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takimakiiiii · 1 month ago

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not part of the race strategy - better than the movies inspired oscar piastri fic!

synopsis: rom-com lover, hopeless romantic, you ask oscar, your car park-stealing neighbour to help you get into one of Lando's parties, the boy you've been obsessed with since he moved into your neighbourhood.

pairing/tropes: oscar piastri x fem!reader - childhoodfriends to lovers, boynextdoor, "enemies" to lovers

wc: 12.0k (this is a long one! (i have issues))

includes: angst, swearing, consuming of alcohol, vomiting, romance, fluff, (i'm sure there's more but i can't remember them)

a/n: it's finally here! sorry for the long wait, I got totally taken out by schoolwork and other stuff. Also if the end is bit crappy it's because i rushed it a little, also there's more focus on oscar than lando, after all it's an oscar fic

playlist: movies by conan gray, every breath you take by the police, crazy in love by beyonce and jay-z, kiss of life by sade, twilight zone by ariana grande, friday i'm in love by the cure, paper rings by taylor swift, baby i love your way by big mountain, all night long by lionel richie

“She’s not you.”

“What?”

“She. Isn’t. You.”- Better Than The Movies

Monday, 3:21pm

Winter arrived as it always did, and for your little town it meant rain, a lot of rain. As in the river would occasionally flood onto the streets sort of rain. But winter itself held something magical, cafe’s would become cosier, puddles scattered themselves across the sidewalks, libraries offered warmth, umbrellas would sprout in crowds with the call of rain and thunder. It was like you were living your own small-town rom com life. Though, truth be told, the whole rom-com part was still in the works.

The bullets of rain ricocheted off the windshield as the wipers moved helplessly from side to side against it. “Movies” by Conan Gray was playing quietly through the speakers of the car, drowned out by the sound of the rain. A shiver prickled goosebumps across the skin of your arms. You let out an exhale, the breath pillowing out as a puff of hot air. A hot chocolate, candles lit and kicked back onto your couch with a rewatch of La La Land sounded really good as you turned the corner onto your street. Immediately, your jaw dropped open. Through the pouring rain parked directly outside your house - well perhaps not directly outside your house, sat an unmistakable bright yellow car. In your parking spot.

Oscar Piastri.

That little motherfucker.

You hit the steering wheel in frustration as you let out a fake sob in your own pity party, leaning back into the headrest. Exasperated, you continued down the street, passing your beloved parking spot where the blinding yellow car sat tauntingly. Through the window of your next door neighbor’s house you could’ve sworn you saw Oscar all rugged up in a blanket, smiling at your misery. Your blood ran hot as you fumed. Stealing your parking spot today out of all days? While it was pouring down cats and dogs? Unacceptable.

You pulled up down the street in the parking spot dubbed “The Loser’s Spot.” by a very creative Oscar back when you first got your own car. That had been when the war first began. A not-so-silent war between you and him, a race for who could get the parking spot that was placed exactly in between both of your houses. Unfortunately, there was no actual owner of the parking spot, meaning that everyday you would jump in your car and race for just a chance to snag the spot from Oscar. Though for the last two very wet, cold weeks of winter, Oscar had beaten you, every single day, much to your annoyance.

Mentally preparing yourself to sprint down the street through the bucketing rain, you snatched your bag from the passenger seat, rummaging through for your umbrella. No, you thought frantically as you emptied out your bag, not an umbrella in sight. You let out a groan as you stuffed your textbooks back in. Luck was having a day off today.

Letting out a groan you pushed the car door open, rain showering down as you jumped out of the car. You held your bag over your head in an attempt at staying dry as you sprinted down the street. Cold air whipped at your hair, your boots splashing through wet puddles. As you dashed past Oscar’s house you glared through the rain to see the devil himself seated on the windowsill with a mug in his hand, clearly entertained by your suffering. You gritted your teeth, resisting the compelling urge to march up and knock on his door.

1 week was tolerable but two weeks of this?

You froze in your tracks and turned in the direction of Oscar’s house. This was too unfair. In the corner of your eye, through the window, you saw him get to his feet cautiously. With a huff, you beelined straight for his front door. You stomped up his front steps, drops of rain sliding down your calves and into your damp socks. Your clothes were already cold and wet, pressing to your skin uncomfortably like you’d been vacuum sealed with water. Biting the inner flesh of your cheek, you pushed on the doorbell.

Brushing the wet strands of your hair out of your face, you waited impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. There was a thudding sound of footsteps on creaking floorboards before the letter slot flapped open with a small metallic squeak.

“What do you want?” he spoke, voice slightly muffled through the door. You clenched your jaw, fighting back the urge to yell at him. You decided on something less provoking for both your sakes. “We need to talk.” was all you said. There was a beat of silence before Oscar replied. “I think I’m good, thank you very much, but feel free to head home now.” The letter slot flapped shut with another metallic squeak.

You broke immediately, pounding against his door with your fist. “Oscar, this is crazy! You’ve had the parking spot for the last two weeks!” you protested feeling mildly stupid yelling at a wooden door, hoping no one would walk by and see you facing off with a door.

“I got to it fair and square, that’s part of the rules if you don’t recall.” he deflected quickly as if they could somehow back his argument. You let out a groan, stamping your foot on the worn doormat that had a giant smiley face printed on it. “I don’t care! This is so unfair! Open the door!” you huffed, wanting to strangle the boy on the other side of the door. “That’s-” Oscar began before he was cut off.

“Oscar! Who’s at the door?!” a voice you immediately recognised as Oscar’s Mother, Nicole, yelled from inside. A grin cracked on your lips as he went silent. But the smile didn’t last long as you shivered in your boots, now fully soaked from the rain that was still pouring down. “No one!” Oscar began before you butted in, “Hey, Mrs Piastri!” you yelled, teeth chattering. There was a quick set of footsteps on floorboards until you heard a loud CLICK! The door creaked open, warm light spilling out followed by Nicole’s face popping out of the door with a very grumpy Oscar in the back. You flashed a smile, “Hey, Mrs Piastri sorry for bothering you.”

“Oscar! Why did you leave her standing out here in the cold? I raised you better than this!” she gasped, turning to him, Oscar’s jaw slackened, “She-” he began again before Nicole swatted him in the arm with the spatula in her hand. He flinched away, pulling a sour face much to your satisfaction, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Come in, goodness you must be freezing, go fetch her a towel, Osc.” Nicole ordered as she pulled the door open, Oscar disappeared into the house with a grumble. You stepped inside, warmth embracing you like a toasty hug. Droplets of water trailed in after you as you took off your boots. “How have you been, honey?” Nicole asked, a plaid apron tied around her waist. Her hair was tied up messily in a bun that somehow looked flawless all the same.

You set your bag down by the front door, “I’ve been good thank you, how about you guys?” you asked, glancing around the living room. Wow, you hadn’t realised how long it had been since you’d stepped inside of this house. It was exactly the same, small and quaint. It made you feel welcome every time you’d come over when you were younger. In the living room there sat a record player above a wooden cabinet. Spinning on record, "All Night Long" by Lionel Richie was humming softly through the air.

There was a warm scent of something baking in the oven wafting through the air. You shrugged off your jacket, hanging it up on the coat hanging stand that you had recalled had fallen on you when you were younger in a game of hide and seek. During primary school there was a brief moment when you were younger that you’d play with Oscar after school. A few of the kids down the street would also join in, you’d play Mario Kart - a game that Oscar excelled at, play tips, run around the playground and bake choc chip cookies. But it didn't last long. Because everything shifted when Lando Norris arrived, the new boy that moved into your neighbourhood in your first year of high school.

“Oh, you know, it's the same here. Hattie’s been learning the guitar, Edie’s always out and about with friends and Mae’s constantly trying to tag along.” she let out a warm chuckle that you returned with a smile.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked, walking into the kitchen as you trailed after her. When you were younger you always said you’d want a kitchen just like hers. There were small jars of marmalade in a corner, cute plastic magnets on the fridge, the tiles were white and blue and bright full flowers sat in a vase on the island bench. You smiled to yourself, “No thanks, I’m expected at home for dinner, thank you for the offer though.”

“Well, you’ve got to stay for the cookies I’ve made, they’ll be out in 10 minutes.” she chimed with a wink and you couldn’t resist the temptation of her baking. You nodded just as Oscar entered the kitchen, towel in his hand. His jaw was clenched and a bitter look plastered on his face. “Here you go,” he muttered, passing you the towel, “Thanks,” you chided, amused by his misery just as he was to yours moments ago. He shot you a dirty look as he leant against the other end of the island like a stubborn child.

“I’ll be back, I just have to get changed, Oscar don’t be a stranger.” she pointed to her son who nodded with a sigh. Nicole disappeared and you turned to Oscar, determined to finish what you came here for.

“Okay, here’s the deal, you get the parking spot Monday to Wednesday and I get it Thursday to Sunday.” you offered, holding out your hand for a handshake. Oscar pretended to think about it, eyeing your extended hand. “Why do you get 4 days?” he asked skeptically, an eyebrow raised. You swore your eye twitched, “Because it’s literally my parking spot!” you protested, throwing your hands up in a fit.

“It’s literally not.” he corrected, his tone light as if this was nothing but fun for him. You let out a frustrated groan, “You can’t just hog the parking spot, you hogger.” you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hogger. . .?” Oscar blinked, taken aback by your derogatory remarks. You tilted your head slightly, ‘I could call you worse things.” you added defensively.

“I don’t doubt that.” he grinned, entertained by your frustration as he watched you huff again, face red.

“That parking spot is mine. I've been eyeing it before you even got your car. Manifested it. Claimed it by the universe. It’s my birthright. You can’t just waltz in and steal it from me because you’re too lazy to walk 20 feet down the street.” you threw up your hands again to which Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re being a little bit dramatic.” he chimed, letting out an amused chuckle, his eyes following you as you walked back and forth through his kitchen. You turned to him, finger pointed at him. “You’re unbelievable. I cannot believe you.”

“All’s fair in love and parking, Lover Girl.” he shrugged, his arms up as if to say what can I say? You bit back an insult as your nostrils flared. “That’s not how the saying goes, Piastri.” you retorted, brushing away your slick hair from your face. Whether Oscar felt bad for you or not, he didn’t show it as his eyes flicked up and down you. Your clothes felt tight around your skin, cold and damp as you stood in his kitchen. All you really wanted was to go home now. To be in the comfort of your home with that hot chocolate you were craving earlier in the car. “It does now.” he finally said, running a quick hand through his hair. You let out a dry chuckle, “You think this is so funny, don’t you?”

“I think it’s hilarious.” he admitted with a stupid grin that made your skin crawl. You glared at him from across the room at his stupid face and his stupid hair that looked like he used 20 different shampoos in it. You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to strangle him to the ground.

“I’ll get that parking spot tomorrow, I swear.”

“I said I love The Smiths.”- 500 Days of Summer

Tuesday, 3:39pm

Newsflash: you didn’t get the parking spot.

It felt like a walk of shame as you set foot on the 5 metre walk down from “The Loser’s Spot.”

Oscar, when I catch you, Oscar, you thought bitterly as you passed his house and bright yellow car parked out front. This time, he wasn’t standing by the window which made you feel only a little bit better that he wasn’t watching. And you thought that just maybe luck was semi on your side today because it hadn’t rained an ounce since the morning. As you stuffed the keys into the lock, your phone began to ring, buzzing away in your pocket. You paused and fished it out, the screen lighting up with your friend, Chloe’s contact name.

Pushing the door open into your house, you answered the call.

“Hello,” you greeted, throwing your bag onto the couch as you passed it. Looping around into the kitchen, searching for an afternoon snack. "Baby, I Love Your Way" by Big Mountain coming from the radio that sat on the kitchen bench. Excitedly, Chloe squealed on the end of the line. “Girl, I’ve got tea. Lando’s hosting a party next Saturday and guess who’s invited?” she squealed, a lot of background voice feeding into the call. You winced, pulling the phone away, resorting to popping it on speaker. “You?” you guessed curiously. Chloe was one of your oldest friends, having met her on your first day of school, you’d been inseparable since. There was a loud clatter on the other side of the line before Chloe replied, “No, but good guess. Oscar is.”

You wrinkled your nose, a frown pulling at your eyebrows. “And this helps me, how exactly?” you asked cluelessly. There was a loud frustrated sigh, “God, put two and two together, ask him to take you!” she concluded as if she’d just concocted a masterplan to solve all your problems. You instantly shook your head, “What? No! One: that’s weird and two: I hate him right now. He’s a little pain in the ass and he keeps stealing my parking spot everyday.” you reasoned bitterly, eyes drawing to the yellow car parked outside. You bit your lip as the idea began to grow inside of your mind. It didn’t sound too bad.

No, you thought immediately, there was no way you were going to let Oscar take you to a party. And most definitely not to one Lando was hosting. “You always hate him, just suck it up and ask him to take you.” Chloe sighed as you scoffed lightly. “I’m not doing that.”

“Okay, hear me out. They’re good mates, right? What if you ask Oscar to help you get with Lando in exchange for the parking spot.” Chloe proposed, you could hear the proud grin through her voice. You sighed, “Okay no for 3 different reasons. The first is that there is no way I’m telling a boy, not to mention my next door neighbour, who I have a crush on. Secondly, we barely talk and it would be hella weird to ask him to take me. Lastly, no.” There was a muffled sound on the other end of the line before Chloe spoke. “You're no fun at all.” she grumbled.

“Also, I love my parking spot.’ you added.

“It’s basically his.” she shot back and you huffed. “Don’t say that, I still have hope for tomorrow.” you protested, throwing yourself across the couch, sinking into the cushions. “Girl, you and I both know you ain’t getting that parking spot.”

You sighed heavily. Unfortunately, she was very right about that. That night, you lay in bed turning left and right and left again until you threw your pillow at your door in frustration.

What if you ask Oscar to help you get with Lando in exchange for the parking spot? Chloe’s words echoed around your head, unable to erase it from your mind. No, it was stupid idea and anyone would be crazy to do that, you thought and yet somehow you found yourself knocking on his front door moments later.

Wednesday, 1:23am

Shivering in your pajamas, you prayed that his Mother didn’t open the door for your own sanity and saw you shaking in your pj’s with a jumper thrown over. You shifted back and forth on your feet, teeth chattering like only days before. The lights in the living room turned on, light spreading on your face as you heard the floorboard creaking again, the familiar sound making your heart soar. Warm light spilled out of the door as Oscar’s head popped out. His eyes were wary, squinting into the darkness.

“Okay, what the hell are you doing? It’s 1am!” he grumbled as if he’d been woken from a nap. You rolled your eyes, beginning to regret your choice.

“God, you sound like a grandma,” you commented, eyes trailing his face against the light. His brown freckles were sprinkled across his face, his hair unkept as though he’d been asleep only moments ago. His nose scrunched up slightly, “If you’re here for the parking spot, you’re not getting it.”

You waved your hands quickly, “I’m not, well. . . sort of.” you trailed off, words getting caught as you welled in the gravity of your decision. He frowned, “What?”

You flexed your fingers, rocking slowly back and forth on your heels. Your slippers and jumper falling damp under the light rain. “It’s just a thought, okay?”

“God, you think? That’s concerning.” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. You shot him a glare as he shrugged under the light of the porch. “Hey asshat, just listen, okay?” you reasoned, licking your lips nervously. He stared at you as if debating whether or not to shut the door in your face and call it a day.

“You have 2 minutes and then I’m closing this door in your face.” Oscar said after not-so careful consideration, after all it couldn’t get weirder than you standing outside his front door at 1am. “Okay, okay!” you jumped hastily, you swallowed, eyes snapping to his, dreading to see his reaction. “So, Lando’s hosting a party next weekend,” you began slowly, dipping a foot into the deep waters.

Oscar rolled his eyes, “I’m aware, Lover Girl, what do you want?”

You felt like a mad person as he watched you grasp onto your words. “Alright, here’s my pitch: you take me to the party and you can have the parking spot for a week.”

There was a beat of silence as Oscar stared at you, his eyes narrowing by the second. His eyebrows ticked up, amusement pulling at his mind and lips as if caution should wary him. “Why are you acting weird? You were literally going to kill me for it yesterday.” he asked, eyeing you strangely, his eyes dark dancing under the shadows of the light.

“I’ve changed.” you snapped impatiently, folding your arms across your chest, wind blowing past you as you stood on the porch. “I highly doubt that.” he deflected with a small chuckle that tore through your patience. You sighed, “That’s beside the point, Piastri. The point is, you take me, you get the parking spot.” you bribed, “For one week.” you added quickly, the coldness of the night inching closer.

“Do I at least get to know why?” Oscar asked, amused, perhaps even curiously as he looked down at you. “Nope.” you answered through chattering teeth, hands brushing against your arms.

“Well that seems sort of unfair don’t you think?” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. He watched as you began to bend under his stare, flinching away. “Nope.” you said, but your voice wavered as if you already knew he wouldn’t let you take advantage without knowing your motives for such a strange proposal.

“Okay, fine.” he shrugged and your heart jumped in your chest. Hope blooming in your mind, maybe this Oscar boy from next door wasn’t all bad. “Really?” you asked excitedly, a grin pulling at your lips.

“No.” he shot back and the hope sunk to your stomach. You bit back and insult, “Why not?” you demanded, looking up at him. He sighed heavily, holding up two fingers. “Because one: it’s Lando’s party not mine and two: you’re being weird.”

You threw your hands up in protest, “Those aren’t even valid reasons!”

Oscar shrugged carelessly, “They’re valid to me unless you tell me why.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I’m aware, now continue.”

You hesitated, heat rising to your cheeks. You stared down at your boots that had flecks of raindrops across them under the porchlight. “I just. . . I don’t know, It’s just, Lando. You know?” you swallowed, looking up, stomach twisting in embarrassment. Oscar was staring at you, a slight frown on your face as if he was waiting for you to backtrack and explain that this entire thing had been a complete joke. But you didn’t.

“Are you serious right now?” he asked, face drawn dead serious.

“Yes.”

Oscar fell against the doorframe, erupting in laughter, his voice echoing down the empty street. You clenched your jaw, cheeks flushed as he snorted. “Sorry, who am I to judge?” he concluded with another chuckle. You rolled your eyes, standing right in a circle of embarrassment, each turn your own words against you. “Alright, stop.” you grumbled, watching as he clapped his hands together with a satisfied sigh. “Okay, I’ll help but on one condition, I get the spot forever.”

The words sank into your mind, “What? No!” you immediately snapped. There was no way you were going to give up the parking spot that you’d been fighting 2 years for. You’d rather die. You let out a scoff, the absurdity of it all weighing in your mind.

“Then no deal.” Oscar shrugged casually as he began to shut the door, the warmth of the house pulling away into darkness. You lunged forward, grabbing the door as Oscar hesitated. “Okay! Okay, wait. Let’s not be too hasty.” you reasoned, thoughts racing through your mind to figure out a way to make sure both parties won.

“I’m waiting.” Oscar tapped his fingers impatiently against the doorframe as you scoured your brain for words. “Okay, new deal, you help me get into that party and closer to Lando and you can have the parking spot for the rest of the year.” you clapped your hands in finality, a giant grin on your face, sure that would make a reasonable deal. Oscar stood in thought, weighing out both pros and cons of the proposal. “Are you done thinking?” you prodded after he was taking too long, thinking he’d pull the same stunt as earlier. You shivered, the wind blowing against your ankles, your fingers pulling the hem of your jumper down lower to shield yourself. Oscar’s eyes flickered down to you, he opened his mouth slightly as if the words were on the tip of his tongue. Come in. But instead he nodded, “Okay, deal.”

“Really?” you jumped up, fireworks going off inside of your brain. You refrained from doing a little victory dance after already embarrassing yourself enough in one night. Oscar shrugged casually, “I mean, who am I to refuse the parking spot?”

“Okay, deal.” you held out your hand with a grin to which Oscar slammed the door shut. The warmth and light of the house were gone in an instant as you were left standing with your arm extended, left hanging. You blinked, taken aback. What the hell? The letter slot flapped open with a squeak. “Your two minutes were up, Lover Girl.”

“Asshole.”

“Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” - Dead Poets Society

Wednesday 12:43pm

You stared at the clock as if somehow it would make the seconds pass quicker. It did not. Unsurprisingly, it made the class go by even slower. However, the second the bell rang through the halls you were up and out of the classroom. You weaved past students until you came to a stop just by the lockers at the end of the corridor. Excitedly, you peeked slowly, eyes focused on a classroom door where students were spilling out from. Your heart soared as Lando filed out of the door in heavy conversation with Oscar who’s eyes looked tired and dazed, you were almost certain you were to blame for that. Lando smiled and you felt your heart pound in your chest, a smile tearing at your lips. You watched as they turned in your direction, eye catching Oscar’s. Your hands snapped to the closest thing as you pretended to fidget with a lock on one of the nearby lockers. Your eyes flicked up to Lando as Oscar trailed behind him yawning. As Lando neared closer you felt your cheeks flush pink, heart hammering in your chest.

How could he look so perfect?

Since the moment you’d seen Lando you were infatuated by him. Everything about him was likeable, he was charming, he had an addictive smile, and above all he was funny. He never failed to make you laugh, he was sweet and charismatic, almost like the complete opposite of your grumpy next door neighbour. Having a crush on Lando also made you feel like a crazy person, like any other girl in your year, hopelessly in love with his smile. Your Mother had told you about guys like him, Lando was male lead material, the charming rom-com guy that would sweep you off your feet and guarantee a happy future.

Oscar, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He was a boy with no emotional intelligence whatsoever. If you were to ever give your heart to him, he’d trample all over it and chuck it out the window without a second thought.

“Hey, Y/N?”

Your head snapped around, your eyes falling onto Lando and a sleepy looking Oscar who was rubbing his eyes. Your heart jumped to your throat as you stumbled over your words, “Hey.” you blurted out and Lando chuckled warmly. Instantly, your knees felt weak under you as if they’d give way any minute, abandoning you in front of him.

“Oscar told me you’re coming to my party next Saturday,” he grinned, nodding to Oscar who looked just about as lost as a child at a carnival. His eyes were tired, large eyebags hanging underneath his eyes as he turned his head and glared at you. You prayed that he hadn’t let anything slip about the deal you’d made last night. You nodded, “Yeah, he invited me.”

Oscar looked at Lando who nodded. “That’s cool, I didn’t know you guys were friends.” he mused, which surprised you even though you and Oscar were anything but friends. You didn’t deny it though, “Yep,”

You met Oscar’s gaze from behind Lando as he rolled his eyes. You held back rolling your own eyes and smiled at Lando.“I guess I’ll see you next Saturday then.” he said, sending you spiralling as you watched him walk away until he disappeared into a wave of students. You grinned to yourself, unable to contain your excitement. You could've run down the hallway screaming the lyrics to "Paper Rings" out of joy.

“But you know, the thing about romance is, people only get together right at the very end.” - Love Actually

Sunday 4:43

“Why would I need to hit on another woman?” Matthew McConaughey asked, or rather Ben Barry asked Andie Anderson. “You’ve got more than enough personalities to keep me completely occupied.” he chimed through the tv speakers and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ was by far one of your favourite rom-coms of all time. The characters, the plot, the setup were all amazing and executed flawlessly. It mixed all your favourite tropes together and made your heart flutter like a crazy, obsessed person. You glanced out the window of the living room, through rain Oscar’s car was still in the parking spot. You sighed, looking back at the TV, your concentration lost as the movie continued muffled away in the background of rain.

Were you crazy?

Was Oscar crazy?

“Hey Y/N! Can you return these containers back to Nicole?” your Mother’s voice broke through the silence, as if on cue. Your head snapped toward the kitchen where your Mother hummed away, melody travelling softly around the house. You let out a groan, splaying yourself across the couch. “Right now?” you called back, eyes drifting back to the rain bucketing outside. “Yes!” she replied, followed by a clattering of metal pans. You gritted your teeth as you whipped the blanket off, making your way into the kitchen. Your Mother stood, her back facing you as she did her weekend tidy. There were plastic containers and pots strewn all over the kitchen bench as she sorted through the drawers. You picked up the containers that had small ‘Piastri’ stickers stuck to them.

“Thank you! Take an umbrella!” your Mother called behind you as you disappeared out the door-without an umbrella. The cold wind felt like a slap across the face as you trotted down the front stairs, a breeze whipping at your undone hair. You squinted through the sprinkle of rain, the sidewalk scattered with puddles as you sidestepped, avoiding them.

You raised your hand and knocked on the all too familiar door. The loud squeaks of floorboards came from the other side before the lock CLICKED and the door swung open. Oscar’s head popped out the door, his eyes immediately narrowing skeptically as you stood in front of him. You pulled a smile to your face, “Hi neighbour.”

His hair was dishevelled, like his hand had run through it one too many times as he glared at you. “I’ve already agreed to take you to the party.” he said flatly as you gritted your teeth.

“Hello to you too, lovely neighbour. I’m here to drop off these containers for your Mother.” you rolled your eyes as you held out the containers. Oscar’s eyes dropped to your hands, “Oh, thanks” he mumbled, taking it from your hands. You scoffed as his eyes met yours. He held your gaze for a moment, perhaps a moment too long his eyes lingered on yours as something unspoken passed. “Want to go on a walk?” he abruptly asked and you frowned, taken aback by the question. You looked out onto the street as the rain fell down slowly, pattering softly. The sky was overcast, grey clouds painted across it, the sun hidden from view. “It’s raining though.” you said as if it somehow explained everything. You looked back to him, his expression all the same, “I know,” he smiled. A chuckle escaped your lips, without giving it much thought you shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” you nodded, finishing ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 days’ gone from your mind in an instant. He nodded, “Let me get a jacket and we can go,” he said as he disappeared into the house, the door left ajar.

What were you doing?

You nearly laughed out loud to yourself as you stood waiting on his front porch.

If you’d told yourself last week you were going on a walk with Oscar, you would’ve laughed in your face in absurdity.

Moments later, Oscar popped out of the door with a jumper thrown on. You were leaning against the porch railing, looking out onto the empty street. His eyes lingered on you, for far longer than he would like to admit until you turned around. He whipped his eyes away, clearing his throat. “Let’s go?” you asked, looking over at him. He nodded, trailing after you, an odd sensation sitting in his chest pressing tightly against his thumping heart. Oscar fell into step by your side. The rain was slow, the storm passed and instead was replaced by a soft sprinkle of rain, falling gently if it had been any colder would’ve been snowflakes. His eyes flickered to you, “Where do you want to go?” he asked as you raised your eyebrows, a knowing grin plastered on your face. He eyed you as you wiggled your eyebrows in exaggeration, “Are you down for milkshakes?” you asked, a sly smile on your lips. He burst out laughing, “Milkshakes in this weather?”

You nodded, eyebrows raised, “Yep, I know a place.”

“Well then lead the way, Lover Girl.”

In your rainy town by the corner of the shops there sat an old 90’s diner. Its doors were welcoming, a sickenly sweet smell wafting through the air that enchanted passing strangers inviting them inside. A soft bell would tinker each time a wandering customer would come in and it had been your favourite place to go as a kid.

As kids, it had also been the place Oscar’s Mother would take you guys to have an occasional milkshake after school. You and Oscar would both bicker, debating which flavour was better, chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Oscar had always been insistent on vanilla whereas you would scrunch up your face and shake your head in disgust.

Hattie, who would often tag along on your little side quests, would order banana which only gained disapproving looks from both you and Oscar. The last red booth had been the spot you’d all run to, ice creams in hand, pushing one another out of the way to get the window view out onto the street. Though unfortunately for Hattie, only either you or Oscar would win, outrunning her on her little legs.

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Oscar mumbled, looking up at the diner, a smile painted across his face. It’s bright hanging lamps, twinkling through the glass. The bright red leather booth seats were visible, sitting upon the inviting black and white checkered floor.

You nodded in agreement, “Me too,” and his eyes flickered to yours, his grin only growing wider under your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat and for a fleeting moment it was like you were children again, standing outside of the diner pulling Nicole inside excitedly, wishing you could try all the variety of bright coloured flavours. You snorted, “Shall we?”

“After you, milkshake-during-winter psychopath.” Oscar joked playfully, pulling the door open as you rolled your eyes, stepping inside. A soft tinker of a bell chimed around the store, warmth enveloping you like a blanket. Waves of nostalgia hit you as your eyes drifted to the last booth with its bright red seats and view that really wasn't that great but had seemed like a win whenever you got it. The chatter was low, people buried in their books or laptops with a coffee or milkshake at hand, the smell drifting through the cafe. And behind the counter still stood the old woman from all those years ago, serving customers with a giant warm smile on her face. Wrinkles had worn through her skin beautifully with time, hair with small streaks of grey now. But her striking green eyes had stayed the same. She wore a bright red apron and a pen tucked neatly behind one ear.

“Good afternoon, lovelies.” she greeted softly until her eyes grew wide, shifting between you and Oscar. “Nicole’s son, right?” she asked excitedly to which Oscar nodded. She looked at you, “And you must be the young girl who would come in with them!” she clapped her hands together, green eyes lighting up. You laughed softly with a nod, “I’m pretty sure we would invade your diner each afternoon and hog the last booth,” you said, nodding to the empty booth that stood at the end of the aisle as if waiting patiently for you and Oscar to return.

“Nonsense, it was always a pleasure to have you here. What can I get you guys?”

You glanced up at Oscar who met your gaze, nodding before turning back to the lady, “Two milkshakes please, one vanilla and one chocolate.” the order slipped off his lips as if second nature to him. You blinked in surprise, he still remembered your favourite flavour? Perhaps it shouldn’t have made that big of a difference, but you didn’t have enough time to fully process it before Oscar handed it to you. His fingertips gently brushed yours, sending an electric spark through your body. You stood stunned, there was no way that this was your parking-spot stealing neighbour you couldn’t stand.

You trailed after Oscar, mind still racing as you tried to figure out why your chest felt tight all of a sudden, heartbeat loud in your ears as you slid into the red leather booth.

Oscar however, noticed nothing out of the ordinary and dug into his milkshake, devouring it like he’d been starved. Your eyes flicked up to him, with his perfect hair and pretty smile, and oh geez, this wasn’t right.

Oscar wasn’t the charming male lead, he was the measly side character who would throw in a laugh every so often to keep the audience engaged. He was your annoying next door neighbour, the only boy who’d constantly nag you about your rom-com obsession. Even as kids, in your eyes he never held a candle to Lando Norris. Though, it didn’t seem like that right now, because here you were sitting across from him drinking milkshakes like you guys were best friends.

“I can’t believe we’re drinking milkshakes during winter. It’s freezing.” Oscar chuckled and your head snapped back, mind pulled from wondering to the present. You swallowed your thoughts and nodded, any idea of Lando disappearing in an instant. “Well, you can’t go wrong with milkshakes, right?” you shrugged, without much effort from keeping a smile off your face. You sipped on the straw, the coldness of shooting straight to your brain. A shiver of cold ran down your spine and you shook in your jacket. Oscar snorted, “Just to clarify. . . are we trying to get pneumonia? Or is this your awful master plan of trying to get me sick?”

“A bit of both,” you admitted solemnly, a playful glint in your eye as you met his gaze. He raised his eyebrows, as if testing the imaginary waters of just how sarcastic and funny this conversation could get. “I can respect that,” he finally agreed and you nodded along. “I mean, with vanilla I don’t really know though, you could probably get poisoned by the blandness of it.” you shrugged playfully before cracking, letting out a laugh. Oscar’s eyes followed you as you shook, laughing in your seat.

“That’s pretty rich coming from a safe-option chocolate eating psychopath.” Oscar mused with a nod toward your milkshake, the cherry still on top from your lack of attention. “I’m a pretty charming psychopath though,” you pointed out with raised eyebrows, giving Oscar a reasonable nod. Though he was the only charming one here, you couldn’t deny. The curve of his lips formed into a grin that had your eyes flicking nervously out the window where rain began to pour down again. You swallowed hard as your gaze snapped back to his. He didn’t deny it. “So you do admit you’re trying to kill me?” he asked playfully, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“I mean, only if that vanilla doesn’t kill you first.” you chimed before the two of you both broke out in fits of laughter. You couldn’t help but admire Oscar, the way the corner of his eyes crinkled whenever he laughed, how his nose scrunched up and the warmth in his eyes was undeniable as he looked at you. And you felt like you melted under his sweet gaze.

The last booth in Macy’s diner was filled with giggles of laughter and sarcastic remarks that afternoon, just two kids off in their own world that hadn’t been explored in a long time. To the old lady who served every customer in the diner, it seemed just like the old days. From behind the counter she watched fondly as the two kids sitting across from each other held childish grins on their faces.

“That’s the thing about love, you never know when it’s real.” Ben Barry said, ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ back on the screen as you lay across the couch with a blanket pulled up your neck. Your heart skipped a beat as you swallowed hard, it was all wrong.

“In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you.”- Juno

Tuesday, 4:32pm

You stopped on the front steps of the school as students pushed past you, running through the pouring rain in an attempt to get to their cars before the storm got worse.

“What do you mean, you can’t pick me up?” you whined, phone connected on a call with Chloe. In the morning, you’d taken your car to go get the tires changed and Chloe had offered to come and pick you up. “I’m so, so sorry. But I’m stuck on the other side of the bridge, the river is flooding over. Can you get a ride home with anyone else?” she asked just as your eyes landed on an all too familiar car as it pulled up in front of you. Squinting through the rain you saw Oscar roll down the window.

“Need a lift?” he called out from the car. You hesitated, standing in the rain, 10 feet from him. The wind whipped at your hair, clothes damp under the rain. Since the diner it had been awkwardly weird between you both, or at least to you. It felt wrong to be hanging out with Oscar if Lando was the one you were chasing. It made no sense. Your mind kept circling back to Oscar, after school, hoping that somehow you’d run into him by chance. You longed for the feeling you’d felt sitting in the last red booth, laughing from across him as you both reminisced the old and the new. But you folded, banishing any thought of your feelings from your mind you bounded forward. Bolting through the rain you slid into the seat, the inside of the car even colder than outside. You shivered, coldness wrapping around you in an uncomfortable choke. “It’s so cold in here, do you have the AC on?” you chattered, rubbing your hands together. Oscar shot you a glare as if he’d taken that personally. “She’s old, okay?”

“So no heater?” you asked doubtfully, turning to him.

“No heater,” he echoed with a grimace.

“Right.” you concluded, looking out of the window. You felt his eyes on you, skin prickling under his stare. The car slowly rolled forward in the line of cars. Stealing a glance over at him, you bit your lip doubtfully, his hair was slick and wet from the rain, drops rolling down the sides of his freckled skin. Instantly, your breath hitched in your throat, heart thumping loudly in your chest almost like a chain reaction.

“The bridge is flooded, we’re going to be here for a while.” Oscar said, eyes on the line of cars ahead. You slowly nodded, snapping your eyes away from him, uncomfortableness closing in on you. Silence followed by “Every Breath You Take”, starting, filling the air from the old radio.

“Do you remember when we were kids and our coat stand fell on you during a hide n seek game?” Oscar asked, turning to you. Your eyes flicked to his, warm, gentle and curious. You let out a half hearted laugh, “You remember that?”

“Oh, absolutely, I remember you bawled your head off.” he teased, a smirk making its way onto his lips, your eyes catching onto it. You swallowed, “That was a moment of weakness, in my defence I’d never gotten bonked on the head with a 12 foot wooden stick, on top of that I got drowned in jackets and coats.” you pointed out, shooting him a grin. He laughed, eyes crinkling up at the corners and without much effort to stop yourself, you laughed too. His laugh was addicting to your ears, like a melody that you’d listen on repeat to by choice. “And then my Mum baked you cookies,” he chided, the memory flooding back into your mind. “And you didn’t get any,” you added with a soft chuckle, eyes on his.

“That was unfair, I still remind her about that to this day.” he huffed, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Well to be fair, it’s because you laughed at me.” you corrected.

“Touché, Lover Girl.” he said, giving you a nod. Your mind lingered on the nickname, you’d never really noticed when he began to call you that, though you were certain it was after he found out you were a hopeless rom-com lover. Which had been by pure accident after he’d found your DVD collection of every one of your beloved movies.

“Is ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ still your favourite movie?” he asked. Your head snapped in his direction, “I can’t believe you remember that.” you murmured, heart light in your chest.

“Of course I do, after you forced me to watch it with you.” Oscar said with a roll of his eyes. You shot him a glare. “I did not force you to.” you retorted with a snort. Though you were most almost certain that you did. You’d dragged him to your living room and sat him down to watch it with you because Chloe had been away on a trip. “Sure you didn’t.” he quipped and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Even if I did, it’s a good movie so you should be thankful.” you casted a look over at him and Oscar shrugged, “You know what? It was actually an okay movie, I won’t complain.”

“Exactly, my point. Thank you!” you huffed triumphantly, feeling like you’d scored a win because usually Oscar was always right. And most times, he knew it drove you mad. Satisfied, you looked out the window, now as the car neared onto the main street. “But that’s only because I thought Andie was going to die at the end,” he added. You whipped your head around, his expression deadpan as he shrugged under your stare. “What? Are you serious?”

“That’s what Lando told me.” he said and your stomach twisted at the reminder of Lando’s existence. Which felt wrong considering that was the whole reason you’d spoken to Oscar in the first place after all these years. You felt like you were tripping over your own guilt and selfishness. How could you be claiming you liked Lando when you felt this way about Oscar? What did you feel about Oscar?

“And you believed him?” you asked, an awful feeling sitting in your stomach now as you looked at Oscar. He nodded solemnly, causing you to snort, guilt instantly gone from your mind. “I sure did.”

“In my defense of course, I’d never watched a rom-com before.” he quickly added, eyes on yours. You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Just wait till you watch Me Before You or The Fault in our Stars.” Two films that had ended in you absolutely losing your mind and bawling your eyes out.

“I draw the line at people who end up passing away in the end.” Oscar ruled, “Also where the dog dies in the end.” he added as if that was the most important part. You nodded, understanding his point of view. “That’s valid, but you also give me vibes that you’ve watched all the Disney Princess Movies.”

Oscar blinked, as if he was surprised he was that easy to read. A chuckle escaped his lips, nose scrunching slightly. “In my defense, I grew up with 3 sisters,”

“That’s a green flag if I’ve ever seen one,” you hummed before you could stop yourself. “I’m flattered, please do go on.” he teased as your cheeks flushed red. A smirk pulled on his lips. Heat crawled up your neck as your stomach fluttered. “Okay, pretend I didn’t say that.” you said, rolling your eyes but the butterflies in your stomach were something you couldn’t deny even if you tried.

“No wonder I used to have a crush on you,” Oscar murmured just loud enough that you caught his words. His eyes were focused on the car ahead, refusing to meet your eyes. You froze, stunned by his remark. You felt like your heart had dipped to the bottom of your stomach, Oscar Piastri used to have a crush on you? The kid who had always laughed at your misfortunes, stolen your parking spot without mercy, used to have a crush on you?

“What?” you managed to stammer, cheeks hot as you met his gaze. You felt like you were choking on your words and yet none left your mouth. He chuckled, honey eyes locked on yours, “Is it that surprising?” he asked. You swallowed, “No- I mean, yes?” you stammered, unsure of what you were even saying, words slipping off your lips effortlessly. You winced at your own stammering.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I don’t like you anymore, there’s someone else.” Oscar laughed and it felt like a blow to the face. Why did you feel disappointed out of all things? Why did your heart sink to your stomach as if a part of you wished and yearned for him to still like you?

“Oh, is there now? Care to spill?” you managed to ask, curiosity and jealousy tainting your words. You bit down on your tongue as if to stop yourself from prying too far. “Her name’s Lily. There’s not much to it, I just think she’s cute.” he shrugged, oblivious to your envious heart. “Oh, I know her, yeah she’s nice.”you bit, forcing a smile to your face. This was good, so why did you feel like you’d been punched in the stomach?

Why did you hate that Oscar liked someone else?

"People do fall in love. People do belong to each other, because that's the only chance that anyone's got for true happiness."- Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Saturday, 7:29pm

Oscar: I’m outside

Y/N: What

Oscar: I’m driving you there, hurry up and be out soon

Y/N: Wow, such a gentleman

Oscar: I know

You ran to your bedroom window and sure enough, leaning against his car right outside in your parking spot was Oscar. He was wearing black sweats with a lazy white shirt thrown on and a jumper on top, and of course, his 20 shampoo hair looked perfect under the setting sun. You glanced back at your phone, though you never recalled getting his number though you were almost certain it was once used to prank call Oscar at a sleepover with Chloe. The details were a bit fuzzy. Everything had seemed a bit off since last week, an awful feeling had embedded itself into your mind as if you were no longer sure about something. You really couldn’t believe how long it had been since you’d hung out with Oscar, it seemed like ages ago that you and the kids down the street would play together. Though there was one memory that had imprinted itself in your mind till this day.

It had been an Autumn day, during the end of the holidays when all the fun had begun to come to a finish. You’d been 7 years old, sitting out on your front porch, bored with nothing to do until a young Oscar walked past. He’d paused upon seeing you, a frown making its way onto his face as he saw you sitting alone. “Hey, Y/N?” he’d said, walking up to you, cheeks rosy and eyes twinkling. You’d looked up, taken aback by his sudden appearance, “Yeah?” you’d asked, curiosity sparking in your mind.

“Want to play a game?”

Those golden words had you and Oscar raking up golden leaves in his backyard excitedly until there was nothing but a humongous pile. Standing and admiring your own handy work, you’d both fistbumped each other with a proud grin.

“Are you ready?” Oscar had asked you as he held out his hand for you to take. You’d nodded eagerly, taking his hand in yours. “I’m ready.” you’d confirmed.

“1, 2, 3. . . JUMP!” you’d both yelled in unison, leaping onto the pile of leaves. The pile blew up, scattering golden leaves everywhere as they came raining down as you and Oscar were swallowed in the heap. Laughter and giggles had filled the air that afternoon, causing a curious Hattie and Edie to eventually join in too. You hadn’t thought about that moment in a long time-

A loud beeping of a horn snapped you back from your thoughts, your eyes flickering to where Oscar stood, glaring at you from his car. Your heart jumped in your chest as you threw on a jumper, taking one last glance at your outfit in the mirror before racing downstairs. Chloe had boasted proudly about her plan being a success but it didn’t actually feel like a success. Ever since last week, you hadn’t been able to get Oscar off your mind, what surprised you most was that you’d forgotten how much fun it was spending time with him. Even at school, you’d avoided him, because whatever this feeling that had grown toward Oscar was wrong. You’d made this deal for Lando and afterwards you’d go back to normal, right?

You swallowed, making your way down the stairs, approaching Oscar. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, his grumpy demeanour back as he opened the car door for you, disappearing to the driver's seat. You blinked, an odd feeling rising in your chest almost like butterflies as you stood stunned by his small gesture.

“Are you going to stand there or get in?” Oscar asked from inside. You nodded, still dazed as you slid into the passenger seat. It felt too weird, like you were somehow playing a calculated game of chess with the enemy. But Oscar wasn’t your enemy, he was helping you, out of all things. You were meant to hate Oscar, right?

The car ride to Lando’s house was nothing short of awkward, only "Knee Socks" by Artic Monkeys filling the car. Oscar drove in silence, neither of you even batting an eye or attempting to make cheap conversation. As Oscar pulled into an all too familiar house he hesitated, “Wait,” he called as you were about to push the car door open. You turned to him expectantly, your heart catching in your throat. “Yeah?”

He swallowed, almost as if he was nervous. “After this, I get the parking spot. . . right?”

You paused, the initial agreement almost slipping from your mind. You nodded, “Yep, that’s the deal. Thanks Osc.”

The name slipped off your tongue carelessly, almost as if it was something you didn’t have to think twice about. But why? Heat flared up to your cheeks in embarrassment as you shook your head quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t-” you began brashly before Oscar interjected. “It’s fine, Lover Girl, don’t worry about it.” he said with a grin.

You both walked up to the door in silence. Heart pounding in your ears both from what had just happened and soon seeing Lando. It felt odd that you had to remind yourself that that’s what you were here for. Shaking your head you knocked on the door confidently. There was a thrumming vibration from music inside, spilling out of the door as it opened, Lando’s face popping out.

“Hey lovebirds, how are you?” he asked teasingly with a grin. Your heart dropped as you feigned amusement, letting out a dry laugh. Oscar doing the same beside you, “Don’t be an ass.” he laughed and your eyes flickered toward him. Your heart thumped in your chest, catching you off guard. You swallowed, gaze drifting back to Lando who held the door open with a grin, “Come in.”

You mindlessly walked inside, brain still scouring for an answer to what just happened. There was no way your heartbeat was quickening at the sight of Oscar when Lando was in front of you. Your eyes landed on him again as he fistbumped a guy in passing, a smile painted on his face. You quickly looked away, as if caught doing something wrong. God, what was happening?

The music was turned on loud, ringing in your ears as you floated around the living room, eyes drawn to Oscar who was chatting to some guy by the kitchen. Loud chatter and people yelling over the music filled the air just as Beyonce and Jay-Z’s “Crazy in Love” came on. You swallowed, chest tight, though you didn’t know why as you walked around aimlessly. Your stomach felt queasy even though you hadn’t had anything to drink yet. As you made your way around the living room, you felt a hand lay on your shoulder, Lando appearing next to you. His brown curls bounced as he moved, seafoam green eyes making their way to yours as you stood stunned before him. “Thanks for coming! Osc just told me you are good friends, so I’ll stop teasing you guys now,” he grinned, yelling over the music. You let out a laugh, but it seemed forced even to you. You nodded, eyes meeting Lando’s, your pulse screaming through your ears, TALK TO HIM!

“Thanks for hosting! I’ll try not to drink too much tonight!” you yelled back over the pulse of the music. Lando smiled one of his charming smiles before nodding, “Well, thankfully you’ve got your designated driver!” Lando laughed, nodding toward Oscar who was standing by the drinks table, pouring himself a glass of water. Your heart sank to your stomach, you’d completely forgotten that he wouldn’t be able to drink because he’d driven you both here. You nodded, “Yeah! I do,” your voice trailing off, eyes still on Oscar.

God, this felt wrong. It was all wrong. You were supposed to like Lando, why weren’t you more excited about this? Why weren’t you jumping out of your shoes doing cartwheels around the living room?

Lando patted you on the back, “Gotta run, Carlos and Charles are throwing around one of my Mother's vases.” he said as he disappeared into a crowd of people. You nodded, dazed as you reached for a shot glass on a platter laying around. The liquid burned your throat as it went down, the sensation awful but addicting. The thrum of the music rang through your ears as you grabbed another glass, cheeks flushing already. Each time, your eyes couldn’t help but find Oscar, even now as he spoke to Lily by the couch. Envy clouded your thoughts as you stared daggers at her. Her perfect face, perfect laugh, there was no questioning why Oscar liked her.

With a pang of guilt, you wandered around for who knows how long, grabbing glasses full of things you ought to have looked at first before gulping down. Your stomach flipped uneasily, the alcohol doing its thing as your mind was racing. But you couldn’t place why?

Why did you feel awful like you were somehow betraying yourself?

Lando was right there and yet your eyes were on Oscar, following him around like he was the one you liked.

“Woah there, slow down soldier. How many drinks are you on?” a voice sliced through your thoughts as a hand grasped gently over yours just as you reached out for another glass. Startled, you recoiled, gaze snapping upward to find Oscar standing there. His expression was soft but his eyes clouded with worry as he raised his eyebrows. He looked so clueless, clueless to what he was doing to you, making your brain spin like a carousel.

That was it.

It was all his fault.

“I’m fine, that’s what I came here to do, get wasted, have fun, right?” you shot back, an edge to your voice both brittle and bitter. You saw it hit him, his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed slightly. But he didn’t seem to believe you. You scoffed as you folded your arms across your chest tightly as if it would somehow shield you from him.

“You might want to slow down, Lover Girl.” he said, his words melting into the music, slow and numbing as “Kiss of Life” by Sade hummed in the background.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, turning away sharply. The room tilted with you in a slow, sick twirl. The nausea you’d been trying to keep down, creeping up, thick and threatening. You swallowed hard, trying to ground yourself under his gaze,

Oscar watched you, his eyes full with something more now, hurt. The ground swayed beneath you as you looked downwards. “I’m just trying to look out for you.” he said, confused by the sharpness and sting of your words. Why was this happening? But why was he the one here? Why wasn’t it Lando?

“Well don’t, okay? I don’t need you to look after me, Oscar. We’re barely friends, you’re my neighbour. A deal’s a deal and now we go back to normal where you steal my parking spot and I hate you for it, okay? This entire thing was a mistake.” your voice rose, trembling with emotion you couldn’t name. Guilt? Hatred? Oscar didn’t flinch, but you could see the way he swallowed it, like he was biting back words he knew wouldn’t help.

And then it hit. That awful, churning sickness surged upward with no more warning. You doubled over and retched, everything you’d downed in the last hour splattering across the floor. The burn scorched your throat, your eyes stinging with tears of humiliation.

Someone’s arm was draped over your shoulders as your body shook. You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, scanning the faces now turned toward you in disgust or pity, or both. Your eyes landed on Lando who stared at you but he didn’t move. Then, gently, Oscar’s hands found your shaking ones. He didn’t say anything. Just guided you away, leading you up the stairs and out of sight, as the party kept on pulsing behind you without a second thought.

“Do you want water?” Oscar asked softly as you sat faced away from him, guilt eating away at you relentlessly. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him looking at you and you couldn’t help but shake your head under his gentle gaze.

This night that you’d hoped would be amazing went the complete opposite. And so here you sat with your carpark-stealing neighbour, without Lando in sight. You shook your head numbly as you stared at the wall, eyes on anything but his. “No, thanks.”

There was an awful beat of silence as you swallowed.

“Okay, I have spare clothes in the car, I’ll go get them for you.” Oscar told you, getting up from the bed. Your stomach twisted as your eyes followed him until he reached the door. “Why are you being so nice to me, Oscar?” you called out as his hand rested on the handle. He paused and turned back to you, his eyes dark in the warmth of the bedside lamp. You searched his face for an answer, but he just shook his head, “You were right. That was the deal, I mean, it’s not like we’re friends, right? You’re just my neighbour and annoying one at that.” he grinned but he faltered under your gaze, as if he didn’t mean a single word of it. And he didn’t. It’s not like we’re friends, right?

You felt like you’d been sock punched in the stomach. Of course you weren’t friends, you’d been stupid to think that. You were never even friends to begin with. You were just his neighbour. You’d said it yourself. Swallowing hard, you nodded. “Yeah, I know.” you laughed, but felt hollow as if somehow the fake words lived up to the same as what you sat in your heart. Oscar slipped out of the door without another word leaving you sitting alone in the bedroom of a stranger.

Oscar drove you home that night, draped in his clothes that were too big for you he dropped you off at your front door. His eyes lingered on you, him now on the steps of your house. Behind him, his bright yellow car was parked where it rightfully belonged. You muttered him a thank you, promising him you’d return his clothes. He nodded, eyes still on yours, mouth slightly ajar as if he wanted to say something more. The words sitting on the tip of his tongue and you waited hopefully. But he kept quiet, bid you goodnight and disappeared down the darkness of the street.

And that was it.

Just like that.

“I want all of you forever. Me and you, everyday.”- The Notebook

Friday, 3:56

Weeks passed and Oscar still remained the reigning owner of the parking spot, stealing it from you without fail. Except now, you weren’t so sure about anything. Unsure about your feelings toward Lando who’d sent you a text the next day to see how you were and then gone radio silent. He’d barely interacted with you at school and that’s all it took for you to realise you’d been chasing someone who would never bat an eye your way. To think of it, years wasted on a boy who would only ever think of you as a friend, somehow wasn’t as disappointing as you thought. Because unbeknownst to you, your heart hadn’t been set on him anymore, it had been chasing someone else. You wanted Oscar.

Oscar hadn’t spoken to you and often, you’d find yourself glancing at his contact name, wondering if you called would he pick up? But you didn’t because you were scared what would happen if he did. It seemed like a story already written, letters printed on paper that you couldn’t change even if you tried. Oscar would look at you, a girl who was just his neighbour and laugh. Because what sort of idiot would fall for the guy who was supposed to be your neighbour and nothing but that?

So nothing happened, and each time you walked down the street from “The Loser’s Spot.” you’d glance at your neighbours windows but there wasn’t anyone in sight. Disappointment sat in your stomach as you walked down the main street. Cars honked loudly, yells echoing down the tarmac as rain pattered down. Raindrops hit your umbrella as you sighed, eyes falling onto the river that had flooded over the bridge, causing the traffic jam. “Twilight Zone” played softly through your headphones as you bit down through the chattering cold. Fingers pulling at your jacket, you waited amongst the crowd of people. The bridge flooding was something that happened far too often in the season of winter in your small town. There was nothing else to do but to wait for the water levels to go down. Cold and wet you waited as “Friday I’m In Love” by The Cure began to play gently.

“Hey, Lover Girl! Need a ride?”

You whipped your head around, the all too familiar nickname making your heart stop in your chest. Tugging off your headphones, you turned, umbrella pulling against the wind. Through the pouring rain, that annoyingly bright yellow car stood amongst the line of waiting cars. There Oscar was standing, his body half out the open car door as if waiting. You squinted as Oscar and his stupid face you’d missed seeing through the window. The relief of seeing him made you want to choke up. You took a cautious step forward through the rain and he met you halfway without hesitation.

“How could you tell, Piastri?” you asked, as he now stood in front of you. Through the rain, his smile was unmistakable. And you felt like you could drop right there and then.

“Because I know you,” he said and it was true.

“Do you now?” you chuckled, unable to keep a smile from pulling at your lips. He nodded earnestly, as if it was the most confident thing he knew. He took a deep breath,

“I do, and I need to tell you what’s been killing me inside since the moment you knocked on my front door, okay, Lover Girl? So just let me speak.”

Your stomach twisted in your stomach as you nodded.

“You’re not, just my neighbour, or the girl next door, or the girl who likes my best friend, okay? You’re more than that, you’re the girl who I used to let beat me in Mario Kart, you’re the girl who I would willingly sit down and watch rom-coms with because I loved the way your face lit up everytime. So I was wrong, you’re more than just a neighbour to me, you’re the girl I like and the one who I’d let take the parking spot everyday if I wasn’t such an asshole.” he let out a sigh, as if he’d been bottling that in his chest for far too long. Your pulse screamed in your ears, your knees weak underneath you. You stood stunned in front of Oscar as he searched your face for an answer. Speechless, not a word came to your mind as you stared at him. Warmth spreaded through your chest, heart beating rapidly at a million beats per second.

“Maybe I’m too late because of Lando but I just wanted you to know.” he faltered, his face lost from your silence. You swallowed, “Are you kidding me right now, Piastri? Because if I swear if this is one of your jokes I’m legally filing for ownership of that parking spot.”

Oscar burst out laughing, shaking his head before giving you a reasonable nod. “I swear on my pet dog.” Now it was your turn to laugh, “Rosie better not be dropping dead right now then.” you said, wiping the rain away on your face with your sleeve.

“I can assure you, she isn’t, Lover Girl.” he smiled through the rain, and you could barely hold back the urge to run your fingers through his hair. “God, Osc you’re driving me crazy. I thought you liked Lily.” you said, confusion swirling through your mind as you stared at him.

“That was only because I didn’t want to seem like I liked you, I didn’t want to mess everything up with you and Lando,” he admitted, looking away. Your heart leapt in your chest, confused but overjoyed.

You hit him gently on the chest, “Well that was a dick move, okay? Because I like you too, Piastri. And I hate the way you make me smile so easily and the way I don’t even have to try when I’m with you. I hate the way I go batshit crazy when I see you and I hate that you make me feel like I’m not alone. I hate that I like you but above all I hate that I don’t hate you at all, Oscar.” you admitted, looking up at him as he faltered, processing your words.

“Did you just tell me that you hate me?” Oscar teased, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Romantically, of course.” you assured, inching closer, your eyes on his lips. He grinned, making you melt under his touch as his fingers gently caressed your cheek. “Just kiss me already, Lover Girl.” Oscar said, his warm eyes on yours. You swallowed, fireworks exploding in your chest.

The umbrella dropped to your feet as you closed the gap in between you both.

“Make me, Piastri.”

Cue the Bazzi.

a/n: hope you liked it! remember to stay safe and have a great day! (feedback, likes, comments and reblogs are tremendously appreciated)

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lovegasmic · 11 months ago

Text

MY STRANGE ADDICTION

──── . curse!toji fushiguro + sorcerer fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 mdni◞ slight dub con just at the beginning ◞ handcuffed sex◞ breeding kink◞ mild pussy slapping ◞ name calling : slut ◞ petnames: princess, angel , good girl. rewritten and reposted . ★ taglist

“I will be alright”

you had grinned at Nanami that one afternoon, his usual calm face held a slightly concerned look, surprisingly still present on even though you were already miles away from where goodbyes were exchanged.

“it's a low rank curse, it should be fine”

but it really wasn’t.

the report mentioned some passersby’s warning over a strange metal clanking sound in a nearby abandoned building, —nothing out of the ordinary really, adding to the faint, almost imperceptible cursed energy found in the surroundings everyone agreed it was some low rank curse doings.

yet an eerie feeling was palpable left and right, coldness digging deep into your bones and making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

much against your initial perception, the curse didn’t attack, and instead, it cornered you into a windowless floor, much obviously the building was still on construction due to it’s bare walls and floors where it hid in the dark, like a predator hunting its prey, and much to your disadvantage, you were the latter.

the rapid and loud thumping of your heart rang in your ears, slightly muffling the startling voice the curse held, although you didn’t expect for it’s first words to be “you’re way too pretty to be a sorcerer”

“huh?!” jaw slack —from what it seemed— he, chuckled at your body’s automatic response, feeling your stomach drop at the deep and manly voice resonating through the walls and hallways.

you swallow hard “what the fuck does that mean?”

the curse laughed again, shifting in his place to take a step, two steps closer to the moonlight light coming from the wall opening and reflecting on the floor, one that barely got to show a portion of his shadow.

“what i’m saying is...” the voice came from your back, startling you enough to steal a gasp before it moved again, “...I would hate for a pretty thing like you to get killed so easily”

“if someone is dying today, that's you” you spoke, fake confidence helping you cope with what could possibly be your imminent death. this curse wasn’t one to mess with, you were certain.

“hm?” he smirks, “why don’t we test that out?” he whispers in your ear, and a second later, you’re on the floor, not giving you time to react to the inhuman speed the curse possessed, will definitely sport a couple of bruises later on from the hit and a makeshift handcuff that held onto your wrist, it’s coldness and weight reminding you of metallic chains.

“let me go” you grit, and much to your disgust, your mouth going dry the moment the curse got into the light didn’t help, hating to admit a slight throb in your pussy —and shoulders, due to the awkward position, laying barely propped up by your elbows.

he was terribly hot, dark tight shirt clinging on his broad chest and disappearing underneath gray joggers that only fueled your dirty thoughts.

“stop squirming, you have nowhere to go right now” his laugh echoes as loud as his shoes click right before your pity form, coming to your height dark pupils, almost fully engulfing the color of his irises and matching messy hair falling on them.

you had to earn time, strike a stupid conversation or anything that could win you some time until anyone came to your rescue after noticing the long absence, but the man smirked down at you in such a mischievous way you couldn’t help and try to push on his chest, screaming internally when the tall wall of muscle didn’t even budge, and instead, wrapped his fingers around your ankle.

“don’t touch me!” you half shout, both at the surprise of his movements, and the slight shiver engulfing your body from the calloused fingertips coming in contact with the bare skin right here your pants raised.

there’s a tsk coming from his lips right before sliding his huge hand across your leg, slowly enough for you to stop him, yet your body remained still, frozen against the cold marble floor.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

he whispers in your ear, leaning close enough into your ear until nothing but a breeze could separate his lips from your skin.

“fuck you” you hiss, empty words not matching the way you pliantly let the man, curse, touch you, both hands resting on your thighs, your waist, snaking a single thumb across the side of your covered breasts that rise and fall with each harsh breathing.

“that’s what I plan on doing”

for the second time in the night, your head fogs at the sudden movement, knees landing roughly on the floor with a pained gasp as you stare into the wall, your back arched in a very, suggestive way towards the man.

“i bet you’re fucking wet” he chuckles, “what a slut, in this situation, really?, do you not get fucked well enough?”

lips part to talk back, anger and embarrassment burning on your face, but the fact was undeniable, now obvious to him since his rough fingertips came in contact with the crotch of your elastic pants, rubbing across your slit through the fabric, rough enough for your growing wetness to seep towards the exterior.

“fuck— naughty girl” he is very much enjoying this, palming his already hard cock through the loose fabric of his own pants. “gonna take care of you, princess, fuck you nice and good til’ that pretty head of yours goes dumb”

it’s involuntary the moan that escapes your lips, suddenly losing balance until your cheek is pressed against the cold floor. a lewd sight of your willing body all pliant for him.

“name’s Toji” he huffs, leaving a single sharp slap on your ass before shredding the cloth down along your drenched panties, enough for his thighs to come between yours and stretch them, leaving your pussy to his lustful gaze, “remember the name you’ll be screaming tonight”

the curse, or now, Toji’s words are remarked with a couple soft slaps on your throbbing clit with the tip of his cock, making your thighs twitch and whimpers escape at the sensation and disgustingly nasty sound of creamy wetness sticking.

he’s big. incredibly big and stretching you so well your breath comes out unsteady and erratic, nails digging against your own palms as to conceal the pleasure you’re currently feeling, something no one has ever made you feel before.

“T-toji...” you whine for the first time, deep down loving how his name felt on your lips.

“that’s right” he grunts, slowly but steadily feeding your cunt the rest of his fat cock, his own breathing coming in stuttered huffs with how tight you felt, “you’re squeezing me so fuckin’ much, you just needed a fat cock to satisfy you, isn’t that right, angel?”

“ha— ngh!” you sob, toes curling in your shoes when his heavy balls kiss your clit, and then he’s fucking you with abandon, holding onto one of your shoulders to pull your upper body up, forcing you to meet his thrusts that almost knock the air out of your lungs.

“good fuckin’ girl” Toji’s laugh resonates through the empty concrete floor, mingling alongside the wet sound your slapping flesh, it’s dark and dangerous, but still makes your cunt flutter, “do you like how I ruin your unprotected human pussy?”

for a second, your eyes cross, brain shuts and opts not to reply, deciding to keep at least a bit of dignity instead of babbling a cockdrunken nonsense that would have seeped out due to Toji’s cock continuously slamming against your sweet spot, forcing waves of slick to drool out of your slit and stain your thighs and floor, mixed with the creamy precum coating your sensitive walls.

“answer me, darling” a rough hand comes to cup your jaw, forcing your head up until his lips ghost over the skin of your cheek, hips rutting into your slit and forcing his length a bit deeper into your abused pussy.

"y-yes!, feels so good" you stutter, eyes rolled back and hair clinging to every corner of your forehead, unaware of the movement of your own hips in an attempt to fuck yourself back on him.

“good girl” Toji leaves a single chaste kiss on your cheek, taking his previous position, although this time he forces your waist to arch deeper, almost mounting you before resuming his thrusts, “gonna show you how I breed pretty girls like you”

you whimper his name in approval, completely gone while letting him use you, positively drooling onto the floor and making a mess like he’s doing with your cunt.

with a choked out sob, you cream all over his length, shaking and crying while clinging to the chains around your wrists, yet he didn’t stop, fucking the white ring of cum back into your drenched pussy.

he’s forcing your ass cheeks open, aiming for your cervix before filling your hole with thick cum that comes out with a grunt and a groan, hips rolling, grinding and forcing you to milk that load out of his tip.

you know for a fact, that after that night, you became utterly ruined for any other man. since no one could ever fuck you like the curse you were supposed to exorcise.

he leaves a sharp slap on your overflowing pussy, loud and wet enough for your mixed fluids to splatter, right on time before hearing footsteps on the first floor of the building, —perhaps your reinforcements that might take a while to reach the high floor you were currently at. and then he’s quick on his feet, untangling your bound hands while chuckling at the yelp and beautiful sight of his cum oozing from your hole.

“if you want another load, you know where to find me”

#jjk smut #jjk fic #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #jjk toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #lovegasmic writes toji

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gremlinmodetweeker · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! I hope you are doing well and the trip for Christmas went well :-))

In cat!AU, do Konig and Horangi seek their 'owner' out on purpose when they are human? Do they flee the moment they see them in the crowd? Is Konig desperate to show their actual form to Y/N but Horangi holds them back? Or is it the other way around?????

Why do they stay with that person/reader and not move on (what does Horangi, that spicy cool ranch Dorito chip, tell himself quietly and loudly to Konig?)

Also, you may have it buried somewhere, but how did 'Y/N / Owner' meet and adopt the duo??? Im so curious on the background and introspectiveness *insert starry eyes and very awful drawing of cats since I can't draw but want to be apart of the doodle club*

So, yes this is that late, but Christmas went well! Sadly, shortly after, everything went to hell. My boyfriend lost two family members in tragic ways, I had to move six hours north to an island, and I'm currently living with my parents. It's been... Rough. Very rough. However, I have managed to make more time for writing! Even while I do DIY projects around my parents' house! So thus, enjoy more KittyTac!

In a weird round about way, they do desperately want to follow their owner. As soon as Owner brings these two cats into her life, two strangers start to show up around her.

One man is a masked Korean man. He's friendly, but he's always wearing shades so it's hard to get a read on him. At first it's just you notice him in the supermarkets, but then you start seeing him around town too. He shows up around the bars a lot. You never see him inside one, but he's often on the streets smoking a cigarette. Sometimes, only sometimes, he'll smile and wave at you.

You've got a good feeling about this guy. He's not a threat. Sometimes you wonder if he feels the same way about you actually. He's always so friendly, if aloof. Kinda reminds you of your cat actually.

However, you're not so fond of his friend.

His friend is genuinely terrifying. Not because of his height but because of... Him. It's just something about him. Most likely, it's the massive hood that drapes over his face. His eyes are these piercing blue eyes. They always seem sad and wet, but when they lock on you it's like something changes. He sees something in you but you don't want to figure out what it is.

He's the one that you're debating talking to the police about. He shows up in your life more often than the friendly Korean man (FKM as you'd dubbed him). This man is the Scary Big Bastard Man (aka: SBBM).

SBBM is absolutely horrifying. Something about the way he moves is predatory. He looks like he's tired up until he sees you, and then it's like something in his head clicks.

He's always trying to get closer to you. Sometimes it's by sitting closer at a cafe, other times it's by shopping in the same aisle (while shopping for pads, he looked at the condom selection and then back at you a bit too often for comfort). One time, SBBM got close when you were at a local library. Even though he was on the other side of the row, you could hear him practically panting. You could smell him from where you stood. It was... Too familiar for comfort. It put you off König for a while, but then you got over it. König's too cute and silly to ignore for long.

You've occasionally noticed that FKM and SBBM hang out together. Usually it's in seedy alleys that you quickly turn your head from, but lately you've caught them on your street. You saw them carrying boxes around. Maybe they were moving in across the road? They evidently knew each other.

It's a pity. If FKM wasn't so friendly with SBBM, you might ask him if he wanted a drink. As it is, you have a feeling if you did that SBBM would actually murder him in the night. You really needed to call the police about that man. How many 6'10 hooded stalkers are out there?

---

Horangi always slaps König for scaring you. He keeps telling König to 'play it cool' but in König's head that means being a gross pervert. Horangi has learned that 'be yourself' is not good advice for König. That's actually the worst thing you could tell him. If he did, König might just end up humping your leg in public.

König is desperate to reveal himself to you. He wants those cuddles man. He's also trying to find a way to let you know he has a lot of money he could spend on you. It's not creepy if he's your sugar daddy, right?

Horangi could kill him. He really could. But if he did, then you'd lose your cat, and he can't do that to you. But sometimes he thinks about it.

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months ago

Text

of rage and ruin - chapter eight

chapter eight

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel's lies and the creeping winter breed discontent as the raiders wait to find out the fate of the man you bit.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, mention of attempted sexual assault (NOT by joel, very unsuccessful), oral, p in v, discussion of dub-con and I guess mind-control?

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tommy Miller wasn’t a man of faith. Never really had been, and especially not now, not after the things he’d seen. Couldn’t fathom the thought of any god who’d let the world go to hell, who’d let his niece die in her father’s arms before she even really got to live.

He doesn’t believe in much, never has, but he’d put all his faith in Joel. Always had. His first steps were toward Joel. His first word was his name. All his life, he’d followed his brother, even as they fell darker and darker into the end of the world. Even as Joel went down a road he thought he’d never have to follow.

It was all for Tommy, anyway. He couldn’t turn away from the monster Joel became when it was all to keep Tommy alive. So when Joel turned into a literal monster, straight outta the movies they’d stayed up far too late to watch when Tommy was far too little?

That was nothin’. A no-brainer. Joel was Joel. You don’t turn your back on your brother, even if he turns all hairy and slobbery and weird.

So if there had been anyone left in the world who knew them, who had seen the Miller brothers grow, they’d have said it was no surprise that the little one refused to give up when things seemed hopeless.

Inseparable, they’d say.

After Joel went missing, one year turned into two, and Tommy Miller never gave up on his brother.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found,” Laura said one night over rabbit stew.

“Nah,” Tommy said, blowing on a spoonful before feeding it to her littlest one — DJ, after her brother, the dead beta — “He wouldn’t have done that to me. If he’s out there, he’s in trouble.”

Laura looked skeptical, but Tess nodded from the other end of the table, wagging her spoon in their direction.

“He’s right. That cranky old bastard mighta given anyone else the slip, but not Tommy.” Tess always sat at the far end, keeping distance between herself and the rambunctious children with razor-sharp teeth.

“I’m not interested in runnin’ around buck naked, howlin’ at the moon, or dying from a toddler bite,” she’d said. But it didn’t stop her from showing up every new moon for dinner.

Not more than that, though. She couldn’t bear to see the hope living in Tommy’s heart any more than he could bear to see the pity in her eyes. They all thought Joel was dead. All but Tommy.

“If you’d just turn me,” he tries.

Laura rolls her eyes. “You know it’s not that simple. My bite probably couldn't even turn you. Chances are you’d just... die.”

“If he dies, I get to shoot her,” Mike says to Cheryl. He’s the other half of the Idiot Twins, you’ve learned. Mike and Randall. Randall’s the one kicking around all pissy in your old cell with the crescent of your teeth debossed in his skin.

Mike’s the one bitching up and down the hall, shotgun on his shoulder.

Cheryl doesn’t give a shit. She’s only interested in what might happen if Randall doesn’t kick the bucket.

“The hell you do,” she sneers. “She’s worth too much. Now shut it.”

You’re in the corner on the mattress, Joel’s furry body between you and the door. His hackles haven’t settled, and neither has the tense line of his shoulders. You haven’t spoken since Cheryl came down to watch, but Joel’s kept his eyes on the shotgun the entire time.

You don’t need to talk to know he’s thinking about putting himself between you and a bullet. Your hand finds its way to the thick fur on his neck, weaving gently between tufts.

It’s not as comforting as it was.

And oh, he can tell. It hurts. It took him less than a day after your heat ended to start to lose you, and the worst part is that he doesn’t know if he even wants to do what he’d have to, to admit to you that even though he’d never, that he could. He could make you do anything he commanded.

You’ve been right all this time. Being an omega ain’t fair. He has all the power, and you have all the vulnerability, exposed to him like a wound. Like the one he’s left on your shoulder.

So he’s gotta be the shield, too. The bandage. He’s gonna be the barrier between you and everything that threatens to infect you. Even himself.

Especially himself.

After the third day passes, the only infection Randall’s gotten from you was the festering bite mark. And really, that wasn’t even from you; that was from locking him in that nasty room with an open wound. That’s kind of on them.

He goes upstairs with Cheryl and never comes back. It’s not just Joel from whom they don’t tolerate disobedience.

Mike sulks but doesn’t try to retaliate. He must be too chicken-shit after seeing what happened to his buddy. They still make him deliver food, but he’s got a new partner now, who doesn’t seem too fond of him. Meal drop-off is a no-nonsense silent affair now, which suits you just fine.

The difference between you and them has never been clearer. Not just in that you’re the captives, and they’re your captors. Not just in the sickening way they decide if you lived or died.

No. You’re finally seeing it. What they’ve seen all along—the difference between human and something undeniably more.

It’s stark, now. You’re not sure if something changed about you, physically, after your heat, or if it just laid clear the things that changed with the shot. But you can’t pretend anymore, either way. You’re not human. You’re not like them. You never were, really, but now it’s in your goddamn genetic code.

The man wrapped around you is even less of a man, but you think you’re starting to catch up.

He stays resolutely the wolf, but you don’t mind. You haven’t felt much like talking lately, anyway. You’ve gone quiet. It’d be unsettling if you hadn’t sunken to his level of grunts and huffs and whines.

Why talk when he can’t talk back? Why talk when you already know what he’s saying? When he can understand you better now than ever before?

There’s no need for a charade between you. You’re beasts together. The bite you shared is more of a bridge between you than a bond, but that’s okay.

Neither one of you were looking to be tied together, anyway.

The strange, serene silence lasts until the new moon. He doesn’t have much choice, and you’re feeling it, too. The fatigue. The wariness. The loss of security. With the light of the moon in absentia, you’re left undone.

So you put each other back together.

You wake to his hairy face, but it’s human hairy. His coarse salt-and-pepper beard. His morose hazel eyes.

“Look—” he starts, voice extra gruff from neglect, but you find you’re uninterested in his excuses.

You kiss him instead, craning your neck to reach his chapped lips, a hand cupping that handsome beard.

One of his huge hands goes to your waist immediately as he clings to your subject change with relief.

There’s no trace of heat, now, nor rut. Just you. Just him. His hand, calloused and hot, leaves a trail across your bare skin, achingly gentle.

You let yourself be coddled, this once. Let him treat you like something precious. Something worth preserving. No claws or fangs, just the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, the heat of his tongue on your nipple.

A trail of ticklish kisses down your stomach that makes you squirm for more than one reason. When he parts your thighs to make room for himself, it’s as if he’s setting out the fine china.

Before, he’d always dove in, like seeking the antidote to a snake bite. Eager to gulp down as much of you as fast as he could.

This time, he doesn’t rush. They won’t take him out tonight on the new moon. They’ve given up on making him useful when he's useless. He’s grateful, for once, for his weakness, because it means he can be yours.

And you? Well. You’re always his. But now he can take his time with you.

His lips brush your thighs, gentle bites with blunt teeth interspersing the worshipful kisses. He presses them to the seam of your cunt, not opening you for him yet, just kissing along your labia and basking in your scent. It’s heady, even when it’s not fragrant with fertility.

He parts your lips with his tongue. No greedy fingers rend you, just the soft swipe, barely ducking between. He does it, again and again, until he works you wide and waiting.

A smirk spreads when you gasp at the bump of his nose against your clit, but he doesn’t leave you wanting. He graces it with a tender kiss that leaves you writhing, panting, trying to cant up to meet him.

He lets you. But he doesn’t let your mewls rush him. He leaves you clit throbbing and drags his attention down to where you weep for him. The noises alone are debauched, echoing in the old shower room, his groans and licks melting into your gasps and cries.

Your chest aches. It aches with need, with want, yes, but also with a strange sadness. It’s bleeding from him into you. It seems to never leave him, not for a moment, and it drives your hands to his hair, a poor facsimile of the connection you both need and cannot allow yourselves to have.

It’s enough, though, for now. He’s pleased that he’s pleased you, and doesn’t relent. It’s as much for you as it is for him. He alternates between softly suckling at your clit and licking you clean until he’s drawn two saccharine orgasms from you, leaving you trembling and covered in sweat.

When he comes back up to meet you, cock resting against your cunt, you take his kiss greedily, and give in. More and more, every moment you’re his, you become wilder. Claimed but not kept. Bound but not burdened. You lick your slick from his beard in a manner more affectionate than arousing. He interrupts, kissing your neck and pushing you down onto the mattress so he can ease his length inside you.

There’s no resistance. You’re soaked and stretched, his thick fingers having reached inside to take his prize from within you. You breathe again once he’s nestled deep within, feeling the pulse and press of him where no man other than him can rightfully claim to have been.

He rocks his hips, barely pulling out, unwilling to leave the wet heat of you. It’s arduous and delicious, savoring him like this. Feeling the curves and veins of him against your walls, imprinting themselves on you.

Even now, even fully human, you don’t trouble yourselves with talk. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he chases your lips for a kiss each time he bottoms out. They’re almost chaste, if only they weren’t so filthy. There’s barely any tongue, and yet, more intense than any you’ve had before.

You come again as he fills you, spilling deep and letting you both savor the sensation.

When he pulls out, you shiver. The chill that spreads over you has as much to do with the things left unsaid as it does with the cold basement. You only have the one bra to wear, after all. He tucks the little blanket around you, but it’s a lost cause.

Neither of you are sure that you want his body heat, with the way things have frosted over after your parting. He waits, eyes closed, until he feels you curl up to him.

Once you’re tucked into the crook of his arm, his leg slung over you, you finally say it. The two words that have been ricocheting around in your brain since that day.

“You lied,” you whisper to his chest. It stutters as he slips on a breath.

“I did,” he agrees after a long, long moment.

“To me,” you clarify.

“Yes.”

It’s heavy. It’s loud. Much louder than reality, where it’s whispered, but in your head, it falls with a flat thump.

“You were already scared. I didn’t want to scare ya more,” he says. It doesn’t come out like an excuse. It’s not defensive. It’s just a fact.

Maybe he didn’t mean it as such, but that’s how you take it. You were scared. You were terrified.

“I don’t care,” you decide. “That’s not how this is gonna work. We’re—we’re stuck together for now whether we like it or not ,and you are not going to decide what I can or can’t handle.” You poke him in the chest with the finger you were inadvertently waggling.

For now? Oh, sweetheart, he thinks, gut aching at your—he suspects—willful naivety. He raises both hands in supplication.

“Alright, darlin’,” he capitulates, gruffer than he means to.

The way he gives in without a fight but also without an apology stings, but you resolve to lick your wounds later when you’re not itching for a fight.

“And you better explain. Now. No runnin’.”

He puts his arms down, and they melt into a slump of a heavy sigh. “I don’ know much. I never do. You ask me all these damn questions when I’ve told you —”

“Stop deflectin’ and fess the fuck up, Joel,” you snap.

He glowers for a moment before sitting up a little to lean against the frigid tile wall. “I suppose…” but he just sighs again.

But you sit up, criss-cross applesauce with the blanket around your lap. And you wait. You’re pretty sure he’ll talk, given his own time to do it. Where your mind never seems to settle, his seems to take a while to boot up. He isn’t stupid by any means; he just needs a minute to organize what he’s trying to explain.

You’re rewarded for scraping up what was left of your patience when he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know much. That ain’t ever gonna change. But this was somethin’ I learned from the widow o’ the man that bit me.”

“Ew, wait, you actually got bitten?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Look, don’ worry about that. I keep forgettin’ you were one o’ the experiments.”

You gape at him for a moment. “Eugh,” you shudder. “Fuck, I hate that. Experiment. Damn.”

He gives a little ‘well?’ with the splay of his palms to the sky and watches you with eyes of lead. “Look,” he sighs again.

You imagine a drinking game involving his sigh count would send you to a swift and shallow grave.

“Y’ain’t gonna like it, but it’s true. To some extent, omegas seem to be… more inclined to listen to an alpha if the alpha talks with a certain tone of voice. S’hard to explain.”

“You’ve done it before,” you guess. “Not just to me.”

“No,” he sighs, and in an imaginary alternate universe, you die of liver poisoning, “not just to you.”

And he tells you of the early days with Laura. When the change first started, and he couldn’t sleep, thinkin’ he might hurt somebody. Somebody that didn’t deserve it.

“And she told me that Peter would drop his voice into this kind of… register, and he would talk her to sleep. Except one night he was tired himself and didn’t have the energy. So all he said to her was ‘go to sleep.’ And she did.”

“That’s… fucking horrible,” you say. “Not their cutesy couple-y stuff. The… Jesus, the implications of that kind of…”

Suddenly, you look down at the blanket, picking with the jagged tip of your bitten fingernail at where the ancient fleece was pilling.

“You, um…” but the words get caught in your chest where someone has tightened a belt, cutting off all connection to the rest of your body, leaving it cold. A thousand logical, reasonable thoughts traverse your conflicted brain. You don’t know him. He’s got a darkness to him. He kills on the regular to keep himself alive. You don’t know him.

But you don’t think he’s the type of man to have done something quite like that. And he’s been nothing but gentle with you, really. Too gentle, like he thought the lightest touch of a claw might split you like a plump plum, skin stretching and giving way for him to flay the flesh underneath.

You’re made of tougher stuff than that. Mostly. Kind of. In a way.

Oh, damnit.

“What did you use it on me for?” you say instead.

His teeth grind at what you almost asked. He figures you were afraid to piss him off by asking. Or afraid for him to lie to your face again. He should be insulted that you’d even consider the possibility that he violated you.

He reminds himself that you don’t know him. He’s bigger than you, stronger. And he’s just told you he can more or less hypnotize you.

Shit, this is a right hell of a mess.

You both sigh this time, and you’ve already forgotten your imaginary drinking game self’s corpse. You can feel it this time. The weariness. How it soaks into the marrow and flushes everything out.

“You need to understand,” he starts seriously. His brows are pinched and eyes narrowed, pitching a sturdy fence around his too-fragile self. “I did not do anything��unsavory. And I didn’t even mean to do it to ya in the first place.”

He scrubs a hand over his face again, and it’s ruddy when he pulls away. “It was durin’ your heat, okay? It wasn’t even anything serious; I just told you to listen to me, and you did. And I…” he grunts and looks away.

You think maybe all this time alone made him forget how to say sorry.

You’re not sure what you’d do with it anyway.

So instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath in your nose and out of your mouth. You think vaguely about being nauseous or anxious or infuriated. You indulge in the fantasy of getting truly angry, of letting yourself feel the injustice of it all, the horror.

You entertain thoughts of screams of rage, of violence, of throwing and breaking and banging your fists against the wall, of wrapping your hands around Jim’s throat, of driving yourself mad and bloody in a frenzy for freedom.

The thoughts hurt as much as they help. You take the rage and prod at it until it hides back behind your ribs where it belongs.

He leans forward, now, elbows on his knees. It’s hard not to be distracted by his dick, but also, you always feel guilty when you ogle it. It’s not his fault he’s been denied of any privacy or dignity. And plus, you’ve been walking around, pussy out, since your heat.

Thinking about that too much makes you sick.

He sighs again but you feel like maybe this one cost him something more. He sits up straight and puts his hands on your shoulders. “I can’t promise it won’t happen by accident,” he says solemnly.

You chew on it for a while, climbing into his lap and pulling the blanket over yours. He’s trying, and you’re having a hard time staying mad, especially when he’s warm and comfortable.

His arms loop loosely around you, unconsciously rubbing his thumbs against your bare skin. It’s soothing, but you suspect it’s even more soothing for him.

Your head finds its place in the crook of his shoulder, and it’s your turn again to sigh. “You think maybe I could learn to resist it?”

He startles a little, looking down at you incredulously. No, looking down at you like you’re something incredible. That’s worse, maybe, because it makes you squirm away from his (albeit minimal) idolatry.

“Maybe. I don’t know enough about it. But would you even want to try? It would mean me havin’ to…”

“I dunno,” you admit. “Might be worth it. I’ll… I’m gonna think about it.”

He takes what he can take and presses a kiss to the top of your head, a compulsion that’s rapidly becoming habitual.

Not that either of you are complaining.

When you think of it again later, in the dead of night, Joel sawing lumber while half-sprawled on the floor, it settles like cement in your lungs.

He settles like cement in your lungs. Something neither your mind nor body can ignore. And maybe it’s the bond, but you know there’s no chipping him out of there. Not completely. This strange man, who isn’t so strange these days, has instead become something of a warm knit cardigan or a rail on a slippery stair.

Maybe you don’t need him.

Maybe you’d get by without him.

But, well. You’re better off with him than without.

Time in your little cell passes all at once and not at all. Winter creeps in, and the basement becomes nearly unbearably cold. You watch jealously as Joel retreats to his built-in jacket, and as much as he tries to be your personal furnace, it only goes so far.

And the full moon comes, and brings a blizzard with it.

You think maybe they won’t go out, but Jim’s got a particular target in mind nearby that he demands retribution from. And no silly snowstorm is going to stop him.

They take him from you at nightfall, and he watches you shiver as he leaves.

It must be Christmas, because he comes back with a gift.

You honest to god gasp when he shows you his prize. “Thanks, Santa!” you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“Arms up,” he says, and you let him have this. You think the wolf must be going out of his mind with possessiveness, and you’re right because he can barely stay only partially transformed. He struggles not to give in to the change, fighting his own instincts and the moon just so he can talk to you.

You don’t say it, but that almost means more than the gift.

You close your eyes as he tugs the ratty sweater over you, either oversized or from a very large man. It fits like a dress, though a very short one. But it means your ass isn’t hanging out, and you’ve got another layer between your poor freezing tits and the breeze that whispers through the rotting grout.

“Joel, how—”

But he cuts you off. “Don’t ask me, darlin’. You don’t wanna know.” He’s a little tender but a little sharp, too.

“But where—“

“I said don’t ask me that,” he snarls. “Do not fucking ask me that.” He sees the look on your face and softens. “Please.” It’s a whisper, and oh, it hurts.

You don’t have to ask. You know, now. What it cost him. What it cost someone else. “Thank you, alpha,” you murmur. It has the usual effect, his eyes shining a little brighter as you play with the wolf and let the man be.

He pulls you against his chest and rubs his chin on the top of your head, soothing the unease in his sternum. “It fucking stinks, though. Gonna have to figure somethin’ out.”

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s not me,” he grunts, and you take the cue to shut up.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs after a few minutes of silence. “Looks real nice,” he adds and preens when the compliment sends you shyly snuffling your face into his chest.

You let him hold you there as he scents you, bafflingly large palms smoothing over your neck and rubbing your arms. His musk envelopes you as much as his broad body does, and you keep your cheek pressed against the soft quilt of hair across his chest. When he’s mostly wolf like this, he’s practically covered in it. His soft, strong arms are dark with it; his chest is buried beneath it; it even trails across the plush pouch of his stomach.

When he’s done proverbially bathing you in him, he steps back, cheeks ruddy and dark eyes anywhere but you. He clears his throat but says nothing.

You observe him, this forsaken beast of a man. This creature from children’s nightmares, this creature who definitely just gave adults nightmares, but who would put himself between you and your own.

You close the gap between you, your hand on his chest, another finding its way to his cheek. His eyes stutter and fall closed, only the tiniest sigh escaping him now. A shuddering thing full of far too much for one man, whether he’s actually a man or a beast.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper, as if you could ease his aches with your gratitude. As if you could take on some of his pain for your own.

He kisses you like he knows you’d try.

next chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #alpha!joel x omega!reader #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #alpha!joel miller #werewolf!joel #werewolf!joel miller #dead dove fic #dark fic #the last of us fic #joel miller fic

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sillygoosealert · 1 year ago

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Daisy, hi! How did you come up with the user sillygoodealert? Bc that concubine fic had such a silly ending 🥲🙂 lmao jk but seriously I was thinking what if before the maid concubine reader offs herself, we see her side of being treated like shit by the other girls and staff and sukuna himself during the day and then trying to not be shell shocked when he treats her so sweetly in his chambers. especially when he continuously humiliates her and one day eve punishes her extra harshly in front of everyone after she makes a mistake and then he still expects her to pretend as if it didn’t even happen when he wishes to spend time with her that same night.

Who knows just thinking further about the story you created, ty for sharing your work it’s so delish 🤤

In the morning - Just a week later

That's my legal name because i am the mayor of silly town

I had a BAD day so ANGST NO COMFORT NO COMFORT 😠😠

Dub-con(so there is a little bit of smut 😲) he's kinda abusive?? uhhh mention of blood

If someone asked Sukuna if he was ever satisfied with everything he had, the answer would be no. But once, he got very close to it.

To be satisfied is to settle, and Sukuna never settled. Not for anything or anyone. However, one night, while you laid next to him, it almost felt like he would be okay with living like that.

Knowing he could have more than what he had at the time stopped him from deeming it satisfactory.

So he strived for more. A more significant and fulfilling feeling, more.

What waited for him in the morning was a clean room and a cold bed. Although you were supposed to be beside him as of now, there was a cold, neatly made spot in replacement.

After 8 minutes of stretching, 2 minutes of sitting and silence, and deciding what kimono he would like to adorn today- he came out of his enclosure.

Standing just a few feet from his door, you were unhurriedly dusting off the chandeliers scattered across the ceiling- on a ladder, without anyone supporting it from the bottom.

After a few quick strides, he kicks the ladder from its place. There isn't a real reason why he did it. It was more impulsive than anything. But as he watches your body hit the floor, blood dribble out of your nose, a feeling of superiority overcomes him.

Even though he was the one to do this to you, he still helps you up and carries you to bed in his arms. Your blood is smearing across his arms and hands as he wipes away tears that come out as you shake and beg for him to stop. It's no longer a quiet morning, but he got what he wanted- a warmer bed and a more obedient woman.

Nothing good comes out of upsetting Sukuna- or sometimes just being around him. He doesn't have to be in a bad mood to take things out on you. The bruises on your body should be enough evidence of that. Sometimes, you question if it's enough to feel pity on you, though.

There will always be someone to ask what you did. Occasionally, that someone is you. Late at night, curled up listening to him treating another woman with something similar to adoration.

His voice isn't necessarily loud, but it's the only thing you can hear when it is well past curfew.

He coos encouragement and praise while gentle skin-on-skin can be heard if you listen for it.

At the moment, you're jealous. That should be you. When that is you, though, you dread walking into his enclosure.

The day after you watched him toss away any love or respect he had, for 15 minutes of sugar-coated sex, something changed with him.

He held your waist as he guided you to the edge of his bed, an eager grin plastered on his face. Lifting you and laying you on the one-too-many pillows he suddenly had.

One hand found yours as something wet licked your pussy. It was slimy and unwanted, and you kept quiet because you were in complete shock.

You saw how clean the sheets were when you walked in. You hoped it was a sick coincidence. But the feeling of Déjà vu sank deep into your body, as well as his tongue did. And as you checked to make sure- the pillows were fluffed up. The smell of a specific woody soap was stuck to him, and he was gripping your hand a little harder each time your breath started to increase.

"My Lord-" You wanted to ask him to stop, but the words couldn't come out as fluently as your tears would.

When you started to sob, he pulled away and looked at you with disarray. All you could do was shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself.

He sent you back to your own room without a word.

The other concubines must have noticed the shift in your status- or maybe he complained to them about you. That is one of life's great mysteries.

They treat you noticeably differently than they did before- for the worse. A thought that crosses through your mind is they were scared to be anything less than indifferent to you before, for they would most definitely receive a punishment. But now? The treatment of your counterparts and the King of Curses is almost equal- with him being the only one to break your trust, as the other concubines made it clear they were not your friends from the start.

As of now, they weren't afraid to push you aside in the hallways or scold you for nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor.

Your new nickname is Lummox- which means a clumsy, stupid person. That's not too far off from what you are, so you don't take too much offense.

But people now use it to call out to you and grab your attention it becomes all you can use to describe yourself when you think about what you did to get here.

Even now, as you curl into yourself late in the night, what keeps you up is what will now wait for you in the morning.

I have such a massive hatetrid for my own writting it's almost astonishing I put anything out. I can't re-read anything I put out because I get so upset that I can not put into words how I feel- the one thing people expect of me.

Tag List- @mangiswig @rubyrubyruuu @maskedpacific @bbysnw @belluuu @cindywasneverhere @uniquenicefangirl @m0rganit3 @jinniebby2 @babyblexu @connierk690 @suguru-nugget @geniejunn @astro-stars @honeybee54321

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eccentricallygothic · 1 year ago

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Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly.

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed.

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you.

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view.

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head.

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?"

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…"

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure.

"Please–!"

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face.

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare.

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so.

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run.

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled.

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size?

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable.

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth.

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly.

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs.

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air.

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table.

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper.

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over.

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either.

Just what the hell is going on?

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last.

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly.

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!"

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves.

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen.

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second.

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you.

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it.

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room.

. . .

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket.

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search.

For you.

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief.

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage.

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them.

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you.

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were.

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants.

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head.

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction.

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end.

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor.

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you.

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?"

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words.

Fuck.

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes.

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition."

"C- Condition, s- sir?"

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form.

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge.

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead.

"Sir–"

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety.

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue.

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock.

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling.

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now.

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next.

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!"

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to.

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle.

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact.

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration.

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while.

Then he told you that it would feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good.

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach.

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot.

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now."

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders.

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on.

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy.

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it.

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body.

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo.

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably.

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected.

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well.

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together.

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much?

That was, until one day…

. . .

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you.

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…"

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately.

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked.

But you were too little to know those things.

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house.

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need.

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior.

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes.

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat.

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake.

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place.

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky smut #dark bucky x you #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes

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saturnyo · 26 days ago

Text

Call Me Castillo

Chapter 4 - Awkward Silences

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Reader

Summary: The upcoming gala and your ex are now at your heels. Will you continue with the deal or back out?

Warnings: mentions of public humiliation, no smut, some swearing, a tiny bit of fluff

WC: 1.1k

A/N: I forgot to add the tags. I'm so sorry, I rarely do it, so please forgive me!!! I hope i'm doing it right and if you want to be removed just lemme know!

Tags: @glitterspark @mallingcalling-blog @anoverwhelmingdin @decadent-hag1

Song choice: Hold On – Justin Bieber

Work has been less than savory since Harry suggested that fake dating offer.

Two weeks had passed since Harry suggested the deal. It was ridiculous and downright silly. Laughable even. But the gossip. The pitied stares. It ate you alive. It was poison infecting you with insecurity and self loathing. You just wanted it to stop.

But as you come to know, things don't always go your way. Not wanting your ex anywhere near you or your work was difficult considering he was in the same league as Harry and interacted through business deals and partnerships. The days of him coming for meetings, you silently standing there taking notes watching them speak in jargon you hadn't fully master yet, not knowing your entire world was about to implode.

The papers, online blogs and every other media news source you could think of had a field day with the news of your ex leaving you at your engagement party and humiliating you in front of 200 people and Harry included.

Since that night you so lovingly dubbed a humiliation ritual, your ex stopped coming in for meetings and Harry never mentioned doing business with him again. like he was erased. Like he never existed.

And a part of you felt relieved for that.

You knew Harry also had his fair share of being vilified by the press. Womanizer, Heartthrob, and Ice Cold Businessman. Devastatingly handsome and ruthless in business. Every woman wanted him and every man wanted to be him. It's probably why your ex was so jealous of you working late nights with Harry. Having to draw up papers about finances and fiscal values but he thought you were cheating.

Phone call after phone call, he would blow up your phone until you answered, saying you shouldn't be working this late or at all. But you loved your work, not because of Harry but because of the way it excited your mind and ignited new ideas within.

Your ex never got that. But Harry did.

Even though you were far from qualified to give input on matters that the CEO would deal with, he still asked stating, "Fresh eyes towards a problem can give a credible solution," he said. "And I know your mind is full of amazing ideas."

Harry always made sure you weren't left out no matter the situation. But now he has turned from being like minded to being an idiot.

Fake dating would never work. How can anyone believe that someone like Harry Castillo would fall for someone like you? He was rich, powerful, living in a penthouse and drinking expensive bourbon in crystal glasses every night. And you were just an assistant living in an apartment with neighbors who didn't understand the concept of silence and not setting their fire alarm off constantly. Coming from two different worlds that you are sure the journalists and paparazzi would dig into the moment the news is released that you two are "dating."

The gala was in two days and your nerves were an absolute wreck. The dress, the hair, the makeup, just all of it was a lot to take in. Harry already had that sorted out. Hiring a team with your friend Tobias to help get you ready and up to your standards. But your thoughts drifted to having to stand beside him, his arm around your waist like a man who's in love with his girlfriend should do.

You were afraid that the close proximity would blur the lines of boss and assistant, that he would play his part a bit too well and you would forget about the deal. Harry was all charm and business savvy when he needed to be but also kind and compassionate when he wanted to be and that confused you even more.

That's what scared you most. Not the gala. Not the crowd or the lights.

But him.

Lately he's been asking you more on how you are doing, bringing your favorite coffee from Starbucks and those flowers.....

Those flowers he left on your doorstep and he somehow knew your favorite kind. Details that most guys including your ex would have missed. You also noticed changes around the office as well. Certain people avoided you or were suddenly more kind than they had been before. Maria from legal was one. She always had snide remarks to give but now she was helpful even when you didn't need it.

You needed space.

So today, you decided to go out for lunch to a new spot Tobias had been begging to let him drag you to.

"So, the food is good right?" Tobias asked, his eyes flicking to your finished plate.

You smiled, not liking to admit you were wrong. "Yes it was good. You were right again about something. Congratulations on another victory."

He tipped a imaginary hat. "I am always right. It's apart of my charm."

You laughed, the sound surprising you. For a moment, one or even two, you forgot about everything. Your ex, the gala, the deal, and Harry.

He was someone everyone saw as untouchable. A man people could barely look in the eye from the intensity of his gaze. But when he looks at you, you felt there was something different.

Sympathy.

Compassion.

A connection....

For the past two years, Harry was just your boss. A man who employed you, pays your salary and gives you tasks like an other employer would.

"By the way," Tobias added casually, popping the last bit of his burger in his mouth. "Maria from legal has been on her best behavior since Harry had that talk with her."

Your eyes snapped up, staring at Tobias wondering what the hell he meant.

"A talk?" You asked. "What talk? Why did he speak with Maria?"

"Wait...you didn't know?"

"Didn't know what Tobias?" You questioned. "What happened?"

He scratched the back of his neck, gauging whether or not he should tell you.

"Maria was apparently talking shit about you in the break room and somehow Harry heard it..." Tobias stopped, continuing. "And he basically ripped her a new one. Defending you and saying if ever hears her or anyone say that again, he'll restaff their entire department by end of day."

Your breath caught. A reveal like that just made the world stop turning and the noise of Tobias babbling on about Maria and how scared she was faded into the background like tv static. But before you could even respond, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You expected it to be Harry asking you where the notes from the last meeting were. He always liked to go over them. Not because he didn't trust you, it's just something he does. A little quirk.

When you checked your phone, your heart dropped.

Unknown I hope you have fun playing games with your boss Enjoy your time with him because we both know all of it is fake

And all of a sudden, the gala was the least of your problems.

#harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo fic #harry castillo x you #harry castillo smut #harry castillo #the materialists #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedroispunk #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #zaddy pedro #pedrohub #pascalispunk #Spotify #Youtube

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serukaiz · 5 months ago

Note

rukai.. my beloved.. go into full detail about keisuke’s kinks 🎤

thank you for the req vile honeyyy <3 i hope i explained this thoroughly… words cannot convey my thoughts for this man

KEISUKE BAJI’S KINKS ᯓ★

💢 MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT!

⚠️ warnings: SMUT!!!, knife kink, blood kink, primal play, lowkey dub-con maybe(??), exhibitionist kink, he crawled his way up from hell, p in v, toys, he’s obsessed, implied bisexual baji (but he’s got a pref for women), bunny-wolf comparison, fem!reader !!!

ⓘ : you’re in an established relationship with him.

starting off let’s discuss his knife kink…

he likes to drag his blade across your skin all the time. it’s a simple graze, not nearly enough to cut, but he’ll apply more and less pressure depending on your reactions. he tracks every single shudder and breath you take. how your pulse will start sprinting when he brushes the very tip of his blade against your precious inner thigh, tracing an imaginary heart with his knife across your flesh. he likes watching you panic when he does this with you. gives him a sick satisfaction that you hand to him best.

he’ll hold his trusty pocket-blade to your throat, slowly trailing his way down, cutting your delicate ribbon choker and baring you completely to him. that manic, borderline crazed look in his whiskey brown eyes as he takes advantage of you ignites something inside.

never trust this man when you have a bra on. the moment he decides he wants to see your tits, he’s going to chop that thing into two clean halves and you’ll be left with money well-wasted and bite marks around your nipples. he won’t ask, no. why should he? you’re his girlfriend, you should know he doesn’t give a shit about how expensive it was. he’ll cover that cost anyway. lingerie is useless when you’re with keisuke baji.

he slices your clothes so casually. especially loves doing it in public — it’s just a tiny slit to your skirt and the side of your panties, no one will notice. right?

and speaking of putting you through bullshit for anyone to see, he’s a little bit of an exhibitionist. loves the thrill of getting caught, shutting you up with his fingers or his fat cock and pulling away like nothing happened the instant you’re in dead sight of people. he’ll silently tease you about it too, the bastard. the wink that he personally sends to you goes completely unnoticed by everyone, it’s so brief and only you’d understand.

he’s got a kink for restricting you especially. whether it’s pinning your wrists behind your back when he’s thrusting into your poor cunny so hard the bed threatens to break with your sanity or expertly keeping your legs forced apart as he devours you like a man starved, sharp teeth scaring against your folds and tongue working into your hole like it’s his cock.

he’s a genius with tying knots, by the way. do with that what you will.

he adores power play, primal play, anything of the kind. anything that puts you at his mercy, because there’s nothing more this brutish sadist loves than having you so pathetic for none other than him. he’ll taunt you, set a timer for two minutes or five, just to give his sweetheart a headstart even though you both know you can barely even dream of successfully escaping him. whether he gives you thirty seconds or twenty days to run, he will always catch up, and at an alarming speed.

sometimes, he simply likes to watch you. observing comes most naturally to him. learning everything about you, your inner-most and the petty things that get on your nerves. that includes staring at you while you masturbate, half-lidded eyes narrowing as you struggle to get off. poor thing. your own fingers will never be as good as his own when it comes to satisfaction. he almost takes pity on you, maybe he’ll help out.

maybe. he’s not going to do shit. the only reaction you’re getting from him is an obvious tent in his pants and the ghost of a cruel smirk curving his lips.

this doesn’t mean he only likes to observe how you turn yourself on, though. not at all. the reason why one of his favourite things to do is play you with his butterfly knife is because of the many, many actions he coaxes out of you. he watches how you react to his touch, that sweet noise you make when he hovers a centimetre away from your ear, how your body just arches into him.

he’ll have you spread out, perched on his firm thigh with your front to his. you’ll feel the roughness of his thumb as he rolls your clit, dragging his touch achingly slow in the middle of your folds and down to your hole. there, he’ll part you, commit the way your arousal and cum drips out so cutely to his memory. on another occasion, he’ll watch how his own body reacts to you. pressing his dick against your mound, not quite fucking into you or grinding, but just letting it rest there. he’ll watch how both of you twitch, how he can only last a minute and a half of dragging his pierced tip up and down your cunt before he slams into you until you can feel him in your tummy.

another one of his kinks is marking.

what better way to show you off and silently declare to the world that you’re his than having your neck covered in hickeys? or a new bruise on your thigh, or a noticeable handprint on your ass, or a bite mark on your shoulder that makes it seem like a dog jumped you? by the time keisuke is done with you, you’ll look like you’ve been mauled. and honestly, you were. he can be gentle when he wants to be. he just doesn’t want to be gentle most of the time.

it goes the other way around too. the surge of pride he feels when he looks at an all too obvious bite on his neck or broad shoulder after spending the night with you pales in comparison to any other high. leave scratch marks on him. own him. make him bleed. he’s as much of a masochist as he is a sadist. the cocky smirk he wears when someone points out he has claw marks on his back is something he can’t hold back with a simple bite to the inside of his cheek. he’ll subtly try to show it too, wear a low-hanging collared shirt just to expose the hickey on his clavicle that you left two days ago, even roll up his sleeves to show your marks on his big forearms or decide not to wear a choker so people can see the bruise on his throat.

he gets so, unbelievably turned on when you’re mad. half of the time, he only gets pissed when you’re yelling at him, but the other half? the amount of smugness he embodies when he’s enjoying your anger is enough to rival any fratboy who just fucked the hottest girl in college.

he won’t even respond when you’re barking at him about something or the other, he’ll only peer down at you with a deadpan expression and those hungry eyes of his. you barely seem to register the amused twitch of his lips. he doesn’t bother hiding how funny you are to him.

“you done?”

“you’re such a— no i’m not fucking done! i—“

he’ll haul you over his shoulder and smack your ass, “i don’t care. shut up already. tired of hearin’ you yap.”

and in the following minutes he’ll fuck you so stupid you forget a speck of the reason why you ever were so enraged. he’ll taunt you about it afterwards, leaning against the doorframe as you drink water to relieve the soreness you developed in your throat ‘cause you screamed his name so much, hands tucked in the pockets of his low-hanging sweatpants that get you bothered all over again. you’re curled up on the bed, still reeling from the sensation of his cum generously coating your abused pussy.

“still mad at me, little girl?”

“shut up.”

he’ll definitely keep sextapes of you both. sometimes he gets a little frustrated when you’re not around, and the sound of your pornographic moans and the way you arched your back so deliciously when he pulled your hair to wrench your head toward him in one of those videos is the only thing that can relieve him. it’s good for blackmail too.

he incorporates toys into your sessions. if he’s got the audacity to drive you insane with his knife, he’s got the audacity to edge you with a vibrator and make you ride his pillow until you cum. yes, his pillow. he’s a pervert, what did you expect?

he’ll turn your vibrator on to the lowest setting, allow it to torturously press against your pretty cunny and stare at you helplessly roll your hips, grinding your ass on his hardening cock and your clit against that toy turned weapon.

keisuke finds you totally fascinating. that fucked out expression you make when he fucks himself home inside your squishy walls, how your eyes roll back when his piercing hits just right, how your tits bounce with every violent thrust. it’s all the more mesmerising if you’re wearing jewelry while he’s at it. he’s almost like a crow with how he observes the way your rings and the chain of your necklace glint in the light. you can’t help but be entranced by his own bling. that crucifix hanging way below his collarbones — how ironic that he of all people wears a cross. it seems to be the only thing you can properly focus on other than his fangs when he’s fucking you so deep that your vision blurs.

he looooves how different you are compared to him. you’re like a bunny against a wolf, all cottony and sweet to every sense. it’s a reason he prefers women far more than men. it’s a reason he prefers you over everyone.

“you’re so soft,” he’ll mutter and cup a delicate breast in his hand. he scoffs absentmindedly, cherishing the moan you let out at the feeling of his fingertips grazing your nipple.

“a-ah… yeah?”

“look at you,” his tone borders on a growl, “you’re weak. could break your spine in two.”

your breathing hitches. is that… a threat? he’s threatening you while fondling you like dough. “what?”

“made a mistake trusting me with you. bend over.”

#. † ݁keisuke baji #baji #baji keisuke #baji x reader #𓏲ּ filth #♱ ruru’s rambles #keisuke baji #baji smut #baji x reader smut #𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎: 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

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teyamloving12 · 2 years ago

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𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫l

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Miles Quaritch x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content, large age gap, cursing, mentions of violence, implied sex, dub-con, abuse of authority, unprotected sex, etc.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: He was always watching. He saw you grow up into who you are now and only chuckled at the snarky remarks you made towards him.

He was vigilant, at least that what his mother would say when he was young. He was always wary of the people and things that dared to breathe around him. Maybe that is why he was held in high regard-- no, people didnt show him any regard or esteem. They were not at ease as a consequence of his barbaric tactics. The excruciating demands from his mouth when he bellowed commands to the inferior was immeasurable.

"𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞."

His lean muscles become tense whilst he caught a glimpse of the imbeciles that bowed before him. The little bastard of one of the recombinants would only amuse herself with the teddy bear that had a broken button as its eye in the corner of the meeting room.

His eyes would turn to then look at the little girl and she would express tenderness. A smile meritorious of millions, a piece of treasure that would glisten when polished. She was the ripest fruit upon the tree.

He softened for once in his life but he regained his composure and scoffed at the little, joyful creature. She is pathetic like her father. Always smiling and galavanting about the place. "No wonder Sully killed him", he said in a low-pitched tone. The fool left his little bastard after conjuring her up in her mother's womb. Is that what a man is? What whore of a woman opens her legs during war?

From a mere babe to a woman, he watched with keen eyes as you matured. He knew you despised his existence. He knew you picked up your father's soft and wimpish heart and mind. He felt a glare full of disgust from across the room. He only chuckled. Inadequate. You were pathetic, however, how could he resist that malevolent glow in your eyes?

The meeting room was packed like sardines and as loud as a clap of thunder. Shouts and cries of annoyance and protest echoed across the meeting room. Quaritch tilted his head at the sight of his team at each other's throats. "Jake Sully is a traitor that must be killed immediately", he roared. His ear-splitting voice boomed across the room.

"I beg to disagree", _____ said with an iron hand. "You come to their home demanding control and honor.", ______ started. Not a hint of apprehensiveness came from your tone. "This is their home and you came to disrespect it, therefore Sully chose the right path to leave rather than to stay.", _____ continued, fearing not the consequences that came after. "You got your mother's smart mouth huh?", Quaritch chuckled.

Though his hair was gray with white streaks on both sides of his head, his body was still muscular and strong. He had the ability to strike fear in anyone that he came across, young or old. "You are a fool to think that the Navi will give up their home for you. How confident do you have to be?", ______ clapped back at his supposingly insult.

No one in this world had the capability to wipe a petulant expression from his face. The Colonel's grin fell from his face. His eyes narrowed at the woman before him. "A fool, did you just call me a fool, little girl?", he focused your attention on his last two words. "I'm not your little girl.", _______ uttered. He then had the nerve to turn his back to you showing that your words had no significance to him.

He didn't care. He never did.

The little bastard that would play with her teddy bear has finally grown up. So grown, she had the effrontery and impudence to disrespect him. Quaritch faced you but his face was not of stone, almost as if he was laughing at your remark.

"When your whore of a mother decided to spread her legs in the middle of war, I gave her pity. She was lucky enough to give birth and she was lucky that I had not killed you.", he mouthed. You heard a few giggles from the recombinants in the room." This is the same place where you were raised, where you are fed. This is where you were grown and you will remember who you're talking to, little girl", he finished, emphasizing the last two words once more.

"Colonel or not, you will not dare to insult my mother like that.", _______ retorted. "The dead has no power, she's dead and so is your daddy. What will they do?", Quaritch snickered. The recombinants made comments on how your mother would have attacked him spiritually, earning a chuckle from Quaritch.

"Leave", he stated. The recombinants began to leave, confused by the sudden command. "You, stay", Quaritch demanded. You glared at the disgusting man that stood tall before you. "What do you want?", ______ mumbled. Quaritch grabbed you by your chin. "Do you hate me?", he asked with a smirk. After a moment of silence, your eyes met his. "More than ever", I responded. He scoffed at your remark. It was not what he had expected.

Out of rage and frustration, he pushed you back. Your figure collided with the edge of the meeting table causing immense, nerve-wrecking pain. "What the fuck is wrong with you?", ______ yelled, holding your side. "It's funny.", he deadpanned. "Funny how I wasted my resources on a bitch who claims she hates me.", He said, walking towards you. "Your glares won't kill me.", he added

Quaritch grabbed you by the nape of your neck. You attempted to defend yourself by slapping him across his face. He threw you on the meeting table with ease. Your breath hitched as you felt your back make contact with the stern, glass table. "You will learn that ungratefulness and disobedience come with a price.", he declared. Your glares were vicious until you heard it.

The sound of his belt buckle being undone...

Your heart dropped. "No", _____said, denying his advances. "You're still denying me, little girl", he cringed at your refusal. "You are abusing the authority that you have.", ______ exclaimed in fright. "Scream. Tell them. Tell them how you hate me.", Quaritch snickered. Tears streamed down your face, stopping at you chin. "You and I both know that this room is soundproof. They won't hear you", he whispered the last sentence.

The worst happened. You closed your eyes, praying to God in your head. You hoped you were just dreaming. Unfortunately, you were wide awake, living in a nightmare he had created. He towered over your frozen figure. "You had so much mouth just now.", Quaritch smirked. "Sometimes that nasty ass attitude hides your pretty face", he added. You closed your eyes, refusing to look at his bulging member.

The tip was rubbing against the soaked spot on your panties. Your head was spinning. On the verge to faint, Quaritch began to speak up. "Why are you wet if you hate me?". His forehead was dripping in sweat. His swollen cock was in his fist whilst he teased at the tip, spreading his precum on your underwear. Quaritch thought about you. He thought of how he would shot what makes him feel heavenly. He knew you learned fast and would care for him like he wanted.

"Do you still hate me?", he asked again. His cock twitched as he slid your panties aside revealing a soaked slit. Your eyes fluttered open instantly. He attempted to push him away but he was clearly stronger. The veins on his cock bulged like a beast. It was hungry and ready to strike. "I absolutely despise yo-ahhh", you were met with his cock half way inside yet you felt full.

He groaned. "Fuck. Should've done this earlier.", he muttered under his breath. Your pussy was squeezing him, tight enough to cut off blood flow to his lower body or maybe he was just too big. "Take it out!", you exclaimed throwing punches at his chiseled torso. Your command was a clearly a joke. He trailed his fingers to your clit and places them into your face to show you the truth. Your body wants it. It was obvious.

"Admit it little girl, you always wanted it", he declared. Did you? Did you really want it? "I-", you were caught up in your words and thoughts. You hated him, he was unjust and cruel. So why is your body betraying you at this moment?

“f-fuck—” Quaritch breathed, and his voice lets out a shaky call of your name. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he groaned. Quaritch bit his lip, fighting back a moan as he pushed himself slowly into you even more. Your back arched as you let out a shaky moan.

He grabbed your hips as he thrusted inside you with no mercy. “are you mine?”, Quaritch asks and the rough, deep tone is such a turn on for you. You hated yourself for moaning like a common slut for him, your colonel. The one you hated all your life.

“Don’t cover your mouth. No one can hear you. And even if they could, who do you think would help you, hmm?” Quaritch said. "I-I don't know" ______ whimpered. He quickened his actions further. You could feel your orgasm building deep within your core.

A lustful feeling, taking over every last rational thought your brain had left to offer. "P-please slow down." ______ begged. You whined in response, sparks of pleasure shooting from your dampened core. The unbearable sound of squelching filled the space around you. A small moan escaped from your lips.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t. But as the pleasure became so unbearable you became unsure. You felt yourself clench down on Quaritch's hard, throbbing cock. Your orgasm overtook your shaking body, ripples of pleasure coursed through you. You cried out from the aching pleasure.

Although he hadn't finished, he pulled out. He stared at the face you had. He fucked you dumb. Now you will know your place. "Do you hate me?", he asked with a smirk. "Never~", you moaned, your pussy still sensitive from his cock.

Good little girl.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #jake sully x reader #avatar imagine #jake sully #neteyam smut #avatar smut #aonung x reader #quaritch x reader #na'vi quaritch #quaritch smut #miles quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar 2

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cleoluvrr · 2 years ago

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high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) - I

these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, dub!con, choking, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, controlling behavior, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide ,kook!reader

masterlist

series masterlist

rafe’s head weighed down your chest, tears soaking through your pajama shirt that left your skin feeling sticky from the salty substance. his large body was racked with sobs and while it may have made someone else feel pity for the boy, all you could feel was the uneasiness creeping up your spine.

he’d shown up randomly in the dead of night, the sound of his knock at your window leaving you filled with so much dread that you almost ignored the desperate tapping. the tall man stumbled in like a fawn, leaking blood from his flushed, teary face that left stains all over his shirt. as he came closer, the red scratch left behind from his father’s family ring was clear on his cheekbone, raised and pink from the irritation.

it was the second time that week he’d come over like this. the bruises from the last time had not even healed before being overlapped by fresh ones.

you weren’t sure why rafe and his father got into it so bad, so often; but it had taken a toll on you both mentally and physically for having to deal with the aftermath all on your own.

after nursing his injuries and having him change into a spare shirt he’d left in your room, all you could do was allow him to cry into you. it was the only thing you had the energy to do, and there were no words you had to say to him to make him feel any better than he did now.

so, here you sat with your back against the headboard, legs outstretched and weighed down by your boyfriend’s body as he buried his face into you chest to muffle the cries that he couldn’t stop from escaping. sleep was slowly creeping through your body, but you fought it off to pacify your aching lover’s pain.

“it’s okay,.” your voice was soft, the sweet sound vibrating against his ear drums. “you don’t need to cry, i’m right here.”

you continued to speak soothing words to him for what felt like an eternity before he finally began to calm down, his cries steadily reducing to erratic sniffle every few dozen seconds. your arms cradle his upper body as you gently rock side to side in both an effort to calm him and keep yourself awake.

a pair of puffy eyes stared back up at you as rafe pulled his face from its hiding spot. his face was tired, pink, and tear stained, though most of the salty fluid was thoroughly soaked into the tank top stretched across your chest that he used to cry into. you don’t complain about the less than comfortable way it sticks to your skin out of concern that it would only manage to further upset him.

“i’m sorry…” rafe’s voice was quiet and broken as he spoke, the strength of his sobs evident from the damage it left on his voice.

“don’t be. you have nothing to be sorry for.” your head shakes at him in refusal. nimble fingers graze over his face gently as you wipe away the stray tears that continued to fall.

“i didn’t mean to come over so late.” the pink of his tongue pokes out to moisten his chapped lips before it retreats. “i didn’t know what to do. i–i just really needed you, y/n.”

“i know, baby, i promise it's okay.” you look down at him with soft eyes, one that you pray display deep affection for the man and not the irritation you felt inching closer to the front. “you can come to me whenever; i always have time for you.”

it wasn’t a lie, exactly. if rafe wanted to see you then he would do it, whether you were busy or not. you had no free time, practically your entire life outside of school was dedicated to your relationship. going to a college on the mainland was completely out of the question, simply because rafe would never let it happen–he already hated the fact that you lived fifteen minutes away. you couldn’t count how many times he’d begged you to live in tannyhill with him, nor could you count how many times you’d said no. living four hours away in a different city where he couldn’t keep a constant eye on you, where you would be around thousands of guys, would never happen–in this lifetime or the next.

you had to go to a university nearby to take classes, one that was close enough to home that so wouldn’t have to leave. you rarely hung out with your friends alone because it offended your boyfriend if you spent too much time with them. ‘are they more important than i am?’ is what he would ask through gritted teeth whenever you made plans with them more than twice a week.

that’s how much rafe controlled every aspect of your life.

the last time you tried to free yourself of it, rafe promised to kill you. so you’ve learned to accept it for your own safety. even if your entire life revolved around your boyfriend, you’d rather that than having it be taken from you.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you remained cautious in your inquiry, trying your best to be inoffensive as to prevent triggering him to anger or another crying fit. “it’s the second time this week you came over like this, baby…i’m worried.”

“my dad doesn’t think i deserve you, that’s what happened.” rafe chuckled dryly, head shaking as if he couldn’t believe his father would ever say something like that.

“what?” you brows knit together in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“my dad really likes you, y/n. more than he likes me, probably.” he releases another humorless snort. “he called me a, and i quote, ‘worthless leech of a son.’ he said that you were too good for me and that you would never stay with someone like me if you were as smart as he thought you were.”

you blinked at him as you processed the recounting of events. ward’s words towards rafe should never be uttered from a parent to their child, but he wasn't wrong.

rafe stole money from his father and misused their funds very regularly. he would spend it on drugs, alcohol, vehicles, and whatever else he felt like impulsive spending on–all the while he contributed nothing. it was something that you consistently scolded him for, especially when he would spend his father’s hard earned money on expensive gifts for you.

you would never call rafe worthless, but it would be a lie to say he’s not mooching off his father. however, every rich kid in kildare did the same thing to their parents, and his father definitely never worked to stop the behavior while he was younger.

as for you being too smart to stay with someone like rafe–you can’t say that you agree too much.

“don’t listen to him, rafe. no good father should ever say that to their child.” is what you settled on telling him instead.

“i know, what a piece of shit.” he shook his head, eyes rolling in annoyance as he retold the events of the night. you observed the faint appearance of a smirk on his face, the ghost of a smile barely visible but you couldn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips before he spoke again. “so i told him he’s just mad that my girl actually loves me, while my mom was smart enough to leave his ass.”

“rafe!”

“yeah, he didn’t like that very much.” the eyes that had lowered while he spoke flicked back up to watch yours. “he hit me with that big ass ring on and told me to leave, so i did.”

you tilted your head to the side, lip caught between the whiteness of your teeth.

what he shared was not out of the ordinary for the duo. what was out of the ordinary was the state in which rafe was in just a few minutes ago. typically he would just come over and let you dress his wounds before letting you play with his hair is silence, or listening to him call his father everything but a child of god in a rage-fueled rant.

“and why were you crying? you can’t just show up like that, rafe…you scared me.” the boy in your arms sat silently for a moment before answering.

“its just…you’re in college now. i’ve made so many plans for our future but what if….you’re not gonna leave me, right?” rafe had worry set deep into his expression as he watched you process the question, his head shaking at you. “he was wrong, you’d never do that. you’re smart enough to know better.”

you were sure he heard you gulp after speaking the last sentence. you knew what he was implying, and he was right. ward was correct in saying that you were intelligent enough to know that staying with rafe was a terrible idea, but you were also smart enough to know that rafe would do anything and everything under the sun before letting you go.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby. don’t listen to him, he just wants to get under your skin.” it nearly made you sick to say it, but what choice did you really have? “i love you so, so much, and going to school isn’t going to change that. i’ve had a plan for my life way before i met you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t wanna make you a part of it. my future is my future, but i can’t see it without you there too.”

you meant what you said. you love rafe so, very deeply, and you would do almost anything to make him happy–within reason. rafe didn’t understand reason; rationality was not his forte. any reasonable person would understand that the waters would be tested once a high school relationship became an adult relationship, but rafe was not reasonable. any normal person knows that plans change as life goes on, but rafe was not normal.

maybe you would marry him one day. you might have his kids, be his trophy wife, and live in tannyhill, happily ever after. you knew that even if you went to college on the mainland, you wouldn’t leave rafe. that you would come back to kildare every chance you got and spend every spare second with him until you had to leave again.

even when he gave you hell, you still loved him with every bone in your body.

rafe didn’t understand that, though, and that’s what led to your attempt at breaking it off with him. he degraded your lifelong goal, telling you that your relationship was more important that ‘some stupid degree’ could ever be. you supported him through everything, even when you thought it was the most idiotic thing someone could do, so his total disregard for something that you deeply cared for hurt you.

the only reason rafe even let you go to school was because he’s terrified of losing you. not only physically, but emotionally. sure, he could threaten your life to make you stay and you’d listen out of fear. what he knew, however, is that he would lose you if he took your dream away from you. his leash was tight, but it was long enough to keep you satisfied.

rafe nodded at you in approval, seemingly satisfied enough with your answer to leave it alone.

he never wanted you to go to college in the first place. it was the only thing that you put your foot down on, but if it were up to him, the two of you would be getting married by spring.

he thought it was stupid–why do you need a degree or a job? why work when rafe was there to provide for you once he took over his dad’s company? he fought you long and hard about it for months, but you wouldn’t budge. you needed a safety net–you couldn’t let him take the most important thing in life taken away from you; knowledge.

for you, knowledge was power. it was the closest thing you had to freedom. you knew that if you had a degree, it would be a safeguard in case things with rafe ever went south. deep down your boyfriend knew that, which is probably why he was so against it in the first place.

rafe knew his father was right, which is why he was in such a severe state of distress. he would never admit to that, however,

“are you just saying that because you’re scared?” your breath hitched at the sudden question and you were sure that you’d been caught.

“no! i mean it, seriously-”

“you’re smart to be scared, honestly.” he chuckled at you darkly, eyes glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. “i couldn’t live without you in my life, i love you too much. just thinking about you ever trying to leave me makes me so–so…sick. i need you more than anything. i would probably have to kill myself if you were gone, because i don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

you remained stoic.

“and i couldn’t see you with anyone that isn’t me.” he stared at you for a heavy moment after saying it. the two of you both knew what he was hinting at, a look of understanding shared amongst the silence that overtook the room.

“rafe, my love…i don’t think that’s healthy.” the words left you in a soft, inoffensive tone. setting off the unstable man was the last thing you wanted to do. “you shouldn’t say things like that, its not funny..”

he shrugged at you, pushing your arms away from him and sitting upright. your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his soft lips against yours, body melting into him instinctively. it only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away abruptly, the feeling of his soft breath mixing with yours leaving you confused.

the moment doesn’t stay on your mind any longer when he leans back in, lips meeting yours in a fervor. your skin feels flushed, face warm as the tingling feeling sets in from his skin on yours. rafe brought his hand up from its resting place on your thigh and attempts to wrap it around your neck like he usually does, but you pull it away haphazardly, hardly paying it any attention as you descend deeper into the kiss.

your own fingers reach up to play with his hair, a set of manicured nails gently scraping against the nape of his neck. you use it to pull him closer, the sound of lips smacking together filling the otherwise silent room along with your minorly labored breathing.

a warm, calloused hand slowly crawled up your side and landed on your throat once again, each finger slowly working to wrap around your neck in a firm grip. it was much tighter this time, and its grip strengthening faster than you could adjust. you reach up once more to pull it away, but he doesn’t let up.

“stop,” you pull away from him mid-kiss, your hand covering the pale one tightly wound around your neck. he doesn’t flinch at the sound of your demand, eyes low as he observes your increasingly frantic movements.

“what?” he asked.

rafe’s face was expressionless, the slight scrunch in his nose being the only giveaway of his sudden rise to anger. it was the silent rage that scared you, why you so carefully chose your words when speaking to him–because it would lead to moments like this. you weren’t even sure what you said to trigger him, but your rapidly decreasing airflow wouldn’t allow for you to think about it in depth.

“rafe, stop.” you repeat yourself. another hand reaches up to fight against his, nails scratching at the skin as they try to pull him off. the feeling had long passed being uncomfortable, and was encroaching on unbearable. “what’re you doing?”

“what's wrong, baby…can’t breathe?” your boyfriend’s eyes furrowed with a look of faux concern, but you felt him stop holding back. he allowed the full weight of his strength onto you, biceps flexing as the tips of his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat. “huh?”

unable to answer verbally, you hummed quietly as you desperately tugged at him. despite your incessant squirming, that doesn’t deter him from returning his lips to yours. the kiss was sloppy, you were too focused on fighting for what little breath you had to return it fully, but rafe didn’t seem to care.

he suckled at your bottom lip before nipping it with the sharpness of his teeth. he laved his tongue against yours, all but fucking your mouth the wet muscle. the sound of his soft, dark laughter reached your ears after he heard you whine against him. you were beginning to become lightheaded the longer rafe’s hand compressed your trachea mercilessly.

he was allowing just enough room for you to not pass out from lack of air, but the finger against your jugular veins was preventing oxygen from reaching your brain.

leaving you with a few sporadic, wet pecks, he pulled away only slightly to observe your less than lively state. his lips were glistening with moisture, and you could feel spit dribbling down your own chin from your inability to swallow the saliva that had been gathering in your mouth. the blond’s face went stoic again and pulled you back to him, lips just barely brushing against yours.

“you see how i just had your life in my hands? how scared you felt knowing that i could’ve just crushed your throat if i wanted to?” the grip over your neck had finally loosened and you did your best to not pant against his face as your breathing steadied itself.

you remained silent but rafe watched you expectantly, clearly awaiting an actual response and not the stupid, wide-eyed expression you carried. you nodded at him weakly, stray tears sliding down your face as you blinked your eyes clear of them.

“i’m not joking.” he whispered against your parted lips, eyes low and jaw clenching for just a second before speaking again. “i will fuck you up, and i mean that.”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #obx fanfiction #obx1 #obx2 #obx3 #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #cleoluvrr fics

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localplaguenurse · 8 months ago

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Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone X Male Reader) pt 9

More fic! More fanart! A meme! Thank you once again @your-local-furby, yes I AM going to link back to your art every time. Get appreciated loser (affectionate).

Also, all future chapters are going to link back to the masterlist for this fic! You'll also find the ao3 link there, and I'm going to link the art made for the fic there as well once I've got everything posted.

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

“You’re honest to god hopeless,” Alik says, “I hate to say it, but you are.”

You hear Tartaglia, number Eleven, laugh at your attempt to hide your embarrassment in your hands. “Twice, twice, how did I do this twice?”

“Didn’t you almost trip on Pulcinella forever ago?”

“That was Pavel, and he was drunk at the time.”

“So you haven’t tripped over him yet, gotcha.”

You groan in irritation before finally lifting your head up out of your hands. Straight ahead is Alik, who is taking delight in your newfound tendency to trip into members of the Fatui. In the corner of your vision, you can make out a partial profile of Tartaglia, your latest victim, sitting next to you. In front of him is the drink you bought him as an apology. You cannot see his face fully, and you are so embarrassed that you’re actually very thankful for that fact.

“Does your friend do that a lot?” Tartaglia asks.

“Running into people, or specifically Harbingers?” Alik asks in turn.

“Harbingers.”

“More than the average person should, I think.”

Tartaglia laughs. “You said twice, right? I would say it’s more than average for sure, especially if you’re still alive to tell the tale!”

“Oh come on, the others can’t be that bad, can they?” Alik jests.

“Depends on the Harbinger,” Tartaglia says, “and depends more on their mood. I would say the Knave, the Captain, and Mayor Pulcinella would be the most forgiving, though honestly, it feels like Arlecchino can be fifty-fifty some days.”

You catch Alik’s sly smirk. “What about the Regrator? Is he forgiving at all?”

“Well, yes and no,” Tartaglia answers. “He’ll forgive you if you can make it up to him in some way.”

Alik turns their smile to you. “Lucky you.”

You see the Harbinger turn his head towards you, and you turn your head so you can see his face. “Wait, you…?” Suddenly, his dull blue eyes widen in recognition, and he grins. “It was you! You’re the one who spilled wine all over his new suit!”

“... I see my reputation precedes me,” is all you can muster.

Tartaglia continues. “It was all he talked about for the next week, how he hadn’t even owned it that long and already it was ruined, how much of a pain getting the stains out would be, and a lot of figuring out how much he should bill you for it. I was surprised he didn’t bill you for the whole suit!”

“The shirt was fairly expensive,” you say.

“Still, with how annoyed he was all week, I thought making you pay the entire dry cleaning bill was the least he would do. He’ll also tack on what some of the lower ranking agents have dubbed ‘the asshole tax,’ or the ‘inconvenience fee,’ as he would rather people call it.”

That actually gets a bit of a chuckle out of you.

Tartaglia leans props his head up in his gloved hands, giving you an inquisitive look and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, do tell, what made him take pity on you?”

“It was an accident.”

This makes the Harbinger laugh. “No, no seriously, why?”

“... It was an accident.”

He shakes his head. “Pantalone doesn’t believe in accidents, he says they’re the result of negligence from people who should know better.”

“Just tell him you’re blind already,” Alik blurts out.

Tartaglia blinks. “What?”

“I’m legally blind,” you explain, “I have no peripheral vision, so I bumped into Pantalone and spilled wine on him because he wasn’t in my direct line of sight. I think he only made me pay for the shirt because he went on a rant about how foolish I am before my mother explained my condition to him.”

“Well, that’s certainly a new one,” Tartaglia comments, “he rarely takes pity on people, save for extreme cases.”

You take a swig of your beer instead of replying.

“Say, Tartaglia,” Alik says, prompting the young man to turn his attention away from you, “what else can you tell us about Pantalone?”

You shoot Alik a look. Tartaglia doesn’t see it, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “While I’m enjoying this little chat with you two, I’m afraid I can’t disclose too much about my more high ranking coworkers to anyone.”

“I’m not asking about his big plans for the bank or anything,” Alik says, “we just want to, I don’t know, learn some general information? Like what are some of his hobbies, or his favourite foods. Things to know if you want to get closer to him.”

“And why do you want to get to know him?”

“Oh, I don’t.” Alik points at you. “He does.”

You feel heat spread across your face, and it gets worse when Tartaglia looks your way, very intrigued. “Is that so?”

“I-I think I’m okay,” you state, “he and I, I mean I don’t know if we’re friends, b-but we get along fairly well! He’s partnered w-with my father, so I tend to run into him a lot, and we actually had tea the other day. Or, we were supposed to, but my parents decided to show up, so then after they left h-he and I had dinner so–”

“Pause,” Alik says, “you did not mention having dinner with him.”

“I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I told you we still spent time after the ruined tea party,” you say, “does it matter if it was over dinner?”

“Pantalone doesn’t usually invite people to stay for dinner,” Tartaglia states, “I of all people should know.”

“He only did it because he wanted to discuss my book with me,” you explain, “but my parents’ intrusion hindered that. So he invited me to stay later.”

When Alik and Tartaglia look at you, they are both equally skeptical. You feel your face get hotter, and take another swig of your cold drink to cool yourself down. Then you remember it’s alcohol, so if anything it’s going to warm your face up even more. You stand up. “I’m going to the washroom,” you state, intending to splash water on your face and get out of the awkward situation you’ve put yourself in.

“Try not to bump into anyone else,” Tartaglia jokes, making your face burn hotter. When you walk away, you bump into a table, but that could just be the alcohol. When you disappear into the men’s washroom, Tartaglia turns back to Alik. “Pantalone certainly keeps interesting company when he wants to.”

Alik shrugs their shoulders. “I’ve only met him once, but I’ve known my poor sighted friend for years now, so I believe that.”

Tartaglia hums. He glances over his shoulder, seeing who and who isn’t listening. Most of the patrons are minding their business, and some are currently leaving the bar. Seeing the coast is clear, he turns back to Alik and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I assume your friend is happy about that, isn’t he?”

Alik chuckles. “What, ah, what gives you that impression?”

“He’s not that subtle,” Tartaglia says, “and I might have overheard a little bit of your conversation before he ran into me.”

Alik lowers their voice so only the Harbinger can hear them. “Look, I’m not going to confirm anything, but true or not, it’s really important that we not let that sort of talk get around. As far as I’m aware, the Regrator might be fine with it, but his business partner, my friend’s father, is not.”

“Ah, I see.” Tartaglia takes a drink. “I can understand that. Rest assured, his secret is safe with me.”

Alik raises their brow. “That’s it? No blackmail or anything?”

Tartaglia chuckles. “No, that’s not how I do things. Ironically, that’s more the Regrator’s style, but he clearly likes your little friend.”

“Wait, do you mean ‘likes him’ in a friendly way, or…?”

Tartaglia smirks. “Who’s to say?” He takes another swig. “In all honesty, for someone who tends to drone on and on, he’s careful about his life outside the Fatui, or the bank. Though, I will say that even if I knew, Pantalone could and would have bought my silence.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot. You’d at least barter for a higher price, right?”

“I think he’d give me a satisfying amount on his first offer,” Tartaglia replies, “enough that I’d be smart enough not to push it.”

Alik tips their head back and pours the last bit of their drink into their mouth. They glance back at the bathroom, wondering when you’re going to come back. They jump a bit when Tartaglia places a hand on their shoulder, and motions for them to move in closer. Curious, they lean over a bit. Tartaglia cups his hands over their ear, and Alik shivers uncomfortably at the warmth of his breath.

��I’m not going to confirm anything,” he whispers, “but if your friend likes how things are progressing with Pantalone, I think you should let him keep doing whatever it is he’s doing.”

Alik pulls back a bit so Tartaglia isn’t whispering right in their ear. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. From what I hear, your friend is a ‘refreshing change’ compared to most,” Tartaglia continues, “so if he’s trying to get closer, he’s already on the way there if you catch my drift.”

The sound of a thud, a chair scraping, and a hissed curse is all Alik needs to hear to know you’re out of the bathroom. They look up and see you rubbing your knee, before you straighten up and begin making your way back to the table. Before you sit down, you look at the two and give them an odd look at their suspicious proximity.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

“Gossiping about your book,” Alik says.

“All the raunchy, lewd details,” Tartaglia adds.

You blush. “I told you I’m not adding that scene in.”

Tartaglia laughs. “I was just messing with you! You’re actually a smut writer?”

“No! Romance! Romance does not mean smut!”

“Not that he could write it, anyways,” Alik teases.

You sit down. “I wish I was blind already so I wouldn’t have to look at you.”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Tartaglia comments.

“No, that’s pretty normal when he’s grouchy,” Alik says.

You throw back the rest of your drink, your now empty glass clacking on the table. “Well, this has been… one of the outings of all time. I think I’d better get going soon.”

“We haven’t been out that long,” Alik says.

“No, but if I stay out later, I’m probably going to have a couple more drinks,” you say, “and I don’t want to be writing hungover tomorrow. Plus, my mother will have a conniption if I’m out later than ten and the more I avoid that headache, the better.”

Alik sighs. “Fair enough. I have an afternoon meeting tomorrow. It won’t do me any favours if I’m groggy during it.”

“I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Tartaglia remarks. He offers you a hand, and you awkwardly take it. His grip is firm when he shakes your hand. “Thanks again for the drink, comrade! And for keeping me entertained for the evening.”

“M-My pleasure,” you say, “and, on that note, sorry again for bumping into you.”

Tartaglia watches as you and Alik put your coats back on and pay for your drinks. Alik trails behind you, and waves at him before stepping through the door and disappearing into the night. In the quiet bar, he takes his time finishing his drink before he bids the bartender a warm goodbye.

His cheeks and nose are a warm red, contrasting his white foggy breath. Soft snow crunches under his boot, the clusters of flakes falling around him glowing in the moonlight. Eventually, his feet bring him to a building he is all too familiar with by now. The doors are locked now, but he has been given a key to the back door, which he has been told time and time again to only use in case of emergencies. He knocks the snow off his boots as best as he can before he enters the bank properly.

With one of the only other people in the building being a heavily armed guard, Tartaglia’s movements are practically broadcasted throughout the bank as he makes his way upstairs. He’s loud enough that he doesn’t need to0 knock on the Regrator’s door. He makes it to the door and lifts his hand up and is told to “come in.”

He’s polite enough to shut the door behind him when he enters. He gives his superior Harbinger a smile. “Good evening, Regrator.”

“You’re late,” Pantalone states, keeping his eyes on the paperwork he’s scribbling away at.

“My apologies,” Tartaglia states, “I had a little run in earlier.”

“And that’s the third time I’ve heard you use that as an excuse for being late.”

“You make it sound like I’ve made tardiness a habit!”

“I can also smell the alcohol on you.”

Tartaglia takes a seat. “Now you’re making it sound like I’m a drunk. Besides, it’s not as if this is an official meeting.”

Finally, the Regrator sets his pen down and looks up at Tartaglia, shimmering stony eyes meeting dull baby blues. “I don’t care if this is a casual outing or a serious business deal, you know my expectations, Eleven.”

“I wish you were as forgiving to me as you are with that writer fellow,” Tartaglia comments, watching Pantalone’s reactions like a hawk.

Pantalone stills for a moment, and though his expression remains mostly unchanged, the inquisitive tilt and slight arch of an eyebrow is enough to satiate Tartaglia. “The writer? Why are you bringing him up?”

“Who do you think I had a run in with?”

Pantalone’s lips finally curl, and he just chuckles. “Ah, you’d think he’d learn after our first encounter. You’ve met him now?”

Tartaglia nods. “He bought me a drink as an apology, and we talked a little bit about you.”

“Good things, I hope?” Pantalone remarks, and while it’s easy to tell when he’s fishing for information, his intentions are currently hard to read.

“His friend and I were mostly teasing him about the suit,” Tartaglia replies, “but other than that, it was just small talk.”

“I see, I see…”

“Better than he does.”

“Mm, it’s funnier when he makes the joke.” Pantalone opens a drawer and pulls out couple documents stapled together, reading them as he shuts the drawer. “I received your latest proposal, and after doing the math, I found that for once you actually deserve more mora as opposed to less. Not as much as you would have gotten before your time in Liyue, but I think you’re wise enough to be happy about that.” With his eyes still on the paper, he reaches into another drawer and pulls out a jingling pouch. Without looking up, he hands it to Tartaglia, who accepts it graciously. “Don’t let this get to your head, and please don’t mention it to Dottore. Specifically Segment Kappa, he’s still upset I only gave him half the funding for his latest project, but I told him I needed a functional prototype by the end of the month if he wanted the rest of it.”

“I know the drill,” Tartaglia replies, “and isn’t Kappa in Fontaine right now?”

“Something about studying scuba gear, I don’t know, all I know is he’s not bothering me right now and quite frankly, it’s all I really care about. Now, do you have anything else to say or ask before I send you on your way?”

“I take it your four-thirty meeting went poorly?”

“Why do you ask?”

“There’s some blood splatter still above your left eyebrow.”

Pantalone stops and lifts his hand up to his forehead. He rubs at the spot above his eyebrow, and when he pulls his fingers back, he can see his finger tips have slightly tacky red residue on them.

He clears his throat. “Goodnight, Eleven.”

“Goodnight, Regrator.”

#pantalone #pantalone x reader #pantalone x male reader #blind reader #my fic #falling head over heels

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