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yunhoszn · 2 months

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save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside.

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence.

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life.

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes.

And then your grandparents decided to retire.

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time.

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres.

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later.

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty.

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh.

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked.

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable.

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave.

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention.

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear.

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops.

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself.

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives.

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope.

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again.

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby.

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years?

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good.

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate.

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache.

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog.

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought.

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now.

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore.

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other.

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency.

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening.

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else.

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance.

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet.

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath.

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.”

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…”

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague.

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong.

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects.

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage.

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine.

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air.

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own.

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own.

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have.

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric.

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse.

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain.

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal.

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen.

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself.

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple.

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there.

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide.

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool.

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now.

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?”

“‘You turn me on.’”

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad.

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?”

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs.

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it.

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him.

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release.

I saw the way he was looking at you.

I saw how you were looking at him, too.

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho.

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it.

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place.

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work.

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to.

And then you came here.

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same.

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role.

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go.

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches.

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?”

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters.

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away.

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else.

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different.

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you.

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you.

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop.

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry.

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top.

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him.

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special.

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there.

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets.

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it.

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure.

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now.

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own.

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more.

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat.

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second.

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again.

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way.

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand.

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble.

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams.

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core.

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips.

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off.

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force.

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth.

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies.

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts.

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.”

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below.

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created.

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter.

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day.

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunhoszn

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foreveralbon · 3 months

Text

throwback thursdays

everyone loves to see their favourite grid family - even if it’s just in the comments

agirlinracingcars

liked by maxverstappen1, jensonbutton, mickschumacher and 101,356 others

agirlinracingcars hey! i heard some of u are new here… so meet the fam! i’m y/n, a girl in racing cars, sometimes called ‘missy’.

slide 2 is my dad jenson ‘hey, did you know this is called coquette?’ button n slide 3 is my other dad (non-biological but i think they’re lying to me) nando ‘grab the keys, kid, i’ll bust you out of here’ alonso.

then there’s uncle mark ‘let me tell you about the time your dad and i…’ webber, and other uncles, lewis ‘you’re doing it wrong’ hamilton, and seb ‘then how the fuck do i do it’ vettel

n finally my best friend (but more so brother) mick!! 🫂🫂🫂

(and a very special mention to guys in the last three photos, they’re pretty cool too 😊)

view all 5,938 comments…

agirlinracingcars GUYS i swear i would’ve added kimi but he didn’t want me to be nice on main

jensonbutton love you missy ❤️ liked by agirlinracingcars

user1 BUT MORE SO BROTHER

user2 that photo of jenson I CANT 😭😭

user3 i need the nando lore wdym he busted you out of somewhere tell us pls pls

mickschumacher you’re being nice on the feed

mickschumacher this is weird

mickschumacher take this down

agirlinracingcars never

oscarpiastri amazing to have always been racing with you, so excited to race with you even more!!

agirlinracingcars thank youuu osc

charles_leclerc arthur gets a mention but not me???

agirlinracingcars i’ve known you two days, come back when i make another one of these

landonorris add me in the next one too

agirlinracingcars landonorris bet

user4 she loves them all

user5 oh so they’re her DADS liked by agirlinracingcars

user6 PREMA BOYS MENTIONED!!! i repeat: PREMA BOYS MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️🗣️

logansargeant fuck yeah, frederikvestiofficial it’s us man 🔥🔥

premaracing you’ll always be our girl missy

officialmpmotorsport back off 🤺🤺

alphatauri walk away slowly… both of you

user7 not admins fighting over her 😭

user8 adding daniel is kind of rude if you ask me

user9 they’re all friends and danny has literally said there’s no harsh feelings. ur making smth out of nothing

fernandoalo_official

tagged: jensonbutton, aussiegrit, lewishamilton, sebastianvettel

fernandoalo_official that time when…

view all 3,692 comments

agirlinracingcars dads?

jensonbutton yes daughter?

sebastianvettel my favourite child

lewishamilton hi y/n ☺️

aussiegrit hey, i’m an uncle at best

fernandoalo_official hello 👋

agirlinracingcars DADS 😁

user1 DADS 🥹🥹😭😭

user10 you look short fernando

user11 21 championships between them, their daughter is going to do fucking amazing

agirlinracingcars now that you’ve said it, i can’t let you down girlie 🙏🏼

mickschumacher added to their story!

[caption: who is this weirdo and get her out of my phone please]

☆✩☆

series masterlist | general masterlist

@luckyladycreator2 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @storminacloud @ironmaiden1313 @hiireadstuff @starssfall @leilanixx @gwginnyweasley @juniper-july19 @myxticmoon @darleneslane @wcnorris @whoselly @landosgirlxoxo @disneyprincemuke @namgification @mellowarcadefun @sam-is-lost @glitterquadricorn @sebastianstansblog @judespoision @eugene-emt-roe @lightdragonrayne let me know if you’d like to be added to the series taglist!

#liyah writes #born from two stars #f1 grid x reader #f1 x you #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #mick schumacher x reader #formula one smau #max verstappen x reader #logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #jenson button x reader

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goldsainz · 3 months

Text

❝ OUT OF NOWHERE ❞

SERIES MASTERLIST!

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . daniel ricciardo x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . there is no better day to hard launch than on valentine’s day.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . still not over the february 1st news🧍‍♀️ can we take a moment to appreciate me posting three fics in a row… didn’t post for a month and half and now look at me!

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 473,892 others

danielricciardo Back at home.

view all 7,108 comments

danielfan1 DANIEL WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN

danielfan2 signs of life 🙌

danielfan3 i hate him (i’m madly in love with him)

ynfan1 what is my wife doing here…

⤷ danielfan4 good question. danielricciardo we want answers!!!!!!

⤷ ynfan1 ANSWER US yourusername

danielfan5 look at him chilling while we were all worried about where he was

ynfan2 GUYS WHY IS NOBODY COMMENTING THAT Y/N IS ALSO IN PERTH

ynfan3 pls we need to know why mother is here

danielfan6 he’s sooooooo hot😩

danielfan7 I NEED HIM

yourusername updated their instagram story!

liked by danielricciardo, sukiwaterhouse and 629,583 others

yourusername first day in australia… it’s a vibe

view all 9,430 comments

danielfan21 now what is daniel doing here🤨

⤷ ynfan21 first y/n on his post… now him… something fishy is going on here

ynfan22 cannot believe i could run into her at any moment

ynfan23 SHE’S SO CUTE

danielfan22 her being in perth + daniel’s back in perth = them possibly meeting

camilamorrone Should’ve taken me with you ☹️

⤷ yourusername some trips are meant to be solo 😔

⤷ camilamorrone The betrayal…

ynfan24 mother is mothering

danielfan23 “solo trip” daniel ricciardo this is your moment!!!!

ynfan25 the red hair is saur hot

ynfan26 the possiblity of her meeting daniel haunts me

ynfan27 whose house is that??????

⤷ danielfan24 a question we all want answers too

⤷ ynfan28 idk but it’s not giving airbnb

liked by ameliadimz, scottyjames31 and 805,264 others

yourusername first valentine’s day with this guy. he’s kinda fun.

view all 12,078 comments

danielricciardo KINDA fun?!?! I’m the funnest person you know 🙄

⤷ yourusername eh debatable

⤷ danielricciardo Wow.

ynfan31 WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK

danielfan31 sorry for not believing the delusion of twitter

ynfan32 bye they’re giving ryan reynolds and blake lively

landonorris Did not need this on my feed.

⤷ yourusername real mature landinho!

⤷ landonorris Blocked ❌

ynfan33 couple goals!!!!!!!!

ynfan34 this makes me want to be in love

danielfan32 oh i just know they’re the funniest together

⤷ ynfan35 need to have a conversation with them fr

ynfan36 REAL COUPLES ARE BACK ‼️

danielfan33 the amount of danny pics she must have…

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintiastri @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @toomuchdelusion @burberryfilms @ravisinghs-wife @nouvellevqgue @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version @alearicci @onecojg @minkyungseokie @blue1amory

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greg-montgomery · 4 months

Note

hi hi!! can i maybe request a rly cute and fluffy one shot of aaron just comforting and taking care of the reader 🥹

like maybe there was a thunderstorm in the middle of the night and reader subconsciously just runs to hotch’s room and he comforts her udhaidbsjanxb

also maybe a cute lil age gap to feed my daddy issues pls pls pls

ANYWAYS ILYSM NEVER STOP WRITING, I LIVE FOR UR STORIES BB

hiiii!!! <3333 thank you for the cute request and your sweet words!!!!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Nothing would ever beat sleeping in your own bed. Nothing could beat the comfort that the fresh scent of your sheets brought you, or the little light you always left on the entire night since you were a child.

Being away for a case meant you had to learn to sleep without those comforts. And you were really good at it; but the thing you could not get yourself to adjust to, were the unfamiliar sounds of a new place. Sometimes it was the sound of a passing car, and others some annoyingly loud neighbor.

That night it was the sound of a thunderstorm. And the hotel you and the team were staying at was definitely not soundproof enough to let you sleep in peace.

You had been tossing and turning for more than an hour, unable to calm your heart down. It wasn’t just the thunders that scared you; the rain was pouring like crazy and the wind was almost whistling. Suddenly you felt like a little kid again, afraid that the walls weren’t thick enough to protect you from the strength of that storm.

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and gave trying to fall asleep one last shot. But at the sound of another thunder, the face of a certain man appeared on your mind.

Hotch.

The truth was when you thought of “safe”, you thought of him: your boss who always had all the answers. Maybe it was his older age or his intimidating appearance but he made you feel like no matter what the problem was, he would fix it. Hotch always made it better.

Without thinking about it twice, you got out of bed and ran to his room. Well, you didn’t have to run much anyway, since his room was right across from yours. He’s definitely awake, you thought; always staying up most of the night to work on the case while everyone else rested.

That was why you were surprised to see Hotch wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants answering his knocking door. But the thing that made you the biggest impression was his disheveled appearance. Sleepy Hotch was the cutest thing you had ever laid eyes on.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

“Hotch,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep. I’m gonna go back to my room.”

You made a move to turn around but Aaron was faster and grabbed your elbow, gently pulling you into his room.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said closing the door once you were both inside.

“I was scared,” you admitted. Seeing him raising his eyebrow in question you continued. “Of the storm...”

You were relieved to see a little smirk on his face. You guessed he was relieved too after finding out that the thing that scared you wasn’t something actually dangerous.

“I’m sorry I woke you up. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“It’s okay.” As tough as Hotch looked, he was the most gentle man you had ever got to know. “You can always come to me about anything.”

And you had the audacity to wonder why he was your safe place?

“I know.”

He sat on the edge of his bed and patted at the spot right next to him, signaling you to take a seat; so you did. You were close enough that you could smell his after shave. It made you dizzy.

“Have you slept at all?” he asked.

“No. And I’m tired.” You let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I should just pull an all nighter.”

“Nonsense.”

“But-”

“What if you sleep in my room? Will you still be scared if I’m right here?”

Your stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies.

“Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” you asked.

“I won’t tell if you don’t” he said, and offered you his pinky finger to cross yours with.

You did it with a huge grin. "Deal."

“Come on now,” he said playfully while getting under the covers. Without any hesitation, you did the same, finding your place at the other side of his bed.

It was almost perfect; almost, because his arms weren’t around you, but instead were resting on his stomach.

“Hotch?”

“Hm?”

“Does the offer come with cuddles too?”

“You wanna cuddle with your boss, honey?” he smirked, and reached out his arm so you could curl up in his embrace.

“Yes, please,” you said, and the two of you ended up in each other’s arms. Being around Aaron had always felt safe, but being in his arms? That was a whole new level of safety and comfort.

“Good night, Hotch.”

And just like that the sound of his beating heart made it hard to focus on the rain hitting on his window.

His lips on your forehead and the words “Good night, sweetheart,” were the things that finally lulled you to sleep.

#WAR IS OVER LMFAO I WROTE SOMETHING AGAIN #i missed you and i missed hotch </3 #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch 🪐#ask

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cupid-styles · 6 months

Text

silk and rope 3

the final part of ddlg harry and little/submissive y/n!!!!

in which harry is a dummy, y/n gets a little too drunk, and thanksgiving is finally good for something.

word count: 8k

content warnings: daddy dom and little/submissive relationship, alcohol, a little bit of angst, SMUT!!! (anal play, squirting, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sub drop, public play if you squint, dumbification, tiny bit of pet play.. if I missed something pls lmk lol). as stated in the first two parts, I tried to make this as accurate as possible but there are likely some things that aren't correct!! im just a girl and im sorry if something isn't portrayed right!!!!!!

thank you for reading and loving these two, while this is the last formal part of their story I will definitely be writing check-ins and blurbs for them in the future!!! enjoy :)

masterlist | talk to me

part one | part two

. . .

It doesn't take Y/N very long to realize Harry's acting weird.

Well, maybe not weird, but different. He's acting differently than he has been for the past two months, and it's giving her a bit of whiplash. She notices that it started the day after she slipped when he dropped her off at home, when he latched a collar around her neck.

Her memory of that day is a little bit hazy; the events are more so glued together in blurry snapshots of pleasure and lust, but she does know that she had fallen into her little space while he was gone. He'd punished her for the whole butt plug incident, fucked her into oblivion, and then soaked in the tub with her before falling asleep next to her.

And really, it wasn't that different from their usual scenes. The dynamic was the same, as far as Y/N can remember, it may have just been a little bit more intense.

So why is Harry acting like this?

Instead of stopping by nearly every day to make sure she's eaten and rested, he'll just text her. If she hasn't eaten lunch or dinner yet, he'll order her food to her house instead of bringing her a homemade meal or stopping somewhere on the way. When he does come over, it seems like he's always in a hurry to leave — yesterday, he picked her up from a closing shift at the bakery and barely spoke to her in the car. He came inside, quickly cooked her a dinner, and left before she'd even finished eating, mumbling out some excuse about having to feed his sister's cat.

Worst of all, they haven't slept together in a week.

It's all overwhelming for Y/N, but this time, it's in the worst way possible. She feels incredibly down as the days go on, and she spirals and wonders what she did wrong to make him act this way. She can feel the breakup coming from a mile away, but she assumes that because it's Harry, he'll bake her a cake and buy her a kitten just because he doesn't want to be too mean about it.

She hates to admit it, but she's grown attached to Harry. And she really, really doesn't want to let him go.

It's what led her to asking Naomi to grab lunch on her day off. Naomi hasn't reached out too much lately so it's been awhile since they'd seen one another, but she's known Harry far longer than she has.

(And yeah, Y/N feels kind of shitty about making plans with Naomi only to ask about Harry, but she has a nagging feeling that she's only kept her around because she feels bad she doesn't have friends outside of them.)

"I'm sorry, you and Harry are what?"

(She supposes she should have expected this type of response.)

"We're sleeping together," Y/N answers in a pathetic attempt to sound casual, keeping her eyes glued to the turkey sandwich on her plate, "But he's been acting kind of off lately, and I wasn't sure if you guys knew something I didn't."

"Well no one knew that," Naomi mutters, stabbing her fork into her salad and stuffing some lettuce into her mouth. "But to address your concerns, no, I don't know anything. Harry's notoriously private about his love life."

She clears her throat and nods. "I think he's gonna end things soon."

"Hmm, yeah," Naomi hums through a mouthful of food, "I don't think he does the whole friends with benefits thing. Lea tried once and he rejected her, it was kind of a mess. She couldn't stand to be in a room with him for like, two months."

"We're not sleeping with other people," Y/N quickly adds. "It's sort of an exclusive arrangement."

Still, Naomi shrugs her shoulders, and it doesn't soothe any of Y/N's worries.

"He may have told you that, but I honestly doubt it, babe. I'm sorry he broke your heart. He can be kind of an asshole in that way."

If anything, Y/N feels even worse now. The gears in her brain are turning too fast and she's starting to feel nauseous, putting the puzzle pieces together and envisioning what her life will be like without Harry after she's gotten so used to him taking care of her.

"Anyway, Bria is having a party this weekend," Naomi says, breaking her out of his spiraling thoughts, "You should come. It'll get your mind off things and you can find someone new to fuck."

She winces at her crude terminology, not because she's offended by it but because she thinks what she and Harry are doing is more than just fucking.

Aren't they?

Forcing down a sip of her Diet Coke, Y/N nods. "Yeah, I'll be there."

. . .

From: H

Can I come over tonight?

Y/N bites her lip as she reads Harry's text for the fourth time. Since getting home from lunch with Naomi, she's been stewing in a series of emotions: First, sadness, followed by frustration and anger, then sadness again, then acceptance. She's managed to occupy herself with some re-runs of Jeopardy, even if it reminds her of him.

She doesn't know what the right thing to do is. What if he wants to come over because he's ready to end things? She supposes she's just putting off the inevitable, but she's been broken up with enough times and she knows how much more painful this one will be. She's not prepared for that, even if she wants to be.

Sighing, she finally makes a decision, tapping her thumbs quickly against the screen.

Y/N: hey sorry i can't do tonight. think im coming down w something, i don't feel that well

H: Do you need anything? I can bring soup and medicine, whatever you need.

Y/N: no im ok, thank you tho

H: Let me know if you think of anything.

H: Maybe later this week if you're feeling better?

Y/N: yea maybe

Tears are already clouding her vision as she locks her phone and tosses it across her couch. Desperately, she wonders why the guy she's fallen for just can't like her back.

. . .

Harry knows he's fucking up.

He wants to smack himself across the face and tell himself to pull it together, but he can't. Every single cell and bone in his body is begging him to go over to Y/N's house and make it all better, and instead, he just sits on the couch, replaying those words over in his brain. Her swollen parted lips and eyes fluttered closed, the way it sounded so effortless falling from her mouth. I love you.

He wanted to say it back. But that wasn't part of the arrangement.

She wanted someone to dominate her, to take care of her. Who would be if he took advantage of something she said after nearly two hours of play, when she'd been in her little space all day? It wasn't something he felt morally right about, but he knows he wasn't being any better. He couldn't hold himself to high standards when he was pushing her away.

It's why he's so down and out on Saturday night. Normally, he'd be snuggled up with Y/N, watching some movie or TV show, usually after or before an intense scene. Sometimes it served as a precursor to foreplay with the way he'd stroke over her thighs and play with her hair, watching as she became increasingly restless. Other times, it's what they did to unwind, a form of aftercare for both parties.

But tonight, he's not doing that. He's at home alone, confused, because Bria just texted him that she's having a party tonight and��everyone's there — including Y/N.

He doesn't like that she singles her out like that. He knows that some of the girls in the group don't particularly like her because she's quiet and shy and rather reserved about her personal life. (He understands why she's that way now.) He doesn't even think Naomi is a good friend to her, but he would never go out of his way to tell her that — ultimately, she's capable of making her own decisions. However, she'd sent him some excuse about not being able to hang out a few days ago, claiming that she was sick and yet, tonight she was at a party?

Harry couldn't live with that.

So he fires off a text to Bria, telling her that he'll be there soon, dressing quickly and throwing himself together. When he's driving over to Bria's place, he makes a mental promise to himself, pledging that as long as Y/N doesn't hate him, he won't return home without her.

. . .

Y/N is drunk, and she hates being drunk.

The last time she consumed a fraction of this amount of alcohol was the night she spilled her guts to Harry. Tonight, she's downed every shot that's been passed her way. She's not sure what she's looking to achieve — she doesn't want to go home with anyway and the only person she really wants to be with is Harry — and it makes her sad. So, so helplessly sad.

Despite being deep underwater, Y/N is cognizant enough to know that no one at this party really cares for her wellbeing. They were eager to get her drunk, but once she started swaying on her feet with hazy eyes, they stopped caring. Games of beer pong and flip cup were ongoing as she sat in the kitchen, propped up on the counter with her head against the cabinets.

She feels so stupid, it makes her want to cry.

. . .

Harry attempts to play it cool when he arrives at Bria's house.

Everyone welcomes him, excited that he made it, but they have no idea that his presence has nothing to do with wanting to party. He's here for the girl who begs him to snap a collar around her neck and push a plug into her ass. The girl he happens to be very in love with.

Naomi bats her eyelashes at him and hands him a glass of wine; an attempt to schmooze him when she tells him she picked out this bottle just for him. He smiles politely.

"Have you seen Y/N? Bria mentioned she was here."

Naomi's eyebrows raise, a defensive look crossing onto her face. "Why are you looking for her?"

"We just need to talk about something," he replies dismissively, uninterested in revealing any details to her, "So, is she here? Or did she leave already?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "She got pretty fucked up when she got here. She's kind of a mess, y'know? I don't even know if she's here or not."

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, concern and worry bubbling in his stomach, "She doesn't like to drink."

"Well, she sure liked all the shots everyone was giving her."

He closes his hands into tight fists, stunned at how careless these people could be. He couldn't believe he considered them friends at a certain point.

"Where did you see her last?" he eventually questions, pushing past the anger growing in his chest.

Naomi thinks for a moment. "I think Ren may have passed her in the kitchen. Not sure, though."

She's apparently finished with this conversation, clearly annoyed that she didn't get what she wants (Harry knows she's been trying to recreate that one night they made out years ago, but he's never been especially interested). He huffs and pushes past everyone else standing around in the living room, ignoring anyone who tries to start a conversation. When he walks into the kitchen, his eyes immediately find her defeated posture, her shoulders slumped over with eyes half-shut.

"Y/N," he says, rushing over to her. He's not sure if she's even conscious, so he gently pats at her cheek. "Baby, are you alright?"

Her eyes flutter open, a look of confusion immediately taking over. "Harry?"

"Are you okay, Y/N? What happened?"

"Nothing," she mumbles through red-stained lips, "Why're you here?"

She's slurring her words and he swallows harshly, taking in her rough composure. She looks so tired and it breaks his heart to think that he could have caused this.

"Heard you were here and I wanted to make sure you were okay." he murmurs out, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, "Are you having a fun time?"

He already knows the answer when she shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. "No. Hate being drunk."

"I know, baby," Harry coos, "Would you be okay with me taking you home? Get you all cozy in your bed?"

If she's angry with him, her level of drunkenness has made her forget about those feelings because she nods, making grabby hands at him. He chuckles and helps her down from the countertop, immediately wrapping a supportive arm around her waist.

"My car's just parked outside. Do you think you can make it there?"

"Mhm."

With a gentle smile on his lips, he tugs her out of the kitchen and guides her to the front door. He can feel eyes on them and he assumes Naomi is likely leading the pack, but he doesn't care. Frankly, he's fine if this is the last time he sees most of these people — he doesn't think he wants to continue friendships with anyone who'd want to hurt Y/N.

She's quiet as he helps her into the car, buckling her seatbelt for her and closing the passenger side door once she's safe. He's quick to do the same for himself, churning the ignition and flicking the heat on to shield her from the chilly autumn air.

"Do you feel sick at all?" Harry asks as he pulls out of his parking spot. She shakes her head. "Okay, lemme know if that changes, lovebug."

They don't exchange any more words on the way to Y/N's place. Once he's parked, he turns to look over, only to find her slumped in her seat with closed eyes, steady puffs of air coming from her nose. His heart twitches — he wishes they were coming home from a date or something romantic, but he's reminded quite quickly of her drunken state.

He leaves her in the car for a moment to use his spare key to unlock her front door. When he returns, he gently scoops her body up and out of the car. Her eyes flicker open and he hushes her, kicking the door closed.

"Can walk," she mutters out, and he nods, letting her down once they're safely in her home.

"I didn't wanna wake you up, that's all."

Y/N shrugs and kicks her shoes off, though she loses her balance and sways, Harry quickly coming to her side to steady her by the elbow.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

He looks down at the doe-eyed girl in front of him, sniffling as the words float from her lips. His stomach flutters with anxiety as he watches her eyes get watery, immediately using his thumb to wipe away the moisture from spilling over.

"Why would you ask that?" he murmurs, placing a hand to her hip.

"You don't like me," Y/N answers matter-of-factly. "And you've been avoiding me."

He sighs. He knows this isn't the right time to talk things through, especially because she's only saying these things given her swimming mindset. He hates that her mind even floated to such places, but if he's being honest, he isn't surprised — he thinks he would assume similarly if their roles were swapped.

"Can we talk about this in the morning?" Harry asks softly.

She shrugs her shoulders, letting her gaze fall to her feet. "You can just do it now. I don't wanna remember anything you have to say if that's the case."

"Y/N, stop it," he says with a shake of his head, attempting to guide her up the stairs. He's slightly impressed that despite her wobbly legs, she stays put. "I'm not ending things."

"Why wouldn't you?" she fires back, looking back up at him with a defiant look in her eyes, "You promised me you'd take care of me and— and for the past week or so, you've done anything but. You've just stressed me out and made me feel bad."

Harry swallows as guilt begins to crawl its way back up his spine. He knows she's right. She has every right to be upset.

"I know," he mumbles, nodding his head, "I know. I haven't been a good dominant. I'm sorry."

"That's a shit excuse. I've heard that so many times before from guys who didn't treat me right from the start. You're different, Harry."

"Y/N..." he's getting frustrated now, disgruntled by how stubborn she apparently gets when she's drunk, "You're right about everything, but this isn't the time to talk this through. I want to do it when you're sober."

She rolls her eyes and if things were normal, Harry knows he would've grabbed her by the hips and leaned her over the steps to spank her. Instead, he lets out a breath and nudges her in the direction of her bedroom.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Y/N's protests cease after that and Harry's secretly grateful for it. She's sobered up enough to take her makeup off and change into her pajamas as he fetches her a glass of water and some Advil to take. He places them on her nightstand as she crawls into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

"Your apartment's still freezing," he murmurs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "I'll call a repair guy tomorrow."

"Are you staying then?" she asks softly, letting her eyes close the second she smushes her cheek into the pillow.

"I will if you'd like me to."

"Okay," she mumbles, "I hope you don't break up with me tomorrow."

He lets out what feels like the thousandth sigh that evening. "Stop saying that. I'm not going to."

Y/N simply shrugs.

. . .

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with a throbbing headache. Before she even opens her eyes, she can feel embarrassment warming every cell of her body, but she can't place a finger on why. She knows something happened last night but things get a little... blurry at a certain point; her last solid memory taking shots with Naomi and Lea. From there, she has a small inkling of what happened, mainly just recalling her sitting in the kitchen by herself when she started feeling woozy and tired.

When she finally blinks her mascara-crusted eyes open (she thought she took her makeup off last night, but maybe she did a shit job of it), she nearly jumps when she realizes there's someone laying next to her.

That someone being Harry.

He has his reading glasses on and he's scrolling on his phone. Through squinted eyes, she reads the words heat repair guy best ratings in his Google search. When he realizes that she's awake, he locks his phone and clears his throat.

"Hey," he says, licking his lips, "How are you feeling?"

"Confused," she croaks out, lifting her head slightly to look up at him, only to be met with a pounding ache in her temples.

"Here, be careful," he mumbles, leaning over to his side to grab something from the nightstand. He hands here two pieces of toast and two Advil. "You should eat this before you take anything. You were pretty wasted last night, I figured your hangover would be rough."

She hums in appreciation and takes a bite of the toast, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "What are you doing here?"

He's not surprised that the details are hazy for her, so he flips onto his side to face her. "Bria told me about the party and mentioned you were there. I wanted to see you so I went, but you were, um, drunk and... by yourself. I took you home, that's all."

"Hm," Y/N nods, "Yeah, I remember getting drunk with everyone. I don't remember you being there except for us arguing here."

"We didn't really argue. You were just being... stubborn."

"About what?"

Harry sighs. "You wanted to talk about the state of our relationship and were convinced I was going to break up with you."

A beat. And then, "Oh."

"That was never my plan, by the way," he replies, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, "I was never going to end things."

She shrugs her shoulders and places her empty plate on the floor, tossing back the Advil.

"I know I haven't been the best to you lately. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out how to approach things."

"Approach what?" she bites, laying back down. "I— all I know is that one day things were fine, and the next they weren't. You weren't being the same and I didn't know what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong," he shakes his head, "Just... you said something. When you were in your little space."

"I say a lot of things when I'm in my little space."

"Yeah, but this was... like, different."

"How, different?"

"More serious, I guess."

"Harry," she huffs, fisting the comforter in her hands, "I can't guess something I said when I wasn't being myself."

"You told you love me."

Y/N's head whips to the side and she immediately winces, shutting her eyes. He cringes and reaches out to touch her temples, gently applying a bit of pressure and rubbing them. It's silent for a moment as he massages her head.

"I'm sorry," she eventually mumbles, "You were probably freaked out. I'm sure I didn't mean to say it."

"Don't be sorry. I would never hold your emotions against you."

Still, she wants to hide her face in the blankets. She's embarrassed, that much is obvious. She doesn't even know if she actually loves Harry; a lot things come out when she's in her little space, some of which she means and some of which she doesn't. She supposes it's fair that he seems so freaked over it.

"I wish you told me sooner. I could've... explained myself. Maybe."

"Explained yourself?"

Y/N shrugs and lays back against the pillows. Harry follows her lead, tilting his neck so he can look at her.

"I can't say for certain that I love you or not, I've never been in love," she explains quietly, feeling her cheeks warm at the unexpected vulnerability spilling out of her, "Don't you think you could say things when you're dominating me that you don't necessarily mean? You degrade me sometimes and I know those things aren't true."

Harry thinks for a moment, pinching his lip between his fingers. "I guess, yeah."

"I would tell if you if I knew for sure, Harry. But I don't."

He nods and rolls onto his back. He doesn't know why but he feels... sad? Let down, maybe? He'd been under the impression that she loved him and, well... maybe he was okay with that.

"I'm sorry." she repeats softly. He shakes his head and reaches out for her hand, grasping it gently and giving it a small squeeze.

"Don't be. It was stupid. I overreacted."

"Thank you for rescuing me last night," Y/N murmurs, squeezing his hand back.

He pushes down the feelings of disappointment and forces a small smile on his lips.

"Anytime."

. . .

Harry tries to go back to normal after that.

He stops being so avoidant, which makes a big difference. He and Y/N are back to their near-daily hangouts, and it's easy to fall back into the routine they established before any of this happened. They're even having sex again, with Y/N readily falling into her little space every time he ties her to the bed, overstimulates her until she's crying, and fucks her open with his cock until he comes deep inside her. They never use condoms anymore, either, and the added layer of intimacy only contributes to what Harry realize shortly after that morning in Y/N's bed: he's in love with her.

He guesses he's known it for awhile, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. But when she explained why she said it, he felt so bummed that it only made sense. He'd wanted her to love him.

But Y/N is Y/N, shy and oblivious and rarely the first to bring up her feelings, so he leaves it at that. He can't think of a worse fate than them actually ending things for good this time, so he keeps his emotions to himself, locked up tight for no one to ever know.

This is a good method, he decides.

Until they're in Y/N's favorite bookshop, perusing through the section titled "BookTok" (he doesn't know what that means, but she clearly does since she has a stack of four books in her hand) and he sees it.

The familiar moony-eyed gaze, batted eyelashes, spit swollen lips. Tugging at his hand, latching onto his arm every second she can, when the word falls from her lips.

"Daddy."

He looks down with wide eyes. She never calls him that when they're in public, but now she's blinking owlishly, nibbling on the fingernails of the hand that isn't attached to Harry's arm.

"Are you alright, baby?" he asks quietly, brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes.

"Mhm," she nods, grinning up at him, "Feeling little. 's that okay?"

He smiles gently, loving this side of her, but concerned that it's happening when they're out and about. He's never experienced a sudden sub drop before, but he knows that he doesn't want to make her feel unwanted, as if she's doing anything wrong.

"Of course, bunny," he murmurs. "Can daddy take you home, then?"

"Yes, please. Startin' to ache."

With raised eyebrows, he nods quickly, lightly tugging her head in the direction of the register. He buys her books for her, grateful that she's decided to occupy herself with the sticker display before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her to his car. He buckles her in to make sure she's safe, her books piled neatly in her lap, and gets in on the other side.

She's quiet as she flips through one of her new novels while Harry periodically glances over at her to make sure she's doing alright. It's only when she starts squirming in her seat that he puts a hand over her thigh, squeezing gently.

"We'll be home soon, baby. Just hang in there for me."

"Hurts," she pouts, and Harry's heart jumps, "Please— can I— will you?"

He swallows, quickly looking over as she wiggles around. In any other situation, he'd say no — they have a pretty firm no-touching-herself rule when he's not there, but he's never seen her drop into her little space so suddenly before. Hesitantly, he nods, stopped at a red light as he reaches up to pluck at the waistband of her leggings.

"Does my baby just need to cum?" he asks as she quickly shimmies the material down.

"Need you to touch me." she whines, hooking her thumbs under her panties and sliding them to the middle of her thighs.

"Okay, okay," he murmurs. The light turns green and he presses on the gas, moving his hand up to hover over her core. Even with the distance between them, he can see how much she's glistening. "Did you make a mess for daddy? Just walking around, having a nice day, and your little pussy got all wet for me?"

"Yes," she gasps, spreading her pussy lips with his fingers.

He begins to thumb at her clit, pressing small circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. She's already whimpering in her seat, eyes falling closed as she wraps her own hand around his wrist, pulling him closer.

"F-feels so good," Y/N mewls, grinding her hips down in time with his hand.

"Such a good girl for daddy," he tries to ignore the straining in his pants as her arousal readily coats his fingers just from a few swirls around her clit. "Cum for me whenever you're ready, bunny. Show me how good you are."

Thankfully, he's turning onto his street as the knot in her core unravels, breathy whimpers and broken calls of his honorific a clear indicator that she's reached her peak. He groans as he feels her pussy contracting, back arched against the leather of the seat.

"Fuck," he mutters, pulling into the driveway, "You're so fucking beautiful."

She barely has a second to breathe before he throws the car in park and unbuckles her seatbelt. He grabs her face between his hands and smushes their lips together, a surprised squeak sounding from her mouth.

"D-daddy," she gasps, her lips curling into a smile as he squeezes her hip.

"My good girl, yeah?" he grins, breaking apart to press their foreheads to one another. "You make daddy so happy."

Y/N giggles. She's still in her floaty headspace but with one orgasm in, it's less desperate and more bubbly. A reminder of how much she adores Harry, even with the rose-tinted glasses of her little space.

"Need more," Y/N breathes, leaning back in to peck his lips, "Please? Want your cock, want you to— to cum deep inside me."

"I know, bunny." he coos, ignoring the way his length twitches in his pants at her needy tone. He reaches up to press a kiss to her forehead. "C'mon, let's go inside. Wanna take you properly."

As soon as she nods, Harry clamors out of the car and winds around to the other side to open the door for her. With her pile of books in her hand and her flushed cheeks, evident of a recent orgasm, he intertwines their fingers together and helps her to the front door, quickly unlocking it.

Harry's no psychiatrist or expert on the manner, but one of the most interesting parts of Y/N being in her little space is that she doesn't even necessarily realize what she's doing. They've spoken about it before and she's revealed that there have times where she's been so deep under, she doesn't have all of her memories. It's a scary thought, but in a stroke of complete and utter honesty, she's explained to him that she trusts him implicitly — to take care of her when her brain is fuzzy, to never take advantage of her or push her beyond her limits.

Truthfully, Harry should've known then that he was in love with her.

And when she waltzes into his apartment, placing her books on the entryway table like she lives here, he's immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, until her back is pressed up against his chest. She giggles out his honorific and it makes him smile into her hair — god, he loves her so much it might make him sick — before he mumbles out instructions to go upstairs to get undressed for him.

As always, she does as she's asked, ever keen on pleasing him. He gives her a moment as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath and running his hand over his face. He's never felt so gone over a girl before, and he's managed to keep it together with Y/N this far — but seeing the way she slipped today and knowing it's just another way of showcasing how deeply she trusts their relationship... it's almost too much.

When he does go upstairs, he's instantly reminded of how uncomfortably hard he is. His eyes wander over her naked body, sprawled out across his bed, her feet flat on the bedding with her legs arched at the knee. She's being good — there have been times where he's found her already toying with her clit or sinking the tip of her finger in, but her hands are at her sides today.

"Good girl," Harry murmurs out as he undoes his belt, the leather falling to the floor. "Tell daddy what you want."

She hums, likely unused to getting a say in the foreplay of their scenes. He realizes that she may not know how to answer, so he attempts to help her along.

"Do you wanna be plugged in your bum? Tied up? Edged?" he asks, clad only in his briefs as he places a knee on the bed and wraps a hand around her ankle. "Tell me why daddy's girl needs."

"Want a plug, please," she says softly, allowing him to stretch her legs out, "Just... just wanna be filled."

"Filled, hm?" he teases lightly, reaching under the bed to rifle through the small box of sex toys. She had a bit of a collection of plugs at home, so she'd brought over a few to keep at his place a month or so back (that had been an interesting day, when he thought she had books or extra clothes in her tote bag only to be met with toys). He pulls out the smallest one since, if he's being honest, the need to be inside her is overwhelming, and he doesn't know how long he can play with her ass before he loses his mind.

"Flip onto your tummy, angel girl." he instructs as he pulls his tee and sweatshirt off. She silently does as she's told, pressing her cheek into one of Harry's pillows. She's instantly flooded with scents of his shampoo and cologne, woody and musky and intensely comforting, and it makes her squeeze her thighs together.

Everything about him makes her warm and gooey inside, as if she's coming to the one place — or person — that always feels like home, no matter how awful of a day she's had. Akin to struggling through a snowstorm, the chill pinging through her body and down to her bones; when she's with Harry, it's like being served her favorite bowl of warm soup and being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dryer.

Harry is her home.

She's floating through this revelation when he pushes her ass cheeks apart, a soft gasp sounding from her mouth when he runs a lubed fingertip around the ring of muscles.

"Such a pretty hole," he murmurs, and she whimpers when she feels him spit, the saliva landing on her asshole, "Love filling you up, you know that? Every last one of these gorgeous holes."

She moans when he fits his finger inside, pushing it all the way to the knuckle. He knows she's experienced with anal so he doesn't feel like he has to be as precious about the process, knowing that she adores the sensation.

"Too bad daddy'll never share you with anyone though. No one will ever get to see how your ass and pussy squeeze around me... that's just for daddy, isn't it?"

Y/N muffles through a moan and he tuts as he pushes a second finger in.

"That's not an answer, bunny. Try again."

She shutters out a sigh and slowly blinks her eyes open, trying her to best not to be overwhelmed by him stretching her out.

"'s just for you, daddy."

"What is, angel?"

"My holes, daddy."

"Good girl," he mumbles, withdrawing his fingers. His cock twitches as he watches her ass gape ever so slightly, the loss of anything inside instantly making her feel empty. It's quickly over, though, because he's rubbing the tip of the lubed plug over her hole. "Deep breath, sweetheart, you know the drill."

Despite doing this numerous times, the stretch never quite gets old for Y/N. (Admittedly, Harry never tires of the view, either.) When her muscles swallow up the thick of the plug, revealing the pink bejeweled end, he groans, tapping it lightly.

"Does that feel better, baby?"

"Uh-huh."

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, daddy."

He smirks and gently pats the backs of her thighs, a wordless gesture to flip back over. She does, her eyelashes fluttering at the feeling of the plug slightly wiggling inside of her, pressing deep against her walls.

She leans up onto her elbows, watching as he palms his length through the material of his underwear. With wide eyes, she looks up at him, trying to ignore the way she can feel her arousal dripping down the inside of her thighs, making a sticky mess.

"What, bunny? Why are you looking at me like you're expecting something?"

Y/N pouts and Harry has to try not to smirk down at her.

"Use your words, angel."

Her pout deepens. They both know what she wants — her pussy is all but screaming for attention — and it's embarrassing to have to admit it. She adores the way he knows her body, but he's clearly feeling just a little meaner tonight by making her verbalize all of the filthy things running through her brain.

"Want you here, daddy." She mumbles cutely, bucking her hips up slightly. He hums and uses a finger to stroke over her mound, down to her crease where her juices are steadily collecting.

"Here?" He asks mockingly, teasing her folds with light movements. It's not enough for her to receive any pleasure, instead just causing her to wiggle around as she attempts to guide him to her pulsating hole.

"Inside," she all but huffs, and he chuckles, removing his touch altogether.

"Ah, where'd my good girl go?" He smirks, "You know that's not how you ask. Plus, if you keep squirming around like this, I'll have to tie you up."

Her stomach clenches at the thought; he's always more keen on edging her until she's crying when he ties her up. She's not in the mood for that tonight — she already feels like he's been edging her by refusing to give into her — so she puffs out a breath, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"Want you in my pussy, please."

"That's all you had to say, baby," Harry murmurs. She wants to roll her eyes but she knows she'll only get spanked for it, so she nods, reveling in the sensation of his hands back on her as he separates her lips, a cooing sound forming from the back of his throat at his eyes gaze over her swollen pussy. "You have a filthy little pussy. Did you know that, bunny?"

She shakes her head.

"Don't lie to daddy," he utters, delivering a swift slap to her clit. It makes her gasp, the quick sting that's gone just as quickly as it came. "You wouldn't be begging for my cock all the time if you didn't."

Some form of an "uh huh" leaves her mouth and he chuckles. Slowly, his fingertip trails down her crease and to the place she needs him most, circling her hole once before pushing in. Her back arches and her eyes squeeze closed, immediately grateful to finally receive something.

"You'll take anything I give you, won't you?" Harry continues as he pumps his finger, "My fingers, my tongue. My cock, of course. Even my cum — made you daddy's little cumslut, didn't I?"

She moans loudly and nods her head, her hair forming messy knots at the friction.

"L-love it," she stutters, the knot in her stomach winding up tightly, "Love feeling your cum inside me, daddy."

"I know you do." He purrs, pushing another finger in. "Bet you'd let me get you all swollen with it if I wanted. Carrying my baby around like the little slut you are."

They're both too wound up to even realize what he's said. They've never breached this territory before, never even considered if a future was in the cards for them. But Y/N's already whining over it before Harry has a chance to second guess himself, her pussy squeezing his fingers rapidly; a telltale sign that her peak is but a few moments away.

"I would, I would," she chants as she pants loudly, "Fuck— fuck, I'm yours, daddy, I—"

Her words are cut off by the throaty moan that parts her lips, the rope in her core finally splitting. It's so much, so good, her muscles contracting around his fingers as he works her through it, never ceasing his praises.

"There's my girl."

"So fucking beautiful for me."

"God, I got so lucky with you. Fuck."

Her pussy is drooling over his hand now, leaking down to the plug still firmly inside of her. He bites his lip at the visual, her hole still throbbing in haphazard pulses as he frees his cock from the confides of his underwear, desperate to feel her.

With fluttering eyes, she blinks her eyelashes open as she watches him, her mind filled with fuzzy static. She doesn't even realize she's leaked spit out of her mouth until he smiles gently, using soft fingertips to wipe it away.

"Already cock dumb, sweetheart?"

She nods.

"Can you take more, or are you done? Squeeze my hand if you want to be done."

She doesn't — although her mind is bleary and struggling to string together coherent thoughts, the idea of not having Harry inside of her seems terrible. She can tell he looks concerned (his eyebrows are knit together ever so slightly as he strokes up and down her arm, waiting for her to say her safe word), but she has no plans of breaking now.

"More," her mouth finally forms around the syllables, pushing it out hoarsely, "Can do it."

"Yeah?" he asks through raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Again, she nods. Hesitantly, he shimmies up the length of her body, knees pressed into the comforter with his length hot and heavy in his palm.

"You know what to do if it's too much. Safe word or squeeze my hand three times."

And then finally — finally — after what seems like hours of teasing and edging (and, quite frankly, it could have been hours; Y/N's too foggy to know), he pushes his cock inside of her and everything feels right. So right, so good, so perfect.

Her jaw drops open and she leans her head against the crook of his neck, his own groans filling the otherwise quiet room. They're not typically this silent, especially when he first enters her — she's usually whimpering and he's teasing her, calling her a dog in heat or something along those lines — but it's just so... fulfilling, and satisfying, that she can't even put it into words.

When he builds up to a steady pace, mewls begin to break free from her throat, her eyes rolling back as she lays down against the pillows again. He leans back onto his heels and pushes her thighs up against her knees, looping his arms around them to keep her there. He's far deeper that way — they can both feel it — and he gets the prettiest views of her fucked out face and plugged up ass.

"Shit — you're so good, my fuckin' girl."

Too hazy to answer, she just nods, echoing his words. "Your girl."

"Yeah? Gonna take my cum, sweetheart? Want me to fuck it deep into you?"

"P-please," she babbles, reaching down between their bodies to play with her clit, "Want— want your babies, wanna be yours, please daddy."

"My sweet girl wants to be a mama?" he's clenching down his teeth so harshly he's nervous he may break something, "I'll give you anything, baby, pump my cum so deep in your womb you won't even remember your fuckin' name."

Chants of please, please, please are all that can leave her at this point, deft fingers rolling over her clit as she feels her third orgasm rapidly approaching. He knows it, too, and he groans at the sensation of her pussy clenching over his cock.

"Cum for me one more time and I'll do it. My fertile little pussy, hm? Pretty fucking girl gonna be the prettiest mama."

That's all it takes for her to explode around him, this time gushing out clear bursts of liquid. He groans and curses, the sight instantly sending him to his own edge. In the back of his mind, he knows that squirting all over his torso and legs will put her to the final brink of exhaustion, and he's internally grateful that he can let go and make good on his promise to her.

So, he does. He finishes deep inside her, pushing his hips all the way up against her bum as his balls throb and empty, fucking his cum as far as it'll go. They're a mess of liquids and sweat and they both know it's gross, but there's not a single place either one of them would rather be.

When her eyelashes flitter open and she looks up at him, an exhausted smile forming on her lips, he swears he's never seen anything more beautiful.

. . .

"What are your plans for the holidays?"

Harry raises his eyebrows as he spoons some more miso soup into his mouth. It's a gloomy Saturday evening, with the temperatures finally dropping down to appropriate autumnal climates. Y/N came over this morning to pick up a book he recommended for her, but — as if either one hadn't expected it — ended up staying all day, basking in the cozy glory of Harry's apartment. They snuggled up on the couch, watching Jeopardy reruns, taking turns napping and retrieving snacks and drinks for the other.

"Well," he clears his throat, "I'm not American so I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving. And Christmas is a bit far away, so I'm not sure. Why?"

She shrugs, pulling her knees up to her chest. "My sister was asking if I'm coming home for Thanksgiving."

"Ah. Are you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Why? Isn't it coming up?"

She nods her head, occupying her fingers with a loose thread at the end of Harry's tee shirt that she had thrown over her body.

"Yeah. I just... I don't know if it's stupid, but I was curious about what you were doing. Before I made any decisions."

Harry's heart thumps in his chest, his entire body warming at her taking his plans into consideration.

"That's sweet of you, baby. Hadn't really thought about it, though."

Again, she nods, and he thinks that may be the end of the conversation. He doesn't want to impose, especially since he thinks he's been doing particularly well with the whole not-confessing-his-love thing, so he unmutes the TV and directs his attention back to the screen.

"Wait!" she blurts out, and he mutes it again through furrowed brows, "What if you... like, came with me?"

"For Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah," she bites her lip, nerves apparent on her face, "It's no pressure, my sister's hosting just 'cos she just bought a house with her girlfriend and they have two dogs that are really cute, and my dad might be there but he's not one of those weird hover-y dads that care about who I bring around, not that he wouldn't care but it would be weird to have to explain how we met, and my mom is probably spending it with my step-dad so it'll be pretty low-key, and—"

"Y/N." Harry cuts her off with a smirk before setting his bowl of soup down on the table. "Breathe. You're gonna pass out, I've never heard you talk so fast."

She takes a deep breath and he smiles, murmuring out a good as he turns to face her.

"I would love to come and celebrate Thanksgiving with you. That sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me."

"Really?"

"Of course," he replies easily. "I love any time we spend together."

Her cheeks warm and she nods, as if she's convincing herself he's being truthful.

"Um... so, like, how should I introduce you?" she asks, and there are so many butterflies swarming Harry's stomach that he doesn't know if he can get any words out.

"Well... how would you like to introduce me?"

She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her lips into her mouth. "I mean, I don't know... maybe, like..."

And then she mumbles something, but it's so low that he can't hear a thing.

"I didn't hear that."

She repeats it, and Harry lets out a laugh when he still doesn't understand her.

"Baby, speak up. I can't hear you."

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyboyfriend."

"What?"

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyBOYFRIEND."

"Y/N, seriously, I don't know—"

"Boyfriend!" she exclaims, "What if I said you were my boyfriend?"

He can't fight the grin that breaks out onto his face, especially given her wide, exasperated eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of teasing her.

"Is this you asking me to be your boyfriend?"

She groans and goes to rise from the couch, only to be quickly brought back down by Harry. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her towards him as his chest vibrates with laughter.

"Ask me properly."

She huffs, twisting in his lap. Swallowing nervously, she looks down, and he intertwines their fingers together.

"Harry... would you want to be my boyfriend?" she peers up at him through her eyelashes and he smiles that big, dimpled smile that she loves, and realizes she has nothing to worry about.

"I would love nothing more than to be your boyfriend."

He decides to save the I-love-you confession for another day, because he wants nothing more than to do things properly with her.

But when a matching toothy grin appears on her face, he mentally amends the one thing he got wrong about her: This is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

655 notes · View notes

tinycoffeeroom · 14 days

Text

end of beginning | carlos sainz

face claim: none ᡣ𐭩

requests: here !

tags: angst, break up (rebeccarlos ily pls this is just for the story)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

september 2023

👤 carlossainz, charles_leclerc liked by carlossainz, chares_leclerc and 70,385 others

y/nstagram boyfie won another race but looking at the second pic, i may be the real winner ❤️

carlossainz princesa, contigo a mi lado, siempre soy el ganador (princess, with you by my side, i'll always be a winner) ↳ y/nstagram stop you'll make me blush 🤭

charles_leclerc stop being gross and in love on my feed ↳ y/nstagram carlossainz should we kiss in front of him again xx ↳ carlossainz sin duda ❤️ (definitely) ↳ charles_leclerc i hate it here

user1 i want to be y/n when i grow up (i am 2 years older than her) ↳ y/nstagram then it should be i wanna be user1 when i grow up 😘 also where is your top from in your pfp, i love it!! ↳ user1 ??? im in love with you ??? it's from this little boutique near my house! i can send you one!!! ↳ y/nstagram omg i will send you the money!! 🫶

user2 this is why we stan y/n, a true girls girl ❤️ ♥️ y/nstagram

francisca.cgomes even the back of you is gorgeous ↳ y/nstagram kiss me. ↳ francisca.cgomes come here 😘 ↳ pierregasly i miss when my girlfriend was only My girlfriend ↳ y/nstagram not my fault she upgraded x ↳ pierregasly i will take carlos out on the first corner don't try me ↳ carlossainz you'll have to catch me first hombre

january 2024

liked by kellypiquet, francisca.cgomes and 39,495 others

y/nstagram bed rotting but make it 🎀 aesthetic 🎀

user1 she still watches f1 y/nsainzers there's hope ↳ user2 she hasn't been to a race in months :((( hope is dwindling

user3 the bear i'm gonna scream, cry AND throw up ↳ user4 what's the significance of the bear?? i'm new to f1 :) ↳ user3 carlos got y/n the bear when he joined f1 so she would have something to remember him by when he went away on race weekends ↳ user4 and she still has it?? it must have been like 10 years ago?? ↳ user3 roughly around that!! 2015 if i'm correct...

kellypiquet i see the red bull on your screen 😉 would love to have you back with me in the paddock, P misses her bestie ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram P saw me last week when i spoilt her rotten in the mall but i may take you up on that offer ❤️

user2 y/n in the red bull garages??? y/nsainzers i fear we've lost her... ↳ user1 carlos may be moving to red bull don't give up hope best friend!

march 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 924,495 others

carlossainz P1 in Australia :) thank you for the well wishes guys, maybe my appendix was what was holding me back 😉🎉

landonorris booking the surgery rn ↳ carlossainz you still wouldn't win muppet ↳ landonorris wow carlos... low blow

user1 the last pic... pls say it's y/n PLEASEEEEEEEEEE acc on my knees rn ↳ user2 i'm down there with you best friend

iamrebeccad congrats mister!! next up: the world championship ♥️ carlossainz

user3 ^^ um guys ↳ user2 don't ↳ user1 don't.

charles_leclerc i'll get you next time... ↳ carlossainz ok charlie, i believe you

scuderiaferrari forza carlos! congrats on P1, not even surgery could keep you down 💪 ↳ user5 you bitches don't deserve to celebrate

maxverstappen1 strong fight there mr sainz! looking forward to japan where i'll be back on top! ↳ carlossainz fuck you This comment has been deleted

user3 UM GUYS??????? ↳ user2 do not look at f1wagupdates i'm being so serious ↳ user1 well now i have to FUCK

liked by user8, user9 and 93,283 others

f1wagupdates Carlos Sainz seen kissing Scottish model Rebecca Donaldson following his Australia GP win. He was previously linked to long time girlfriend Y/N L/N but the pair haven't been seen together since December last year. We guess this marks the end of their decade long relationship.

user2 carlos sainz i'm in your walls.

user1 man, fuck carlos sainz

user3 3 months ?? if that ?? glad his appendix burst ↳ user2 reports (twitter) are saying R + C were first seen together in January... ↳ user3 the c*rlos s*inz voodoo doll is being made as we speak.

user4 all men do is lie. what happened to "until the end of time"... i don't believe in love anymore

user5 i feel so bad for rebecca, y/n's so loved by the paddock and the fans ↳ user3 obvs no hate to rebecca, she's gorgeous and i'm sure she's lovely, this is solely carlos hate ♥️ user1, user2 and 19,349 others

user6 bro fumbled the bag with y/n man

👤 kellypiquet, maxverstappen1, landonorris, redbullracing liked by landonorris, kellypiquet and 58,395 others

y/nstagram different point of view 💙

redbullracing pleasure to have you back in the paddock y/n! see you in japan? 👀 ↳ y/nstagram i'll be there best friends (pls stock up on coconut red bulls) 🫶 ↳ redbullracing 🫡

kellypiquet the last pic?? i love you so much?? ↳ y/nstagram y'all are so cute i couldn't stop myself 🤭

maxverstappen1 thanks for coming y/n! i've missed seeing you around ↳ y/nstagram missed you too maxie! P says she wants me to come to every race so you may be stuck with me this year! ↳ maxverstappen1 just please don't steal my girlfriend ↳ y/nstagram she may be your girlfriend but she's My wife ♥️ kellypiquet

francisca.cgomes why didn't you tell me you were coming!! i would have ditched pierre :(( ↳ pierregasly everyday i wake up ↳ y/nstagram unfortunately ↳ pierregasly bro...

landonorris you got the champagne shot in action! missed seeing you around bug! ↳ y/nstagram had to see it with my own two eyes! congrats on the podium lan, you so deserve it ❤️ ↳ landonorris let's get dinner tomorrow, it's been too long ↳ user1 mr norizz shooting his shot on main damn ↳ landonorris 🤷‍♂️

carmenmmundt all the girls are getting together for dinner and drinks, you coming babe? ↳ y/nstagram i'm having dinner with kelly, max and P but i'll join for drinks after ❤️

user2 goodbye goodbye y/nsainzer's you were brighter than the whole sky ↳ user3 y/n deserves the world, if That Man couldn't give it to her that's on him.

june 2024

👤 kellypiquet, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe liked by kellypiquet, carmenmmundt and 58,029 others

y/nstagram healing ❤️

Comments on this post have been turned off.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz x you

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xpeachesncream · 10 months

Text

seven with you | bands drabble (jjk)

↳ drabbles masterlist

yours (ft. the bands!couple) | drabble seven: it’s time for jungkook’s solo debut and you have a few feelings about it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language, oc experiencing jealousy and insecurity, oc is very supportive but inevitably feels insecure and scared, kook being protective of his family as always, soft and sweet unprotected sex, cowgirl 🤠, making out, neck kisses, sprinkle of breast play, pls excuse any errors as i quickly whipped this up!

a/n: anon, this is for you! 💞 ironically this is my 7th drabble for the couple 😅 hehe coming back to continue feeding into all the thoughts, fantasies, etc etc because of seven promotions. much love, hope you enjoy! so sorry if i missed anyone on my perm taglist, its been so long! i’ll be back again soon 🥰

"So, what's hyung doing? Is he still at rehearsal?" Kai asks on the other line as you sit on the hotel bed, scrolling through your laptop.

"Yeah, he's still rehearsing for tomorrow."

"Do you know anything about the video?" You chuckle a bit and shake your head as if your little brother can see you.

"Mm, no.. besides who's involved. He wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Interesting." Kai laughs. "You're going in blindly with everyone else."

"I sure am." You laugh. "But, it'll be good! I'll get to experience this with everyone. I know it'll be amazing no matter what."

"How come you didn't wanna be in the video?"

"It's not that, I just always told Kook that he shouldn't let me hinder his process. If he wants me involved, then he can get me involved. If not and he chooses to do his own thing, then I'll sit back and support as I always do."

"Truthfully, did you want to be in the video?"

"I mean.." You hum as you tilt your head to the side. "It would've been cute."

"Then, why did you say no?"

"Kai. I just.. didn't want him to feel obligated. Plus, to be frank, I wasn't even sure if I was comfortable. I think Kook could tell, and he didn't wanna force it after that. Or, maybe he just had a revelation and thought it’d be better off not involving me.” You joke.

"Nothing is better off without you, you know that. But, of course. I get everything else that you’re saying.”

"I trust his process, though. I always do."

"True." He laughs. "Okay, shoot. It's about to release." You keep your eyes on the laptop as the music video starts, keeping your brother on the line as he promised he'd watch with you. He was currently at the Choi residence while you ventured out to New York with Jungkook— supporting him from the sidelines for the beginning of his 'Seven' promotions.

You smile as you see Jungkook and Han So Hee together at the table, praising her for being so beautiful and flawless. You giggle every now and then at Jungkook, but then you start to fix on the little details;

The chase.

His effort— though a bit much that it makes you giggle, the effort is there.

The way he looks at her, waits for her at the end.

Holds her hand and walks along her side.

Maybe you should've said yes to being in the video in the first place, then you wouldn't be in this predicament. Though, she fits well. The vibe is immaculate.

Their dynamic? Strong.

Let's take a moment to be real: part of you felt a little jealous at her flawless execution, a little insecure observing how perfect she is. It seems a bit silly if you generally look at it since Jungkook was Jungkook. But, you couldn't help it. You still weren't used to it, even if you reminded yourself every day that your man was Jeon Jungkook.

Even if you reminded yourself of your story with Jeon Jungkook.

Kai is still on the phone, slightly pulling you back to reality with his comments about how 'good hyung looked in the video' and how 'they worked well together.' He must have been tiptoeing with his words, especially when he quickly flips the script and starts to mention the explicit version that still needed to be listened to.

You follow the lead, playing it on your computer while Kai sat on speaker phone. You can hear the audible gasps coming from his end, your own eyes widening at the switch in the lyrics, the sudden shift of the entire song.

Although you were incredibly proud of Jungkook for continuing to step out of his comfort zone, you felt yourself shrinking and shrinking—

Falling into the never-ending pit of insecurity, jealousy, assumptions, what if's, etc etc.,

It was past midnight. Why was rehearsal taking forever?

Felt like hours, and hours.

"The explicit version— I— Wow. There is a lot to unpack here. But, I can't even say that I'm surprised. Hyung pulls it off well. Wanna be like him some day. He just doesn't care what anybody thinks, and he's so cool." Kai laughs with Yeonjun in the background as they continue to listen to the explicit version with you. You hear a faint 'I don't think this version was meant for us' coming from Yeonjun, a small giggle leaving your lips at their commentary.

"Stop." You say just as Jungkook gives three light knocks on the door before tapping the key against the reader and swinging it open. "Hey, I'll call you back later okay? Jungkook just got back."

"Okay! Tell hyung congrats on the solo debut and that we really liked it!"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too!" He says as he hangs up the call. Jungkook strolls in with a big smile on his face as he types away at his phone, small giggles leaving his lips as he approaches you on the bed.

"Babygirl." He smiles at and you places a quick kiss on your lips. "Was that Kai?"

"Yeah, it was." You give him a tiny, pursed smile. "He said congrats on the solo debut and that him and his friends really liked everything." Jungkook pauses before he responds because he's typing another message before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Aw, thanks. That's my guy. Can always count on him." You let out a tiny laugh before avoiding his eyes, silently looking down at your laptop and letting your finger swipe across the trackpad. "You didn't have to wait up, love."

"Of course I did. I needed to catch it at release." You look up at him briefly. "How was rehearsal?"

"Fucking tiring, but we got through it. I'm excited for everyone to see the performances." He smiles and sits next to you. "So, what'd you think?"

"You two were great together, Kook. It was great.” You simply state.

"We were, weren't we? She was so helpful. And I felt at ease, like I didn't have to try much. She was such a natural at everything, it made things go by a lot smoother.”

"I can tell." You respond softly— probably a little too softly because Jungkook's smile slightly fades. Then, the thoughts start to swarm again just as you look at him. You quickly divert your attention by subtly biting onto your bottom lip, looking towards the hotel window when cars are honking their horns out on the street.

Of course, they were assumptions.

But of course, they were stupid, silly little thoughts stemming from your insecurity; occupying every corner of your brain, making you believe this skewed perception, this-whole-thing-that-is-a-thing-but-not-really-a-thing-because-there-aren't-any-facts-to-back-it-up—

"Hey." He pulls you out of your thoughts by taking your chin and making your eyes meet his own deep, brown orbs. "Talk to me, baby. I can hear you thinking. D-did you not like it? It's okay if not, you know? You can tell me. I value your opinion more than anything"

"What, no!" You shake your head. "I mean, no, of course I loved it. I loved every bit of it. It's amazing, and you know you always blow me away with everything you do." You cup his cheeks and let out a soft sigh. "I really do think you're amazing. I just.. maybe part of me kind of regrets not doing this with you?" He lets out a small breath before taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

"Are you saying that just because you saw her in the video?"

"Maybe? And, it did look easy. Everything looked so natural, especially for her. You two meshed well. I—I don’t know. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this anymore."

"Hm." He hums before tapping your thigh and bringing you onto his lap. You brush the hair out of his face while he wraps his arm around your waist, laying a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Baby, you know when I told you about it, I could tell you weren't comfortable with the idea. The last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable or unhappy."

"No, I know, Kook. It's not your fault. Trust me. It was beautiful and I really enjoyed it. I just.. felt a bit insecure especially since you didn't push on it. I thought you realized I wouldn’t work. She was way better and you totally saw that. You had this vision with her, and the thought made me feel a bit jealous too. I guess."

"I know this is easier said than done, but don't be. I love you." He brushes the hair away from your face this time. "You don't have to go out of your way to stand out or catch my attention. You don't have to prove anything to me, anyone. Plus, part of me felt kinda dumb for implying the idea knowing how it'd make you feel and how much attention it'd bring."

"What do you mean?"

"I realized it was probably better off this way simply because I didn't want people to paint this picture about us, or to assume our relationship was a certain way. I know there's already lots of things to be said about the video or the song itself, about our story— but at the end of the day, they don't know us like we know us and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

Because even though the relationship is out there, it's not out there. Jungkook tries to keep things balanced, keeping things private as much as possible out of safety— to create boundaries between his professional and private life. He would always put you and Kai first, keeping your safety, your comfortability and your happiness a priority.

Over everything, anything.

The moment he felt your uneasiness while mentioning the video, he retracted. He never wanted to force you, or make you do something that was too out of your comfort zone. He didn't want to cross that line of putting too much out there because he was happy with how things were. It was enough, just enough. And that's all he needed.

You were happy, Kai was happy.

Why would he ever push and ruin that?

"You're right. I understand."

"I hope that helps put you at ease a bit, princess. You can always talk to me about it. There was really no other reason behind me not pushing the idea." He caresses your cheek. "Okay? Nothing else." He kisses your cheek, before your lips. He gently taps the side of your hips before adjusting you on his lap and having you straddle him full on. You wrap your arms around his neck while he stares at you in pure adoration, a smile painted across his lips before he speaks again— "You're my muse. You're in everything that I do, bits of you are sprinkled everywhere. Everywhere that I go, songs that I've created, lyrics scribbled on paper, doodles on my notebook— everything." His hands travel up your sides, giving them a tiny squeeze as he lets out a small exhale against your lips. "You will always be my muse."

"I'm sorry, Jungkook."

"Don't be sorry." He chuckles a bit. "Everything you felt was valid, and I always want you to come to me about these things." You rest your forehead against his.

"I really did enjoy it, though. You always blow me away with everything you do." You kiss him just as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

"Yeah?" He chases after your lips, large hands grazing your back as he holds you close to him.

"Mhm." You giggle before poking the tip of his nose. "And uh, the explicit version of the song— we listened to it right before you walked in."

"Cool, huh?" You laugh and shake your head.

"You're crazy."

"You know.." He smirks before biting onto his bottom lip. "Think there's a little bit more explaining I can do for that one. But, I think it'd be better if I showed you."

"Oh?" You watch as Jungkook tears his beanie off and tosses it aside. "I think that'd be good." He leans forward for another kiss— but this time, it's deep. Deep enough for Jungkook to take in a strong inhale through his nose, shakily letting out an exhale once he parts from your lips. He doesn't waste any time before he's kissing you again, tongue swiping against your bottom lip before easing it in. His fingers trace your bare skin underneath your shirt, tips digging into your sides again when he feels you slowly rock against him— his length growing incredibly hard beneath you.

"Yeah, it would be good. Right?" He lets out a small moan in between kisses, hissing when he feels your lips make their way down to his jaw, neck. His hands travel to the hem of the shirt you're wearing, slowly prying it off and tossing it aside. He continues to sit on the edge of the bed while you straddle him, your hands now fiddling with his shirt before he pulls it over his head and joins yours off to the side.

"You aren't tired?" You lay some lazy kisses along his throat, sucking and nipping gently on the surface while his fingers tug at the fabric of your panties.

"Nope, not anymore." You make your way back up to his lips, relishing in every kiss, every squeeze— every bit of Jungkook. Midway, he finally helps you out of your panties before shifting his sweats and boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

"You sure?" You tease as you waste no time wrapping your hand around his member, pumping him a few times while listening to him let out a few moans.

"Positive, baby. Need you." He mutters as he signals for you to sink down his length. You do as told, slowly, easily, sinking down until he completely fills you up and bites his bottom lip. "Just like that. Right where you should be."

"Feel so full already, Kook." He chuckles as he adjusts himself better on the bed, tattooed hands traveling up your back, caressing your body, as he showers your tits with kisses. He takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling around the hardened peak before pulling back with a pop. Just as you continue to roll against him, he takes the other— giving his tongue a little more freedom to explore before sucking and giving it a quick pop. He continues to shower your chest with feathery kisses, moving to your shoulders and arms while you continue to set the tempo.

"So good— fuck." He moans. "You're doing so good, baby." He tightens his grip around your hips as he continues to praise you. "Just like that." He repeats. You whine, lips grazing his as you work him, ride him— feeling every inch of Jungkook inside of you. The way that your walls engulf him— squeeze him— with every roll of your hips makes it hard for him to hold on. Though, he can tell you're slowly tipping over the edge.

It's the way your face contorts in pleasure.

Your inaudible, silent moans.

The way your body stiffens when you work against him, relishing every bit of his cock before repeating the rhythm.

And he's right, you are close. So close. Jungkook pulls you into a sloppy, wet kiss before he slightly backs away to observe your face, you. He chases after your lips once more, biting onto your bottom lip and making you let out a moan that sounds like music to his ears.

The chase.

His effort.

The way he looks at you in pure adoration, easing you to the edge to see you in pure ecstasy.

Holding you close, keeping his hands on you at all times.

You continue picking up the pace a bit, causing enough friction against your heat. Jungkook calls your name, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as his hand rests on the nape of your neck— the other hand still on your hip. He starts to match your rhythm, your tone, thrusting upwards into you to fully tip you over the edge.

"Kook, I'm— I'm gonna— fuck." You whine as you become desperate, feeling the high settle into the pit of your gut. Finally, you tremble against him and moan loudly against him; hand squeezing his tattooed bicep, the other tangled in his black locks.

"That's it. Good girl." He caresses your back, continuing to thrust himself into you even as you try to come back down from your high. But now, he's there, and he's desperate for his own release. "You're my babygirl. You're everything to me. Everything." You moan loudly with him as he gives you one, two, powerful thrusts. "Everything that I do, everywhere I go. You're my muse. You're mine." He says against your ear, panting as he snaps his hips against you at a faster pace while holding you close; the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. It's not long before Jungkook is coming undone, the aftershocks still rippling through your body. His cheek is pressed against yours as he pants and lets out a few whines, your walls milking every last bit of him until the very end.

"Kook." You whisper. "I love you. I'm so proud of you and I love you." He laughs lazily as he rubs at your hips.

"I love you too, princess. Good enough explanation for that?"

"Maybe." You giggle as you hop off and scurry off to the bathroom for a quick shower.

"I mean.. we can do more—" He trails behind you and welcomes himself into the shower.

"Jungkook, you need to be up in 3 hours." Your voice echoes in the shower and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

"And?" He laughs. "Running on no sleep is how I work."

"You're too much." You giggle when Jungkook turns you around and wraps his arms around you.

"Baby, baby, baby." He says smugly. "There's more that I'll need to show you, especially for the album."

"Jungkook." You try to scold him but you squeal when he has you wrap your legs around him and presses your back against the tiled wall— the night only leading to more sweet nothings, praises and genuine love. Jungkook loving on you, just as you with him.

Because, you are his muse. You are in everything he does, bits of you sprinkled in everything.

No matter the circumstance. No matter the day, time, year.

You will always be his muse.

permanent taglist: @spideyjimin @miinoongi @thebeebi @ggukkieland @bluesharksandfish @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine @codeinebelle @shesoldbutcute @jikookiekosmos @awhnamjoon @namjooningelsewhere @bunnybearrj @babycoffeefire @bri-mal @sintaethick @taejkjoons @love2luvya-blog @pb-n-juju @dianaxnyc @fan-ati--c @jungjoonie @jcsmae @favouritesblog @ppeachyttae @awseokjin @jjk1iscoming @moonchild1 @vantxx95 @genzslayer @knjeuphoria @jksjx @oogawooga222 @yoonqki @halesandy @chimchimmarie @chimsworldsstuff @persphonesorchid

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netherfeildren · 4 months

Text

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Size Difference; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

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He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him.

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it.

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself.

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine.

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good.

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you.

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other.

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway.

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him.

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention.

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here.

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be.

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it.

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him.

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it.

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu.

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please.

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge?

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely.

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point.

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.”

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you.

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one.

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore.

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore.

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there.

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence.

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up.

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long.

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of.

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return.

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger.

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side.

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing.

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt.

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough.

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom.

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.”

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about.

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his.

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm.

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him.

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this.

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him.

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others.

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here.

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth.

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart.

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him.

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can.

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had.

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary.

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins.

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake.

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him.

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice.

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside.

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence.

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time.

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain.

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart.

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing.

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless.

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

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