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asumofwords · 8 months

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Common Factors - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: Part 2 of Midpoint, though can be read as a standalone. Michael Gavey asked you out for a drink and you had surprisingly agreed. Will you be able to tolerate each others wit without bickering, or will you lose yourself to him once more?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Public fingering, teasing, degradation, name calling, voyeurism, dumbification, finger fucking, biting, bratty reader. This is porn with barely any plot.

Word Count: 6k

Notes: Hello my angels, I know you have all been waiting so patiently for part two of Midpoint and here it is! Now I can't say that there will be a third/final chapter, but I may have ideas for it. No promises though. Saltburn has made me so nostalgic, I miss MSN messenger and MySpace. I miss the early 2000s so much, the tackiness of it, how everything was just to the max. Lmao. I also miss Tamagotchis. *Sigh*, nostalgia. Anywayyyyy, thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy! <3

Part 1 - Midpoint

When Michael had asked you out for a drink, or rather asked if you wanted to get a drink, it was not really a distinct question of going on a date with him or not, and perhaps you were arguing semantics right now, but that was besides the point.

He had thought that you would go right after your little event in the library. His eagerness was riddled by anxiety, clear for anyone, not that there was anyone in the vicinity, to see or hear, you hoped.

You had shifted awkwardly for a moment, feeling his spend slide down you thigh in the large hole he had ripped in your stockings, explaining that you wouldn’t be able to go that evening.

He wilted.

It strummed a cord in your chest, and so you quickly explained that it was because of said issue between your legs, and not that you didn’t want to see him again. The fire in his eyes lit up again, and for a moment, the hair on the back of your neck stuck up. It felt as if you were about to be confronted once more by his obnoxious spite, though thankfully, and only because of your quick explanation, did he soften and you exchange details for your respected MSN Messenger accounts.

The night after he was busy, apparently there was some sort of important chess tourney that he would be going to with his friend, you were unaware that he had any, and so he proposed the night after. But the night after you had told your best friend that you would bus into the city centre to meet with her, so that was no go as well.

You both thankfully settled on the Friday later that week, agreeing to meet at the small pub you frequented, which you found he did too. Each time the computer dinged at his reply, a thrill of excitement crawled through you. He was rather curt in his messages, but eager, and would often would send moving emojis at the end, which you saved and would send back.

Friday rolled around quickly, and you found yourself eager to see him again. You spent a solid two hours fretting over what to wear, deciding that pants or tights were not an option this time despite the cold weather.

You settled on a cute little outfit, the skirt of it coming to your mid thigh, looking at yourself in the mirror as you left before triple checking your computer and Nokia for any messages to say he was late, or couldn’t come, but none came. The last message he had sent to you, was a smiling thumbs up that moved largely across your screen agreeing to see you at 7pm sharp.

You left early, earlier than what was needed, and sped walked the entire way to the pub, pulling your large jacket tightly around you, scarf covering the lower half of your face. The air was particularly crisp that evening, and by the looks of it, it may snow later, and although it was quite cold, you could see from afar that the pub was full, the winter air not deterring them.

When you opened the door, the stale stench of its beer soaked floorboards filled your senses, loud music and even louder people, drinking and smoking and laughing in large groups without any care for the world. You knew that break would soon enough be coming to an end, and all the students would now be slowly making their way back, spending their last days or weeks of break with friends on campus and the establishments surrounding.

The air inside the venue was stuffy, and almost wet with condensation, and as you rose on your tip toes, looking over the heads of others at their tables, or at the bar, you struggled to spot the familiar sandy blonde hair from your library, and the glasses that sat perched on his sharp nose.

You pulled out your Nokia, checking the time and also checking for any messages.

It was 6:57.

You were early.

But not too early.

Heading straight for the bar, you ordered yourself a drink, eyes drifting back over the pub, looking at the faces to see if you could see him with anyone. When again, you didn’t spot him, you told yourself not to panic, and instead decided that you would find yourself a spot to sit. There was table in the far corner, away from most, its surface was cleared bar a half drunken pint, hidden in the shadows and pressed against the wall between two larger tables, filled with people. You paid for your drink, and headed straight for the empty seat, winding past the pulled out chairs and wafts of smoke.

You were halfway there when a figure popped into your periphery. Your eyes locked onto a pair of familiar blue ones, a twitching smile pulling at his sharp yet plump lips. He came towards you from the direction of the loo, and you watched as he wiped his hands down the sides of his pants despite them looking dry.

“Hey.” You smiled, stopping short of the table, to awkwardly look up at him as he made his way over.

“Hi.”

You shifted awkwardly around each other before you leant forward to give him a hug, he wrapped one arm around you stiffly in reciprocation, before pulling back to straighten, eyeing the drink in your hand.

“You get me one?” Michael nodded his head to your drink.

Your brows furrowed softly, “Uh, no. I wasn’t sure if you were here.”

Michael hummed, “I’m never late.”

Here we go again, you inwardly sighed. This is just what you didn't need. Another run in with his attitude.

“I wasn’t to know that.”

Michael stared at you a moment longer before turning away to the bar. You watched him awkwardly, yet somehow confidently, move through what little people stood at the counter waiting, standing rod straight as he ordered himself another pint. As he waited, you took your seat on the side where the half drunk beer wasn’t, back to the wall and completely cornered in.

When Michael came back, beer in hand, you let yourself graze your eyes over him. You couldn’t stifle the laugh that exploded from your lips. He frowned as he sat opposite you, a tinge of defensiveness showing on his strong features.

“What?” He almost sneered, watching as you brought a hand to your mouth to try and cover it up.

“I’m sorry,” You giggled again, having to look at the ceiling for two seconds, trying to compose yourself, pushing a breath out shakily, “Your shirt.”

You began to laugh again, watching him as he looked down at it, inspecting it for a stain or hole.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He asked clinically, not finding a rip or hole or bird shit which he had suspected was there for a moment on the material.

You bit your bottom lip and giggled again, “It’s awful.”

Tucked into his cargo pants and black leather belt was one of the worst shirts you had ever laid eyes upon. It was white, and in big font on the front, it read ‘Weapon of Math Instructions’. On it, small drawings of calculators, protractors, and sums surrounded the large font.

In a quieter voice this time, he replied, “I got it for my birthday.” He picked up the sweating beer to bring to his lips, the foam coating his mouth as he drank deeply.

You felt a tinge of regret for laughing at him so openly, even though it was admittedly the worst shirt you had ever seen, “Do you enjoy maths puns, Gavey?” You tried to sound flirtatious, but in the moment you sounded more unsure than anything.

Michael took the beer away from his lips, swiping the back of his hand against his mouth, “If they’re funny. Why?”

“Do you have more shirts like this?” You tried to contain your mirth and failed.

The curiosity melted away, and a stony expression slipped over his face, “You’re taking the piss.”

You shook your head, heart speeding up, “No! No, sorry, Michael. I swear I’m not, I just, I wanted to- I’m trying-“

“-For someone whose degree relies heavily on the english word, you sure do struggle to find them.” The smirk on his lips was a thinly thing that indicated that he was being playful, but if he hadn't of smirked, you wouldn't have known. His tone was flat, his body posture stiff, and not once did he laugh, but you knew him.

And it more intimate than you would have liked.

Tongue in cheek in you leant back in your chair, feeling a comfortable little bubble surround you, the tension that was there only simmering in the background now, and not drowning you in it.

“How was the chess tourney?” You took a sip from your drink as he watched you.

“Fascinating, if it’s something of interest.”

His answer surprised you,.

“And was it of interest?”

“TBD.”

You took another sip of your drink, “My nan used to play chess with me when I was little.”

This seemed to peak Michael’s interest greatly, “You can play?”

You shook your head humbly, smiling, “I can play, though I’m probably not very good.”

“We should play.” His answer was so immediate, so abrupt, that you could only blink before remembering to reply.

“What, now?”

Michael raised his brows at you as though you were intellectually stunted, “Do you see any chess boards in this shit hole?”

You breathed sharply through your nose, “No.” You said more afronted than intended, “I was just asking-“

“-You ask a lot of questions but don’t know what ones you want the answers for.”

Annoyance began to bloom in your chest, “I thought we were done with this tit-for-tat nonsense. Or did you want a round two, Gavey?”

A soft blush spread across his cheeks, and you knew you had him.

“Are you going to ask me about my day?” You cheeked, enjoying the way he flustered slightly, and then held back an angry sneer.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

Michaels jaw tensed, and you bit your inner cheek to not smile, “Your day.”

A large grin spread across your lips along with a false expression of realisation, “Oh, my day! My day was fine, thank you, Michael. I did some reading, I did some study, and then I got myself ready to have drinks with a right git.”

Michael sucked his teeth loudly, “You’re funny. Should be a comedian instead of studying them.”

“You’re cute,“ You countered, “Should smile more instead of sneer.”

“I thought you said we were done with this nonsense.”

“I did, and I am. Starting…. Now.” You smiled widely, bringing your drink up to toast.

Michael looked at you oddly, then to the glass in your hand before finally he brought his up, connecting the two cups.

You smiled wider, proud to be ready to say something you know will interest him,“‘If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.’”

Michael's glass slammed down onto the table, his body leaning towards you in palpable excitement, “How do you know that?” His voice was eager, like you had lit a flame inside of him.

You smiled smugly, sipping on your drink, proud of yourself to have garnered such a reaction, “Learnt it with my degree. Einstein wasn’t just a man of maths. He was an important part of modern history. Especially regarding his involvement, or I should say rather, his non-involvement in the Manhattan Project.”

Michael's eyes lit up behind his glasses before he picked up his beer and thrust it against yours again, “Glad they’re teaching you something of importance.”

You huffed and laughed and sipped, watching as Michael settled his chair closer to you. It felt as if a door had been opened, and suddenly you were able to step inside the world that was Michael Gavey.

“You know,” You smirked, feeling heat from him beside you, chairs still apart, but bodies leant towards each other, “Art and History is just as important as Maths and Science.”

Gavey looked as though you had declared that the Earth was flat. It was a peculiar little look that made you want to lean across the space and press your lips squarely against his.

“I’m being serious.” You continued, “Without art, without history, the world would be a lot more boring than it is now.”

Michael pursed his lips at you, “Whatever helps you rationalise your choice of degree.”

You sipped your drink, eyes watching him over the rim of your glass, “I’ll let that slide. Only because I know you like watching me get riled up.”

“You’re rather confident of yourself this evening.” He commented, his blue eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

“And you’re rather goading. Not that that’s out of the ordinary.”

His fingers strummed against the table as he looked at you, eyes roaming over your body, “You look nice.”

“I would say the same, but I hate lying, and that shirt is an abomination.” You teased, bumping your shoulder into his lightly.

He smiled.

When did it become this?

How did it become so easy for you to melt into this conversation with him of all people?

Only earlier this week the two of you were at each others throats, snarling and fighting, and now here you were, seated beside each other, making little jokes and sitting intimately close.

“Careful. Tit-for-tat.” Michael warned you, and you rolled your eyes playfully with a huff.

It seemed to please him, and soon enough you were moving through a smooth conversation. He mostly asked you about your studies and friends, and even asked about your family.

And you learnt about his. A fairly standard, run of the mill family. One sister, and an older brother, had a dog growing up, and now has a fish.

But soon enough the conversation drifted back to your studies.

“Are you looking forward to term starting again?” You asked.

You felt as though he would be, his desire for learning and studying was clear whenever he spoke about it. He was passionate, and it was something that you admired about him. Or at least, now you did.

Michael shrugged, “I’m looking forward to graduating.”

This confused you.

“Why?”

Michael frowned, “Why do you think? I’m second in our year, I barely need to study-“

“-All you do is study, Michael.”

“Because there’s not much else to do here, I don’t have friends like you do.” Michael sneered the word friends, and immediately you knew who he was referring to.

“Michael-“

“-It’s different for us. People who aren’t ‘in’. Theres no parties, or accolades, only our degree.”

“You know that I’m not-“

“-I know that you don’t think you are, but whether you like it or not, they consider you one of them.”

You frowned. You didn’t like hearing that, especially with what Farleigh had said to you. You hated it because whilst it was wrong, it was still true. You did get invited to the parties, you had them all on MySpace and MSN, and even had their numbers in your phone. But for you, it was different, and Michael knew it.

You pushed your tongue against the side of your mouth, “I’ll bring you as my plus one to the next party. Then you can see that you’re not missing out on much.”

“You’d be seen with me in public? With them watching?” He said it with a laugh, though it was entirely humourless.

Your head tilted to the side, “We’re in public right now, aren’t we?” You looked around the pub, watching the many faces around you before settling back onto his. His expression was unreadable, until finally-

“We are in public.” He smirked. Gavey downed the rest of his beer quickly, all but slamming his glass onto the table, though not loud enough to garner any attention from the other patrons.

Michaels hand grabbed the seat of your chair and pulled it roughly towards him. You let out a squeak of surprise as your seat shifted against the floor suddenly, almost making you lose your balance.

“Michael!”

“What?” He asked innocently.

“What are you doing?” Your heart began to quicken, his hand coming down to brush against your thigh as he intently stared at you from behind his glasses.

“I’m not doing anything.” His hand inched higher, grazing your inner thigh.

In a small panic, you lifted your gaze to the rest of the pub. Not one person had looked up when he dragged you to him, nor had anyone taken even the slightest bit of interest about the two students hidden in the dark corner table. Everyone in the pub was drunk and too absorbed by their own conversations and friends to notice anyone else.

“What’s wrong?” Gavey teased, voice dipping lower as he openly mocked you, his pinky finger skirting against the edge of your panties.

Your brain had short circuited itself.

You were in public.

Where anyone could see.

And Michael had his hand under your skirt, teasing you.

This was what not what you would have expected from the man who was currently wearing a maths pun on his shirt. Your hand dropped under the table and grabbed his wrist tightly, stopping him from moving it any higher, though this didn’t prevent him from continuing to run his pinky back and forth under the elastic of your panties.

Heat coursed through you, and your core clenched around nothing.

“What are you doing?” You asked breathlessly, a rhetorical question really. You knew just as well as he did exactly what he was doing.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Gavey.”

“I’ll tell you what,” He smirked again, eyes locked onto your face, watching as you struggled internally, “You sit there and be a good girl for me, and when we go back to your room, I will give you what you want.”

You blinked.

Michael squeezed your thigh roughly, “Use your words.”

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Okay what?”

“Yes.” Your blood pumped loudly in your ears, air struggling to get inside of you as you squirmed in anticipation.

“Yes, who?”

You wet your lips with your tongue, mouth suddenly feeling dry, “Yes, Michael.”

He could be so demeaning so quickly. Like a switch was flicked. He went from this awkward, sneering maths genius to a cold and domineering man who could pull any response he liked from you.

“Better.” He smiled, “Now,” Swiftly Michael tugged your panties to the tide, two fingers immediately grazing your centre. You jerked as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds and up to your clit.

You were soaked.

“Tell me what they’ve taught you about Einstein, since you want to use his words as a toast.” He looked you in the eyes as your breath caught on itself, his fingers swirling around your bud slickly.

Michael suddenly paused, stilling his fingers, “Unless you only used him to try and impress me?”

Irritation coursed through you alongside frustration, “I didn’t use him to im-“ Your voice stilted as he began to rub his fingers against you again.

“To what?” He mocked you.

“I-Impress you. We learnt abou-t him and his wife recently.”

“The wife he divorced?”

“Yes.” You grit through your teeth, pleasure winding powerfully through you. Your toes curled in your shoes, stomach clenching as his fingers dipped back down to your entrance, scooping up more of your slick to drag back to your bud. Your eyes flittered around the pub, checking nervously to see if anyone had noticed what was going on underneath the table.

No-one had.

“Surely you can find the words to tell me more?” One long finger suddenly pressed inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, “Or are you dumb already?”

“H-his wife was a brilliant physicist,” You struggled to control yourself as he crooked the long finger inside of you, curling it up against your inner walls, “And a-a mathematician.”

“Was she now?”

“Yes. Mileva Marić. They were married for a decade, and he-“ All thoughts escaped you as Michael added a second finger with the first, the stretch pressing into you deliciously as he immediately hooked his digits. You blinked mouth agape whilst looking at him, feeling your face become flushed.

His eyes were half lidded as he watched at you intently, watching your every reaction, testing and teasing to see what made you tick, eager to make you come undone.

This was affecting him as much as it was you.

Only he didn’t care for others catching on.

His stare urged you to continue.

“H-he was cruel to her.” You muttered, brain struggling to catch up.

Michael hummed, “Most men of historical notice were. It was the norm.”

“It doesn’t m-mean that it was okay.”

“No. But a man such as him surely deserves more merit in your eyes.” As his fingers crooked into you, slowly rubbing the spongy patch inside, his thumb pressed against your bud, causing you to shift your hips towards him, grinding down on his hand as you breathed a breathy moan, “Einstein did things that no men could.”

“I-if it was all his w-work to begin with.” You argued weakly, unable to keep your voice sturdy.

“What do you mean?” Michael’s interest halted his hands movement, but this lapse in control only lasted a moment before he corrected himself and began again.

“M-Mileva scored higher than him in applied physics. Five to his one. I-It's believed she helped him complete equations that he couldn’t without the credit. I-It's why he promised her the money f-from his Nobel Prize.”

The mans fingers slowed down their ministrations as he digested your stuttered information, the coil within you already beginning to tighten, “Fascinating.” He breathed, edging closer to you, “Tell me more.”

“Many women-” Michaels thumb began to quicken, halting your thoughts abruptly, your hands still clutching the edge of the table, knuckles aching.

“Many women, what?” He parroted you meanly, “Don’t tell me you’re close already, are you?”

You swallowed thickly, not willing to open your mouth lest a moan or gasp fall out. Michael chuckled quietly, his fingers quickening the pace within, causing you to arch towards him and grind down against his hand again. His arm subtly moved against you, and if anyone in the pub looked, they would surely know what was going on.

“Look at you,” He cooed, his other hand brushing hair behind your ear, “Already so close.”

You whined, trying to shift closer to him and his hand, if that was even possible.

“Does it turn you on that I’ve got my hand in your cunt for all to see?” He purred, “If someone just turned around right,” His fingers pulled out from you momentarily, moving up to your clit where he pinched it between thumb and forefinger, causing you to jerk, “Now, and looked closely enough, they’d be able to see how you’re desperately grinding down against my fingers.”

Your core clenched around him at his words.

“Oh, you do like it.” He tutted, “Such a dirty little whore.”

You whined again, “Michael I-“

“Shhh, don’t you worry that pretty, little, empty head.” He cooed, emphasised by swift rubbing circles on your bud, “I’ll take care of you, but only if you behave.”

You nodded desperately, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge. You would do anything. You were desperate at this point. The week of waiting for him had filled you with anticipation, and meant you spent most of your nights with your fingers or vibrator between your thighs thinking about him and your last meeting in the library.

Michael watched you nod and grind down on his hand, his pace slowing so that you couldn’t get much out of it besides a slow and steady buzz of pleasure.

He seemed to think for a moment, deliberating, before an almost cruel smirk pulled at his lips.

“Do you know your times tables?” He asked, fingers almost still at this point, only languidly moving to keep you riled, or to remind you of what he was doing.

You could scarcely think, scarcely exist without feeling as though you were at any moment about to come undone, his hands keeping you just at the precipice. Your mind was hazy, and any and all thoughts of substance had seemed to escape you.

“Use your words.” He encouraged you in a demeaning manner.

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Not just a pretty face then.” The backhanded comment could have made you smile, “We are going to play a game.”

Could have.

Your eyes widened slightly, hands dropping down to clutch the underside of the table, “A game?”

“Yes.” He gave you an encouraging smile, “Good job. A game.” He was treating you like you were a child who is only just beginning to understand a basic concept, “I’m going to ask you an equation, and you’re going to answer it. If you’re correct, you get a reward. If not,” He paused, fingers teasing you again, “You get punished. Do you understand? Or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

The way he was speaking to you, so meanly, so smugly, made you clench harder around his fingers.

You liked when he was mean to you.

“Answer me. Yes or no.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. Alright,” His hand paused its movements, pulling his fingers out to just rest lightly against your bud, barely touching you, “What is the sum of seven times nine? I’ll use small numbers so that it doesn’t confuse you.”

Slowly, you did the maths in your head, “Sixty-three.”

Michael smirked, “Good girl.” You keened at the praise, and felt his fingers press a little harder into you, his movements beginning to start again slowly, though not enough to give you any pleasure.

“What is fifteen times six?”

Oh god.

“Um,” You shifted, blinking rapidly to try and do the maths, but every time you got somewhere, Michael would press against you harder as if he knew, ruining your train of thought.

“Come on,” He teased with a swirl of his fingers, “That’s an easy one.”

-5 is 75, then-

“Ninety.” You gasped out.

“Good, good. So clever of you.” He cooed, though the sarcasm dripped from his lips. His fingers once again pressed harder, sparks of pleasure finally springing up inside of you. The sound of the pub was loud around you, and in the dim light, you could see that a blush had spread across his cheeks.

“One more and then I’ll give you your reward. If you get it wrong, then you get nothing. Ready?”

You nodded shakily, chasing his hands with your hips. He tsk-ed you and stilled his hands, “Don’t be greedy.” You apologised softly and stilled, waiting for him to start again.

"Twelve times seventeen.”

Oh God.

What?

“M-michael, that’s not-“

“What? It’s easy enough. Even the thickest of people could get it. Though I suppose you’re getting all pretty and dumb for me anyway.”

“I-“

“How about this,” He smirked, and the way he did it caused you to sit on edge, “I’ll help you since you’re such a stupid little girl.” Michael plungers his fingers into you with no warning, immediately fucking them into you rapidly.

You sucked in air sharply, feeling the coil within begin to pull taught.

“Twelve times fifteen is one-hundred-and-eighty. You need two more twelves. Do you know what two times twelve is?”

Did you?

Jesus.

“I- It’s twenty four.” You answered shakily, surprised at your own voice.

“Twelve times seventeen?” He repeated the original question, “Oh dear, you really do have no brain.”

“N-No.” Your voice shook with how roughly and quickly Michael fucked you on his fingers, “Two times twelve.”

“Ah, clever little idiot. Go on now, what is one-hundred-and-eighty plus twenty-four.”

Your brain couldn’t do it, too hazy with how he was degrading you and how well he was touching you. You just wanted to cum. All you wanted was to cum. And then his thumb joined, swirling over your clit slickly as his fingers pistoned in and out of you, the sound of your wet rising from beneath the table. Your arousal pooled onto the back of your skirt and the wood of the seat.

“T-two-hundred-and-“ Michael pressed his thumb brutally against your clit suddenly, fire coursing through you, ruining your train of thought once again.

Damn him.

“Two-hundred-and what?”

Oh god.

“Two?”

Michael frowned at you, though you could tell that he was pleased, his fingers pulled away from you quickly, your eyes widening.

“N-No!” You grabbed his wrist keeping it against your inner thigh, his slick fingers pressing against your skin, “I-I-“

“Wrong answer.” He tutted, “You’re so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid and desperate, look at you.”

“Please, please,” You begged, clit throbbing, “I know- I know what the sum is. Please.” You pulled his hand back to your core, his fingers stiff as you ground against them desperately, “It’s two-hundred-and-four. Two-hundred-and-four. Michael, please.”

Michael’s fingers did not move, and watched you with entertainment as you desperately rubbed him against you. You needed to cum. You needed it. You didn’t care who saw. You didn’t care if it was degrading. You needed him. And you needed him now.

“Look how fucking desperate you are.” He laughed, “So pathetic. Whining like a bitch in heat as you grind against my hand. Are you that desperate to be a little whore?”

“Yes. Please. Please, Michael. Please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He smirked.

You were so close, so so close, “Please, please.”

“Tell me you need me.” He breathed, face coming closer to yours, his breath fanning agains your lips.

You licked your lips again, swallowing thickly, “I need you.”

Gavey smiled toothily, “You’re so pathetic.”

And without a second thought, or really without even a first thought, you nodded in agreement, “I’m pathetic. Please. Please, Michael, I want you.”

“What will you do to get it?”

“Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” He asked again, eyes searching your face.

You nodded desperately, needing him more than you had ever needed something before “Please.”

“Okay.” His fingers slipped back into you as he breathed the word, almost as if he was bored, like fucking you with his hand in public was an all too boring affair.

Mundane.

Little to nothing coming out of it for him. But in that moment you didn’t care as the coil within began to wind again.

“Fuck.”

Michael leant forward, his lips beside your ear so that you could hear him clearly, “You’re going to cum on my hand in this disgusting little pub like the dumb, desperate, little slut that you are, and then you’re going to thank me for it. Understood?”

“Yes.” You whined, hand gripping his wrist as it pummelled into you, thumb brutally swiping your clit as his fingers brushed over the sensitive patch inside of you over and over.

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” His lips brushed your neck, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Fuck. Y-yes.”

Michael leant forward, his lips brushing against the skin beneath your ear, his sharp nose nuzzling into your hair before he bit down on you roughly, causing you to gasp. To anyone else in the pub it would have looked like an intimate gesture, a man trying to whisper something sweet into his dates ear, but to you, it was damning.

You were so close, so so close, and all it took was four little words to send you over the edge. Michaels tongue lapped at where he had bit you before he came back to your ear one last time.

“I own you now.”

Pleasure erupted through you, your release bursting from within. You jerked in your chair against him, tucking your head into the side of your neck as you hid your face, grinding down onto his had as you whimpered. Michael plucked pleasure from deep within you, his hand not once slowing, prolonging your orgasm. It was only when it began to subside did his hand slow as you breathed raggedly against his neck, slumped into your chair and against him.

Your heart thumped against your ribs as you panted, and gently Gavey withdrew his fingers from within you, a wince falling from your lips from oversensitivity before he pulled your panties back into place.

Michael cooed you gently, “Good job.” Almost inaudible in the loud of the pub, “So good f’me.”

Fatigue washed over you like a wave, crashing into you so fiercely that you didn’t have the strength to sit up yet. You were fucked out, mind thinking of absolutely nothing as you nuzzled your face into his neck further, breathing in his scent.

“Hm,” Michael hummed, “You still with us?”

You hummed back in reply dreamily, only moving back when Michael pulled you away, watching you with half lidded gaze as he looked over your disheveled form. Michael laughed again, eyes crinkling in the corners as he brushed his hand against your cheek. Your first thought was how pretty he was when he smiled, and then you felt the wetness of your slick clinging to your skin crudely.

With a curious touch, Michael moved his fingers across your lips, the taste of yourself tart and warm as he caressed you. You opened your mouth for him and let his fingers inside, immediately tasting yourself as he rubbed his digits against your tongue slowly as you held your mouth open for him, drool beginning to pool at your bottom lip.

“Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded lazily, small smile flicking at the edges of your lips. Michael pulled his fingers from your mouth and used his thumb to smear the saliva that had pooled at your bottom lip over lips messily.

He tutted, “Dirty girl.”

“Mmm.” You hummed in content.

Michael eyed your half drank drink, nodding towards it, “Finish it.”

You did as he bid, brining it to your lips as you kept your eyes on him, swallowing it quickly before placing the glass back on the table, a warm fuzzy feeling slipping over you, a little space that was warm and safe and cozy. Then Michael stood, rather abruptly, like he had remembered that he forgot to turn the stove off, chair hitting the wall behind him as he looked down below at you.

“Time to go.”

You stood, on shaky legs to follow, adjusting your skirt sheepishly, knowing that there would be a damp patch at the back but not caring enough to hide it. In a way, you wanted people to know what had happened, and in some ways your wish had come true.

A table in the middle of the pub nearby had half of its eyes on you, whispers and smirks shared amongst one another, watching as Michael grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowd roughly. Wolf whistles and hoot’s were called after you, followed by rambunctious laughter. You weren’t sure if they had seen what was happening under the table, but you were sure they had seen his fingers in your mouth.

The door to the pub was swung open as Michael pulled you out sluggishly behind him. As you stood in the crisp air he spun you abruptly, grabbing your face as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue immediately swiping against yours, trying to taste your essence that lingered there. Michael groaned into the kiss, pressing his body against you, where finally you could feel how much what had transpired had affected him. He pulled back, restraining himself as his sharp nose bumped into yours as he moved.

And then he was gone, stepping away from you as he began to walk away. You stood dumbfounded as you watched him, snow beginning to fall from the sky.

Do you go after him? Was this it? Did he just use you in the pub only to humiliate you out the front?

A wave of confusion and hurt washed over you, but before it could turn to anger, he stopped and faced you again, a soft smirk on his lips.

“You coming? You said anything.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

#Michael Gavey x reader #Michael Gavey x y/n #Michael Gavey #Saltburn #michael Gavey fanfic #michael Gavey smut #Saltburn fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #michael gavey fanfic #Michael gavey oneshot #saltburn #michael gavey saltburn

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strayrockette · 1 month

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The Dragon & The Griffon

Where The Path Leads-A Taste

Masterlist Next Chapter

a/n: I didn't think I would be coming back with a story and to be completely honest, I fully believed my creative drive had been zapped. However, @mysticalpandora gave me a challenge and it somehow led me here???? I'm gonna roll with it. My list of unfinished drafts is growing, but I am determined to finish at least 1 WIP.

If anyone is interested in where this ride goes, DM me and ask to be tagged. Like & Reblog if you enjoyed the read! And comment your thoughts if you have any. I enjoy reading them!!

Her purple eyes glitter with quiet contemplation. She is calm, composed, absolutely beautiful, he thinks to himself. His calculative and appraising eyes take stock of this daring girl no woman that stands before him, and deep within him is a hunger for a hunt.

The Na-Baron had yet to come across someone who could stand so still within his presence.

This excites him. This may be a season of true satiation. A thrill of a hunt that lasted far beyond his arena kills. Far beyond the meager missions, his uncle sends him on to create distance from his people’s adoration and praise. A reminder that he is yet to be The Baron.

His uncle was not immune to his potential. He held a guarded edge around him when he was near. If it was true fear, or anticipation for his succession was unclear. One could say both.

“If you should use my gifts to aid in your fight, I will have my answer.” She stares directly into his eyes. Her jaw is relaxed and she pulls her lips into a teasing smile, “Worry not, Na-Baron, I can take no for an answer.”

He bares his black teeth in a mock smile, his answer comes in a raspy deep lull, “The answer has already been decided for us, little dragon”

He looks at the two deep ebony daggers that sit neatly in the box she had placed on the high table in the corner of the room, its sharpened blades glowing in the dim light of his changing rooms near the arena. The excited screams of his people chanting his name break the silence.

The tip of the dagger's, curve near its end. All along the blade is an engraving of silhouettes, tiny dragons flapping their wings. He realizes the engravings are shining silver.

He knows no one in the boxed seatings would be able to tell what the engravings were but he almost purrs outwardly in delight. A silent claim from his little dragon. He wonders if she realizes just what game she’s playing.

“Yes, however..” She pauses, her eyes drop to her clasped hands, her fingertips tapping against each other, a sign of nervousness, he notes. As if hearing his observation she stops and rearranges her hands so they are clasped behind her. “While this arrangement was decided before we were born, I want it to be known that I am not unwilling to be your wife or have you as my husband”

She pauses once more. He can practically hear her thinking with the way her eyes furrow and her lips pursed in consideration of the words she says. Because words have meaning and none of it should be spent on idle chit-chat or false pretenses.

A rare oddity that most others fail to recognize. He wonders if her words are hiding who she is. If beneath her elegant and calm demeanor lies something weaker. Something inside him wants to see her unravel.

“If we are to go into this arrangement, I would like for us to go into it as equal partners. Your fight becomes my fight, and mine becomes yours.” She moves to the side to dip her fingers into the bowl of black oil. The servant who holds it cowers away, as if afraid to be associated with her candor.

She’s gathered too much, it drips onto the floor as she nears him slowly. Her eyes are entranced with his, determination clear within her purple irises. One step. There is no hesitation as she smears her hand over her mouth and down her neck. Two steps. The oil leaves a trace of four fingerprints along the path. Three steps. She reaches out to his chest. Her fingers hovered over his skin. He can feel the heat radiating from a single hand. His blue eyes hunger for more but he remains still. His mocking smile turns into amusement. My little dragon is brave, he thinks with pride.

She pouts as a thought crosses her mind, “No one would see it.” She doesn’t realize she has said this aloud. He watches with rapid anticipation, his body grows taut as he wills himself not to move. He waits and waits and watches as she comes to a decision, her cheeks red and eyes mischievous. She gathers courage and motivation with quick movements, and her hands are suddenly on him. Trailing the top of his chest, then to his neck, finally, they nestle comfortably on either side of his face. She tugs gently, urging him to bend to her level and he allows it, purely for the entertainment.

His face is level with hers, his eyes are on her face, studying the curve of her nose, the red in her cheeks, the plumpness of her lips, and the giddy look in her violet eyes. He wants her to make eye contact. He wants her to see the monster inside him and fear for her life. He wants to see her calm demeanor slip. For her teasing tone to melt into cries of terror. It's all he knows. And he admires hates how she has yet to cower before him. But she is too busy studying the right of his cheek where her lips will claim him for all to see. She leans and presses a kiss to his aching skin.

He tightens his mouth and remains still, it would do no good to ravage her before their nuptials.

She pulls away and continues her statement, “Even if it has been decided, the fact remains that I choose you to be faithful to, to be by my side. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. In life and in death, my soul will always seek you amongst the billions of stars and galaxies that separate us.”

He wants to snarl and bite. A part of him cannot comprehend what she is saying and he is angry. He glares, his large hands coming up to wrap around her wrists and he pulls them away from him. His skin is left wanting and his heart is enraged. It’s beating so fast and erratically and his thoughts cannot settle between slitting her throat and slamming her into a wall to be consumed by him.

“What silly nonsense you speak, little dragon. Whether I pick up the blades or not and use them in the arena, is no answer. Whether by choice or by force, you have been sold to my family for me to use as I please. You are my pet. My little dragon. Nothing more, nothing less.” As he speaks his voice gravels with rage. He knows nothing else other than the white hot boiling blood beneath his skin. Whether in pleasure or pain, there is no difference. “You are naive”

He finishes his growl with a sneer. She stumbles and her maids rush to catch her from behind. I pushed him too far, she concludes. She holds in a sigh and holds her head higher. Her chin juts out and her eyes gleam. A thought crosses her mind and a fire burns within, “If I’m so naive, then my dearest husband-to-be, it is YOUR duty to protect me.”

She cares not for his comment about being sold to House Harkonnen. In the grand plan of all things, it is the least of her worries.

He’s turned away from her and the servants, who hid quietly in the corner, rush to put his armor on. He merely grunts and clicks his tongue, “Be gone little dragon, before you find a knife in your throat”

She wants to scoff but thinks better of it. She’s gotten away with too much in the short time she burst into his changing room to accost him with her offer. She steels herself and with a quick glance at his muscled back. She wonders if she’d ever be able to get through that thick bald skull of his.

She turns and leaves, and her two maids follow dutifully. Her lips glitter with the black oil. Her four fingerprints running down to her chest is a statement in itself. The matching handprint and kiss on his skin are enough to get her message to all with eyes.

She’s sunk her claws into him and no one would tear her from him. She’s seen too much. Knows too much. Suffered too much to give up now.

No Bene gesserite, no Emperor, no Baron, and no Atreides would rip them apart. She would die faithfully, clinging onto hope, clinging onto a path with the most resistance to prove a point.

A dragon does not kneel…

it conquers.

Edited: 8/18/24

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granddaughterogg · 7 months

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So, you're the newest addition to Task Force 141 and you Make a Move on one of the boys. How will they react?

Johnny Soap MacTavish: With utter glee. "Took ya long enough, lass! Thought you'll never shoot your shot!" He'll announce with amusement. Our perky Scotsman is an absolute Sexpot - and he knows it. He is also a master of Living in the Moment aka Seizing the Day. Rules and regulations be damned. "So what do you say?" He'll ask, filling your personal space with all that muscle and clasping those strong hands around your waist. "Wanna go on a date first…" Johnny wiggles his painterly eyebrows. "...Or shall we skip to the good part?"

Ghost: When you confessed that you'd like to spend some time with him in private, he didn't seem thrilled. As is usual case with Ghost, he didn't seem like caring one way or another. All you got in the way of a reaction was his hand, holding the cigarette and now stilled halfway to his mouth. He threw you one of his Stares - Simon Riley's eyes are as beautiful as they are cryptic, you've never been able to read those dark peepers surrounded by white, seemingly frosted eyelashes of dizzying length. Then he muttered something under his breath and walked away. You didn't hear a word from him for the next three days, apart from work orders anyway. Disappointment and embarrassment tormented you in turns. You were silently cursing your big, reckless mouth. On the fourth day he approached you as if nothing had ever happened and said: "Allright". "Allright what, Sir?.." You asked, dumbfounded. "I agree. We should fuck."

Gaz: Oh, this beautiful boy. Out of the whole squad he's probably the one best adapted to Living in a Society. He reacts as any sensible man would: with a charming smile, a proud, joyful gleam in his eye, a trace of a blush almost. "Gosh, Private, really…Me? Well, girl, you got outstanding taste." "Don't I know it," you answer boldly. "Look, babe," he says in a hushed voice, coming closer and putting his hands on your shoulders, "Cap will rip my head off and piss in my neck if he finds out that I'm fooling around with a subordinate...so we're gonna have to be extra careful, 'kay? Can you promise me that?" You nod enthusiastically. This is so exciting!

Captain Price: So you like to live dangerously. There is no safe way that you can Put the Moves on your commander. You know that...right? On the other hand - if you're gonna break the rules, break them hard and break them for good. Tell him that you desire him. That you can't stop thinking about him. Pick a moment when the rest of the guys won't be within a kilometer radius. Say your line and look into those hard, cloudy sky-coloured eyes which have just grown big and round with shock. "Kid," says Price, his voice suddenly a little breathy, which is oh so hot: "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" "Only for you, Sir." Flutter those eyelashes. Come on, lay it on thick. It's been some time since anyone has thrown themselves at the old man. He will sigh the mother of all sighs, then drag one hand across his tired face. "I am you commanding officer." "That you are, Sir." He will come closer, both hands behind his back. Then he'll reach out and gently, oh, so gently touch your cheekbone. "You do realize tha' I could tell you to pack up and send your arse home?" His voice is very meticulously level, but you can feel the volcano bubbling underneath. "I do, Sir. But I just couldn't live a lie. I want you." That boldness will earn you another sigh - this time more ragged. He'll trace his finger over your upper lip, say: "Well fuck me sideways..." like a man who has just experienced a miracle - and then John Price will embrace you in a kiss, shameless, deep and hungry.

This man has been criminally touch starved. Congratulations, you'll have your hands full from now on. Not to mention your…other regions.

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littlefreya · 4 months

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Hi Freya! If you have the time, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for some August Walker fics, whether by you or another writer, it doesn’t matter to me. Most of the fics I’m finding recently make him out to be rough, animalistic, and cruel (which makes sense cause he was the villain after all lol). But they also include non-con, degradation, etc, which I’m not comfortable with. Don’t get me wrong! Stories with those elements are fine! It’s just not my cup of tea, personally. And I do like rough August, but I guess it’s more in the sense of him being rough to his enemies and being soft, sweet, and super protective of his sweet and innocent girl. Does that make sense? I’m sorry if it doesn’t, and for the rambling, to this day I still get nervous and panicky whenever I write an ask. 😅 Hope you have a great day! 🥰

Hey love, no need to be nervous about sending an ask. We are all just humans here :) 💖

I have several August stories where August is a pure softy - smut and non smut included.

List below the cut

Smut 🔥🔥🔥

Velvet Chains - Soft!August x Reader (smut. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c… ) - For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable.

Whiskers and Wet Silk - August comes home to find his princess watching Shadow and Bone and simping for the General and gets a bit insecure…

A Perfect Day - August Walker x Reader (smut to heavy fluff. Mentions of oral sex performed on a woman, male masturbation, and bodily fluids.) A perfect day in rural italy with the most dangerous CIA agent on earth.

Pink Umbrella - August x Reader (Fluff to smut, soft!August Walker, DD/LG, thigh riding, gloves fetish (it’s a thing now), dirty talk, a tint of angst and slight twist ending.) August is on a mission in beautiful Paris and had you join the ride, but while he wants you to stay safe at the hotel, you have other ideas.

Gentle Monsters - August x Reader (smut, vaginal fingering, groping, grinding, cock grabbing, virginity. SoftDom vibes. August is the big bad wolf, but he can be soft for the right woman) It’s your first date with agent Walker, and things get a little too raunchy, but you are not ready to go all the way…

One more touch before we die August x OFC (Explicit smut, romance) Set in a cabin on the mountain, August and his woman make passionate, desperate love. Sense Challange - Touch

Bourbon and Candy August x OFC (Explicit Smut, size kink, daddy kink) After a frustrating day at work, August just wants to sit down and enjoy his princess, in any way possible.

Poison Honey - August Walker x Reader ( Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.) Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker.

Fluff 🌈🍧🧁

Kiss it Better - August Walker x OFC (3rd person POV Fluffy, sticky, gooey fluff and floof with a tint of naughty suggestion) August takes care of his girl after she fell

Monster August Walker x OFC (Romance) They call him a monster, but he is your monster

Eivor - August Walker x ofc (Fluff) August Walker wore many masks and had done horrible things but never in his life he imagined he would become someone’s father.

Shelter - August x Reader (Strictly soft sticky fluff) Lazy morning cuddles with August

Something Wicked - August Walker x Reader (Fluff) August sleeps tightly and you decide to exploit the situation.

Angel, can you hold me? - Soft!August x ofc (Angst to fluff) Bad guys need to be held as well

No More Tears - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV, Angst) On a cold autumn night, August muses over the girl he lost.

Behind Blue Eyes - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV, angst, bad language, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, longing, love, heartache. August being poetic AF and August being a prick and stealing candy. ) Beaten and broken, August Walker walks the streets of an unnamed city while he is taken by sudden longing.

Some drabbles

August doesn’t like it when his princess is sad (fluff)

Soft Tender August - August x Reader (Fluff, aftercare)

August singing Sinatra to you - August x Reader (Fluff)

Watching porn with August - August x Reader (mutual masturbation)

Forever Yours - August loves his cuddly princess

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x reader #soft!August walker #august walker fanfic

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cherrychilli · 8 months

Text

18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, soft! dom! reader, soft! sub! Steve established relationship, PIV sex, unprotected sex

A/N: We're doing sub! Steve today because he's so pretty and pathetic. I want to ruin that boy.

"Let me see", Steve crouched down by your feet, carefully undoing the dainty gold buckle that held the little black strap wrapped around your ankle in place. It made your heart feel full whenever he tended to you like this, always with a gentle touch and soft tone.

Carefully, he slips your foot out of the stiletto, placing the shoe next to the one you'd undone yourself. Watching closely and quietly, you hold yourself in place with a palm flat on the kitchen island, balancing on one bare foot while he inspects the other in search of the cut you'd hissed about when the two of you arrived home.

Glancing at the tin of band aids he had placed on the island, you feel a pang of guilt somewhere deep in your belly but it's a fleeting whisper of a feeling compared to the raucous ache inside you.

He'll forgive you for what you're about to do, you know he will and that flicker of guilt goes out as quickly as licking your fingers and pinching out a lit match.

Steve examines your foot carefully, palpating it all over and frowns, confusion creasing his brow as he fails to identify any sign of where the open toed shoe had bitten into your skin as you'd claimed.

"I don't see anythi— ", he's cut off when you lift your foot up from where he held it in his hands, pressing it flat against his chest, the buttons on his dress shirt tickling your sole faintly.

With one quick breath you steel yourself and push, careful not to be too forceful to avoid hurting him, only enough to send him backwards until he's sat on the kitchen floor.

The bottoms of his dress shoes slip over the tiles as he loses his balance, legs stretching out in front of him as his ass bumps against the floor. Fortunately, he's able to catch himself by bringing a palm down quickly on the cool tile before his back can make contact with it.

"What the fuck?", he exclaims but there's no anger there. Only pure surprise as he lays there, sprawled out, looking up at you for an answer.

Standing over your boyfriend, you think about how much you liked seeing him under you, the sneaky little nudge that put him there making you feel a ripple of power you only ever felt in moments like this.

Catching that distinct glimmer in your eyes, Steve starts to understand. Anyone else would have missed it entirely but to him it shines bright like Las Vegas neon.

"Oh yeah? you wanna be in charge tonight?", he asks, the corner of his mouth picking up into a lopsided smile.

Dropping down to join him on the floor, the hem of your flowy dress inches high around your thighs as your knees bracket his hips. Framing his face with your hands, you press your lips to his before you answer.

"Is that okay?", you checked because it was important that he wanted this too.

He has a little fun with you as he pretends to mull it over in his head, humming in mock contemplation, a bigger smile fighting its way through to curve his pursed lips, giving him away. "Go on. Have your way with me bad girl", he encourages you with a wink.

Perking up with a delighted grin, you hurriedly undo his belt, pulling it through the loops of his slacks and tossing it aside. You'd waited all night to get him alone, denying yourself the thrill of slipping your foot between his legs under the table at the restaurant or letting your hand wander up his thigh in the car.

Scooching down to rest yourself on his thighs, you pull his pants and underwear down to free his cock, finding him half hard already. You use both hands to grip his growing length while he props himself up on his elbows to watch, the crisp white of his dress shirt bound to catch dirt as the material drags on the floor. Not that he cared.

"Y' could have said something at the restaurant", he humors, hissing when you lean over to dribble a line of spit onto his cock. "Or in the car", he manages to add before you begin stroking him, both of your hands slick with your saliva and the precum that had begun to leak from his tip. "W-would have left sooner if I knew."

He looks big still, even with both of your hands wrapped around him, warm and sticky to the touch. "Wanted to catch you off guard", you tell him, ears tuned into the wet, sloppy sounds of your hands working him lazily, wrists twisting slightly with each stroke, gently wringing more clear beads from his slit.

"and— uh, and the— shi— the bed? too cliché?"

That makes you chuckle, lifting your eyes up to his. "You want me to stop so we can head upstairs?", you ask with a smile that's all tease, rubbing your thumb over the slippery head of his cock, looking back down to watch the pale pink flush magenta from your touch.

He huffs out a laugh, the answer so obvious he feels silly having brought it up at all.

"Fuck no."

You return your focus to stroking him leisurely, the feeling of his cock kicking up and flexing in your hands making it impossible to ignore the ache between your own legs any longer. Luckily you'd already taken your panties off in the restroom, balling the lace and stuffing it into your clutch so all you had to do now was lift up your skirt and let him see.

When your hands leave his cock to furl your fingers around the hem of your skirt, his lips part, staring with unwavering awe as you show yourself to him, revealing your bare pussy and the slick that glistened between your thighs.

"You're so fucking beautiful", he whines like a man enraptured, eyes wide and pupils blown obsidian.

His reaction fills your belly with flame, lifting your hips to position yourself over the base of his cock, lowering yourself to let it fit between your folds, rubbing yourself along the length of his shaft all tacky and wet with a mix of both him and you.

"Oh fuck please, baby put it in", Steve pleads, nails biting into the meat of your thighs, head thumping gently against the tiles as he leans all the way back. It's too much fun having this kind of power over him and you can't help being a little mean, shaking your head all while you wear a smile, watching the pained expression on his face grow deeper.

"Not until you tell me how badly you want it", you tell him in a tone that's thick with sticky sweetness like honeycomb.

Reaching for the front of his shirt, you grab enough of the fabric before you briskly pull it apart, buttons popping out of place, some coming loose entirely as they scatter and retreat into different corners of the kitchen.

You're treated to the sight of his naked chest and stomach, raking your nails along the exposed skin and coarse hair, marking his tanned skin with narrow scarlet welts. "Fucking Christ", he groans, helpless and loving it.

Leaning over, you take it a step further by swiping your tongue over one of his nipples, biting down on it gently, tugging until his breath hitches in his throat.

"Shit shit shit— "

"Go on", you encourage him, trailing higher to nip at his neck next, kissing a constellation of moles by his shoulder along the way.

"I wanna be inside you— please, need to feel it", he sputters, hips twitching beneath you but he stops himself from trying to do more. He knows he's not allowed. Not without your say so. Not tonight.

"Aw, this not good enough for you? I'm not making you feel good like this?", you tug on his earlobe with your teeth, whining into the shell of his ear, rocking back and forth over the ridge of his cock slowly, your clit throbbing with the way you drag yourself along him.

"You are! you are, god, baby you're making me feel so good but please-"

"You want more?"

"Yes. Please", he chokes on a whine. You almost feel sorry for him.

Pulling back to get a look at him and the torment clouding his face, you level your stare. "And what if I don't let you?"

The blunt edge of his nails dig into your skin a little deeper and his expression crumbles, a look of genuine anguish contorting your boyfriend's pretty face.

"Come on, baby— fucking hurts I want it so bad. See how hard you've made me?"

With a low chuckle, you keep rolling your hips back and forth, doing nothing to increase your pace as you torture the poor boy.

"Mm, you need it that bad?"

"I do. I need it", he answers, his hazel eyes all big and pleading. Just how you liked.

"You gonna be a good boy for me then?", you ask, your finger catching on his gold chain as you draw a line down from the dip between his clavicles, down his sternum, trailing lower and lower...

"God, yes I promise", he nods fervently. Desperately.

You take pity on him then, lifting your hips while you wrap your fingers around his cock with one hand, guiding it to your entrance. Relief enters Steve's body like a dam bursting when he feels the tip pop in and you begin to sink down slowly, rewarding him both with the tight warmth of your cunt and the sounds of your breathy moans.

"Fuck, you're perfect— you're so fucking perfect", he chants blissfully until he's all the way inside you, filling you up.

You allow him a few moments to relish the feeling of your soft wet walls wrapping around him like silk before you bring a hand up to cradle his jaw. His eyes snap open then, shivering when you lean close, your lips forming a wicked smile, the kind that feels like the cold blade of a dagger held up to his throat.

"You'll cum only when I say so, understand?"

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year

Text

Candle (Part 2)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Genre: Yoon Jeonghan x female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Wonwoo's sister so your last name is Jeon, but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 5.2k+

Part 1 Part 3

Series Masterlist [I would recommend reading the first story in this series, Patience, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

It did occur to you that you should confide in your dear friend Miss Ella Williams about your encounter with Jeonghan. But Ella spent the entire carriage ride home gushing about how well travelled Mr. Xu Minghao was, and all the exotic places he had seen. You barely had time to speak.

And perhaps you did not truly care to try.

What Mr. Yoon Jeonghan had said and done was not only flirtatious, it was also a secret and telling anyone would surely destroy the excitement bubbling inside of you (particularly since Ella would tell you off for approaching Jeonghan so shamelessly). You had never had a secret before- much less one that involved such a dashing gentleman- and it was really quite thrilling.

“Miss, where are your pearls?” Daisy asked, concerned, as she helped you undress for bed that night and found no necklace. "Have you lost them? Should I send word to the staff at the assembly rooms to search for them?"

You bit back a smile. "Oh- no need, Daisy. Ella wanted to try them on so I lent them to her. She will return them to me when we meet tomorrow."

Daisy relaxed. "Oh, of course, miss. Good night, then."

"Good night."

You closed your eyes and dreamt of Yoon Jeonghan until the candle in your bedchamber had completely burnt out.

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

The Hongs' ball was a grand affair of unrivalled proportions. It was no secret that Viscount Hong was currently 'in the market' for a bride, so his mother had spared no expense for this season's ball hosted at their palatial London home. Even if you had been lacking for dance partners (which you were not) you could have passed an interesting evening simply by looking around all the lavishly furnished rooms at the Hongs’ magnificent manor. Your brother Wonwoo (who refused to dance beyond his mandatory two dances per ball) had surely found some interesting artwork to admire.

But you had lots of dancing and socialising to do.

You donned your favourite dress for the evening and decided to forgo a necklace. After all, when Jeonghan returned your pearls after your dance, it would be strange indeed if you were already wearing a necklace.

"Show me your dance card, friend," Ella insisted as she pulled you aside and seized your little card. It was almost full. The evening was more than half over and you had already danced with a few gentlemen including Mr. Kim Mingyu and Mr. Hessington. You had promised the next one to the lively Mr. Lee Seokmin.

"You still have one dance unspoken for," Ella remarked.

"Oh, I-I have promised the last dance of the evening as well- it is just that the gentleman has not yet signed my card," you admitted. Ella gave you a strange look but she was luckily distracted by the sight of one of her favourite new gentleman admirers, Mr. Xu Mighao entering the room.

You watched with amusement as Ella batted her eyelashes at Minghao from across the room and gave him a pretty smile. You laughed.

“What are you doing?” you demanded of her.

She turned back to you. “Trying to coax Mr. Xu to ask me for a second dance. Do you think he might? He seems a little shy but I am quite certain that with some time and effort I might get him to make a bolder move. Will you excuse me?”

“Oh, Ella, wait!” you grabbed your friend’s hand.

“Yes?”

“Will you lend me your little book?” you lowered your voice. “You know the one…”

Ella giggled. “Someone’s caught your eye, have they? Of course. Here it is- I must go and take my chance to speak to Mr. Xu, so keep the book safely with you and I will collect it from you later.”

You accepted the book gratefully. It occurred to you that even if you did not tell Ella about the little candle that Yoon Jeonghan had lit in your heart, you should be better prepared for your next encounter with the man. Admittedly, you knew very little about Jeonghan. Only that he attended Oxford with Viscount Hong and had two half-sisters; one that had been out in society for many years but was still unmarried and the other one yet to debut.

There was still a minute or two until your dance with Mr. Lee Seokmin so you quickly opened the book and flipped to find the page on Jeonghan. It was not nearly as full as Kim Mingyu’s had been (you were pleased to find that Mr. Yoon did not have a list of heartbroken women to occupy multiple lines of the page).

But then you saw it.

Rumoured to be an absolute villain, Ella had scribbled at the top of the page. Mr. Yoon’s father died intestate and he inherited his entire vast fortune. Possesses wealth beyond measure but refuses to provide dowries for his half-sisters- and will not financially support his step-mother. Has been seen actively sabotaging Miss Yoon’s suitors.

You stared at the page in shock. Could this be true? Could it really be true? Was Mr. Yoon Jeonghan such a selfish person that he would reduce his sisters and step-mother to poverty while he kept his father’s entire estate? That was far beyond normal selfishness. That was monstrous- even if he disliked his sisters excessively, it did not justify. There were times when you and Wonwoo did not see eye-to-eye but you could not imagine your brother going to such lengths to ruin your life.

If Mr. Yoon Jeonghan was such a terrible person…

You felt small and foolish. How could you have allowed yourself to be swept away by Jeonghan’s devilish ways? You had hoped for excitement, certainly, but this far beyond what you (or any sensible woman) could accept. If he treated his sisters this way, then why would he treat his wife any better?

Not that you would ever become his wife.

No, no, no, that was certainly out of the question now.

“Miss Jeon! I believe the dance is about to begin.”

You quickly tucked away Ella’s book in your skirts before turning to a smiling Mr. Lee Seokmin. He had his hand held out towards you- you accepted it with a forced smile and allowed him to lead you through the dance. You were fortunate that Mr. Lee was a cheerful gentleman who did not mind your short responses to his questions. It was impossible to focus on Seokmin when your mind was whirling with thoughts of Mr. Yoon Jeonghan, and how foolishly you had thrown yourself in the path of such a villainous man.

What were you going to do?

The dance ended. Mr. Seokmin thanked you and went on his way- and you were struck with the terrible realisation that in a few short moments, the last dance of the evening would begin and Mr. Yoon would come to claim your company as promised.

No. You could not dance with him. You had made enough of a fool enough of yourself and you decided you had rather die of embarrassment than risk dancing with him and having to speak to him after your discovery of his true character. What would you even say to the man? I apologise for flirting with you the other day, but really, I had no idea that you were a villain? No, it would not simply not do. The mere thought made you nauseous.

Your eyes desperately searched the ballroom for an escape and you saw Mr. Kim Mingyu standing nearby and calmly sipping a drink as he eyed the refreshment table.

“Mr. Kim! Do you have a partner for the next dance?” you demanded, trying not to reveal how flustered you were.

Mingyu blinked down at you with mild surprise. “No, I was actually going to sit down for this one-”

“You must dance with me.”

Mr. Kim Mingyu smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “Miss Jeon, that is quite shocking. Not only is it improper for a lady to ask a gentleman to dance, but unless you have forgotten, we have already danced together once this evening. A second dance would surely raise some questions-”

Mingyu suddenly stopped speaking. His eyes landed on someone behind you. You recognized the intruder with a sinking feeling when you heard the familiar voice that had occupied your dreams all night.

“Miss Jeon. I believe you owe me the next dance,” Mr. Yoon said calmly.

Your throat tightened. You preferred to think that you appeared calm but, in reality, the utter panic that had seized your entire body was quite evidently written on your face. You turned around to face Yoon Jeonghan but kept your shaky gaze fixed on a random spot on his chin to avoid having to read the expression in his eyes.

“M-Mr. Yoon,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “It is a pleasure to see you, but I am afraid you are quite mistaken. I have already promised this dance to Mr. Kim.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow but did not speak.

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes with a hint of confusion. He was not stupid. It was immediately evident to him that your tone- indeed, your entire manner- towards him had changed drastically since the previous evening. You appeared almost afraid of him. Jeonghan’s smile fell, but he did not argue. He calmly took a step back and nodded.

“I see. My apologies, I must have been mistaken,” he said simply. “Enjoy your dance.”

Jeonghan left without any further ado and you swallowed deeply before turning back to face Mingyu. Mingyu was not inclined to allow your awkward behaviour to pass without comment. He glanced awkwardly at the retreating Mr. Yoon, and then back at you.

“Miss Jeon, I really have to ask-”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” you cut him off quickly.

“Yes, but-”

“You said I could always summon you if I required a dance partner. Are you reneging on your promise?” you insisted.

Mingyu sighed before offering you his arm. “No, I certainly do not renege on my promises. But you should know that Mr. Yoon is a close friend to both myself and your brother. Secrets don’t stay hidden for long in the ton- and you will certainly not be able to keep yours for very long if you are this terrible at concealing your feelings.”

You flushed, but could not think of anything to say.

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

Mr. Kim Mingyu was not wrong. Your secret barely lasted a few hours- indeed, it was exposed that very night.

“Is there something I should know about you and Mr. Yoon?” your brother Wonwoo asked as soon as you arrived home from the Hongs’ ball.

Your parents had already retreated to their bedchambers for the night and you were downstairs in the grand foyer with your brother. Wonwoo had never been one to speculate or inquire excessively into your life. He was more calm and level-headed than you.

His lack of interest in most things also made him easier to deceive.

You flushed and pretended to occupy yourself by adjusting a decorative piece on the mantel. “Mr. Yoon? Not at all. I know very little about him.”

“Then why have I been asked to return this to you?”

You turned slowly and your heart sank as you saw what Wonwoo was dangling between his fingers. Your pearl necklace. Oh no. You had been exposed. The necklace made everything look far more scandalous than it really was, and if word spread among the ton that a gentleman had been in possession of one of your necklaces then it would lead to all sort of speculation, and your virtue would be questioned, and you would be ruined, simply ruined-

“Sister,” Wonwoo said gently as he pressed a comforting hand to your shoulder. “Relax. Your secret is safe. It is only Mr. Kim Mingyu and I who have heard of it, and neither of us would allow this to be revealed further.”

You blinked up at him with tears forming in your eyes. “Oh Wonwoo, I have been quite stupid!” you confessed miserably.

Wonwoo gestured to an armchair. “Sit.”

“I-I really shouldn’t have flirted with Mr. Yoon, I know, and I should probably have scolded him when he took the necklace, but you must believe that I really had no idea of his villainous reputation!” you confessed.

Your horror at having discovered Jeonghan’s true nature had caused you to forget entirely about the fact that he still had your pearl necklace in his possession. Wonwoo sighed as he sat opposite you. Your brother did not seem angry- his expression was far more sympathetic than you felt you deserved.

“You are right that you have been stupid, but I’m not sure you understand the exact instances in which you have been stupid,” Wonwoo replied.

You frowned. “What?”

“Firstly, sister, you are lucky that Mr. Yoon is a gentleman. He returned the pearls directly to me and explained the circumstances. Considering how you offended him by openly declining a dance, a lesser man may not have been so careful to ensure that the necklace- and word of it- did not fall into the wrong hands.”

“Y-yes, I suppose not,” you admitted.

“What caused you to suddenly refuse to dance with him?” Wonwoo questioned. “From what I understand, you were quite happy to indulge in flirtation with him at the assembly rooms yesterday evening.”

“I had not heard then,” you mumbled. “About his family.”

“That he has supposedly stolen his sisters’ dowries, ruins their prospects, and threatens to throw his step-mother out into the streets?” Wonwoo asked.

“Well-yes.”

“And you believe these rumours?”

Your eyes widened. “Should I not?”

Wonwoo rubbed his temple with his fingers. He seemed torn. “These are not my secrets to tell so I will not be the one to reveal them to you. But let me say one thing, sister. If I had done to you what Mr. Yoon is rumoured to have done to his sisters, you would never speak to me again.”

“That is… true,” you admitted.

“And yet Miss Yoon does not appear to bear any grudges against her brother.”

You paused and thought about it for a moment. It was true; Miss Yoon was often in the company of her brother and you had never seen her look displeased or upset with Jeonghan. You had simply assumed that she was a good-natured woman- she certainly appeared oddly content with her dire circumstances- but surely, if she had such a villainous brother as that, she would not want to be in his company?

“I mean- if she is financially dependent upon him, then it stands to reason that-” you began to argue.

Wonwoo stood up before pressing the pearl necklace into your hands. “I won’t say anything further. Just be more careful in the future, sister.”

You clasped the necklace tightly and nodded.

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Wonwoo.”

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

You spent a few days mulling over your thoughts. It was difficult to decide what to do- your feelings were mixed and you could not quite determine whether you had made a mistake in distancing yourself from Mr. Yoon, or if it was for the best that you did not continue an acquaintance with a man who had such a terrible reputation in society.

It was not long before you were presented with an opportunity to learn more.

“We have been invited to a ladies’ tea this afternoon by Mrs. Yoon,” your mother informed you over breakfast later that week. “I have accepted the engagement for us, I hope you will not find it an unpleasant way to spend your afternoon?”

Your eyes widened. “Not at all, mother, it sounds lovely.”

“Perhaps you will have an opportunity to befriend Miss Yoon,” Wonwoo suggested lightly as he buttered his toast. You frowned at your brother across the table- but he did not look up at you. “I hear her circumstances are quite dire, what with her half-brother refusing her a dowry.”

Mother narrowed her eyes at him.

“And why are you so interested in Miss Yoon, pray tell?” she insisted. “Perhaps you are intending to court her?”

“I have no particular intention of courting any woman. I only recommended Miss Yoon as a potential friend to my sister,” Wonwoo replied coolly.

Your mother turned back to you with a sigh.

“I worry that we shall have to consider ourselves fortunate if your brother agrees to wed any woman- her dowry be damned. But we shall not allow Wonwoo to rain upon our day, my darling. Let us take a walk in the garden before we depart for the Yoon's."

You nodded. "Of course, mother."

You felt rather nervous that afternoon when you entered Yoons' large London home and took your seat in their tea parlour. It was a ladies' tea, so you knew that the chances of seeing Jeonghan were very slim- but it still made you anxious to be walking around a home that he owned.

"What stunning artwork!" the ladies gasped. There were at least ten women gathered in the Yoon's parlour for the afternoon tea. The lack of sufficient common topics of conversation meant that the lavish art pieces in the parlour served as an ice-breaker.

"Yes- I selected these myself," Mrs. Yoon gushed. "When my husband was still alive, of course. He was such a lover of the arts, he really understood the value of having quality pieces to brighten up a room-"

It was incredibly dull.

You had very little interest in art or paintings, and absolutely none in the uninformed opinions of the older ladies of the ton. You had no choice but to pick up your teacup and approach the quiet Miss Yoon. She had not spoken much all afternoon, but smiled at you kindly.

"Miss Yoon," you greeted the woman. "I do not think we have properly met."

She welcomed you to sit beside her. "That is correct- but I have heard much about you, Miss Jeon. I have also had the pleasure of meeting your brother and dancing with him a few times."

"So you have had the unpleasant experience of being one of his obligatory two dance partners at every ball," you teased. But your interest was now piqued- how did she know Wonwoo? "May I ask how you came to be in the unfortunate position of dancing with Wonwoo?"

"We were introduced last year by my brother, Jeonghan," Miss Yoon said simply. "I believe Jeonghan knew him from their days at Oxford together."

You sipped your tea to hide your surprised expression. It was strange- Jeonghan's name fell from her lips so easily and without the slightest hint of malice or disdain. If her brother was such a villain, surely she could not speak of him in such a casual tone?

Or was Miss Yoon simply an expert at hiding her emotions?

You gently prodded further.

"Wonwoo hardly speaks about his time at Oxford although I ask him so many questions," you began. You would have to tread carefully in your quest for information. "I have always been fascinated by the idea of going away to college. But Wonwoo will not indulge me. Is your brother the same?"

Miss Yoon blinked in surprise. "Oh- no, Jeonghan speaks of his time at Oxford often. We frequently have his old classmates over to dine or for tea. I have heard plenty of stories."

"I see."

"Perhaps if stories of Oxford interest you, you should speak to Mr. Kim Mingyu or Mr. Kwon Soonyoung. Even Mr. Lee Seokmin. They are all very engaging story-tellers, and I doubt any of them would decline to answer questions from a beautiful young woman such as yourself."

You frowned. This was too strange. Surely if there was bad blood between Miss Yoon and her brother, he would not introduce her to his old classmates and tell her about his time away at college? It was stranger still that she should be so familiar with Jeonghan's friends- Mr. Kim, Mr. Kwon…

Miss Yoon blinked at you in surprise. "Have I offended you, Miss Jeon?"

You quickly masked your frown.

"Oh! No, not at all, Miss Yoon! I apologise- I was only thinking of how I wish my own brother was a little more interested in society and conversation," you lied quickly. "I could not help but admire how beautiful your home is. If it is not too much trouble, could I perhaps see some of the other rooms?"

Miss Yoon nodded. She was not particularly enjoying herself in the tea parlour either. "I should be delighted to show you the house."

You each informed your mothers of your intention to explore the rest of the house, and were sent off with their blessing.

"I am afraid you do not appear to enjoy these afternoon teas," you remarked to Miss Yoon, while she showed you around the grand dining room and half-heartedly explained the origins of the antique china displayed in the cabinets.

She smiled thoughtfully. "I will not lie- I shall be glad when I no longer have to come to London every season. I would be perfectly happy to spend all year in the countryside."

"But will you not feel lonely? There must be very little society in the countryside," you remarked.

She smiled. "I should prefer the company of one or two people I love, over an entire society of people I do not."

"Oh," you mumbled. "I actually rather like being in London for the season. The balls are such good fun, and I enjoy dancing very much. Perhaps the conversation becomes dull on occasion, but… I believe dull conversation is better than none at all."

Miss Yoon laughed. "Of course, Miss Jeon. I never meant to suggest otherwise. If you like society, then of course you must enjoy the season to its fullest. You are young, beautiful, and well-loved by the ton."

You looked up at her boldly. "Do you mean to imply that you are not?'

"I…" Miss Yoon gave you a gentle smile. "God forbid you should remain unmarried well into your late twenties with your prospects lessening by the day. Perhaps then you shall not enjoy society as much either."

"Perhaps not," you admitted.

"But I do not believe you shall have to suffer the same fate as me. You seem to have captured the interest of many young men."

It was increasingly odd. While Miss Yoon spoke of her suffering and decreasing prospects, you did not see any actual pain in her eyes or hear any anxiety in her tone. She talked about her difficulties plainly, almost as though she spoke of someone other than herself.

Something was very, very unusual about all this.

Arm-in-arm, you both exited the dining room and entered the drawing room- and were struck suddenly by a shocking sight.

Mr. Yoon Jeonghan had just entered the drawing room from a different entryway. You found yourself standing face to face with the handsome man in his brown riding jacket. Jeonghan's dark hair was slightly tousled, and he had a hunting rifle tucked under his arm.

"Jeonghan!" Miss Yoon greeted her brother pleasantly. "I did not know you would be here. Have you returned from hunting so soon?"

Jeonghan nodded. His dark eyes landed on you briefly but he did not allow them to linger for too long. He cleared his throat. "Yes. I'm afraid there was a bit of rain so the game was not as plentiful as it could have been. I see you have company."

"Ah-yes- Miss Jeon, allow me to introduce you to my brother, Jeonghan," Miss Yoon said.

"We have met," you said hastily. "We were introduced at the Hessington's ball by Viscount Hong. It-it is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Yoon."

Jeonghan nodded.

"And you, Miss Jeon."

"I was showing Miss Jeon around the house. The conversation in the tea parlour with the rest of the ladies was growing quite monotonous," Miss Yoon explained pleasantly. "But perhaps we should be returning now."

Jeonghan set his rifle down and reached into his coat pocket."Of course. But just a moment- sister- I have a letter for you from our mutual friend."

You watched as Miss Yoon attempted to conceal her delight at the envelope that her brother produced. Had you not been paying close attention, you might not have noticed the way her usually calm eyes suddenly lit up like a beacon.

But you were paying attention, and you did notice. As a fellow woman you could not possibly mistake the expression on her face.

That was the expression of a woman in love.

It all clicked into place suddenly.

Of course. Of course, Miss Yoon is having an affair, of course she is perfectly happy without a dowry or suitors or prospects because she does not need any of it! She is in love!

You straightened up and smiled. "It would appear that you have been awaiting that letter, Miss Yoon- please feel free to sit down and read it, if you like. Perhaps Mr. Yoon might help me find my way back to the tea parlour?"

Miss Yoon hesitated. "I…"

Jeonghan looked at you for a long moment. He was evidently confused. His expression made it quite clear that he did not know why you had publicly rejected him at the Hongs' ball but were now orchestrating a situation to be alone with him. But, for whatever reason, he did not protest.

Jeonghan offered you his arm. "It would be a pleasure to escort you back to the tea parlour, Miss Jeon."

Miss Yoon could scarcely object when every part of her yearned to be left alone and read her letter. She allowed Jeonghan to lead you out of the drawing room without much ado.

The moment you were alone, Jeonghan tensed.

"Miss Jeon-"

"Mr. Yoon," you stopped walking and turned to face him. Jeonghan's handsome face looked down at yours with a softness that you had not expected. "Mr. Yoon, you must be terribly confused. I owe you an apology."

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I do not require one."

"But it is true that I agreed to dance with you, and then avoided you-"

"Miss Jeon," Jeonghan said firmly. His voice was tense but gentle. "You do not owe me an apology. I behaved inappropriately at the assembly rooms the other evening. I was carried away by our flirtation. I am the one who should apologise. It was never my intention to pressure you to dance with me, or to cause you discomfort."

You bit your lip. "I-I was not uncomfortable-"

"You very clearly were."

"It was not because of the… the flirtation," you mumbled, still finding it a little embarrassing to use the word openly in the presence of a gentleman.

The corner of Jeonghan's lips curved upwards.

"Oh?" he asked.

"Only because- just before our planned dance, I heard some things that made me…question your character…"

Jeonghan's eyes widened in understanding.

"I see."

"But I am not sure what to think anymore. I did not think I wanted to associate with a man that would take his sisters' dowries. But my brother vouches for you, and the very woman who is the supposed victim of your offences- your sister- does not seem to bear you any ill-will. ."

Jeonghan folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "I understand."

"Is it true? Have you really taken away their dowries?" you asked him boldly. You looked up and met his eyes- Jeonghan seemed surprised and a little pained. He was silent for a long moment before he responded.

"The rumours are not entirely baseless," he admitted carefully.

"You are avoiding the question."

"I may be."

"But you are a gentleman," you pressed him. "And you cannot deny it, since only a gentleman would have quietly returned the pearls to my brother without breathing a word to anyone. So I would like to believe that whatever offences the ton believes you to be guilty of- perhaps you have committed these offences not to harm your sister, but rather to enable her happiness."

Jeonghan stiffened. "I can neither confirm, nor deny-"

"I am not asking you to confirm it. I am well aware, Mr. Yoon, that you are not a man who easily admits to anything. I am simply telling you what I have chosen to believe," you replied.

Jeonghan smiled. "I suppose you are free to believe whatever you choose, Miss Jeon. I can hardly stop you."

You smirked. "And you are quite sure?"

"I have no objection."

"Would you still have no objection if I saw fit to mention my beliefs to others?" you teased. "For you see, I appear to have stumbled into possession of a secret- one that I have no incentive to keep, since I owe no loyalty to any of the involved parties."

"I will depend upon your secrecy, Miss Jeon-"

"You may not. I do not keep secrets for free, Mr. Yoon. If you do not want me to expose your true nature as a selfless brother and gentleman to the ton, I will require more than empty-handed pleas."

Jeonghan chuckled. "You are full of surprises, Miss Jeon. Very well. I will not plead with you. But there must be some way to secure your secrecy?"

You looked up at him coyly through your eyelashes.

"There is. I shall require compensation," you said to him in a low voice. Jeonghan's eyes twinkled with delight as he looked down at you "And before you ask- no, I have no need of money."

Mr. Yoon smirked.

"Then what may I offer you instead, Miss Jeon?"

You hummed thoughtfully. "I believe this secret is large enough to necessitate collecting my compensation in instalments. You may pay me the first instalment on Monday- by dancing with me at the Hastings' ball."

Jeonghan leaned down to whisper quietly in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

"We have a deal."

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

A/N: Thank you so much for the attention this series has received! I honestly did not expect such a positive response since my blog is so new, but I guess I'm not the only one who gets all tingly at the thought of regency!Seventeen, haha. I wanted to keep Candle short but I got carried away- so it will be a three-parter now and I'm working on the third part so hopefully in a few days I can upload it? I'm doing Mingyu next so hopefully you guys are excited for that too!

Feel free to reach out to me with feedback or anything! I'm not sensitive. :D Also any advice on how best to tag my fics would be helpful, I'm not sure what the best practice is for this stuff.

#seventeen scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst #seventeen fluff #yoon jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fanfiction #seventeen fanfiction #regency!au #svt imagines #seventeen x reader

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mickstart · 3 months

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Re your last headcanon ask: I ABSOLUTELY think we get an unfair balance of jealous Aventurine as compared to Ratio. Do you have any thoughts on how Ratio's jealousy/possessiveness would manifest? Aventurine-centric again, but I love in fanfic/fanart when he's being all over the top friendly to Ratio and then sends whoever Ratio was talking to The Death Glare™. Real gap moe.

I also love when jealousy is the thing that makes them realize "oh Shit I think I care about him more than the average coworker amount"

Okay I think. The thing about Ratio is he's so resigned to his own isolation that he probably doesn't usually GET jealous bc he's just like "of course people want to spend time with others over me. they always do. I don't care." and I think it would be a pretty new feeling to him. He'd beat himself up a LOT for getting possessive because he'd be so annoyed at how irrational it is. So his possessiveness would probably be more lowkey than Aventurine's.

I think pre-relationship he sits there and silently seethes watching aventurine flirt and YES that would probably be the thing that makes him realise he likes him a little too much. Just imagine Ratio on the sidelines watching Aventurine show a little shoulder at a bar, distracting someone he's about to fleece, and he's just hit by this competely irrational emotion he has NO idea what to do with. All he knows is he wants to march over there and throw the mark out the window.

But in a relationship he'd know that was a Tactic aventurine uses, and I think he'd kind of get off on the "Aventurine is playing all these people they don't know he's only interested in ME" (Top 50 ratio ego moments) In fact it might be a tactic of theirs on missions, to have Aventurine seduce someone and then have Ratio show up like "hello darling. mwah." and Aventurine introduces him as his Husband. (They are not married.) It makes the mark uncomfortable and also makes them feel like they can confide in Aventurine because they Share A Secret with him.

(And maybe Ratio Thoroughly Enjoys kissing Aventurine in front of them to make a Statement, and Later, Alone, reminding Aventurine who he's always going to go home with.)

Sorry another cut, I rambled again but way more this time.

I think it's easy to enter more complicated territory with Ratio's possessiveness, with Aventurine's past being what it is. It would be important that what Ratio feels possessive of isn't Aventurine, but Aventurine's feelings and attention. When Ratio is jealous he's usually doing something to get Aventurine's attention back on him. But - traumatised king that he is - Aventurine ASKS for marks and growly, frustrated possessiveness. He taunts Ratio. Asks him to "claim me", that type of shit. Asks if Ratio will buy him a collar to replace the one he wears for the IPC. Asks if Ratio would wear his collar instead, with Aventurine's address on his nametag, instead of asking him to move in like a sane person.

(Sorry my "Aventurine takes his trauma and regains power over it by sexualising it on HIS terms" agenda is so strong.)

Ratio says he's just going along with Aventurine's kinks to let him work through shit in a safe environment, but he's definitely into having Aventurine whine that he's His, or dig his nails into his hips and tell him he's HIS. He's never really been Wanted like this, enough that Aventurine covers him with bites that make him feel warm whenever he sees them, and he's never Wanted anyone else like this. It's a thrill, even if it is humiliating that Aventurine reduces him to animalistic urges. (And even more humiliating that he's then into Aventurine making fun of him for that.)

And then he buys Aventurine a necklace with his little owl eye symbol on it, and Aventurine wears that Everywhere.

.... and buys Ratio a collar with a small aventurine stone attached instead of a nametag.

#long post #hsr #ratiorine #minors dni #sorry I got a little Carried Away #bc I think they've definitely had Possessive Sex and aventurine has said things no mortal ears should hear about how ratio belongs to him #lauwrites

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ingravinoveritas · 4 months

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Babe not wanting to put more attention on this pathetic person but there’s someone here on tumblr who made a mock account of you

Hi there! I've been debating whether to address this publicly, but I received numerous DMs about this last night and have been made well aware of the blog in question.

For context: Over the last few days, the person behind the mock blog has used their main account to make their presence known on my blog, having reblogged one of my posts just to add a nasty comment to it, replying to another one of my posts and attacking my followers, and sending me a hateful Ask, all in escalating succession. This culminated in the creation of the new account last night, which had a name that was an almost identical dupe of my blog name.

To be clear, I have no intention of linking to this blog publicly, as this person's goal and aim seems to be for me to engage with them--someone I do not know, and to whom I have never spoken or responded in any capacity. It also seems that the URL of the blog has changed from being a copy of my blog name to something else, and given that I had a lot of people DMing me indicating that they reported the blog to Tumblr, my guess is that the name change is the result of that.

The only other thing that I will say regarding this is that I'm obviously not thrilled that someone created a blog for the purpose of harassing me (while ironically accusing me of harassing Georgia and AL, despite me repeatedly stating that I do not follow either of them on social media and am strongly against anyone leaving harassing comments on any of their accounts). At the same time, however, I have been subject to far worse in my previous fandom--most notably, one vile incident where someone falsely accused me of distributing pornographic material to a minor, and another incident where the same person contacted my employer in an attempt to get me fired in the middle of lockdown in 2020. So all things considered, this blog is relatively mild in comparison.

And while I'm enormously grateful for the support that I have received from so many kind folks, I would urge you to not engage with this blog on any level, and please especially do not send this person threats of any kind on my behalf. I've said many times on my blog that people are welcome to disagree with me, and that I'm happy to hear the opinions of others who do not share my views as long as they are civil and respectful. What this person is doing is neither of those things, and they've made it clear that engaging with them would be a fruitless endeavor, but that still does not make it okay to send anyone hate. And if the desired outcome here is attention, then the best course of action would be to not provide it.

Again, my deepest thanks to you @phantomstars24 and to everyone else who has let me know about the situation and offered their support, as it means more than I can describe. I'm hopeful that we can continue sharing the joy so many of us have felt over Michael and David these past few years, and leave the rest where it belongs...

#phantomstars24 #reply post #fandom woes #also as a child/teen i was told to k*ll myself on more than one occasion #and that is the absolute last thing i would ever be okay with someone saying to someone else #why do people do this #same shit different fandom #i'd much rather focus on positivity however #because i am so incredibly grateful for all of you #and the kind words you have said to me since last night #thank you all you lovely people for being here #<3 #personal post #thoughts #discourse

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lemotmo · 14 days

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I am confused by people on the daily but sending it to you because I loved her response. She has to be exhausted by her inbox 😭. I don't know how you all handle this.

Q. I need a few things explained to me. I will say upfront I am camp Tommy. The article did not seem pro Tommy and Buck to me, but plenty of my Tommy peers were thrilled with it, but so were Buddie fans so there is a disconnect in someone's interpretation. It was unnecessary for Tim to have brought up Eddie there. They weren't talking about Eddie, it was inappropriate. It doesn't matter that Lou and Oliver never did a chemistry test, they're fine together. Why do people care? Lastly Oliver clearly has an agenda. It would not have killed him to hold that picture of Ryan for another day. He could have let us have our confirmation that Tommy is indeed back and maybe shared a pic of him instead of Ryan. Lou can have BTS stuff too.

A. The article speaks for itself. It doesn't require interpretation. Tim mentioned Eddie because they're all part of the same storyline. Period. People can choose to ignore that fact if they want but it won't change the storyline. Eddie is the point. Eddie has been the point. That theme is carrying over into this season. Buck's relationship with Tommy is going to play some part in whatever Eddie's self discovery is going to be. Tim wouldn't have mentioned Eddie in relation to the pair otherwise. Someone can correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think TV shows do chemistry reads unless it's a long term thing. If it is just for a particular plot or storyline they will cast the actor that best fits the plot purpose. The chemistry is secondary to the overall plot so I'm not at all surprised that they didn't do a chemistry read. Their chemistry isn't the point. The storyline he was cast for is the point. In this case the plot purpose is Buck and Eddie. Eddie told Buck him being bi wouldn't change anything between the two of them when in reality everything is going to change. That is the point. Oliver's chemistry with Lou isn't relevant in any way.

I would not look too hard for him in any BTS. And I know you won't believe this but I think that is for your benefit. Why give you anything that may lead you to believe he's anything other than a plot point? They shouldn't include him. It's not realistic. And feeds into something that has already been taken way out of context. Lastly, Oliver does have an agenda. He always has. He always offers counter programming to the canon. It will not change unless the canon becomes Buddie. He has been this way from the beginning. And he doesn't owe anyone an apology for that.

Thank you so much Nonny. As always, much appreciated.

*sigh*

I really feel like everyone should just give Ali a break here. She has explained this over a 1000 times already. How many times does she need to repeat it?

I agree with all of this.

Also, that article was blunt and in your face. Tim brought up Eddie when talking about BT, which is something the show has done since day one by the way. Eddie has ALWAYS been involved in this storyline and he will continue to become even more important in this storyline, because the whole purpose of BT was always Buddie.

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

#anonymous blog I love #BT speculation #buddie speculation #season 8 speculation #eddie diaz speculation #evan buckley speculation #911 spoilers #nonnies galore

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skywalker1dream · 4 months

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Title: Driven by Friendship

Note: Okay so I have no idea what I wroteSo if there are mistakes, please tell me (which I'm sure there will be) tbh I don't like it so maybe I will delete it later. Oh and we need more fics about these two men sadly. [They can hit me with a car and I'd say thank you]

Warnings: Language, Sexism,Injury,Emotional Conflict...(anything else? I don't know, let me know;3) Use of nicknames hase [bunny] (german correct me if I am wrong) darling, love..

Rbr!Sebastian vettel x fem!driver!reader,

Jenson Button x fem!driver!reader..

Summary: The story follows readers and Sebastian's friendship from karting to Formula 1. Tensions rise, leading to a collision and strained relations. Unexpected friendships.Despite support from Jenson Button, Sebastian's betrayal deepens the rift, emphasizing the importance of friendship.

From the moment you and Sebastian met at the local karting track as kids, you were inseparable. You shared a passion for racing that burned brighter than the sun, and together, you conquered every track and championship in your path.

As you grew older, your dreams of reaching Formula 1 together only strengthened. But along the way, you faced countless obstacles, none more daunting than the prejudice and skepticism of the male-dominated racing world.

journalists were quick to criticize you, questioning your skills and abilities simply because you were a woman in a sport traditionally dominated by men. But you refused to let their words discourage you, fueled by the unwavering support of Sebastian and your fellow drivers.

"Seb, did you hear what they're saying about me?" you asked one evening, frustration evident in your voice.

"Ignore them, Hase. You know they're just trying to get under your skin," Sebastian replied, his tone firm.

"But it's not fair! I've worked just as hard as anyone else to be here," you protested.

"I know, and I believe in you. We'll show them together," Sebastian said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

When Mark Webber retired in 2013, you saw an opportunity to join Red Bull Racing. You and Sebastian became teammates,It was a dream come true, a childhood dream to be teammates, and finally that dream came true, but little did you know that it would test the strength of your friendship in ways you never imagined.

As teammates, you and Sebastian were thrilled to be racing together at the highest level. But as the season progressed, tensions began to rise. Competitive instincts clashed with personal loyalties, and soon, your friendship was strained.

After a few races, tragedy struck. In a moment of miscommunication on the track, you and Sebastian collided, sending both of you spinning off into the gravel trap. The aftermath was tense, emotions running high as blame was exchanged.

"What were you thinking? You cut across me!" Sebastian's voice was filled with frustration as he confronted you in the garage.

"Me? You're the one who didn't leave me any room! I had nowhere to go," you shot back, your own anger rising to match his.

The tension between you simmered, neither willing to back down. But as the adrenaline faded and the reality of what had happened set in, you both knew that something had to change.

"Seb, can we talk?" you asked tentatively, breaking the silence between you a few days later. "Oh and I brought peace of offering." You showed him donuts and ice-cream.

"Sure, Hase. What's on your mind?" Sebastian replied, his expression cautious.

"I just... I don't want things to be like this between us," you said, your voice softening.

"Neither do I," Sebastian admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "I'm sorry for what I said. I was angry, but that's no excuse."

"I'm sorry too. I should have been more aware of my surroundings," you replied, a weight lifting off your shoulders.

As the season progressed, the strain on your relationship became more apparent. Small disagreements turned into heated arguments, and soon, you found yourselves avoiding each other both on and off the track.

"I can't believe you let me down out there," Sebastian muttered bitterly after a particularly disappointing race.

"I'm not the one who's been making mistakes lately," you retorted, unable to hide your own frustration.

The words hung between you like a dark cloud, a stark reminder of how far you had drifted from the friendship you once shared.

During a press conference, you faced harsh criticism from male journalists (again) questioning your abilities and suggesting that you didn't belong in Formula 1. As the questions became more pointed, you looked to Sebastian for some support, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"And what do you say to those who claim you're only here because of your connection to Sebastian Vettel?" one journalist asked, a hint of malice in his voice.

You felt the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. as you struggled to find a response, Jenson Button stepped in, defending you with a passion that brought tears to your eyes.

I've raced against her, and let me tell you, she's one of the most talented drivers I've ever had the privilege of competing against," Jenson said, his voice unwavering.

"She's earned her place in Formula 1 through hard work and determination, not because of who she knows," he continued, his words a lifeline in a sea of doubt.

As the press conference came to an end, you felt a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Jenson's unwavering support even in the face of adversity.

After the journalists filed out of the room, you turned to Jenson, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you.

"Jenson, I don't know what to say," you began, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jenson smiled warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You don't have to say anything, darling. We're all in this together, remember?"

You nodded, feeling a swell of gratitude for his kindness. "Thank you, Jenson. I don't know what I would have done without you," you admitted, a lump forming in your throat.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Jenson replied, his gaze sincere. "Just remember, you belong here just as much as anyone else. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

His words resonated with you, a reminder that you were not alone in this fight. With a grateful smile, you squeezed Jenson's hand, silently thanking him for being the friend you needed in that moment of doubt.

"I won't forget it, Jenson. Thank you," you said, your voice filled with conviction.

And as you left the press conference room, a renewed sense of determination filled your heart. Though the road ahead would be challenging, you knew that with friends like Jenson by your side, you could face anything that came your way.

Back in the garage, you confronted Sebastian, hurt and anger bubbling to the surface.

"Why didn't you defend me out there, i thought we had each others back?" you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I... I don't know. I just... I didn't know what to say," Sebastian stammered, his eyes filled with regret.

"You could have said something, anything!" you cried, feeling the weight of his silence like a betrayal.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the regret there, a silent acknowledgment of his failure to stand by you when you needed him most.

The tension between you and Sebastian had reached a breaking point, with each passing day bringing more heated arguments and strained interactions. But just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, there was a knock on your hotel room door.

With a sense of trepidation, you opened the door to find Sebastian standing on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face and a box of donuts and a tub of ice cream in his hands.

"I come bearing peace offerings," he said, his tone lighthearted but sincere.

You couldn't help but smile at his gesture, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. Donuts and ice cream had been your tradition for as long as you could remember, a symbol of your friendship and the bond you shared.

"I guess old habits die hard," you replied, stepping aside to let him in.

What followed was a week of laughter and camaraderie, as you and Sebastian fell back into your old rhythms, joking around and laughing at each other's jokes and antics. It felt like old times, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

But as the week drew to a close, the tension returned, hanging between you like a heavy fog. And despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of friendship, the cracks in your relationship began to show once again.

The once inseparable bond you shared seemed to fade further into the distance with every awkward silence and tense exchange.

As the season pressed on, the weight of your strained relationship began to take its toll on both of you.

"Are you crazy? You almost crash into me!" Sebastian's voice was filled with frustration as he confronted you in the garage.

"Me? Are you blind?You were in front of me, you braked and we both almost hit the wall!"

you shot back, your own anger rising to match his. The tension between you simmered, neither willing to back down. But as the adrenaline faded and the reality of what had happened set in, you both knew that something had to change.

despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of friendship, the cracks in your relationship began to show once again.

The strain between you and Sebastian was palpable, lingering like an unspoken truth in the air. Despite the temporary respite of laughter and shared memories, the underlying issues remained unresolved, simmering beneath the surface.

With each passing day, it became increasingly clear that the competition between you was more than just a temporary setback.

And as you navigated the twists and turns of the race track, you couldn't help but wonder if the biggest challenge you faced wasn't the competition on the circuit, but the battle to salvage what was left of your fractured friendship with Sebastian.

The fight between you and Sebastian was like a collision on the track—explosive, unpredictable, and fraught with tension. It began with a series of small disagreements, simmering beneath the surface until it finally erupted into a full-blown confrontation.

As the dust settled and blame was exchanged, tempers flared, and harsh words were spoken in the heat of the moment.

Accusations flew back and forth, each of you convinced of your own innocence and the other's culpability.

As emotions ran high, the fight spilled over from the track into the garage, where heated arguments and bitter accusations threatened to tear apart the fabric of your friendship. Both of you dug in your heels, unwilling to back down, each convinced of the righteousness of your own perspective.

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was also a sense of betrayal feeling that the person you once trusted implicitly had let you down when you needed them most. And as the fight dragged on, it became increasingly clear that repairing the damage done to your relationship would be no easy task.

The fight between you and Sebastian reached a boiling point in the garage after the race.

"What were you thinking?!" Sebastian's voice was sharp with frustration as he confronted you.

"Are you serious, Seb? I left you plenty of room! You just didn't take it!" you shot back, your own frustration boiling over.

"I had nowhere to go! You squeezed me into the wall!" Sebastian's voice rose, matching your intensity.

"I didn't squeeze you into anything! You should have backed off!" you retorted, the tension between you crackling like lightning.

The team members nearby exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating conflict between their drivers. But neither of you seemed willing to back down, each too stubborn to concede the other's point.

Just as the argument between you and Sebastian threatened to escalate further, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" Jenson Button's calm voice broke through the heated exchange, his presence commanding attention.

You and Sebastian both turned to see Jenson standing in the doorway of the garage, his expression calm but firm.

"nothing," Sebastian started, but Jenson held up a hand to silence him.

"Nothing? From where I'm standing, it looks like a whole lot of something," Jenson replied, his gaze moving between you and Sebastian.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Sebastian fell silent, his jaw clenched in frustration. You too remained silent, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief at Jenson's intervention.

"Look, I get it. Racing is intense, emotions run high, but you two are teammates, friends even. You can't let this come between you," Jenson continued, his tone gentle but firm.

"We'll talk about this later," he said, turning his attention to Sebastian. "But for now, I think it's best if you both cool off."

With a nod from Jenson, Sebastian reluctantly backed down, his expression tense but resigned. You too felt the tension draining from your body, grateful for Jenson's intervention.

The final race of the season loomed ahead like a storm on the horizon. With both of you fighting for the championship title, the stakes had never been higher.

But as the race unfolded, it became increasingly clear that this would be no ordinary battle. Sebastian's desperation to win seemed to override any sense of sportsmanship, resorting to aggressive maneuvers and risky tactics to gain an advantage.

In the final moments of the race, as you and Sebastian went wheel to wheel, the unthinkable happened. With a sudden lunge, Sebastian executed a dirty move, forcing your car off the racing line and into a spin that sent you careening off the track and into the barriers.

Time seemed to stand still as your car crumpled against the unforgiving concrete, the impact reverberating through your body like a shockwave. And in that moment, as the realization of what had just happened sank in, a profound sense of betrayal washed over you like a tidal wave.

Sebastian's victory celebration felt hollow against the backdrop of your shattered dreams and broken trust. As he stood on the podium, basking in the glory of his championship win, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness, knowing that the cost of his victory had been the loss of your friendship.

And as the season came to a close, the rift between you and Sebastian widened into an unbridgeable chasm, the bonds of friendship irreparably broken by the events of that fateful race. In the end, it wasn't the thrill of victory that defined the season, but the bitter taste of betrayal and the painful realization that some wounds never truly heal.

As Jenson stepped into the hospital room, you noticed the concern etched into his features, a stark contrast to the composed demeanor he usually exuded. His presence was a welcome sight, offering a glimmer of solace amidst the turmoil of the aftermath.

"Hey," Jenson began softly, his voice filled with empathy as he approached your bedside. "How are you holding up?"

You mustered a weak smile, grateful for his presence in the midst of the chaos. "I've been better," you admitted, the weight of recent events pressing down on you.

Jenson nodded, his expression somber. "I saw what happened out there. I'm so sorry."

The memory of the crash flashed through your mind, the sensation of spinning out of control still fresh in your memory. Tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled the betrayal of seeing Sebastian's maneuver unfold before you.

"I don't understand why he would do that," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jenson's gaze softened, a mixture of sympathy and understanding in his eyes. "I wish I had an answer for you. All I know is that you didn't deserve any of this."

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, offering a sliver of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. As you met his gaze, gratitude flooded your heart, a silent acknowledgment of the unwavering support he had shown you in your darkest hour.

"Thank you for being here, Jenson," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Jenson reached out, grasping your hand in his own, a gesture of solidarity and reassurance. "Always, love. You're not alone in this."

And in that moment, as you felt the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you had a friend by your side who would stand with you through it all.

So the end...it was bad I know,but It was fun to write it.

Can you guess my inspiration? I give you hint "Silver Arrows"

I love drama

#sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x you #jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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