boy!” You teased, turning around and shutting the door to the hotel room with a slight slam. His arms tightened subconsciously.

“I’m not going anywhere, Osc, I promise.” You placed a light kiss on his cheek before bringing your mouth close to his ear. “I like you too, you know.” You whispered.

Leaning back, you looked at him, “I’ve thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”

You can see him smirk, finding pride in your confession as your body pressed against his. Although he’s smirking, he still seems shy, “Yeah?”

You nod, biting your lip before placing your lips back on his, missing the feeling. He kisses back with hunger, one hand coming up to cup your face and the other squeezing your hip. You reach a hand up from his shoulders into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently as he groans. His thumb reaches slightly, pulling your chin, your lips parting to allow his tongue to slide against yours. You let out a whimper at the action, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. His hand slid up your waist, breaching the edge of your top and grabbing you closer.

His lips trailed down, kissing your jaw and down towards your neck, suckling lightly and nibbling while soothing the sting with his tongue, placing a kiss on the mark. He scraped his teeth along your neck, placing soft kisses, his breath heavy as you let out a whine. You toed off the painful boots, pushing them to the side as you lost a few inches in height. Oscar looked at you, lips red and bitten, your eyes were blown out from desire as you tugged his shirt.

“Fuck, y/n. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted you like this.” He groaned into your neck. “If we do this, that’s that, I’m not letting you go.”

“Let me be yours, Oscar.” You spoke, tugging at his hair.

It was as if a switch had flipped inside of him, and any restraint he had completely vanished. Pulling back, he nudged your body towards the bed, getting the hint, you walked towards the bed. Oscar walked the other way, much to your dismay, locking the door and bringing your purse closer to the nightstand. The gesture warming your heart despite the frown on your face.

“I’m coming, baby,” He reassured, walking closer and pushing you back onto the bed as you got comfy.

“Not yet,” You joked, giggling as he let out a chuckle.

Oscar hovered over you, hands beside your head, propping himself up, scanning your face, he placed a delicate kiss on your lips. “You’re beautiful.”

Your heart sped up at the compliment, cheeks surely redder than ever before. Your hands reached up to grab his face, one reaching around his neck to pull him closer. He sprinkled light kisses all over your face and a few more on your lips as you giggled, Oscar’s smile wide.

“I hated seeing his hands on you. I wanted to punch him for even looking at you, but how could I blame him? Look at you.” He confessed, eyes roaming over your body, bare thighs suddenly feeling very exposed.

You pulled Oscar down, placing your lips back onto his with a slow intensity far different from before. He licked into your mouth, tongues tangling together with hunger. Want filled your body as your hand wandered over the expanse of his chest, the other tugging his hair, his teeth tugging your lip. Your hand reached the edge of his shirt, pushing it up and feeling his abs as you whimpered. Oscar detaches himself, sitting up a little to throw off his shirt, grabbing the edges and pulling it up over his head before dropping it somewhere off the bed. Leaning back down, his hand slid across your waist, gripping your hip, your hands sliding across his chest and back up into his hair.

His lips crashed onto yours, hot and hungry, tongues sliding together. Tugging his hair, you lifted a leg onto his hip, pulling his body closer to yours.

Oscar groaned when you tugged on his hair, his body responding immediately, his hips involuntarily grinding into yours.

He groaned again, the sound low and primal as he felt you whimper against his lips. He wanted to make you squirm and whine like that all night long, he wanted to hear the noises you could make for him. He pulled back from the kiss only to move down to your neck, his lips and teeth nipping your skin, his breath hot against you.

His hand reached towards the button of your denim skirt, tongue still licking over yours. “May I?”

“Please,” You whimpered. Unbuttoning your skirt, he slides it off your legs smoothly, running his hands gently back up your thighs before squeezing, leaning back down to kiss you.

His lips roamed down, hands sliding up the edge of your lace top, pushing it up. You leaned your head back as his tongue suckled another mark onto your collarbone. Your skin felt hot, fire blazing wherever his lips trailed as he peered up at you hungrily. Your hand tangling into his hair, tugging wantingly as he groans against your neck.

He grabs the edges of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body, tossing it to the side carelessly as his mouth eagerly lands on the swell of your breast. His mouth lingers, leaving marks scattered across your top half, his teeth grazing your body teasingly. “Oscar.” You whimpered, breathless as his hand grabbed the cup of your bra, tugging it down, mouth latching onto your nipple. Tongue flicking and swirling teasingly as you writhe, his other hand gripping onto your hips harshly. You let out a moan, back arching as his teeth graze your nipple, tongue soothing the slight sting. Oscar’s hand slides up your hip, past your ribs, towards your back, reaching for the clasp. In one single motion, his fingers flick the clasp open, tugging the straps off your arms and entirely off your body.

“Greedy.” You whispered, Oscar chuckled darkly, his finger brushing over your nipples as you moaned. You can feel his bulge pressed against your thigh, hips grinding into you. Your hands trailed down his body, hand rubbing against his length, Oscar groaning at the contact. Unbuttoning his shorts, you try to push them, fumbling as his mouth continues to roam your body. Placing a gentle kiss on your breast, he stands up, sliding his shorts off the rest of the way before repositioning himself on top of you, lips placing a delicate kiss on your navel.

Oscar’s hands grab your thighs, pushing them apart, placing fluttering kisses on your thigh as you squirm. “You drive me crazy,” he mumbles, leaving sloppy kisses toward your core. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, dark and hungry as he places a wet kiss on your clit over your panties, blushing at how soaked through you are. His hand holds your thigh open, thumb rubbing over your wet heat lightly, making you whimper.

He pushes your panties aside, holding them tight as he licked along your slit. “Hold these to the side for me, baby,” Oscar instructed, voice husky as your hand reached down to hold them aside. His hands left marks at how tightly they were gripping you, your back arching to try and get more of his mouth, you can feel him smirk between your thighs as he places a kiss to your clit and suckling it as you moan. His tongue swirls around, tasting you feverishly.

His fingers slide up, teasing your hole as his tongue teases your pussy, your head spinning at the sensations. “Oscar, please…” You whimpered, hand reaching into his hair and tugging. Oscar slides a finger in, his tongue lapping at you as you whine, loving the stretch of his fingers. He can’t help but grind his throbbing cock into the mattress to relieve the ache, watching you fall apart because of him. He pumps his finger slowly, tongue flicking your clit as you writhe, his groans vibrating into you.

“Can you take another darling?” Oscar asks, checking you’re okay before continuing. Nodding wildly, you beg breathlessly, “Please.” You moan, looking down at him. He slips in another finger, pumping slowly, his tongue lapping greedily around your hole, his nose effectively nuzzling your clit, making your head spin.

“Fuck,” You whine out, a knot building in your stomach, his fingers pumping faster. “Osc-Oscar I’m gonna cum,” You whimper out, feeling yourself nearly come apart. Almost as soon as you said it, his fingers stopped, tongue delivering one last lick. You whined as he pulled away, missing the stretch of his fingers. Your hand slips out of his hair, your body shaking, his eyes running over your body admiringly.

“You taste so good, sweet girl,” He murmurs between kisses, trailing back up your body, finally reaching your lips. He kisses you slowly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as you clench around nothing. His tongue slides across yours, his cock pressing into your thigh, throbbing.

You trail a hand down his body, scratching lightly before your fingers edge into his boxers, feeling his length. He grabs your legs, pushing them together and sliding your panties off your legs, tossing them aside before doing the same with his boxers, before climbing back on top of you and placing himself between your thighs. You shiver at his hands sliding across your body, one hand tweaking your nipple as your eyes fall to his length. Oscar watches you bite your lip, eyeing his cock wantingly. He was big, and your heart sped up, a little nervous.

His hand slips up, wrapping itself around your throat, forcing you to look back up at him, “You can take it, baby, for me, yeah?” Wanting to make him feel good, you nod, your body filled with desire.

Kissing you once, he smiles down at you, admiring your flushed face and glassy eyes. He grabs his length, pumping himself a few times, spreading his pre-cum down his length. He slides himself between your folds teasingly, coating himself in your wetness as you whimper. He lets go of your throat, placing his hand next to your head and leaning over you as he begins sliding in. Your hand grabs his bicep, the other brushing your breast and teasing it as Oscar fucks in his tip. You throw your leg over his hip, pushing him forward, silently asking for more. He slides in further, a delicious stretch, his eyes following the motion as your pussy wraps around him perfectly.

“You’re so fucking tight,” He groans, head dropping to your shoulder as he slides in to the hilt, hips flush with yours. You slide your hands to his back, nails digging into his back as he pulls out almost completely before sliding back in slowly.

You whimper at the drag, loving how well he fills you. “You take me so well baby, look at you, fuck.” He groans, lips trailing your neck sloppily. His hips speed up, the sound of skin slapping becoming louder as you moan. “Like this pussy was made for me,” Your mind dizzied at how he was talking to you. His hand reached down, thumb rubbing across your clit as he fucked you. His teeth grazed your collarbone, hands gripping your hips, pulling your body into his. He straightens up, fingers digging into your hips as he rhythmically fucks into you before slowly dragging himself out, you whine at the loss.

He grabs his length, slapping his length onto your clit, fucking only his tip into you, lightly teasing you. You whine at his teasing, needing more. “Oscar, please…” You whimper, clenching around him every time he slips in. He savoured the way you begged for him, “Sweet girl, c’mon, beg for it then.” He spoke darkly, revelling in your neediness.

“F-fuck off, you’re playing games, Osc, just keep g-going.” You whined, trying to maintain a sense of pride as he slowly fucked you, teasing drags in and out. “I could stop right now, darling, and you could sort yourself out,” He threatened teasingly, nearly sliding out completely. Your mind went fuzzy with need, swallowing your pride as his lips suckled yet another mark onto your tits. “Please Oscar, fuck I-I please, I need it.” With that, his hips sped up, fucking into you like he craved it.

“Yes fuck oh my god,” You moaned out, pussy clenching around him as he groaned. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other fills the room, feeling naughty. You felt a knot form in your stomach as his tip hit a spot inside of you, making your body convulse. “Fuck right there!” You moaned loudly, his lips falling onto yours to swallow your moans as he continued. “Shit Osc I’m so close, please,” you begged, asking him for release.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me sweet girl? Look so good like this, your pussy was made for me darling,” Oscar teased, his words making your body flush. Your stomach tightened, clenching around him as his thumb teasingly rubs your clit. His hips continued fucking into you as you came, your body clenching around him nearly blacking out. “That’s it baby, fuck.” His hips faltered a little, feeling you fall apart for him, his cock throbbed, close to his own orgasm as well.

“Gonna make me cum sweetheart? Gonna let me fill up that sweet pussy? C’mon baby,” He groaned loudly, your body overstimulated and tears brimming your eyes, but craving to make him feel good. You knowingly tighten around him as his abs clench, “Please, Osc, give it to me,” You begged, wanting to feel him. Scratching his back, Oscar’s hips stutter as he lets go, groaning as he fills you up, forehead falling to yours. “Fuck y/n… you’re everything., letting me use that sweet little pussy.”

You smile slightly at his words, head dizzy from your release and feeling him fill you up so intimately. He pulls out gently, placing a sweet kiss on your lips, “Sweet girl,” he murmured, slipping out as he watches his cum drip out of your hole in a filthy manner. He grabs your thighs, holding them open, savouring the sight as you flush with embarrassment.

“Fucking hell, never gonna get sick of this,” He groaned, your heart fluttering at the insinuation of staying with him. “I’m gonna grab a cloth, okay, sweetheart?” He reassured, squeezing your thigh gently before getting up and walking to the washroom, grabbing a small towel and wetting it to clean you both up.

As he came back, his eyes landed on your actions, hand between your thighs as you pushed his release back into you before popping your fingers into your mouth, tasting him and whimpering. His eyes darkened, hand grabbing your thighs to clean between them before cleaning himself up as well. “You’re insane,” he teased, tossing the towel alongside his other dirty laundry.

Grabbing the blanket, he pushes it up onto your body before sliding in beside you, arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling your body closer. You slide a leg up onto his hip, looking at him, suddenly feeling fairly shy.

“You okay?” Oscar asks genuinely. You nod, kissing him lightly, his lips chasing yours for more as you pull away. Your hands lay flat on his chest, and he kisses your face, making you giggle.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about all of this,” He confesses, eyes sparkling in delight.

“Did I meet your expectations?” You teased, reciting what you had said to him after the race. He chuckled at your antics, “Yeah, more than I could’ve ever imagined.” He took a breath before continuing, “and now I get to have you like this always,” He says hesitantly, unsure of your response.

You smile at him lovingly, “Yeah, Osc, I’m here to stay. All yours,” You murmur, heart fluttering at the way he’s looking at you.

“Perfect, don’t think I could take any more time without you,” He confesses quietly, “You’re perfect, only girl that matters.” He compliments, smiling bigger than you have ever seen him.

“You’re cute,” You giggled, hands sliding to play with his hair as his eyes shut, feeling content.

Perhaps everything did work out the way it was meant to.

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