#and be excited for what will happen in them

[parfaitblogs]

hard times ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid doesn’t follow through one time, and you really hate that he has a psychology degree.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: daddy issues. shoutout to the girls with inconsistent fathers this ones for you. established relationship. readers mentioned wearing makeup, a dress and heels. rational bf!spencer reid fuck i would hate a profiler bf. word count: 1.8k a/n: not a trauma dump fic not a vent fic do not read into this fic at all don't even start to speculate on my life and where these emotions came from they're all fake made up not real make pretend. no photos no aesthetics just me, a tumblr account, and a dream for this baddie.

In all your months of dating Spencer Reid, he had never forgotten anything. Not a date, not a work event. Or, at least, he's never forgotten to call. Even when you had been so busy one week you could barely spare him more than a ten minute phone call a day, he remembered what was going on in your life enough to be there for you. 

A false blanket of security draped over your relationship, is what it is now. 

A blanket he seemingly had no trouble ripping off you a random Friday evening, throwing it in a fire and watching it — and your trust in him — burn into dust. 

Perhaps a tad dramatic for what was happening, but you were always one for theatrics when it came to your emotions. Usually, he welcomed it. He was (abashedly) similar, after all.

Not that he was even here to welcome it. 

You'd looked pretty. You'd felt pretty. Past tense, for your shoes were strewn somewhere across the floor after throwing them in frustration, and your makeup was ruined after unwelcome tears had streamed down your face an hour ago. You had been ready for a dinner date you and Spencer had scheduled in only three days ago — penciled in, for you never knew what his work schedule was going to end up being.

You're not sure how long you sat in that one spot on the couch, mind going through every single possible scenario that could've happened between the text he sent you that morning saying he was excited to go out tonight, and the lack of his appearance this evening. 

The logical conclusion is that he got too busy, and he forgot. But Spencer Reid's whole thing is that he doesn't forget. Oftentimes he considers it a curse. You never really agreed with him. Until now, it seemed. 

The less than logical, emotionally driven conclusion, is that he actively chose to stay at work to avoid coming home because he didn't want to see you. Or he didn't actually want to go to dinner, and he didn't know how to tell you. Or his team offered to go out and he'd rather hang out with them instead of you. 

Really, the reasons are endless, and any rational conclusion was lost on you. Mind swallowing you whole as you continued to stare off into space, visibly shaking and head beginning to pound from the crying.

A glance at the clock told you it was near midnight by the time you heard the door handle rattle and twist open, tired, puffy eyes blinking to adjust to the light filtering in from the apartment hallway. 

"Hey. Why're you out here? It's late. I thought you'd already be in bed," Spencer rambles absentmindedly, voice so disconnected from you it only made the ache in your chest worse. As he flicks the light on and assesses the state of the apartment, he asks, "What're your shoes doing on the floor?"

You blink a few times. Was he pretending to be dumb on purpose? 

You stand on cramped legs, stretching them for the first time since you'd sat unknowingly on the couch nearly six hours ago, dress bunching around your waist. You didn't bother to fix it. 

Like a switch, he clicks, his bag sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud, realisation settling into his features. 

"Our date. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, angel."

"Yeah. I'm sure," you croak, voice hoarse as you pick up your shoes pathetically in front of him, the heels clacking together as you walk towards your bedroom door. 

He calls your name, and after you make no effort to return to him, you hear his feet against the wooden flooring, carrying himself to you.

You're in the ensuite, beginning to take makeup off you probably should've removed four hours ago. It was stupid hope you held on to, anyways. 

"You're upset. I know. It was awful of me to forget our date," he stands in the doorway, staring at you through the mirror. Even indirectly, you can't make eye contact with him. 

"You forgot," you repeat back to him, almost dumbfounded. "You forgot?"

"Forgot isn't... the best word," his fingers dig into his eyes for a split second, and you watch him think. "I got caught up at work. We had a case, then we didn't have a case, then we did, so we started looking into it, and time just... escaped. From all of us."

"Time just escaped."

Your parroting wasn't doing much to further the conversation, and you watch as Spencer averts his gaze to the floor to take a deep breath, before his eyes land back on you again.

"It isn't the best reason, I know. But it's the truth," he says. 

"Uh-huh," you mumble, discarding your cotton pads stained with your makeup into the trash. 

"Can you stop being evasive?" he catches your wrist before you can return to the sink. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, almost earnestly. "It's okay that you forgot, Spencer. I won't take it personally at all, and things between us are just dandy!"

"I want to know what you're actually feeling," he replies, voice flat with his irritation, before he forces himself to soften it. "I can't reassure you if all I know is that you're angry."

"Hurt. Forgotten. Disregarded. Disliked. Irritated we're doing this in our fucking bathroom."

At that, he leads you into the bedroom, turning the ensuite light off. "Forgotten and disregarded are synonyms, so I'm assuming that's what you feel the most."

"You're the psyche expert," you mumble, bitterly.

"I'm not trying to be your psyche expert," he quips, and your heart sinks. "Why're you feeling forgotten?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded, for a beat. "Because my boyfriend quite literally forgot about me?"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"—No, you're right. You just forgot about the date that you literally fucking texted me about this morning!" you snap, voice rising in a way that makes you cringe. Yet, you can't stop it. "You! Spencer Reid! Forgot!"

"Don't yell at me, please," he takes a step towards you; you take a step back. 

"Why did you forget? Did you choose to? Are you pretending that you forgot about it all to save your ass?"

"No," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't. I told you what happened. You're choosing not to believe me."

"How am I meant to believe that? It's a shit excuse—"

"—It's the truth—"

"—God, you can lie, Spencer! Men lie!" 

He goes silent, as do you. You become trapped in an uncomfortably intense staring contest with him, as you watch his brain slowly tick over and decipher what you were saying, and come up with a response. Yours, however, splits open with your own self hatred. Disdain for what you had just said to him.

"Okay," he exhales, very slowly. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me how right I am."

"You're going to profile me?"

He pauses. "I'm sure it'll come off that way. I'm not trying to," when you don't protest again, he continues. "I think you're less upset about the fact that I didn't come home for a date, and more about the fact that I didn't message you about it. I've not shown up for dates before. I've always contacted you prior to let you know. And I've promised I would always contact you if something came up that interfered with our plans. Ultimately, I said I would do something, and I didn't follow through. That is on me, and I'm sorry. What isn't on me, is how you're reacting. Which is childish, honey. You're acting like a petulant child, and I don't mean that as an insult, because I'm almost certain I know why."

Your silence is his cue to continue, but he pauses to collect his thoughts. Your lower lip is beginning to wobble, and he feels awful.

"You know how our childhoods affect us," he says, and the second what he's about to say to you clicks in your brain, your teeth clamp over your lip, and your eyes drop to the ground. "Reactions from parents to things we do, things others do, things they do, all builds up in our subconscious. Having a parent who didn't show up for you time and time again, built up in your subconscious. So yes, you're reacting to me not following through with something childishly. I will not take that back. But that reaction is not your fault. It's in response to a trigger, and the person in control of that emotional response is not adult you. It's the little girl who got let down by her father. I won't ever hold that against you."

Your sniffle breaks the deafening silence that follows his tangent. You allow him to envelop you into a hug, at which you break down into a fit of sobs akin to the ones from earlier. 

"I hate you," you stutter out in between sobs, voice muffled by his chest. 

"You can't say that while hugging me," he counters. It was true, as your hands had wrapped around his waist just seconds ago.

"I hate you," you repeat, punctuating your words with a poke to his back. 

"I love you," he replies, instead. His fingers thread through your hair as he cradles your head with his other hand. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you about being busy."

You swallow the lodged sob in your throat with a hiccup. "I'm sorry I acted like a petulant child. And I'm sorry that my dad sucks."

"I'm sorry your dad sucks too," you feel him kiss the top of your head. "Have you eaten?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, and he pulls back, hands slipping down to your cheeks, catching the tears. 

"Do you want to eat?"

"The restaurant we were going to is closed," you mumble.

"Maybe. But the Thai place isn't."

"I'm pretty sure it is," you counter, and his eyebrows furrow. "It's past midnight now."

His face falls, he waits a beat, before his hand drops to your own, and he's tugging you towards the door of the bedroom. "Okay. Fine. Well, the Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed."

"I asked for pasta last night and you said the kitchen was closed."

"You asked at three in the morning," he deadpans, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools. 

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed," you mock his voice from earlier.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen rules are made by Spencer Reid."

"The rules should be lenient of Spencer Reid's girlfriend."

"Do you want pasta or not?"

"Yes," you quickly say with a firm nod. "Sorry."

He spends the first hour of that Saturday making you pasta; and making up the missed date.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[krystella-shifts]

EVERYTHING IS CLICKING FOR ME Y'ALL!!! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

The only post you'll ever need for LOA. Literally.

It's so easy to manifest literally so easy once you do this. JUST SIT BACK AND RELAX, BE IN RECIVING MODE INSTEAD OF CONSTANTLY FEELING LIKE YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. Yes sometimes it can be hard when you feel panic that you have to manifest as fast as possible but trust me once you TRUST, it'll all fall into your lap at the snap of a finger! Literally. You'll even feel better and happy instead of worrying and feel like waiting forever. The universe/god/your higher self, whatever you believe in is telling you or teaching you that the way isn't through worry, stress, pain, suffering. The way is through ease, love, trust. Once you understand this you'll ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS be able to manifest without any effort. Yes, no need for that 21 days challenge, no need to set a reminder for every hour to affirm, no need to try hard to visualise every teeny tiny detail. Just have this inner knowing and relax. That's the cheat code. How easy is that? You literally have the cheat code and it doesn't require ANY effort outside and the most minimal effort inside.

Now let me explain all the manifestation techniques in more detail.

Every manifestation technique has one goal:

Think about any technique. Affirming, visualising, scripting,etc. All of these are for what? To remind you, you have your desire. YES not to get something. That's why Neville said feel it real is very powerful technique. Cuz that's what happens when we receive something right. But what we do in loa is we feel it rn and get it rn, and because the 3d is in the past, yes it's our past assumptions, that's why we say it's not real. So when we feel it real we already have our desire in the present, but the 3d is not in the present. So don't react to it. Just remember that. And after a few days of having our desire we don't get THAT excited, do we? So when you think about it again you don't have to feel anything or do anything cuz you already have it. AND THEN WE JUST SIT BACK AND RELAX. Again the same conclusion. Cuz that's it!

ALL YOU NEED TO EVER DO:

Decide what you want. And feel having it.

Remind yourself that you have ___ either saying it in your head, writing it down, etc

RELAX. SIT TF BACK. YES YOU DON'T NEED TO DO ANYTHING.

Whenever you think about ___ always remember you have it. And think naturally. How would you think having ___ cuz you do now.

Remember the 3d is a product of your past assumptions. Just like how we see the stars 8 years later of their actual form. Just like it takes 8 minutes for sunlight to reach the earth. If you remember this you won't ask "where it is" you know it is here. And yes u can manifest Shifting too.

Allow it to come to you. I don't chase i attract.

Yes that's what it means. And I am the living proof for that 😌💅🏻✨ I am literally living my dream life and bestie you are too. That's all you need to manifest (aka yourself). It's very simple but if you have any questions feel free to comment and keep me updated on your manifestation journey and success stories cuz I'd love to read them and know if my post helped you 🤭🥂 (atleast you can do that for me, right? ;p)

Love, ... redkittyjellyfish? Wait i need to change my user name 💀 (ps. I changed my user from redkittyjellyfish - Krystella-Shifts (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) )

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[paddockletters]

redeemed | lando norris

summary: After a messy breakup, Lando’s fans blame his best friend for ruining his relationship. request: yes! sorry took me too long :(( tbh, this had been sitting in drafts for a while because i wasn’t entirely convinced about it (still not 100%, to be fair), but i thought, “Well, maybe they’ll like it,” so here it issss

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and 982,273 others

landonorris: Another race weekend!

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user1: I want to be Y/N so baaaad🤧 lando’sgf: love you so muchhhh!!!❤️ user2: Y/N made it again in Lando’s post, love them! user3: I’d love a friendship like Lando and Y/N’s 😭😭😭

yourusername: Great weekend, miss you alredy muppet 🤧❤️

landonorris: It was! When are you coming to visit again?

user4: Lando replied to Y/N but not his gf…💀💀 user5: THE fit, THE smile, THE overtakes 😭 user6: She really needs to back off from Lando and Alice user7: Photo 3 >>> everything else 🫠

lando’sgf posted a story.

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55 and 76,261 others

yourusername: About last month 💗

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carlossainz55: Feeling special for being in your post 🤧

yourusername: You should, cos it won’t happen again 💀

user8: Lando’s smile in the 3rd photo? how do I sign up for your life? 😭 user9: She can’t post without Lando or some driver in it 🤮

user10: True that, she’s all about the fame

user11: living my dream life AND looking flawless while doing it?❤️😭 user12: always getting in the way of Lando and Alice, proper messing with them 🙄

user13: what are you on about? Lando and Y/N have been friends for yearsss 🤡

user14: well, why didn’t anyone know about her till now? she just wants Lando for the fame, no doubt

landonorris posted a story

lando’s gf posted a story.

lando’s gf

Liked by yourusername and 21,939 others

lando’s gf: ❤️❤️

landonorris

Liked by oscarpiastri and 1,283,934 others

landonorris: Free time when I’m not driving a F1 car around the world

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user15: Lando— HAHAHA

user16: where’s Alice???

user17: y'all are obsessed with his gf, mind your own business ffs

user18: Bet Y/N’s asking Lando not to take Alice 🙄

user19: giiiirl, touch some grass! Alice has been back in her country

user20: Y/N’s always with Lando, so he’s footing the bill for everything

user21: Everything, mate—GP trips, holidays, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got him paying her rent too 🤮

user22: I wouldn’t want to be Alice, seeing Y/N everywhere around Lando 💀

landonorris just posted a story.

yourusername posted a story

yourusername

Liked by max33verstappen and 39,983 others

yourusername: [No caption]

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user23: an unexpected crossover user24: Oh, so the gold-digger’s moved on to someone else now? user25: Hope you’re proud of yourself for ruining Lando and Alice’s relationship, biTCH user26: Hope you die

carlossainz55: should I feel proud because you went to a Real Madrid match or bad for "L" because you went out with someone from that team???

carlossainz55: nah, estoy orgulloso

user27: stay away from Lando, you slut

This post is unavailable

lando’sex-girlfriend

liked by 172,982

lando’sex-girlfriend: A little miracle is on the way, and we couldn’t be more excited. 👼

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user28: Nearly had a heart attack, thought Lando was going to be a dad 😭😭😭 user29: No way, she was the one who cheated 💀 user30: 💀

landonorris

Liked by charles_leclerc and 1,928,388 others

landonorris:  I lost the best thing in my life because of all of you.

Because of your words, your hate, your accusations. You turned her into the villain when all she ever was, was my best friend.

You all tore us apart, pushed me to let go of the one person who truly mattered, all because you couldn’t mind your own business.

And now, seven months later, I see the truth—she was never the problem. I was. I should’ve fought for her. But instead, I let you win.

I’ll never forgive myself for that. I lost her because of you.

—Lando

View all the commments

user31: lando, you did what you thought was best at the time. We’re all human, and nobody should have been attacking her like that

user32: we judged her without knowing the full story 🤧

user33: can’t believe we believed the lies

user 34: I feel so bad now

danielricciardo: Lando, I’ve got your back. It’s crazy how people act like they know your life when they don’t 🤛

user35: It’s hard to see things clearly when the pressure is on you. Glad you’re speaking out now, nobody deserves that kind of hate, especially someone as good

user36: It’s obvious she meant a lot to you but the media and fans never understood that

user37: We were too quick to judge her

maxverstappen1: People love to talk without knowing the full story. Stay strong, mate, always here if you need to talk 🤜🤜

time skip

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and 2,951,052 others

landonorris: I don’t think there’s anyone who deserves this more than her. From being the absolute boss she is in everything she touches to owning this year’s CEO of the Year award (seriously, she’s amazing), I couldn’t be prouder I of course I’m the best wag

View all the commments

user38: YOUR WIFE?!?!? 😱 i can’t even process it. Lando, what’s happening?!

user39: wait, I thought you were single?? How did we miss this??

user40: no… I THOUGHT THE WERE FRIENDSS????

user41: wait a damn minute—Lando’s married??!! And she’s holding CEO of the year??? I need answers 😭

user42: OH MY GODDD She’s literally living the dream!! And Lando, we all knew you were the best, but now you’ve just confirmed it

user43: HE’S MARRIED?!? And she’s CEO OF THE YEAR?!?! You guys are literally goals

user44: i’m happy for you but also I’m crying in my room so… mixed emotions 🫠🧡

user45: Y/N is literally TOO perfect and it’s offensive to the rest of us 😭😭😭

user46: No hate, but also… I’m fighting for my life over here while Y/N is living my dream 😭

user47: @/yourusername you wake up every day and think, ‘how can I flex on everyone today?’ Because wow 💀

[femchef]

Some really cool ongoing research and clinical studies are being done about the affects of what have been recently termed ‘ultra-processed’ foods have on bodies - that sounds like a “duh” project but!!! It’s really awesome because the research is attempting to narrow down the whys and whats and it’s been yielding some cool results????

Short notes:

- researchers are attempting to nail down categories of processed food - I’m not sold on the categories yet, but nothing is 100% and I would consider this still early stage research, though ground breaking

- processed food isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and actually there are quite a few processed foods that aren’t harmful to you, which is good, because people deserve ease of access to food

- ‘ultra-processed’ is a really new term - currently this category encompasses foods that meet a very specific criteria: example, whole-food products which have been broken down into individual nutritive or non-nutritive components and re-configured into another product with the addition of other additives used in place of now-missing natural components - the difference between whole fat yogurt and low-fat yogurt is a good example (full fat yogurt requires less ingredients - literally just milk and a bacterial agent to activate the coagulative properties of lactic acid on already existing proteins; skim or low fat yogurt requires a few additional gelling, preservation and setting agents because in removing the fat you remove a lot of the protein so you have to mimic the natural process with something else; also if you have an instant pot use it to make yogurt it’s fun and easy and tastes good).

- (also please watch out for health influencers and companies throwing around the new term ‘ultra-processed’ and don’t let them make it confusing you know they’re gonna run with that one tbh)

- CARBS ARE GOOD FOR YOU. YOU NEED THEM. That is very important ok don’t stop giving yourself carbs

- on that note - FATS ARE GOOD FOR YOU. YOU NEED THEM. That is ALSO important and something you should not stop eating.

- so the really cool point: research is showing that THE LITERAL PROCESSES we use to manufacture cheap food products are causing issues - because they are too calorie dense!! Example: dehydrating foods concentrates calories and nutrients and makes those foods super calorie-rich (think protein bars before a marathon); the reason for this isn’t necessarily bad either - we have foods like this because food researches and nutritionists have spent decades trying to pack as much nutrition into inexpensive food as possible to ostensibly keep things like pellagra from happening. There are other affects manufacturing has in foods but this point is the salient one

- in terrible, unscientific terms, you could think of it as something like we’ve concentrated the power of our food a little too much and need to pull back - dial it down a bit, as it were.

- additionally, a loaf of sourdough from your local bakery made in house is healthy, as a opposed to a loaf of wonder bread at the grocery store or the frozen shipped in bread at the Panera - both of which have shelf-stable additives, but! That also doesn’t mean that those products are wholly bad - again, see point above about how not all processed foods are bad.

- another interesting part of the research, though to me it reads a bit more speculatively at the moment, is that the hyper-intense pairings of fat -salt-sugar in foods is something that our bodies get super excited about and want to eat more of, because those combinations so rarely occur naturally. I want to see more on that point over the years, but it does tie back to our food being a bit too concentrated in all points thing above.

- in related but slightly separate research we are finding that starch foods - potatoes, rice, etc - if made about 12 hours ahead and chilled then reheated have more accessible nutrients and healthy carbohydrates and also don’t hit your body’s sugar levels negatively.

All that to say that OP is right and should say it.

There’s a nice, condensed article in The New Yorker this week if you want to read a little more and get the names of the researchers - don’t let the title scare you off, it’s written like clickbait on purpose.

‘bread is bad for you’ ‘rice is bad for you’ sorry im not subscribing to the idea that staple grains that have been integral to cultures for centuries are evil. i love you carbs

[xhyjin]

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who recently moved into the house nextdoor with his nephew yuji who had been orphaned. he was against all of it, he never planned on becoming the father of his brothers child but he was left with no choice and as much as he pretended, he loved that little boy too much to leave him for foster care.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who ignores you because he’s not here to chit chat and make himself known in the neighbourhood, he’s just here to raise his nephew/son in good and safe environment until he’s old enough to protect himself and he can get the hell out of this suburban hell. when you first knocked on his door as him and yuji were unpacking the boxes of their belongings, he almost slammed the door right back when you started introducing yourself like some missionary but when you mentioned baking brownies for them he snatched them and closed the door right back.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who thought of you as an annoying pest that he just couldn’t get rid of no matter how much raid he sprayed on you (ignored you) it seems like you were everywhere, in the grocery store, in the neighbourhood park, in front of yuji school, what are you doing there anyways? it’s not like you got a kid… he’s starting to believe your stalking him or something.

next door neighbour dilf sukuna! who discovers your yujis teacher, that explains why you were in front of the school every morning and during pick ups. he’s still going to ignore you though.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who will roll his eyes every time you ask for something, whether it be sugar or advice on fixing your leaky faucet. he’ll take it as an excuse to go inside your apartment to “fix” said leaky faucet, but he just wants to see if your place matches you, if you’re pretending to be all bubbly and sweet just because you’re yuji’s teacher. but when he walks into your kitchen and sees framed pictures of you and your students, stick-figure art with messy handwriting on your fridge, and messy alphabet letters on papers on your counter, he can’t help but smirk just because he finds it a tad bit cute how you keep your students’ stuff like a proud mother.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who always happens to just be there at the right time every time. you’re locked out of your house? he’s there with a smug comment about how “you’re helpless without him,” while busting your doorknob and letting you back inside. don’t worry, he’ll fix and replace that doorknob for you later. carrying groceries? he’s sitting on his front steps when he spots you and rushes over to carry your one bag of groceries that, mind you, were super light, but he’ll still mutter something about how weak you are. over time, you get so used to having him there and helping you with stuff that when he’s not around, you feel a weird knot in your stomach.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who, every time during pick-ups or drop-offs, is standing in front of his car with his arms crossed, watching yuji skip his way into your arms and greet you with a cheerful “hi, miss l/n.” oh, does his heart swell when he sees how excited yuji is to see you. yuji wouldn’t stop talking about you all weekend and kept begging to go next door to your house, but sukuna wouldn’t allow it. he might act like he’s too cool to care, but he’s incredibly supportive of yuji. every time, after all your students are in class and the parents are leaving, sukuna lingers until it’s just you and him, starting a small conversation about yuji’s latest achievements. “that kid’s a genius,” he’ll say, watching as yuji takes his seat, not even noticing he’s blushing with pride.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who, every weekend, invites his “buddies” over for loud barbecues, complete with laughter and music that keeps you awake all night. the next morning, he’s standing on your porch with a plate of leftover ribs, unapologetic and smirking when you complain about the noise. one day, while picking up yuji, he casually asks if you want to come to his barbecue. when you’re about to decline, explaining that you’re not comfortable meeting so many people at once, he quickly adds that it would just be him and you. gosh, is he excited when you sweetly say “okay” with a faint blush, but he keeps up his nonchalant act and says, “see you then.” as soon as his back is turned, he has the biggest smile on his face, his cheeks burning red. does he have feelings for you? absolutely.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who’s decided he’s no longer going to beat around the bush (not that he ever has since meeting you.) if you notice he has feelings for you, good. if not, he’s just going to keep up his subtle acts of “profession of love” until you do. at the barbecue, he’s decorated his backyard with fairy lights, faint music, and two steaks are already cooking on the grill. when he opens the door and sees you holding a tray of brownies, just like the first time you met, he has to stop himself from kissing you silly. how can you be so perfect? he lets you in and guides you to the backyard, where yuji is already waiting. you light up when you see your favorite student, and as sukuna works on the steaks, he watches you and yuji talk and play games. he starts imagining what life would be like with you. you already look like a family right now.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! who realizes how fast his feelings are developing for you. he went from finding you annoying to seeing you everywhere he went, to now looking for you in every crowd and room. this was getting serious more than he liked to admit and sukuna is not a man to sit and wait. he’s going to ask you out, and if you reject him, that’s fine. he’ll go back to finding you annoying and everything else. but right now, he just needs to know the answer. he starts jogging shirtless every morning like clockwork to ease his mind about asking you out. when he catches you staring at him as you water your hydrangeas, he smirks like he planned the whole thing.

next door neighbour dilfsukuna! during one of his jogs, he’ll finally run up to you, stopping you dead in your tracks as you pretend you weren’t staring the whole time at his toned, muscular body that shined in the sun from his sweat. he’ll chuckle to himself, finding you so cute. but when he taps you on the back and teasingly calls you “miss l/n,” and you let out a groan, he’ll cut you off and say, “do you want to go for dinner on saturday? that’s if you’re not busy.” when your eyes go wide from how fast he was talking, you nod your head frantically. “i’m free,” you say, catching yourself and clearing your throat. “great, it’ll be a date then,” he’d say, not being able to hold himself back anymore as he pecks your cheek and runs off before you can say anything. but he knows you’re a blushing mess.

pt 2?

[ariestrxsh]

shy!sub!chris x babysitter!reader

˚₊ · »-♡→ content warning: smut, mommy kink, age gap (Chris is 22 & reader is 28), innocence corruption, virginity loss, size kink, oral (m & f!receiving)

˚₊ · »-♡→ summary: chris runs into his old childhood babysitter, and their innocent reunion takes a turn when the two can't deny the sexual tension between them.

If the age gap or the fact that the reader used to babysit Chris bothers you, then don't read this fic ! The ones that get it, get it, and the ones that don't, dont.

Part 1 | Part 2 (final part)

Baby Sitter (part two)

"I have your shirt, Chris. See? Can't even tell it had coffee on it," you remarked, handing over his white tee as you stood on his doorstep.

"Wow, that's amazing," Chris gasped, holding it up and searching for the remnants of the mocha he'd spilled down the front of it, but there was no evidence of it having happened at all. "Thanks!" Chris replied, tossing the shirt over his shoulder.

"Dishsoap and white vinegar," you casually mentioned. "Good to know," Chris responded, leaning up against the door frame. "Whatcha got there?" He motioned towards the brown, paper bag you had clutched in your arm.

"I got you a couple of apartment warming gifts!" You announced, pulling out a fancy bottle of avocado oil from it. He gave you an inquisitive look as you passed it off. "You cook with it," you giggled, sensing his confusion.

"Right," Chris replied, pointing the bottle at you as if you said the words that were sitting at the tip of his tongue. "Thank you!" He added. "That's not all," you relayed, grabbing another fancy bottle from your shopping bag.

"Oh, I know what to do with this one," he chuckled, taking the rosé from you. "Yeah, I got you a big bottle. So you could share it with someone if you wanted," you suggested, nibbling on your bottom lip and flickering your gaze between his eyes and his mouth. He shrugged his shoulder.

"I-I don't know who I would share it with," he admitted, holding a bottle in each hand as he read the label on the avocado oil. You jokingly looked around as if you were about to volunteer a stranger from off the street, and then finally said, "I'm free. Maybe we could split it over dinner."

"Oh. Cool. Yeah. I don't have anything to eat here, though," he continued staring at the label, still completely oblivious to the fact that you were hoping he'd invite you into his apartment.

"Don't worry, Chris. I remember my first apartment. You're probably mostly living off of ramen and takeout. I figured you might like a home-cooked meal," you replied, gesturing towards your paper bag.

"Oh, that's nice of you," he said, staring at you like a deer in the headlights. "So. Can I come in, baby?" You finally asked, cocking your head to the side and batting your lashes in his direction.

"Yes. Please. Of course," he eagerly nodded, finally stepping to the side to let you in. He silently kicked himself as he slowly realized that's what you'd been alluding to with your body language the whole time you'd been standing on his door step.

You didn't mind, though. You found his social awkwardness endearing.

You entered his apartment, placing the bag on his marble countertop. "Hey, you cleaned. It looks really nice in here," you observed, smiling in his direction as you started to take off your fur coat.

"Thanks for noticing," Chris nervously replied, his eyes dropping to the low neck line of your powder blue top and the short hem of your tight, black skirt.

"Is spaghetti still your favorite, baby?" You asked him, slinging your coat over the back of a chair and pulling out the contents of the brown paper bag.

"It is. I haven't had homemade spaghetti in such a long time," Chris responded, unable to conceal his excitement, a smile spreading across his lips.

You rummaged through his cabinets, retrieving a pot, filling it with water, and bringing it to a boil on the stove. "Would you grab us some glasses for the wine?" You requested from the blue-eyed boy.

"Will red solo cups work?" Chris asked, opening his cabinet. You laughed. "Look in the bag. I came prepared," you responded, uncorking the wine. He reached into the bag, revealing two neatly wrapped glasses.

"You thought of everything, didn't you?" He asked, placing them delicately on the counter side-by-side. "The only thing I forgot is a condom. But I don't mind if you don't mind," you leaned in, softly purring into his ear. Chris nearly fell to his knees at your words.

"I-I don't mind," he stammered, wiping his sweaty hands off on the front of his sweatpants. You smirked, pouring a big glass for each of you.

"You ever had rosé before?" You inquired, corking the bottle back up. "No, I've never had wine before," he admitted, swirling the pink liquid around in the clear glass. You held your glass up, and he followed your lead.

"To all the firsts you're going to experience tonight," you seductively said as your glass softly clinked against his. He swallowed hard, his palms beginning to sweat again. You took a swig of your wine while you held your gaze on Chris, waiting for his reaction.

He hesitantly took a drink, but he was pleasantly surprised when he did. "It's sweet," he commented, nodding his head in approval.

"You like it?" You asked. "I do, actually," he told you before taking another sip. "You shaved," you observed, running the back of your hand over his soft face.

"I did. You noticed," he quietly replied, reaching up and touching his flushed cheek as a smile spread across his lips. He loved how attentive you were, pointing out all the things that most people missed.

"You know, I've missed you these past few days. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," you admitted, taking his glass and setting it down on the counter next to yours. You placed your hand on his chest and leaned in to kiss his neck.

He bit back a moan, gently rolling his hips forward and pressing his erection against your hip. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either," he returned the sentiment, his shakey hand wandering to the small of your back.

You bit down and gently sucked on his soft flesh right above his collarbone as he melted into you. "You know, I brought dessert, too," you told him, your voice taking on a suggestive tone.

"What did you bring?" He eagerly asked, trying to glimpse into your bag as you kissed his neck. "It's not in there, silly boy," you teased him, lightly tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. "Where is it?" He smirked at you.

"It's right.." you started to say, gently grabbing his wrist. "Here," you cooed, putting his hand up your skirt. You rested his palm on your heat, his fingers grazing your clit as his breath caught in his throat.

"You're not wearing any panties," he observed in a low whisper as he looked into your eyes, feeling the warmth radiating off of you. "Oops. I guess I forgot them," you smugly responded, your lips curling into a devious smile.

He started slowly running his middle finger up and down your slit. "It's getting so wet," he whimpered, his breath growing shallow.

"Are you excited to eat it?" You purred, running your manicured fingernails along his jawline. He nodded and dropped to his knees in front of you, leaning in to taste you, but you stopped him.

"No, baby. Not yet. You're gonna spoil your dinner," you taunted him, running your thumb softly along his jawline. "But I wanna eat my dessert now, mommy" he pleaded with you, staring up your skirt. You shook your head.

"Just one little taste.." he whispered, rubbing your clit in small circles. "Christopher Owen," you scolded him, lightly swatting him in the face and gently tightening your grip on his jaw. "Be a good boy and listen to mommy."

His desperate, blue eyes gazed back at yours, and he slowly nodded as he stood back up. He was completely under your spell.

He wiped some sweat from his brow with the back of his trembling hand and picked up his glass of wine, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip to distract himself. He felt the buzz coming on, but he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or if it was all the blood rushing to his dick that was leaving him feeling lightheaded.

"You wanna know the trick to keeping your noodles from sticking together?" You asked him as you turned your attention back to the now boiling pot. He could barely focus on what you were saying over how hard you made him, so he just weakly nodded in response.

"Add salt to the water right before you put the pasta in," you replied, gathering all your seasonings. You added a few shakes of salt into the rumbling, hot water, and then you emptied the box of angel hair noodles into it.

"Then we wanna keep stirring it around every couple of minutes until it's soft enough to eat," you taught him, taking your wooden spoon and agitating the pot. All he could think about was how you weren't wearing any underwear beneath your short skirt.

"Here. Take this. You keep stirring while I prepare the meat," you directed him, your fingertips lightly brushing against his as you passed off the utensil to him. He felt a current of energy passing through his body as you grazed him, and you felt it, too.

He did as you said, stirring the pasta as you splashed a bit of avocado oil into the hot pan on the front left burner and started to brown the ground beef. You shook some salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and Italian seasoning into the meat and started cooking it.

His blue eyes fell to your figure as he wet his lips. He was almost certain you were going to try to sleep with him tonight, and while he was excited to finally lose his virginity, especially to you, he was nervous to lose it, especially to you.

His heart pounded in his ears, and thoughts raced through his mind, imagining how you'd taste, what you'd sound like, what you'd feel like.

"Did you hear me?" You asked, nudging him in the arm. "Huh?" He replied, realizing your lips had been moving the whole time, but he'd been too busy having dirty thoughts about you to register what you were saying.

You peered down at the tent in his sweats and smirked back up at him. "Whatcha thinking about?" You cooed as if you hadn't just teased him relentlessly while standing in his kitchen without any panties on.

He blushed and let out a laugh. "I'm sorry. I get hard so easily," Chris nervously apologized, nibbling on his lip and trying to hide his erection. "I don't mind," you smirked at him.

The two of you finished making food, made your plates, and sat down to eat. You teased him throughout dinner, running your foot up his leg and making flirtatious comments as you made eyes at him in the glow of the candlelight.

You poured yourself a second glass of wine and then another one. Before you knew it, you and Chris had nearly finished off the bottle, and the sexual tension between the two of you was growing.

"You don't mind if I stay the night here, do you? I've had a lot of wine," you asked him, slightly slurring your words as you twirled your noodles around your fork. "No, I don't mind at all," he replied nervously, taking the last bite of his spaghetti.

"You still get nightmares?" You wondered, taking a sip of your wine. He let out a small chuckle. "What's so funny?" You asked.

"I hate to break this to you, but I never really had an issue with nightmares, not since I was really little," he nervously confessed, fidgeting with the base of his glass.

"What? What about all those bad dreams you used to have when I babysat you?" You inquired, looking puzzled. "I was faking," he said, biting back a grin.

"Christopher," you replied sharply, glaring in his direction and slugging him in the arm. There was a bit of real anger behind your tone.

You'd spent many nights worrying about Chris and his bad dreams. So much to the point that it had cut into your own sleep on many occasions and caused issues in your relationship, which didn't matter in hindsight, considering how much an asshole your boyfriend at the time was.

Chris, on the other hand, loved how genuinely you cared for him, and the way you'd always drop everything to lull him back to sleep with your warm, inviting voice and the soft caress of your hand against his cheek.

You couldn't stay mad at him, though. In a lot of ways you found it endearing how much he wanted to be around you, but you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that an eleven-year-old had come up with such an elaborate scheme.

"I know, I know. I just wanted you in my bed," he smirked. "Naughty boy," you rolled your eyes. "Maybe I'll pretend to have one tonight, so you'll have to come to bed with me and help me back to sleep," he lustfully responded. "Yeah? I bet I know how to tire you out," you flirted back.

His cock strained at the cotton fabric of his pants as you stared into his eyes, wetting your lips and parting your legs to give Chris another glimpse at what you had between them. He nibbled on his bottom lip, his sparkling eyes traveling to your glistening folds.

"Can I eat my dessert now, mommy?" He sweetly asked, but you slammed your legs shut and gave him a mischevious look.

Now what? He thought to himself, wondering what hoop you were going to make him jump through next before giving him what he wanted.

"I want mine first," you snickered, kneeling down in front of him and tugging at his sweats. He swallowed hard, looking down at you wide-eyed, but he listened, lifting his hips and allowing you to pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out of them.

You could sense how tense and nervous he was, literally sitting on the edge of his seat and his breath growing shallow and irregular.

"You're so hard," you observed, wrapping your fingers around his thickness and stroking it up and down. "All for me?" You cooed, watching a bit of precum gather at his tip.

"Yes, mommy," Chris said in a gravelly whisper. "All for you," he eagerly nodded, waiting in anticipation for what you were about to do next.

You leaned in, planting a kiss on his swollen head and slurping up the clear liquid from his slit. His cock twitched in response. You felt his whole body relax beneath you.

He slowly sunk back into his chair as he gave himself over to the wonderful feeling of your tongue fluttering around on all his sensitive nerve endings. "No one's ever done that to me before," he admitted in a timid voice as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip and gently suckled on it.

"You like it, don't you?" You cooed before licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft all the way up his length and slipping him back into your mouth again.

"Mhmm," he whined, nodding as his hands found their way to your shoulders. He gently dug his fingernails into your back as you combined the two techniques, swirling your tongue around on his tip while you created a bit of suction.

He had always fantasized about getting head, but he didn't know it could feel this magical. He adored every subtle motion as you learned what he liked best.

His hand tenderly grazed the back of your head as he silently encouraged you to take more of him. You smirked, sliding down his length, feeling every vein with your tongue and swallowing him inch-by-inch until your nose was pressed up against his lower abdomen.

"Oh, yes. Just like that mommy," Chris pathetically whimpered as you hummed against the base of his cock. He slid down further into his chair, his eyes locked on the way your lips stretched around him.

You started bobbing your head up and down, eliciting a few soft gagging noises from you. The sound of you lightly choking on his dick drove Chris crazy.

He brushed a stray hair out of your face and placed both his hands on your ears as he tossed his head back and let out a strangled moan. He lifted his hips, driving his cock further into your throat. You could feel him quivering against your tongue as you slid back up his length, pulling your mouth off of him with a pop.

His lips curled into a smile as he peered back down at you. "Mommy. I was so close," he whimpered, his chest rising and falling with his labored breath.

"I know, pretty boy, but we gotta clean the kitchen before you can cum," you taunted him, climbing to your feet.

He licked his pouty lips as he let out a defeated sigh and pulled his sweats back on over his hard cock. He followed you to the kitchen, dragging his feet and silently throwing a fit about not being able to finish.

You put away the leftovers while Chris did the dishes, the whole time his cock aching at the absence of your mouth.

His erection was pinned between his stomach and the lip of the counter, and as he squeezed the excess water out of the sponge, he found himself rutting his hips forward and gently grinding against the marble finish.

You hoisted yourself up onto the countertop beside him and whispered in his ear, "Easy. You better not cum in your pants or mommy's gonna be really mad at you."

A pained whine drifted to your ears as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. He went back to the dishes, trying to ignore his raging boner and trying to keep himself from rubbing up against the furniture like a dog in heat.

As he finished up drying off the last plate, you hiked up your skirt and flashed him your pussy again. His eyes widened, and his tongue darted out and slithered over his lips.

"Please, mommy. Can I have my dessert now?" He begged you, his voice saturated with lust and his eyebrows furrowed together in a look of desperation. "Yes, pretty boy. Come eat it," you nodded, spreading your labia open with two of your fingers.

He kneeled down in front of you, nervously leaning in to close the distance between his mouth and your cunt. You felt his warm breath first and the tickle of his smooth cheek grazing the inside of your thigh. He planted a delicate kiss on your pussy, causing you to grip his soft hair and gently tug on it.

He moaned against your sensitive bundle of nerves before gripping your legs and pulling you closer to him. Your mouth curled into a smile as he placed his hands on the insides of your thighs, pushing them as far apart as they could go. He gently nuzzled your clit before his pretty blue eyes flicked backed up at you, silently asking for your validation.

"Good boy. You're doing a perfect job. You're a natural," you praised him, running your fingers through his brown locks. That was all he needed to boost his confidence.

His kisses became more deliberate and more passionate as he drooled all over your cunt, periodically slurping up the mixture of his saliva and your wetness. You squirmed and squealed beneath him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs while he kissed, licked, and sucked on your sensitive area.

"Mommy, you taste so sweet," he complimented you, coming up for air for a moment. He lapped away, his tongue swirling around on your delicate folds as you started to tremble beneath him. "Chris.." you hissed, your body tightening.

Your head fell back against the wooden cabinet behind you as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He couldn't tell if he was wine drunk or pussy drunk, but a warm, fuzzy sensation overpowered him as he lost himself in you, forgetting the boundary between his mouth and your heat.

He almost couldn't believe that he was making you feel that good, but the way your body was reacting to him seemed genuine. A few loud moans fell from your lips as you shivered, finishing onto his velvet tongue.

"Wow," you whispered, panting as you tried to regain your composure. "Was that your first time eating pussy?" You asked him, still gently combing through his hair with your fingers. He peered up at you, timidly nodding.

"That was the best head I've ever gotten, Chris. Your tongue is every girl's dream," you giggled, reaching for the hem of Chris' shirt. He loved the way you showered him in compliments. "Please. Take this off, and put your big cock in me."

"Big?" He whispered, looking into your eyes. "What? Does that surprise you, baby? That you're big?" You asked him, helping him take off his shirt. He slowly nodded, pulling his dick back out of his sweats and peering down at it as he lined it up with your entrance.

"You gotta be gentle with me at first because of how big it is, okay?" You cooed, biting back a smirk. You knew you could handle it, but you knew your words were like music to his ears.

"Okay," he replied, gently tapping it against your clit before slipping the tip into your hole. It felt better than he ever could have imagined. He gingerly rocked his hips back and forth, allowing you to get used to his size as he firmly placed his hands on your hips.

His jaw fell slack, and a look of pleasure seeped into his expression. It took everything in him to go slow and gentle, trying so hard not to get carried away. A couple faint whines unfurled from your lips, and Chris immediately stopped, glancing up at you.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" He sweetly asked, concerned that the noises you were making were out of pain. "No, baby. I'm making those sounds because it feels really good. Go deeper," you whispered, tenderly cradling his face.

"Yes, mommy," he whimpered, fucking you a little deeper and a little faster. He leaned in to kiss you, your lips locking with his as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. His shaky hand slid up the hem of your shirt, and he gently squeezed your breast, noting to himself that you also hadn't worn a bra.

The soft clicking sounds of your mouth filled the space between you. You could taste the rosé mixed with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue as you pulled him deeper into the kiss. He felt completely intoxicated - drunk off of the wine and drunk off of you.

Once he pulled back, his eyes wandered between your legs. He took in the lovely sight of your pussy expanding around his girth.

"Harder, baby. Fuck me harder," you ordered him, resting your hand on his chest and feeling his sped up heart rate. You heard his breath quicken as he picked up the pace.

He pushed up your pretty, blue top, exposing your tits. He was immediately enamored with them, gently pinching your nipples between his fingers and listening to the pretty sounds that left your mouth as he played with you.

"Suck on them, baby," you directed him, and he nodded, leaning in to take each one into his mouth as he squeezed each one in each hand.

"Such a good boy," you purred, petting the back of his head and massaging his scalp with your manicured nails. He whimpered against your breast, the vibration sending pleasure through your nipple and causing you to clench around his cock.

"Faster, Chris. Faster," you demanded, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. "Fuck," Chris muttered, stopping abruptly. You felt his cock pulsating inside of you. He was afraid if he moved at all, it would send him over the edge before he could finish you off.

"What's the matter, baby? Hmm? Why'd you stop?" You cooed, cradling his head and pushing his face into your breasts. "So close, mommy," he whimpered, holding his body still and using every last ounce of willpower to keep from drilling into you and letting his orgasm run its course.

"Fuck. I can't," he whined, pulling out of you and waiting for the feeling to subside. "It's okay, baby. Yes, you can. Take a breather," you encouraged him, placing a hand on either side of his head with his nose just inches from yours as you peered into his beautiful, blue eyes. He nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

After a few moments of fending off his climax, he slid it back in, letting it go in all the way before pulling out again. He watched in awe at the way you stretched so perfectly around him as he plunged into you with his thick cock over and over again.

"I wanna turn you around so bad," he whispered, peering into your eyes as he pulled out again. You hoisted yourself off of the counter, spinning around, and propping your leg up on the edge of the marble cuntertop.

"Give it to me, pretty boy. Fuck me as hard and as fast as you can," you instructed him. "Yes, mommy," he answered, pushing up your tight skirt and slipping his length into your cunt from the back. He loved being told what to do by you.

"Good boy," you moaned as he started pistoning his hips forward, driving his cock deep into your drooling pussy as he reached around and grabbed a handful of your breast.

You could feel his hot breath against your ear and hear his pretty moans as he fucked you with all his strength. "Oh, Chris.. so big.. gonna cum.. gonna cum all over your big cock," you babbled as you shook violently.

Your orgasm hit your system, feeling like a series of explosions going off in your body. You tightly gripped the edge of the cool, marble counter as you clenched around him again, finishing all over his rod. Your juices flowed down the sides of his dick as he railed you, extracting your climax from you.

"Good boy. You made me cum all over it," you breathlessly whimpered, trying to catch your breath. A satisfied smile started in the corner of his lip as he realized he'd made you finish. "Fill me up, Chris," you demanded, letting your head fall back against his chest as he pounded into you.

He couldn't take it anymore. The feeling of your pussy convulsing around him and your words encouraging him to shoot his load inside of you, it was all too much.

He delivered a few more powerful thrusts, jerking his hips forward and triggering his own orgasm. His strokes slowed to a stop as he filled you to the brim, pumping you full of his liquid.

Pleasure coursed through him, leaving him feeling completely drained after, but in the best way, like he'd just finished running a marathon and had won first place.

He finally pulled out of you, nearly collapsing onto the floor and having to steady himself on the counter as all the blood rushed back to the rest of his body.

You spun back around, hoisting yourself back up onto the marble counter and spreading your legs and your puffy lips open for him again.

"Look at how much you came," you smirked, putting yourself on display for him as his thick, sticky fluid leaked from your cunt. He focused his blurry vision on the way it gushed out of you every time you clenched around nothing.

"Oh my god. It looks perfect," he responded, admiring the mess he made before slumping over and nestling his nose in the crook of your neck. A wave of embarrassment overcame him, wondering if he'd done a good job or if he was too awkward or shy about it all.

"Was I o-okay?" He nervously asked, his voice becoming small and shakey. "Chris. I can't feel my legs," you chuckled back in response. "Is th-that a good thing?" He timidly asked. "It's a great thing, Chris. You give the best dick. Best I've ever had in my life."

Your praises had blood rushing back to his cock, and it sprung to life once more.

"Oh, don't tell me that. You're gonna make me wanna give it to you again," Chris whispered as you felt his erection poking you in the thigh. You chuckled, surprised by his stamina.

"Give it to me again, baby. I promise. I can take it."

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[secretmaniacc]

FILL THE VOID

Pairings: the salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: After avoiding him for two days, she finds herself pinned down as he insists they go out to dinner, just as he promised in their bet. Reluctantly agreeing, she anticipates an elegant evening, but the night quickly takes an exciting and dangerous turn.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, Dom!salesman x baddie!oc, teasing, degrading, kissing, gun play, Russian roulette, knife play, semi public sex, hair pulling, mentions of blood, oral sex, male recieving, p in v, rough sex, spanking.

Wc: 6.2k

A/n: so sorry for the wait here’s pt.2 for “ride or die” since some of y’all liked it and I’m very happy for that, did some justice this time and spiced it up they can be out of character sometime so forgive me, hope y’all will enjoy it really worked hard on this one, not proofread <3

For two days, she’d managed to avoid him—strategically timing her office hours to when he wasn’t there, ignoring his messages, and pretending not to notice the way he seemed to linger just out of reach. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her. 

That time came at the end of a long day when she thought she was safe. She gathered her things and prepared to turn around and head towards the door, only to feel a familiar presence.

“Thought you could avoid me forever?” His voice was low, smooth, and infuriatingly smug. 

Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned, schooling her features into something calm and unaffected. “I’m busy. Move.” 

He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Busy ignoring me? Impressive effort, but I don’t take silence well.” 

“I’m not ignoring you,” she lied, stepping forward to brush past him. 

His arm shot out, blocking her path. “Really? Then why haven’t you answered my messages? Or were you too busy pondering about how much fun we had in the alley?” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she shot back, her tone clipped as she tried to push past him again. 

But this time, he shifted, moving to block her entirely and locking the door with a quick twist of his wrist. The faint click of the lock sent a chill down her spine, though she refused to show it. 

“Let me go,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as she felt her pulse quicken. 

He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. “Not until we settle something.” 

She arched a brow, masking her unease with irritation. “And what’s so important that you’re resorting to theatrics?” 

His grin widened, his gaze sparkling with that insufferable confidence. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to take you to dinner, didn’t I? Unless, of course, you’d rather recall how I made you feel so good in the alley.” 

She blinked, caught off guard by the reminder. “That was two days ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It matters to me.” He stepped closer, the teasing edge in his voice making her heart stutter. “You won, fair and square. So, dinner. Tonight.” 

“Not happening,” she said firmly, though the conviction in her voice wavered slightly. 

He tilted his head, studying her with mock curiosity. “Why so stubborn? Afraid you’ll enjoy it?” 

Her jaw tightened. “I’m just not interested.” 

“You’re lying.” 

She glared at him, determined not to let him see how her resolve faltered under the weight of his gaze. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re avoiding the truth,” he countered, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between them. “But that’s fine. Say no if you want—I’ll still show up outside your door.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, though the uncertainty in her voice made her doubt her own words. 

“Try me,” he challenged, his tone light but his intent clear. 

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly in defeat. “Fine. One dinner. But don’t make a habit of this.” 

His grin broadened, a glimmer of triumph lighting up his face. “Perfect. Wear something elegant—something that’ll fit the place. I expect you’ll be just as stunning as you were in the alley” 

“Excuse me?” 

He ignored her indignation, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, leaving behind the faintest trace of warmth. “See you tonight,” he murmured before stepping aside and unlocking the door. 

She stared at him, momentarily thrown by the unexpected gesture. The smug look on his face only made her irritation flare, and she pushed past him with a sharp, “Don’t be late.” 

As she walked away, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation. But the faint smile tugging at her lips told a different story. 

-----

She stood before the full-length mirror, the soft glow of her bedroom light catching the gentle shimmer of her crimson dress. The bodice hugged her figure like it was made for her, the delicate cowl neckline draping gracefully across her collarbones, while the fabric flowed into a silky skirt that brushed the floor with every subtle movement. Her long, black hair fell in effortless curls to her waist, framing her face with a touch of timeless elegance. A sheer wrap rested loosely on her arms, adding a layer of ethereal softness that seemed to dance with every step. 

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see his text: "I’ll be there in five." Letting out a small breath, she grabbed her purse, gave herself one last look, and headed downstairs. 

The evening air was cool as she stepped outside, heels clicking softly against the pavement. There he was, leaning casually against a sleek black Audi A6, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He wore a tailored black suit that framed his tall, broad figure perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie that added a sharp elegance to his appearance. His dark hair was neatly styled, though a rebellious strand fell over his forehead, softening his otherwise sharp features. 

As she approached, his gaze locked on her, a flicker of admiration crossing his face before he straightened and stepped toward her. Without a word, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet sincere, his eyes holding hers for just a moment longer than necessary. 

A faint blush warmed her cheeks, but she managed a small, teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” 

His lips twitched into a smirk as he opened the passenger door for her, gesturing for her to step inside. 

She settled into the plush leather seat, the soft scent of new car and faint cologne filling the space. The interior was sleek, with polished silver accents and an impressive digital dashboard glowing faintly in the dim light. She trailed her fingers over the armrest, the comfort and luxury surprising her. 

“You own this?” she asked, glancing at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. 

He chuckled softly. “Why? Did you think I’d show up in something less fitting?” 

She shook her head, amused but still impressed, as they drove in silence toward their destination.  He would make teasing comments here and there that earned a chuckle from her.

The car pulled up to one of the most elegant restaurants in town, its grand facade glowing with soft golden lights. Outside, a long line of patrons waited eagerly, some dressed to the nines, chatting in anticipation. 

Her brows lifted in surprise at the sight. “You didn’t mention this place,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity. 

Before he could respond, two security guards stepped forward, opening her door with practiced precision. One took the keys from him while the other escorted them toward the entrance. She noticed how the murmuring crowd shifted, heads turning as they walked past. 

The guards held the doors open as they entered, bowing slightly in his direction. She bowed back out of respect, but he merely did, wrapping his arm around her waist as they stepped into the opulent dining area. 

The restaurant was stunning. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in crisp white linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, and a soft melody from a grand piano filled the air with an elegant ambiance. 

They were guided to a private table near the window, the staff pulling out her chair as she sat. As he took his seat across from her, she leaned in slightly, her tone playful. 

“Care to explain why everyone is treating you like you’re some mafia boss?” 

He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. “Let’s just say I know how to make an impression.” 

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Oh, I’m sure you do.” 

The waitress approached with a professional yet warm smile, handing them menus. “Welcome. May I offer you something to start with?” 

She glanced at the menu, the luxurious options catching her off guard. “Are there any prices on this thing, or do we just guess?” she quipped, arching an eyebrow at him. 

He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, dinner’s on me. Feel free to splurge.” 

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Good, because I was planning to order the most expensive thing just to annoy you.” 

“Be my guest,” he replied smoothly, his grin teasing. “But I hope you know that means dessert is non-negotiable.” 

her eyes scanning the intricate names of dishes written in french. Brows furrowed, she tilted the menu closer as if the words would magically make sense the second time around. 

“What is... uh, rat-a-tou-ille??” she sounded out slowly, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. 

His lips curved into an amused smile. “Ratatouille. It’s a vegetable dish—stewed with tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and herbs. Simple but classic..” 

“Oh, okay. That doesn’t sound too bad,” she nodded before her eyes caught another word. “And this one? Coq... au vin??” 

“Coq au vin” he corrected with a small laugh. “Chicken braised in red wine with mushrooms and bacon. Very traditional.”.” 

She tapped her chin with her finger, pretending to consider it seriously, then moved on to another dish. “Bou-ya... bouillabaisse?” 

“Bouillabaisse,” he supplied smoothly. “.It’s a fish stew with a mix of seafood, Want me to keep translating, or are you planning to make me read the whole menu for you?” 

She shot him a playful glare. “Hey, these names are intimidating, okay? I didn’t grow up speaking fluent…. Uh, whatever this is."

“french” he said, unable to suppress the laugh that bubbled out. “I have to admit, though, this clueless act of yours is kind of adorable.”

She rolled her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks. “Whatever. I’ll just stick to this one.” She pointed to a dish she didn’t recognize but liked the sound of. 

When he glanced at his menu filled with prices unlike hers, his smirk grew wider. “Interesting choice,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. 

“What?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh. “Just that it’s the cheapest thing on the menu.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” 

He nodded, still grinning. “Repick. Or I’ll do it for you.” 

She groaned, flipping through the menu again. “Fine. You pick.” 

He didn’t even look at her menu, already knowing it by heart. “Filet de boeuf Rossini,” he said confidently.

Her eyes widened slightly. “That sounds... fancy.”

“It’s perfect,” he replied with a wink. “Trust me.”

The waitress returned, taking his order for a sole meunière and hers for the beef Rossini. “And a bottle of Château d’Yquem,” he added casually.

When the waitress nodded and walked away, she raised an eyebrow. “Château d’Yquem? What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically.

Moments later, the waitress returned with a sleek silver ice bucket, placing it on the table with a bottle of golden wine nestled inside. The light caught the liquid, making it shimmer, and her eyes widened as realization hit.

“This is wine?” she asked, pointing to the bottle. 

“Not just any wine,” he said, pouring a glass with practiced ease. “It’s... exclusive.” 

“How exclusive?” she pressed.

He took a slow sip, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re drinking liquid gold?”

He laughed at her incredulous expression, his voice rich with amusement. “Relax. Tonight’s on me, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” he replied with a wink, setting his glass down.

Silence evoked as the air in the restaurant shimmered with quiet luxury, a symphony of muted chatter, piano tunes and crystal clinks filling the room. She leaned back against the chair, her delicate fingers tracing absent patterns on the edge of the table. Her gaze flickered toward the expansive window, the city lights sprawling like a living canvas. There was an effortless grace to her, the way her crimson dress caught the glow of the chandeliers, the silk shifting like liquid fire with her every move.

He couldn’t look away.

His pupils sharpened with intensity as he studied her, the soft curve of her jawline, the way her lips parted slightly as she sighed in quiet awe. Her black hair, cascading in soft curls to her waist, gleamed under the golden light. She was a vision, suspended somewhere between elegance and rebellion, her beauty a contradiction he couldn’t quite define but didn’t want to stop trying to.

She tilted her head, her profile catching the faint light of the chandelier, and his breath hitched. As he took a sip of his whiskey, the taste burned less than the thought that this moment—her, here, now—felt like something he shouldn’t deserve.

He smirked at himself, shaking his head slightly. Get a grip.

But then she glanced back at him, catching his stare, her brow arching in question. “What?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Nothing,” he replied, his smirk deepening as he set his glass down. “Just taking it all in.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the slight tug of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Moments later their food arrived, the rich aroma wafting from her plate made her mouth water. She picked up her fork, taking a cautious bite. The moment the tender beef hit her taste buds, her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft hum of delight escaped her lips. 

“This is... amazing,” she said, already diving in for another bite. 

He watched her, captivated by the way she was completely absorbed in her food. Every little sound she made—those happy, involuntary noises—pulled his attention. For a moment, the bustling restaurant around them disappeared, leaving only her. 

“You’re staring, again.” she said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze. 

“You make it hard not to,” he admitted with a small smile. 

She flushed, quickly taking another bite. “Just eat your food, so we can get done” she muttered. 

He chuckled, cutting into his fish. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging light banter between bites. At one point, she attempted to spear a piece of his fish with her fork, but he caught her wrist with a grin. 

“Ah, ah. That’s mine,” he teased. 

“Sharing is caring,” she retorted, but he held firm, playfully shaking his head. 

He shook his head with exaggerated defiance, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “You want it that bad? Beg for it.”

She narrowed her eyes, “‘Never mind,’” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she went back to eat.

He chuckled, leaning closer. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t do it.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” she said, standing up abruptly and grabbing her bag.

He burst into laughter, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m messing with you,” he said, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her back into the chair.

She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love it,” he replied, giving her an amused smirk.

She sighed, reaching for her glass of water. As her gaze drifted across the room, it landed on a couple at a nearby table—so engrossed in each other they might as well have been the only two people in the restaurant. The man’s hand rested on the small of the woman’s back, and their faces were inches apart, whispering between soft kisses.

Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Get a room,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

He followed her line of sight, his brow arching before a low chuckle escaped his lips. “Jealous?”

She snapped her head back to him, her eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Please. That’s gross. There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, and it’s not next to someone trying to enjoy a meal.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying her reaction. “You’re awfully opinionated for someone who didn’t seem to mind when I kissed you.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly. “That was different!”

“Oh, was it?” he teased, his tone playfully smug. “Because if I recall, you were the one leaning in first.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was not! You were the one who couldn’t keep it together and kissed me like some—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Someone who’s not afraid to take a chance?”

She glared at him, struggling to find a comeback that wouldn’t dig her deeper into the hole. “You’re crazy,” she finally huffed, crossing her arms again.

“not as much as you,” he replied, his smirk softening just enough to make her annoyed

The unspoken tension hung like a storm cloud between them, unshakably present as they lingered in that charged moment. “Are you actually saying you wish you were that couple?” he asked, leaning in with a seriousness that made her heart constrict.

Her heart raced at his words, a flutter of uncertainty and curiosity mixing with annoyance. “I just think PDA is a bit much!” she shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “I mean, can’t people keep it to themselves?”

“Really?” he challenged, his voice low, brushing against her ear as he leaned closer. “Or maybe you’re just afraid of what it could feel like to let loose, to feel something real for once?”

Her breath caught in her throat as a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back, a desperate edge in her voice. She could feel the tension weave between them like a live wire, crackling with possibility.

“Maybe I do,” he replied, that daring glint in his eye making her pulse quicken. “Maybe you just need the right moment to let go.”

The couple at the table nearby erupted in laughter again, and she found herself glancing back at them, trying to refocus. But when she looked up, he was watching her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Forget them,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, pulling her even further into his orbit. “What do you want? Something real? Or more of this… competition?”

Before she could formulate a response, he suddenly stood, extending a hand toward her. “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, hesitating but feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought of doing something entirely unexpected.

“A place where we can talk,” he replied, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Unless you’re too scared to follow.”

With her heart racing and her mind swirling with uncertainty, she placed her hand in his. He led her through the restaurant’s bustling dining area, weaving through startled diners and busy waitstaff. But there was no turning back. The thrill of being drawn into the unknown ignited something within her.

They approached a door at the back of the restaurant, and she felt both exhilarated and apprehensive. He flung it open, and they stepped into a dimly lit hallway lined with fancy doors that seemed to whisper secrets.

“Seriously, where are we?” she asked, blinking in the low light as confusion mixed with an adrenaline high.

“Somewhere more private,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, eyes flickering with mischief and something deeper. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Her pulse raced, excitement and fear coiling in her stomach. “Is this your idea of romance?” she shot back, the challenge lacing her voice, even as heat coursed through her.

“Maybe it’s just my idea of taking risks,” he countered, stepping closer, the space between them charged in a way that made her skin tingle. “You might even enjoy it.”

The energy shifted as they stood beneath the dim glow of the overhead light, their breaths mingling in the tight space. She caught herself wanting to feel the weight of his words, the electricity in the air. “What if someone catches?” she asked, half playful and half serious, but the way he was looking at her made her thrill with curiosity.

“Let them,” he said, eyes smouldering, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. “Are you really going to back down now?”

She felt a rush of defiance surge within her, mixed with undeniable attraction. “I’m not afraid,” she said boldly, but her voice wavered slightly, betraying the thrill and lust she was trying to suppress.

“Then let’s find out how dangerous this might get,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, igniting the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

With that, he turned on his heel, pulling her deeper into the hall, and she felt her heart pounding with excitement and uncertainty. Each step into the unknown only drew them closer together, and she couldn't shake the thrill of what lay ahead—the thrilling uncertainty,

He paused in front of an ornate door that looked far more expensive than the rest, its golden handle glinting in the dim light. With a knowing smirk, he pushed it open, and she was met with an intoxicating scent—rich cologne mingling with something deeper, something intimate that tugged at her senses.

As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The room was lavishly decorated, a blend of modern luxury and classic elegance. An oversized leather couch sat in the center along with a table, surrounded by walls adorned with vibrant artwork that seemed to pull her in. Warm lights cast a cozy glow, and a plush rug covered the floor, offering a sense of comfort veiled in sultriness.

“wow,” she breathed, taking in the opulence, momentarily forgetting the tension simmering between them.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, gesturing toward the couch. She hesitated for only a moment before obeying, settling into the soft fabric while he moved around the room, his gaze scanning various items scattered about—a vintage record player, a collection of intriguing books, and an array of exotic liquor bottles.

Stopping at a sleek display cabinet, he opened the door and pulled out a pistol, its silver surface gleaming in the warm light. A grin played across his lips as he turned to face her, an unsettling excitement dancing in his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Russian roulette.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you serious?”

“Relax.” He waved his hand dismissively, the light glinting off the barrel. “Only this time, we’re playing with a twist. There’s only one bullet, and each time the gun goes off, we have to strip a piece of clothing.”

A mix of thrill and apprehension surged through her. “That’s insane.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his smirk deepening, “but wouldn’t it be fun?”

With a defiant spark in her eyes, she leaned forward. “Fine, let’s play.”

He sat across from her, the couch sinking slightly under his weight, and loaded the bullet into the chamber with a casualness that both intrigued and unnerved her. He spun the cylinder and brought the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger—click. He laughed, a dark sound that echoed in the room,

“Not so scary, right?” he teased, loosening his suit jacket. With a fluid motion, revealing a fitted dress shirt that clung to his frame, accentuating the muscular definition of his arms and shoulders. The sight made her pulse quicken

“Your turn.” He passed the gun to her.

She arched an eyebrow but took the gun, feeling its weight in her hand. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She spun the cylinder herself, heart racing, and then pressed it to her temple. Click. A rush of relief washed over her.

“Now it’s time to shed that scarf,” he said with a teasing tone. With a quick, decisive movement, she untied the delicate fabric and let it fall to the floor, feeling freer, more emboldened.

“Here you go,” she responded, tossing the gun back to him. The tension was tangible as he caught it effortlessly.

filled with a languid confidence. “Ready?” He pressed the barrel once more to his temple—click. The sound rang through the air like a taunt, a challenge freighted with electricity.

“Lucky again,” he grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s next? Your shirt?” she quipped, eager to see how far this would go.

His gaze flicked to her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he loosens the tie taking it off, before he began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. With each button undone, the cloth pulled away to reveal the chiselled muscles of his torso, the defined lines and curves making her breathless. He threw the shirt aside, letting it flutter to the ground like a fallen banner of surrender.

She couldn’t help but take in the sight, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. she breathed, both impressed and challenged by the game they were playing.

“Like what you see? Now it’s your turn,” he teased, giving her the gun once more, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

She took the gun, spun the cylinder yet again, and pressed it against her temple—click. Relief flooded her, but the tension was palpable.

“Let’s play it safe,” she decided, slipping off her heels and leaving her feet bare on the plush rug beneath her. The contact with the soft Fibers felt grounding after the intensity of the game.

“Back to me,” he said, taking the gun from her hands once more. He spun the cylinder, glancing at her with that effortless chill. “Here we go.”

With a languid movement, he pressed the cold metal against his own temple, a shrug of confidence reflecting in his posture. He squeezed the trigger—click. The sound reverberated, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

She felt a small knot of apprehension twist in her stomach. Could they keep going like this? The stakes were rising, and she felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

He turned to her, offering her the gun again. “Your turn. Only two triggers are left, make sure not to die.”

With a mixture of determination and nerve, she accepted the gun from him. Her heart raced as she spun the cylinder for what felt like the hundredth time.

He stood to remove his shoes, casually tossing them to the side. That simple act ignited something within her, a thrilling edge of power and vulnerability. Just as he prepared to sit down, she lunged forward with a sudden burst of resolve.

With a swift motion, she pinned him against the couch, the gun now aimed firmly at his chest.

"What’s the matter?" he teased, the laughter in his eyes shifting to something darker. “Afraid you will die?”

“Not a chance,” she challenged, taking a seat on his lap, her pulse racing. In a moment of reckless defiance, she kept the gun pointed at him. “You think this is a game?”

He laughed, a wild, psychotic sound that echoed against the walls. his hands resting firmly on her waist, the gun now pressed against his chest as he leaned in closer. “I love it when you take charge.”

“You’re going to regret underestimating me,” she said, catching a glimpse of the wild delight dancing in his eyes.

“so it’s Game over for me?” he taunted, his words dripping with boldness. His hands slowly wandered to her thighs, fingers teasing, sending pulses of electricity coursing through her. “Shame, really. I’d hate to die without pleasuring you.”

Her breath hitched at his insinuation, his cocky demeanour igniting an uncontrollable fire within her. The tension crackled like static in the air, urging her to respond.

“You wish.” she said, her voice wavering slightly with the rush of emotions surging through her.

With a fury of need and desire, she leaned in and captured his lips in a fervent kiss, their mouths colliding in an explosion of pent-up frustration and attraction. The world around them melted away as her heart raced. The moment was electric, and in the whirlwind of passion, she pulled the trigger.

But all that followed was a click.

The sound ricocheted in the silence between them, and her eyes widened in shock as she pulled away. The thrill morphed into a dizzying rush as realization struck—there had been no bullet, no fatal ending, only the raw, intoxicating energy swirling in the air between them.

That's when he took the gun from her hands, his movements quick and decisive, a spark of defiance in his eyes. With a swift motion, he tossed it across the room, the gun landing with a loud thud against the wall.

“If you wanted my tongue against you, then you’ve fucking earned it,” he spat, crashing their lips together in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging tightly, igniting a low groan that reverberated into her mouth.

"You wanted to fucking kill me, sweetheart," he growled, biting her bottom lip, eliciting a sharp whimper from her.

“It was your game,” she countered, the adrenaline pulsing through her like fire.

“And yet,” he replied, his voice dark and sultry, “I’d never kill you.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She pulled back, a smirk curving her lips as her eyes roamed over his swollen lips and messy hair, an enticing sight.

“So, why did you aim that gun at me? Say it.”

“Because I was too damn scared, you’d do it instead of me,” she admitted, feeling his grip on her loosen slightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to make a scene,” he murmured, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt with confidence.

“Kneel,” he demanded, helping her rise before guiding her down so she knelt on the floor, her dress cascading around her like a waterfall.

“You want to act like a little slut? Then suck until your mouth isn’t filthy,” he spat, and she flashed him a smirk as she slid his pants down, revealing his hard on.

Her hand wrapped around the base of him, moving up and down slowly, the rhythm sending soft growls of pleasure from his lips. As she continued pumping back and forth, in a rhythmic pattern the more he strived for her lips.

“Did you not hear me? I said suck,” he snapped, frustration threading through his tone.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You call me a slut yet can’t wait a moment longer?” With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she leaned forward, taking his tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it while maintaining a steady rhythm with her hand. His breath hitched, a bead of sweat forming on his chest as he succumbed to the jolting pleasure.

Without warning he bunched her hair up in his fist and pushed his tip to the back of her throat, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth until she gagged. The sight of her watering eyes only seemed to rile him up.

“Look how fucking beautiful you are, my darling. Take all of me, just like the good whore you are," he breathed, pleasure dripping from his words.

Her eyes glistened with tears. and he watched her head bob back and forth.

"fuck I'm going to—" he gasped, releasing her head and pulling back slightly. But before he could finish himself off, she caught his hand, her determination surging, and continued, letting the warm liquid hit the back of her throat while he moaned, curses spilling from his lips until he finished.

He fixed his gaze on her as she swallowed every drop, wiping her bottom lip clean with a satisfied smile. “You’re not finishing with me down here,” she challenged, cheeky confidence returning.

“Insanity suits you,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand to help her rise. “Now let’s see just how wet you are for me.”

He led her to the table, and a surge of vulnerability washed over her as he slammed her against it giving him full access to her clit, while her stomach pressed against the polished wood. His hands roamed the insides of her thighs, and she softly moans as he moved her lace underwear to the side, his fingers brushing against her trembling skin

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back, connecting their lips once more, sucking on her bottom lip. After He released her hair, his hand quickly found her clit, eliciting a moan that was both pleasure and pain.

“Make a scene, sweetheart. Let everyone hear how much you enjoy this," he seethed, delivering a sharp smack that made her gasp, her stomach hitting the table harder.

As he moved her dress out of the way, he slowly removed her thong. Her grip tightened on the table's edges, anticipation thrumming in her veins. But just as she exhaled, he pressed a blade to her neck, drawing a gasp from her lips as he grabbed another fistful of hair to pull her back.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg to finish, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But this is on my terms. Move too much, and your blood will splatter.” She nodded slowly, and without warning he pushed himself inside of her.

She gasped, feeling every inch of him stretching her, she felt his eyes darken with lust as he fucked her against the table. Each powerful thrust accompanied by the sound of the table squeaking beneath her, the blade scratched at her skin making her hiss at the foreign pain of the knife grazing her neck.

“you like that? hmm” he asked, delight etched in his expression.

“I do. It hurts," she admitted, breathless.

“Tell me to stop,”

But the words caught in her throat, her senses overwhelmed as the blade pressed deeper, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes back in pleasure.

“ But that's the thing, you like that huh? You don't have to hide what you truly want. I know you like this blade at your neck. Watch how good you take my dick slut" he groaned into her ear picking up the pace and she could already feel herself coming close to finishing.

A few more cuts on her neck and he flipped her over, her back colliding with the table, the sharp contrast of sensations sending goosebumps over her skin.

He poured his focus on the cuts, pressing kisses over the crimson marks as the metallic taste lingered in the air. The euphoric mix of pain and pleasure sent her into a frenzy, her nails digging into his bare back as he slipped himself back inside of her her.

“You won’t be the only one leaving this room marked,” she moaned in between their kisses. Both of them cursing and filling the room with the sound of their pleasure.

Their bodies moved in sync, letting the euphoria continue and their pace become sloppy. a dangerous dance of desire and desperation, the air thick with their shared moans and whispered curses.

“I’m gonna—"

“Not yet,” he interrupted, the tension in his voice low and commanding.

“I can't—” she yelped when he stopped, a sharp smack to her ass, only hard enough to sting.

“You can, and you will,” he grunted, slamming into her again, her hips bucking against him as he threw her leg onto his shoulder, pushing deeper. His penetrating gaze bore into her, making sure she didn’t disobey.

“Beg if you wanna finish.”

“Please,” she pleaded, breathless urgency coloring her voice.

“You're mine. Never forget that. Got it?" he growled. She hummed in agreement.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Cum for me. Be a good girl,” he murmured, and she quickly became undone. After a couple more strokes he finished after, his head rolling back in delight.

Her legs quivering and the short circuit of her brain stopping for just a moment. It was almost as if her body was made to be with him alone, each pulse and surge a beautiful convergence of pleasure and pain.

He tucked himself back before effortlessly lifting her off the table. Her feet barely touched the floor before her legs wobbled beneath her, struggling to support her weight.

"I can’t walk," she muttered, clutching the edge of the table for support, the remnants of their passion still buzzing in her veins.

"What was that?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You heard me. Shut up and help me stand up," she sneered, irritation mingling with the lingering satisfaction in her tone.

He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. "Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. With gentle firmness, he helped her regain her footing, guiding her away from the table as she leaned into him.

They took a few tentative steps, and he chuckled again, the sound warm against her ear. "You really know how to make things interesting."

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, though a smile betrayed her annoyance. “You’re lucky I’m even standing,” she added with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Lucky? I was thinking of round two,” he shot back with a grin, winking at her as they made their way towards the couch. Unaware of long night they’re about to witness.

part 1

[littleprinces]

My Daughter's Mates

Izna Bang Jeemin x Male Reader

Anal, Creampie, First Time

engrossed in work, when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door. I looked up to see Jeemin, my daughter's best friend, Jiyoon peeking in. She was 19, with long, silky black hair, almond-shaped hazel eyes, and a petite frame that belied her fiery spirit. She was a stark contrast to my daughter, who was tall and fair, like her mother.

"Hey, Mr. Raja," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all, Jeemin," I replied, gesturing for her to come in. "What can I do for you?"

She hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room, her eyes darting around nervously. "I was wondering if... if you could help me with something," she said, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

"Of course," I said, standing up from my desk. "What do you need help with?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine. "I want you to teach me about sex," she blurted out, her voice steady despite the blush on her cheeks. "I'm tired of being a virgin, and I want to know everything, I know you fuck Jiyoon and I want it too"

I was taken aback, but I managed to keep my composure. "Jeemin, I'm flattered, but I'm not sure that's appropriate," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Why not?" she challenged, her eyes flashing. "You're the only person I trust with this. And I know you won't judge me."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Alright, Jeemin," I said finally. "But this isn't something we can just jump into. We need to talk about it, understand it, before we... before anything happens."

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I understand," she said. "I'll do whatever you say."

Over the next few days, we talked. We talked about consent, about safe sex, about pleasure and pain. We talked about her body, about what she liked and didn't like. We talked about my body, about what I liked and didn't like. And with each conversation, the tension between us grew, until it was palpable.

One evening, as we were sitting on my bed, talking about different sex positions, Jeemin turned to me, her eyes serious. "I want to try it now," she said. "I want you to teach me, Mr. Raja."

I leaned in, our faces inches apart. "And how do I make you feel, Jeemin?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. "Excited," she said. "Nervous. Alive."

I smiled, my hand cupping her cheek. "And what if I told you I feel the same way?"

She looked at me, surprise and pleasure in her eyes. "You do?"

I nodded, my thumb brushing against her cheek. "I do," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "But I need to know, Jeemin. Are you sure about this?"

She bit her lip, her eyes searching mine. "Yes," she said. "I'm sure."

I leaned in, my lips capturing hers in a soft, gentle kiss. She responded instantly, her lips parting to let my tongue in. Our kiss deepened, our bodies pressing closer together. I could feel her heart racing, her breath coming in quick gasps.

I broke the kiss, my hands moving to her shoulders, pushing her dress down. She was wearing a simple bra, her breasts spilling out of the cups. I leaned down, my mouth capturing one of her nipples, sucking and nibbling on it. She moaned, her hands tangling in my hair.

I moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention. Her body was arching, her hips pressing against mine. I could feel her desire, her need. I wanted to taste her, to feel her.

I stood up, helping her out of her dress. She was wearing a simple thong, her pussy already wet, her clit begging for attention. I pushed her gently onto the bed, my hands running over her body, exploring every inch of her.

I moved between her legs, my mouth capturing her clit. She cried out, her hips bucking against my face. I licked and sucked, my tongue exploring every inch of her. She was moaning, her hands tangled in my hair, her body writhing beneath me.

I could feel her getting close, her body tensing. I slid two fingers into her pussy, curling them up to hit her G-spot. She screamed, her body convulsing as her orgasm ripped through her.

I moved up her body, my cock rock hard, ready to claim her. She looked at me, her eyes filled with desire. "Fuck me," she said. "Please, fuck me."

I smiled, positioning myself at her entrance. I slid in slowly, giving her time to adjust to my size. She was tight, her pussy gripping my cock like a vice. I groaned, my hips moving, my cock sliding in and out of her.

Jeemin wrapped her legs around me, her heels digging into my back. "Harder," she said. "Fuck me harder."

I obliged, my hips moving faster, my cock pounding into her. She was moaning, her body meeting each of my thrusts. I could feel her getting close again, her body tensing.

I flipped her over, positioning her on her hands and knees. I slid back into her, my cock filling her completely. She looked back at me, her eyes filled with desire. "Fuck my ass," she said. "I want you to fuck my ass."

I groaned, pulling out of her pussy. I positioned myself at her entrance, my cock sliding in slowly. She cried out, her body tensing. I gave her a moment to adjust, then I started to move, my cock sliding in and out of her ass.

She was moaning, her body meeting each of my thrusts. I could feel her getting close again, her body tensing. I reached around, my fingers finding her clit. I rubbed it in time with my thrusts, her body convulsing as her orgasm ripped through her.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I groaned, my cock exploding, my cum filling her ass. Jeemin collapsed onto the bed, her body shaking with aftershocks.

I lay down next to her, my arm wrapped around her. She looked at me, her eyes filled with satisfaction. "That was... incredible," she said.

I smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was," I said. "And it's just the beginning, Bang Jeemin."

[karlovycross]

I will definitely delete this later. This is very silly in retrospect but these thoughts have been weighing heavily on my mind in recent weeks.

I've been getting more comments either in person or online how my artwork looks too similar to another artist. Going as far as seeing comments on Pinterest mislabeling my work as said other artist. It's very disheartening and it makes me even question my own thought process and prevents me from exploring themes that might overlap in fear that it might be accused of being a ripoff. I've already had that happen with my mermaid illustration and a different artist's girl in a oyster shell. Or with my fairy fruit girls with another artist's fairy fruit girls...

While I won't deny there are similarities and I do find this artist very talented and inspirational, my art style developed from heavily studying art nouveau, golden age of illustration, and shoujo styles like Clamp. I love pencil lines because that's what I used since I started drawing and never found any other medium as comfortable. I love girls, nudity, lingerie, nature, fantasy, soft lines, soft colors, detailed hair, lolita fashion, dark themes, erotic themes, romantic themes... the list goes on. I would like to imagine that my style developed naturally and independently but with these comments stuck in my head, now I'm questioning myself and my honesty. I get why it's natural to compare one artist to another. I also look at someone's work and think this person's work reminds me of someone else's and of course I don't think less of them because of it. The opposite really, it's exciting to me to see groups of artists who share similar vibes and aesthetics. It's human nature to find comparisons and similarities. But I just need to know that I'm okay. That my work is allowed to exist as is and I shouldn't take it too personally. That my work can be both similar and stand on it's own.

[aporatael]

...

Who’d want to waste spacetime on anything else?

“Do you only take people along with you just to convince yourself that you’re not selfish?” I ask, interested. “Or do you normally take children - no, not children, children would argue - but fuckable young people, I bet. Girls, mostly. In their twenties, I bet. Because they’ll just smile and agree and compromise.”

“That’s very rude,” the Doctor says, startled. “Like. Wow. Seriously?”

“Is it true? Eohippus.”

“Not true at all. Pliohippus.”

“Pliohippus comes just before Equus, you quack.”

“Why do you even care? They’re not like they’re real horses. Just a generic beetlin’-around, weird little spotty beastie paddin’ around like a long-legged boring badger. D’yiu want to see some real proper horses, alien ones? I know a race of them with blue shiny wing cases and six genders. Caste system based entirely on the production and rating of poetry - ”

“Oh, they’re spotted?” I cry happily. “Wait, you’ve seen them?”

“All they do is run about on the forest floor, eatin’… fruit.”

“Fruit?”

“I don’t know. Boring things. They don’t even neigh. Just trundle around like guinea pigs.”

“Doctor,” I say eventually, pondering this, “you like horses, don’t you.”

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor says. “I only humour you to keep the peace. And it isn’t bloody working.”

“You like horses. Let’s meet the first ones. Again. And do it properly. Look them in the eye and see the spark of the kinship - see if we can feel the deep emotional connection of the bond-”

“What bond is that?” The Doctor says, but - hahahaha. I’ve got him. The Doctor is such a horse girl.

“The deep emotional connection of the kinship between horses - well, horse-shaped things - and humans. Well. Human-shaped things. Is it still there? Did it start there? When you look in the eyes of Eohippus, will you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The thing you feel when you look at horses,” I say. “Excitement and adventure and potential and wonder, the desire to love and be loved by it, a thousand wishes, and the feeling of being there at the dawn of the world.”

“We could just go to the Big Bang -”

“I didn’t say the Big Bang. I said the dawn of the world. It’s different. Are they horses? Will you feel the same way with Eohippus? Is the feeling there?”

“Rubbish!” says the Doctor, looking hot and bothered, and setting the coordinates.

Of course it does escalate from there, with running and shouting and aliens (seeking to stripmine the earth’s resources before there were humans to defend it; quite a good plan honestly; genuinely can’t work out why they aren’t all trying that?) but I don’t care; I’m sitting on the forest floor with Eohippus in my arms, having decided that there’s nothing stopping me from doing so; at the dawn of the world.

“NOT the Big Bang,” I say again, as the Doctor squats down beside me. “The dawn of the world.”

And we are quiet for a while.

“Wow,” the Doctor says eventually.

“Yeah.”

“They really are all in there. All the horses that ever were and will be. In that little eye. It’s a kind eye,” he announces, as horse girls do when they mean to compliment a horse with few other notable positives. “And that’s where it all starts.”

“Yeah.”

“Bellerophon and Secretariat and Arthur - I had a horse called Arthur.”

“What happened to him?”

“Gave him back. Can’t keep a horse in the TARDIS.”

“Keep this one,” I say impulsively.

“You know we can’t.”

“… can we clone it?”

Something Doctor Who misses out on is how none of the companions are extremely interested with any one thing. All the companions are all “idk, I have a few ideas of stuff that’d be cool to see, but I’m up for whatever! All of space and time, woohoo! :)”

And that’s great for them and I know it makes for a better show overall but I think it would be more realistic for someone to say “I want to see every historically significant moment for my special interest, and then I want to double back for mundane bits too.”

I, for example, would be an insufferable companion.

I’d be like, “okay now take me to the place and time where they first used stirrups for the whole ride instead of just using them as a foothold to mount the horse. Then I want to watch Ray Hunt put a first ride on a colt. After that we’ll take a nap, and then let’s sneak onto set of the Return of the King to be extras in the Ride of the Rohirrim”

The Doctor would be all “please. This is the twentieth horse-centric stop in a row. We have all of space available to us. Can we leave Earth this time I’m begging you”

And my annoying ass would go “not unless there’s horses in space” roll credits

[borathae]

Rainy Mornings | Yoongi x f.Reader

"Relax, my love, this morning is all about you."

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, soft Smut

Warnings: subbish & sleepy!Yoongi, switch!Reader, neck kisses & bites, lots of touches, handjob, cuddly penetrative sex in cowgirl position, he cums very quickly <3, creampies, hints of breeding kink, this is just a sweet lil smut hehe <3

Wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: it rained the morning i wrote this and this is where my thoughts drifted off to. it's short and sweet and cozy <3 because this is what yoongi deserves <3

Yoongi wakes to gentle kisses on his neck and fingers dancing over his tummy. The relaxed little sighs of you as you kiss him, mix with the distant sound of morning rain. 

Yesterday you and he went on a date. You took a drive and went for a movie, then you ate and talked until the restaurant had to close. Yesterday was such a good day. Today is going to be a good day as well. This is the first thought which runs through his mind, followed by how much he loves waking up with you close to him.

Yoongi purrs, rolling his head to the side to stub you with his nose. He steals a kiss, smiling into it. You do as well, cradling his cheek and caressing his skin with your thumb.

“Mornin”, his voice is raspy from sleep and incredibly warm. 

“Morning”, your voice is a little deep still and filled with happiness.

“Up for long?”

“No, just a few minutes. Wanted to enjoy you”, you say and nudge his head back into its previous position so you can kiss his neck again.

Yoongi tingles, shivers running down his spine. 

“This feels good”, he sighs, keeping his eyes closed. 

“Mhm, enjoy. Wanna make you feel good.”

You dance your hand back to his tummy and let it disappear under his shirt. The blanket covers you as well, keeping your bodies warm as you share this intimate moment.

“It’s raining”, he talks quietly.

“I know. It’s nice, means we can stay in all day”, you talk quietly as well.

“So no rainy walks?” 

You smile against his neck. He knows you so well. You love rainy walks. 

“Maybe later. For now, I want to cherish you.” You nibble on his favourite spot. “And make you feel good.”

You dance your fingertips along his lower tummy, tracing the little dents his hip bones naturally create when he lies down and his tummy sinks in a little. He is incredibly soft there and also very sensitive. He can’t take your touches for long before he has to squirm and let out a shy chuckle. 

You give him a break, drawing hearts on his waist. 

“Ticklish?” 

“Yeah.”

“You’re so soft there. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Liked it. Just…sensitive.”

“Mhm, you’re perfect.”

Yoongi blushes, having to exhale shakily. He is perfect. He thinks that he is a lot of things, but perfect is definitely not one of them. To think that you see him like this makes him feel really good. And giddy. And shy. And loved. 

Yoongi feels really loved when he is with you.

“This is so nice”, he sighs, chasing your touch.

“Mhm, so nice”, you agree, swirling your fingers back to hip bones to trace them. Your lips explore his neck in the meantime, turning his sleepy brain a little foggy.  

If this is actually a dream, Yoongi hopes never to wake up. 

He was weird about being touched in the past, but when your fingers are on his body he doesn’t want it to stop. It is paradise. 

A warm, tingly paradise, which feels especially cozy this morning.

You kiss the shell of his ear, whispering in your sweetest voice. Yoongi shivers as an effect of it.

“Just tell me to stop, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He knows what will happen, holding his breath for it. He wants this. So much so that heat shoots between his legs within seconds, surprising your fingers with a hard and needy length to play with. Yoongi normally sleeps in boxer shorts. Tonight’s pair is black with dark grey stripes and an elastic band at the hem. You don’t slip your hand under said hem, but slip it inside the slit in the front.

“Oh? Already?” your surprise excites him, making him throb.

“Yeah is…is nice.”

“Shit, that’s sexy”, you whisper and pull out his cock through the slit. You let go of it for a second so you can lick your fingers to wet them. You connect your tongue with his neck afterwards, tracing the sensitive spots while your wet fingers wrap around his cock. 

Yoongi furrows his brows at the touch. Electricity courses through him. 

You pick up a slow rhythm, lingering on his tip and upper inches most. The position and tranquillity of the morning asks for such a rhythm. You don’t want to jerk him, pump him or milk him dry. No, you want to explore him, make him fall so deep into pleasure that he doesn’t want to leave. This is meant to build up, to be something you can savour and later think back on with a tingly stomach. 

“Does this do something for you?” you ask him.

“Yeah, like, a lot”, he gets out, squirming his hips in a very slow rhythm. They flinch for a little moment whenever you linger on his tip and slow down again when you move to another spot. Your lips are soft on his neck and your tongue is really warm. Yoongi swears that it couldn’t get any better than this and then you bite him.

You goddamn bite his neck. 

And Yoongi is a goner. 

He gasps your name, arching his back and curling his toes. He is yours. He is entirely yours. 

You kiss the tender spot afterwards, playing with the droplets of precum on his flushed tip. 

“Was this good for you?” you ask him.

“Yeah…more”, he begs, rolling his head to the side. 

You fulfill his wish, biting him where it feels the best. And so it happens that Yoongi breaks the cozy morning silence with his first moan. Of course it makes your stomach tingle like crazy. His voice is made for sounds of pleasure. 

“God Yoongi, I love being with you”, you say, biting him again just so can hear him moan. You twist your fingers around his tip at the same time, applying pressure. You need him to moan again. It is all you crave. 

Yoongi gives it to you gladly and a little shakily. His cock leaks all over your fingers and his legs are like puddy. He feels a deep warmth radiate from his cock up to his stomach and down his legs.

“___ a-ah”, he chokes out, tensing his stomach. You are a little quicker in your movements and keep lingering on his tip. This is a lot to handle for his sleepy, droopy body.

“Yoongi, my love, god I just”, you trail off. You have no words, letting your body do the talking. 

You climb his lap and bush your shorts aside, sinking him into you while you swallow his surprised gasp. 

Your fingers bury themselves in his morning hair, ruffling it even more and tugging just enough to make him shiver. 

Your press your chest against his’, rocking back and forth on his cock.

“___.”

“Yoongi, my Yoongi. You feel so good inside me.”

“Good. You- ah- good. You feel good, ah. Too. Good too a-ah.”

Big hands come to grasp you, fingers dimpling your butt because they are desperate enough to do so. He doesn’t guide you, as a matter of fact, he doesn’t even meet your movements. He just lies there, taking the slow ride and thinking to himself that he is going to climax any second now. 

He feels so good. You are warm and perfectly heavy on top of him, you kiss him so well and play with his and your heart races and he gets hugged by your warm walls and, and, and. There are a million different reasons why Yoongi feels good and why he is close. 

He has to break the kiss and tell you.

“I’m close.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s…it’s fucking amazing, not gonna lie.”

You smile, dancing his lips to his ear.

“You’re a delight, my love”, you whisper and give him a glimpse of heaven by biting him right under his ear. 

“Ah!” Yoongi yelps and tries desperately to stop your hips. 

He is successful, but it comes too late. Yoongi is too far gone. It is already enough for him to simply be nestled in your soft walls. He paints your insides with his warm orgasm, clasping your butt for it while his mouth is agape in a soundless moan. 

You mewl his name, resting your lips against his neck as he pumps you full. You swear that you can feel each load he releases. It fills your tummy with so much warmth and makes you so wet. You don’t want it to stop, but of course it has to. Yoongi’s poor balls can only produce this much in the morning. They are still a little sleepy, forcing him to experience the last wave of ecstasy dry. 

Yoongi comes down with a shudder, pressing out your name before he has to gulp repeatedly. 

You lift your head, resting on your elbows and tracing his features. His eyes are closed, his cheeks are slightly flushed. You outline his forehead, his brows and closed lids. You trace his nose and his lips and caress his cheeks and chin. You end it by tugging strands of his black hair behind his ears and massaging his lobes. 

“I love you”, you whisper.

“I…love you…too. Ahmg”, he gulps again and exhales, finally opening his eyes.

You smile at him, cradling his cheeks.

“Sorry”, he mumbles.

“For what?”

“I tried to hold it, but-”

You silence him with a thumb against his lips. Yoongi makes puppy eyes at you, mouthing at your finger.

“Don’t apologise. This was perfect. I wanted this morning to be about you and it was.” You kiss his lips. next his nose. Lastly his forehead. “You deserved this after the amazing date yesterday.”

You meet his eyes and smile. Yoongi retorts it.

“Besides, I have a wish for today.”

"What  wish? Tell me, I’ll do anything.”

You snicker, “really? Anything?”

“Anything. After what you just did.”

“You’re cute. I think you’re gonna like my wish then.”

“Tell me.” 

“Wanna spend today slowly getting me more filled with you? You know, cum inside me and plug me and then at night you take it out and fuck me properly.”

“Woah princess, what the fuck? My cock just twitched.”

“I felt it.” You boop his nose. “Soo are you down?”

“Of course I am, fucking hell, you don’t gotta ask.”

“Awesome”, you lean in for a smiley kiss, one Yoongi eagerly retorts.

Truly, there is nothing better than rainy mornings with you.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 

'So?' 

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 

And a switch flicks in your head. 

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 

'You know Tara?' You nod. 

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 

And then he presses record. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Previous - Next

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

[writingxfootballl]

and after all this time (i’m still into you) (alexia putellas x reader)

when arsenal plays barcelona in the champions league final, you finally get to see the girl who broke your heart years ago.

word count: 3105 ish

rating: C cheesy ending but i ran out of ideas. A for kind of angsty but not really. 

title- still into you by paramore

a/n: this is unedited. clearing out my computer. don’t come at me for spelling mistakes and plot holes >:( 

----

you don’t get nervous.

you’re always confident and composed before every game, and you knew that.

jonas knew that.

everyone knew that.

which is why you’ve been the captain at (almost) every team you’ve played for.

it only took half a season in london after your transfer from bayern for you to gain the title of vice captain.

now, two seasons after that, you’re sitting comfortably on your title as captain.

you’re confident and you knew it.

which is why you’re struggling to figure out why your heart is pounding as you put on your captain’s armband.

viv just blamed it on the nerves of the game.

after all, it is the champion’s league final.

who wouldn’t be nervous?

you that’s who.

you knew you wouldn’t be nervous.

you should be there to pep talk your team and get the kids like maanum excited for what was about to happen.

but you were a mess.

“snap out of it. people are beginning to notice.”

viv’s low hiss in dutch brought you out of it temporarily.

you felt a soft tap on the shoulder and turned to see malin’s nerve ridden face.

you briefly forget about your own troubles in place of comforting the younger players.

still, some people are beginning to notice.

lisa whispers to viv:

“is everything okay with y/n?”

viv just shrugs.

~~

your hands don’t get clammy.

like being nervous, having clammy hands was out of the ordinary for you.

which is why you’re confused when you find yourself constantly having to wipe your hands on your shorts to keep them from persperating.

when the game is about to begin, you adjust your captains armband and make your way up front, making sure to wipe your hands again in order to save torrejón the misery of shaking hands with your hot and sweaty ones.

as you’re looking down and adjusting, you don’t notice barca’s new captain walking up towards you.

you don’t notice that it’s in fact not torrejón.

you don’t notice until she walks up right in front of you, and you’re hit with the smell of perfume, one that you were so enamored with many years ago.

and almost immediately, the memories you had suppressed come flooding back.

there’s a sharp intake of air.

and then you look up.

~~

10 years ago

this was your last season with levante.

you knew that.

you had started talks with the staff at wolfsburg and barca, no longer wanting to stay in buñol anymore.

you had signed at the sweet age of 15, and two years later, you weren’t happy with where you were at.

now, 17, you’re more than happy to leave.

aside from being levante’s captain and star midfielder, the club didn’t offer you much.

regardless if you were leaving or not, you still were going to make sure you had one hell of a season.

making your way onto the pitch on the first day of training, you’re surprised to hear the swish of the ball hitting the back of the net.

you’re usually the first to arrive, so someone else being there was unusual to say the least.

you make your way behind the brunette girl, who doesn’t quite seem to register your presence.

you watch her take a few free kicks from behind.

the 11 on her jersey flows as the ball hits the back of the net each and every time.

putellas.

the name doesn’t ring a bell.

must be a new signing.

you clear your throat a little and the girl in front of you spins around so quickly she trips over the ball behind her.

her cheeks flush a little in embarrassment when her back hits the turf.

your cheeks flush too when you see her face.

she was… exactly your type.

high cheekbones… brown hair pulled up into a messy ponytail… arched eyebrows and-

you clear your throat quickly again to shake yourself out of your thoughts.

the girl is still looking up at you expectantly, and you blush before realizing she wanted you to help her up.

you stick an arm out and she grabs it without hesitation, smiling the whole time.

you smile back at her softly, desperately trying to ignore the sparks flying up your arm from the contact.

now infront of you, she was even more breathtaking up close.

“hola. soy alexia, mucho gusto.” (hi, i’m alexia, nice to meet you)

you grimaced slightly.

though you’ve played in spain for the past two years, your spanish was… subpar to say the least.

even then, you manage to get out a choppy, and heavily accented sentence.

“h-hola, uhh soy y/n?” (h-hi, uhh i’m y/n?)

alexia couldn’t hold in her chuckle.

you glare at her and mumble in dutch.

“hou je mond.” (shut up)

alexia laughs again and a quizzical look passes on her face before she tries again.

she sticks out her hand and this time what follows is spoken in heavily spanish accented english:

“i am alexia, nice to meet you.”

you smile and take her hand, replying with heavily dutch accented english in return:

“and i’m y/n. nice to meet you too.”

~~

you were phasing in and out as your coach droned on and on about training rules and protocols.

“okay and now for the partners…”

your ears perked up.

“rodriguez and garcia, y/ln and putellas…”

you turned and your eyes met alexia’s, both of you grinning widely.

honestly, now in hindsight, putting the two of you together was probably a mistake.

in a good way.

separately, you were forces to be reckoned with.

you had an almost dance like way of getting around defenders, shifting your weight and moving your body in ways they just never quite expect.

you also had almost perfect crosses at this young age, leading to almost every one of your crosses becoming an assist.

alexia on the other hand, scored goals.

her free kicks were always shot with so much power that it’s a miracle the goalies don’t have broken wrists after their pitiful attempts to stop them.

so put the two of you together, and you were unstoppable.

there was no way for you to lose during training.

the two of you were unbeaten 2v2 champions.

some of your teammates even began to complain about it.

but it didn’t really matter.

the two of you worked together before training and after training, so much so that you knew her like the back of your hand.

you knew just by instinct what alexia wanted and alexia knew by instinct what you wanted.

it was for that reason that alexia, just after being with levante for a season, broke the club’s all time goal scoring record.

and in that season, you had the most assists out of any player in the primera division.

but your chemistry didn’t stop there.

the two of you were inseparable off the field too.

from sunrise to sunset, the two of you were together.

the weekdays were full of training, the weekends full of movies and late nights in, watching movies on your apartment couch.

it wasn’t long before you moved in together.

as friends of course.

you invited her one day after practice, since she spent so much time there you basically already lived together, and of course, she agreed.

now you were together literally 24/7, and you wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

~~

present

when your eyes met alexia’s brown ones, you couldn’t think about the game anymore.

you think your brain has stopped working.

but luckily, alexia looks just as surprised as you.

you don’t mean for the breathy whisper that escapes to come out, but it does.

“ale…”

alexia’s breath hitches, and the two of you just stand there, dumbstruck, until the referee cuts in between the two of you.

“you’re supposed to shake hands now.”

alexia snaps out of it first.

“right.”

she sticks her hand out and smiles softly at you.

you try to compose yourself the best you can and take her hand.

you try not to make a fool of yourself on live television, but you think that’s impossible at this point.

you try to avoid it, but your heart is racing at the feeling of the girl’s hands in yours.

you both stand there a second longer than you probably should. 

your hands linger just a bit too long, and even though you're trying to focus on anything but the electricity running between you, it’s hard not to notice how her touch still sends a jolt through you.

you can smell her perfume again, that same scent that used to be so familiar, and for a second, it feels like you’re back in another time, another life. everything around you fades out.

but then, the moment snaps back into place, and you pull your hand away, way too quickly, like it burned you. 

you look down at your feet, just trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck.

“good luck,” you say, voice coming out a little quieter than you’d like.

“yeah,” alexia replies, her smile still there, soft but knowing. 

there’s something in the way she says it, like it means more than just the words. 

"you too."

she turns away then, and even though you should be focusing on the game, you’re just standing there, heart still racing in your chest. 

your feet won’t move, not yet. 

not until she’s far enough away.

you finally tear your eyes away, trying to focus on the pitch again, but it’s like the field’s become smaller, the sounds quieter. 

all you can hear is your own heartbeat thudding in your ears.

you try to shake it off. 

you try to forget about her, but every time you glance over, she’s there—her every movement pulling your eyes like magnets.

you catch a glimpse of her during a break in play. 

she's laughing with her teammates, but when she catches your gaze again, her expression shifts, just for a moment. 

like she’s still feeling the same thing you are.

you swallow thickly, trying to get back in the zone, but it’s like you're running in circles, chasing something you can’t quite catch.

the match drags on, the final minutes creeping by. 

barcelona’s up 2-0. 

the crowd’s starting to lose energy, but you can feel your team pushing, fighting. trying to claw back into this.

then, a miracle. 

a ball comes across to you. you hear viv's voice in your head, urging you to take control, to make something happen. 

but just as you’re about to move, you see her—alexia—closing in, just like you always used to.

old habits die hard.

you move without thinking, instincts kicking in. 

fake one way, then cut left. 

the other defender chasing you trips for half a second, and that’s all the space you need. 

you're in the clear, for a moment, and everything feels like it’s falling into place.

but then—

the ball’s gone.

in a flash, alexia slides in, intercepting just before you can make your pass. 

you barely see her coming, but you feel the hit when she clears the ball away from you.

for one breathless second, time feels like it freezes.

of course. she still knows you just as well. 

her eyes lock with yours—those same brown eyes, sharp and unreadable—and all the noise in your head falls away. 

there’s nothing left between you but that look, the history, everything unsaid.

you stand there, heart racing, just staring. 

she’s still the same alexia—strong, sharp, intense—but there's something more now. something different.

for a second, you forget you’re playing against her. 

you forget everything: the game, the score, the rivalry. all of it.

you forget it all.

but then, the whistle blows. the game is over. 

barcelona wins.

the roar of the crowd brings you back, and you turn, pulling yourself back into the moment. 

you make your way dejectedly off the pitch, but alexia’s face lingers in your thoughts, her every movement replaying in your head.

as you reach the tunnel, you glance over your shoulder. 

she's standing there, her teammates around her, but her eyes are locked on you. softer now. almost like she’s waiting for something.

you don’t know how long you stand there, caught between the moment and reality. 

the world seems to blur around you. 

but then, the noise of the stadium fades, and you find yourself walking toward the locker room, thoughts racing faster than your feet.

~~

10 years ago

you and alexia had always been in sync. 

at levante, it felt like everything just clicked—on the pitch, off the pitch. 

you could read each other’s movements without a second thought. 

passes were seamless, runs were timed perfectly, and the moments you shared after training felt as natural as the game itself. 

it was almost like you’d been playing together forever, the connection so strong it pulled you both closer in ways neither of you had expected.

in the beginning, it was easy to fall into each other.

there were quiet evenings spent talking about everything and nothing, laughing over ridiculous things, or just lying together, not needing words to say how much you meant to each other.

 everything felt like it was falling into place. the world seemed right when you were with her, like it was always meant to be this way.

but then, the phone call came. 

barcelona. 

for alexia, it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

the chance to play for one of the biggest clubs in the world, to push herself to the highest level. 

it was everything she’d ever worked for. 

it was her dream, and she couldn't turn it down. you knew that. 

you knew how much this meant to her, how hard she’d fought for it, but it didn't make it any easier. 

you both knew this was coming. you had known for some time it was your last season together.

but the reality of her being in barcelona, and you… not with her, was a heavy weight.

“i have to do this,” alexia said one night, her eyes filled with determination but something else too, something harder. 

“i can’t let anything distract me. not now. not when everything is finally falling into place.”

you tried to be understanding, but it was hard. 

“i get it, i do. but… what about us?”

she paused, eyes softening for just a moment before she spoke again. 

“this is bigger than us. i can't afford to divide my focus right now. it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me either.”

the words hit harder than you expected. 

it’s not fair to you—it was as though she was saying that this relationship, the one you thought was everything, wasn't important enough to fight for.

the weight of her ambition, her desire to reach the pinnacle of her career, was more than you could ever be.

“so that’s it then?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but she heard it. 

you could see her struggling, torn between what she wanted and the love she had for you. 

but there was no denying it—her focus was shifting, and it wasn’t on you anymore.

“i just… i need to focus on this. i need to focus on me.” 

her words were gentle, but there was no mistaking the finality in them.

it stung, deeply. 

you knew you had your own path, your own career to think about. 

arsenal was calling too, and it felt like the universe was pushing both of you in different directions, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

she didn’t want to do long-distance. 

she didn’t want to divide herself in a way that made her feel less than whole.

and, in the end, she wasn’t willing to make room for you in that vision. "

i can’t afford to keep looking back," she said. "i need to move forward."

you couldn’t hold onto something that wasn’t there anymore. 

her decision was clear, even if you still didn’t understand it fully. 

the love, the chemistry, everything you shared—it felt like it wasn’t enough to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

and so, just like that, you both moved on, but not together. 

her future in barcelona, your future in arsenal—each heading toward something bigger, but no longer with each other.

the weight of it lingered. 

you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t as important as you thought you were. 

maybe the love you shared wasn’t enough to keep her tethered, to keep you in her world. 

and you wondered, sometimes, if maybe you were just part of the past she was trying to leave behind.

~~

present

later, after all the celebrations, the interviews, and the spotlight’s moved on to the next story, you find yourself standing outside the stadium. alone.

you need air. you need space to think.

and then, out of nowhere, you hear footsteps behind you.

you don’t turn around, but you don’t need to. 

you already know who it is.

“y/n.” 

it’s the same voice, and it feels like nothing’s changed. 

"can we talk?"

you turn to face her.

for a moment, neither of you says anything. 

it’s like the weight of years is pressing down on both of you, all the things unsaid hanging in the air.

and then the words you’ve been craving to hear. 

“i’m sorry.”

it’s silent for a while. and finally, the question slips out before you can stop it.

“are you still the same person, ale?” once the words leave your lips, you wish you could take them back. 

it sounds dumb. pointless, even.

alexia looks at you, a small, bittersweet smile playing on her lips. 

“i think we both know the answer to that.” 

she takes a step closer, but not too close. giving you space. giving you time.

you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything at all.

there’s tension in the air, so thick you can almost taste it. 

everything you’ve both been holding back for so long hanging there.

and then, without a word, she pull you into a hug. 

it’s not perfect, but it’s something. it's everything you both missed. 

all the silence, the years, the distance—it falls away, like it never even mattered.

when you pull back, you finally manage a shaky smile.

“i guess some things don’t change after all.” 

“no,” alexia replies, her eyes soft, “i guess not.”

and for the first time in years, everything feels calm again.

maybe the game wasn’t the only thing that needed to be won. 

maybe it was you, too.

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

Miami 2024 

“Hello lovely F1 fans!” You said to the camera you were holding quite close to your face, “We’ve got a bit of a different setting today, because we are at the…” You took the camera away from your face to show the full setting, “Miami GP!”

You were a small F1 content creator who had become known for your at home ‘track-walks’. Every Thursday you would walk around your neighbourhood or get on the treadmill and walk the length of the race circuit for the weekend.

“This is my first ever GP, as you all know, and I just can’t explain to you all how excited I am. A big thank you to Liquid IV for sponsoring this trip, and this video. We are starting at the P1 box, because obviously. We’ve got a total of 5.4 kilometers to walk, so let's get to it.”

Throughout the walk you filmed information on the track, the city, the race, and even some snippets of fans who happened to know who you were.You were doing a light run when at one point in the video you saw a group of papaya and flipped the camera at them and slowed to a light jog, “I think those are our papaya boys, if I’m not mistaken.” You whispered into the mic. As you jogged past them you looked up and saw it was just Lando with some of his team. 

“Good luck this weekend.” You called out as you surpassed them. “Cheers!” Lando called out with a small smile. You smiled back and continued with your jog and video. “Meeting Lando Norris, can check that off the bucket list.” You laughed softly to the camera. When you made it back to the P1 box you started to end the video. “Well that was so much fun, thank you again to Liquid IV for bringing me out here. Cheers to a hopefully amazing weekend.”

An amazing weekend it was indeed. That Sunday you watched Lando Norris get his maiden win. It was safe to say you were crying in the VIP box as he crossed the line. That night you went back to the hotel with endless happiness, your life couldn’t get any better. Or so you thought.

You woke up that morning to your phone buzzing relentlessly. Every two seconds it felt like someone was liking, commenting, and following you. You sat up in shock logging into tiktok to see that your most recent track walk video had jumped from a few thousand views and likes, to millions of each, and your follower count was soaring as well.

You went through some of the comments laughing at them saying this was your first grand prix and it was the best one ever. Some said you wishing him luck was the reason he won and you replied to those comments teasingly.

It was a few hours later when you were getting ready to head back home that you saw the best notifications. 

Lando Norris liked your video

Lando Norris commented on your video

You were thoroughly freaking out. You opened tiktok for the hundredth time that day to see if your eyes were deceiving you, they were not.

Lando Norris: "Maybe this was my lucky charm. Thanks for the good vibes! 🧡"

You screamed in the comfort of your hotel room as you read it, replying back.

“I’ll need to come to a lot more races this season if this is the outcome. Congratulations! 🧡”

Hungary 2024

A few weeks had passed since Miami and everything that came with it. You still continued on your content journey with track walks and other videos with your new following. “Hello lovely F1 fans, old and new. We are here with another special edition track walk!” You cheered showing your surroundings. “I’ve been doing some overtime and made my way to the Hungaroring, so let’s go on a walk…” 

The walk itself went as normal, shared some info, showed the surroundings, and made it seem like a facetime time call. It was almost comical how when you were walking off the track you actually bumped into someone, that someone being Oscar Piastri. “I’m so sorry, I was not paying any attention.” You apologised immediately. He just chuckled, waving you off. “Don’t worry about it. Making a video?” He said looking at the camera. You nodded shyly. “Yeah another track walk.” He nodded at the information, slowly getting awkward. “Well, in true fashion. Good luck this weekend.” You bid and he thanked you with a chuckle.

Once again, it was a Mclaren win. This time, it was for Oscar. You were starting to go a little crazy. How was it that everytime you came to a race McLaren won? Again your video blew up, and like clock work, Oscar commented.

Oscar Piastri liked your video

Oscar Piastri commented on your video

You opened the video and tapped on the comments to see what he had put…

Oscar Piastri: Guess I owe you a huge thank you for the good luck wishes. Let's see if this works every time!”

You giggled lightly at the comment before writing a reply back…

“I’d go to every race if I could! Congratulations !!!”

Zandvoort 2024

Over the summer break you worked endlessly on your upcoming finals for your graduation in December. You were missing F1, and needed your fix. In a last ditch attempt at getting your best friend to come with you, you ended up back in Zandvoort.  “Hello F1 friends! We are here in Zandvoort, home of Max Verstappen. We’ve got lots of orange here so I’m just going to say everyone is in papaya.” 

There was no meeting on track this go around, but that night just as you were getting ready to call it, you got a DM from McLaren. You thought it was just a community thing and glanced at it, but when you saw your name, you sat up quickly. You opened it with shaky hands and read the message:

“Hey Y/N!! Hope you're enjoying your weekend in Zandvoort so far! You’ve got a name here in McLaren and we want to invite you to spend the rest of the weekend with the team in the garage! If you send us a photo of yourself, we can get you your passes by morning! Just give us a call when you get there and let us take care of everything else.” 

It was safe to say you might be receiving a noise complaint from your neighbours. Immediately you grabbed your camera and turned it on. “Hi friends, I’m shaking right now,” you laughed in shock. “McLaren just invited me to their garage this weekend. What the fuck?!” You showed the camera your phone where the message was still up. “Your girl is going to the McLaren garage, which means vlog time.”

You cut the video there and replied to McLaren with immense gratitude and a photo.

Walking up to the paddock entrance you had phoned McLaren and let them know you were walking up. You saw someone in Papaya and they waved at you enthusiastically. She passed you your passes over the barrier so that you could scan in. “This is crazy.” You said while she laughed. “I run all the social media accounts, and when I saw your videos I just had to pull some strings for you. You’re genuine, we like that at McLaren.” She told you honestly and you smiled bashfully. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

She then gave you a run through of everything happening in the garage, in the hub, and in the paddock revolving McLaren. The paddock wasn’t new to you, but this whole experience was strange to you. “And then you have a scooter to get around as well. Just don’t hit anyone because papaya is an easy colour to notice.” You laughed with her knowing how true it was. “I’ll do my best.”

You bounced between sides all morning, watching the teams set up the car for Lando and Oscar. You loved both drivers equally, you would never be able to choose one. You were on Lando’s side not paying much attention to your surroundings when two bodies stood in front of you. You looked up to get out of the way when you saw Oscar and Lando. “Following us now?” Lando asked with a smile. “I should ask you the same thing.” You shot back and Oscar chuckled. “They told us this morning you would be here for the rest of the weekend. It’s nice to see you.” Lando nodded in agreement and smiled happily. “It was a last minute decision to come,” you told them, “and then I got invited into the garage, it’s definitely going to be a good weekend.” The three of you laughed softly knowing the hidden meaning. “Well I’m certainly looking forward to a win this weekend.” Oscar shared. “She was my lucky charm first.” Lando pointed out. “Don’t fight!” You laughed, “I’ll be cheering the both of you on, see?” You took off your hat to show the underside of the brim. Each side had a number on it. “I stitched two of them together.” You informed. “That’s actually really cool.” Oscar said, taking the hat for a closer look.

“Your nails! Osc look at them.” Lando said taking your hands in his and showing off your nails, one hand was dedicated to Lando and his famous helmet design, and the other side was Oscars helmet design with a croissant on the ring finger. “Very funny.” He said when he saw it. “It was this or a cat.” You shrugged and Lando laughed as Oscar shook his head.

“Boys!” The two drivers looked behind them to see the clock counting down. “I will not be the reason you two don’t win this weekend so do go.” You pushed them lightly. “Thank you for coming, we’ll chat again later.” Lando said, going in for a hug. “Of course, go top both practices.” You cheered as Oscar also gave you a hug before the both of them went to their respective sides of the garage.

f1gossipofficial 

liked by user4 and others

f1gossipofficial Who’s that? Today before FP1 both McLaren drivers were seen talking and hugging with someone in their garage. In a different view, we can see that the person is content creator Y/N L/N who has gone viral for being the duo’s ‘good luck charm’. The three seem to be very cosy considering they’ve never officially met. 

view comments

user4 THAT SHOULD BE ME

user5 she posted a mini vlog on her tiktok this morning! She said McLaren dm’ed her and asked for her to be in the garage

User9 awwe that’s so sweet of McLaren to do for her 

user6 something about her doesn’t seem right

user7 don’t start, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve seen on tiktok

user8 another McLaren win is incoming

The following two days of the weekend were spent filming and nerding out over being in the garage. Lando and Oscar of course got super busy over the following two days, but they still managed to give you a wave when they could. Watching the race from the garage and hearing the live feed, watching the pit crew get ready for the pit stops, the actual pit stops, it was beyond magical for you. And without fail, one of the boys won, this time in Lando’s favor by 20 seconds.

You got to celebrate with the team, some of them recognising you and saying you needed to be here more often. Days like this were what you dreamed for. In between the chaos, you never managed to say goodbye to the papaya drivers, but they did DM you.

Lando Norris has followed you

Oscar Piastri has followed you

You’ve been added to a groupchat with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri

Your eyes almost flew out of your head when you saw the notifications. This wasn’t happening, you thought but you clicked on it anyway.

Lando Norris: We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, but we just wanted to thank you for your support and coming to as many races as you can!

Oscar Piastri: Lando’s said it all, but hopefully you can come to another race soon, and we’ll try to win even if you can’t.

You laughed at the very opposite but almost the same message from each of them. Your hands were shaking as you replied back.

Y/N L/N: You were having too much fun celebrating the win! A big thank you to you guys as well for making it so easy to support a great team. Hopefully I can get to a race soon! If not I’ll be watching from home still cheering you guys on!

Oscar Piastri: you don’t have to be so formal 😂I feel like we can call you a friend if you keep helping us win

Lando Norris: what osc said, don’t be a stranger.

Y/N L/N: no need to bully me! You’re a-listers! How else was i supposed to respond

Lando Norris: OMG!!! I can’t believe you texted me!! You followed me too OMG OMG OMG. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH 🧡🧡🥰🥰🥳🥳 ASGKWBEWOEHJ

Oscar Piastri: like that ^^

Y/N L/N: that’s what I’m doing on the inside lol, but i think I would block myself if I did actually typed that

Lando Norris: yeah it was a bit weird to type 😂

Oscar Piastri: great, now I have two of you

You tilted your head at the comment but shook it off. You were pretty similar to Lando on the goofy side of things.

Y/N L/N: Don’t worry Oscar, when I’m not on an adrenaline high like I am right now, I’m more like you than you think

Lando Norris: great, now there’s two of you

Oscar Piastri: i’ll have to see this in person then

Y/N L/N: is that an invite I’m hearing?

Lando Norris: sounds like it to me.

Oscar Piastri: it was indeed.

Y/N L/N: i’ll see what my work and class schedule looks like and I’ll get back to you on that offer. Graduation is soon so i’m balancing a lot of things

Lando Norris: its my offer too!!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: what do you go to school for?

Y/N L/N: noted Lando, and sports journalism, dream job is to work in F1.

Lando Norris: That’s mint! I think you’ll do good

Oscar Piastri: you’ve got a very warming personality that I’m sure all the drivers will like. If you ever need to practise, we’re here.

Lando Norris: If you twist my words I’ll know you did it

Oscar Piastri: Lando!

Y/N L/N: Lando!! 😭 I promise I won’t, this season especially really helped push me into this because I hate the way the media portrays two/three of the nicest people ever.

Lando Norris: i know we’re the two…but who’s three

Oscar Piastri: guess 🦁

Lando Norris: NOOOOOOOOO

Lando Norris: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEE

Oscar Piastri:  😂😂😂

Y/N L/N: IM SORRY!!! I CAN’T HELP IT!!

Y/N L/N: Oscar!! Why would you throw me under like that!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user is no longer available*

Lando Norris: invite has been taken back.

Y/N L/N: nooo!!! I’m sorry!!! OSCAR!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user apologises for the chaos he has now unpacked*

Baku 2024

Within the three weeks that passed between Zandvoort and Baku, Oscar and Lando never stopped texting you. The three of you figured out you had a lot in common and clicked like magnets. Over that time, you had plenty of new followers and decided to do a Q&A on your tiktok.

“How am I able to go to so many GP’s? Are you a millionaire?” You laughed after reading the question. “I’m not a millionaire by any means. I saved up for about a little over a year, didn’t go out with friends unless it was a birthday, didn’t buy unnecessary stuff, just was really good with not spending so I could treat myself this year. I’m in my last months of uni, which I got a full scholarship for, so not having to worry about school costs is also a great help.”

“Have you spoken to Lando and Oscar since your time in the garage? They follow you now too.” You thought quickly about it, “I haven’t no,” oops. “They were just being polite and doing their jobs when they saw me in the garage. As for the following thing, I can’t tell you why they decided to do that, but I'm not complaining.” You chuckled.

“What are you studying in Uni?”

“I’m in my final months of my sports journalism major. That's why I’m a big fan of F1, but also F1 got me into journalism, it's a circle of interest.” You mimicked drawing a circle that never ends.

In those three weeks you had also moved your group chat out of Instagram.

Osco: Is it terrible to say I miss having you in the garage?

Landito: wow Osc, straight to the point

Osco: leave me alone

Y/N: if it's anything I miss being in the garage, but no it’s terrible

Landito: what he means to say is…. we miss seeing you in person

Osco: facetime isn’t enough

Osco: come to Baku?

Landito: we took back her invite remember?

Osco: you took back your invite…

Y/N: i’ll be there already

Landito: WAIT REALLY???

Osco: is this a prank?

Y/N: yes really

Y/N: and no not a prank

Osco: answer please

Your phone started ringing just as you read it. You were in no position to be facetiming two people you now had a crush on… yeah, that also happened over the three weeks. You tried to tell yourself they were just being nice and you were caught up, but the way they acted sometimes led you to believe otherwise.

“Why am I looking at the ceiling?” Lando pointed out. “Because I am in no way showing you what I look like right now.” You laughed at them. “Yes you are.” Oscar commented. “We facetimed you for a reason.”

“Face please.” Lando asked sweetly, and you rolled your eyes. There you were in your McLaren x Reiss jacket, curls thrown up into a mix of a bun and ponytail, and glasses over your eyes. “You wear glasses?!” Lando said peeking over Oscar’s shoulder. They were always together, you started to realise.

“Yes, Lando. I wear glasses.” You shook your head with a small smile. “Well, you look beautiful as always. What’s this about you coming to Baku and not telling us?” Oscar moved on swiftly. “It was supposed to be a surprise! I was-”

“Nope, if it’s a surprise we shall wait.” Oscar cut her off. “I don’t want to wait though.” Lando groaned from behind him. “It’s in 2 days, Lando.” Oscar said, looking at the head that was now on his shoulder. “2 days too long.” He mumbled. “I promise it’ll be worth it!”

And worth it it was. After your track walk, there you were, the media pen, questions about the upcoming weekend ready, with an F1 TV microphone in your hand. F1 had reached out to you after your Q&A video asking about your sports journalism career. One thing led to another and here you were.

“Hey Max, first things first, how are you feeling this weekend?” Max smiled. “I mean, I’m feeling fine, I definitely need to get in the car to see how we do on track. Not very well if you’re here though.” 

“You know who I am?” You asked in shock. “All other drivers hope you don’t make it to the races with the track record you have, but someone told me I was one of your favourites.” Of course they did. “Well they wouldn’t be lying.” You chuckled shyly. 

Max leaned on the gate as you got your questions ready. "This year has seen a shift in the competitive order with McLaren and Ferrari stepping up. You’ve still proven to be one of the best drivers this season and currently lead the Drivers' Championship, with Red Bull fighting to stay at the top in the Constructors’. With three titles already under your belt, how do you maintain focus when the dominance you’ve grown used to in both championships isn’t guaranteed anymore—especially heading into a high-risk, high-reward circuit like Baku, where unpredictability often plays a major role?"

Max seemed a little shocked with the question. “I mean…” You nodded along as he answered and when he finished and the camera was off he smiled. “Those were very good questions. I look forward to seeing you the rest of the weekend.” You smiled at him. “Thank you, it means a lot.”

You got similar style compliments from other drivers and when the papaya boys walked in and spotted you they both smiled but had to work their way down the pen. Oscar was the first to get to your station. A quick glance to his eyes showed the professionalism he was using to hide the sheer excitement at seeing you again. “Hey Oscar, you’re going into this weekend with a double podium from Monza, how are you preparing for this weekend to get the same results if not better?”

Oscar chuckled. “Well if you’re here then a McLaren win seems to be in the cards.” You shook your head at him as he smirked. “But…”

“Thank you Oscar, good luck this weekend.” Before he left he reached over the barrier to give you a quick hug. “Nice to see you again.” He said before walking off. Lando quickly took his position and gave you his eye-closing smile. “Hey you.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Hey Lando, after the double podium in Monza, it’s clear that McLaren has made significant strides this season. With the Constructors' Championship in reach with just 11 points to Red Bull, how do you approach a circuit like Baku, where opportunities and risks are amplified? Do you feel this weekend could be pivotal in swinging the fight for the Constructors’ in McLaren’s favor against Ferrari as well?"

Lando tilted his head. “You’re one of the only people who’s brought Ferrari into the Constructors fight.” He pointed out and you shrugged lightly. “You’ve said before that Red Bull isn’t your competition, Ferrari is.”

Lando’s interview came and went just as quickly as Oscars and he too ended the interview with a hug. Charles and Carlos were just after and both of them mentioned knowing who you were and to take a stop at their garage.

The weekend went really well. Any free time you had was bouncing between garages and meeting new people. And like clock work, McLaren won the race, in Oscar’s favour. You were doing post race interviews and the wide smile on Oscar’s face when he saw you made your insides warm. “Please come to every race.” He joked and you laughed lightly. “Congratulations on your win today Oscar, after some very good fights with Charles…”

Because you had to go through every driver, and then got invited to talk about your experience on F1 TV-

“We are bringing on the voice you’ve heard all weekend, Y/N L/N.” Laura introduced as you walked into the middle of the group. “How are you?” She asked. “I’m doing really amazing. It’s been such a busy weekend for me, all thanks to you guys for inviting me and giving me some on the field action.”

Will Buxton spoke next. “You’ve become a big name here, everytime you come to a race, a McLaren driver wins. How is that even possible?”

You laughed alongside the rest of the panel. “I just put 50 kilos of extra weight in everyones car before the race this time. I think I’ll run the engine out next time though. Make everyone have grid-penalties.” You joked and they all laughed again. “It’s been so nice having you with us this weekend! We hope that you can join us again sometime soon!”

-you were able to stay much longer into the evening. Making your way to the McLaren garage you saw that they were prepping for a team photo and you quickly got your camera out to snap the moment for yourself. “No, you get in here too!” Zak yelled seeing you and the team cheered in agreement. You shook your hands not wanting to spoil it but then you were getting picked up from behind by a shoeless Lando and plopped right to Oscar.

Oscar placed an arm around you with a wide smile. “This is too much.” You told him. “Nope, it’s not.” He smiled again. You shook your head but smiled and cheered for the picture as well, and then the champagne. The team member next to you handed you their bottle with a wink at Oscar. Right as the photo ended you shook the bottle and made sure to douse Oscar as he tried to run away. Lando also joined you and the three of you were getting drenched in everyone else's champagne.

“There are two of you!” Oscar joked. “Yeah you might be right about that.” Lando laughed, clearing champagne from his eyes. “That was fun!” you laughed clinking Oscars champagne bottle. “You’ve got about 5 minutes before you start to smell.” He laughed and then your face fell. “I don’t have a change of clothes!” Lando laughed as you freaked out and Oscar just hugged you. “I’m sure we can find you something to wear.”

They did, you were wearing a team kit from their spare room in the hub. It was enough to get you to your hotel room. “Want to ride with us to the hotel?” Lando asked coming to walk with you as you reached the doors to walk out. “Yeah that sounds good.” He took your hand just as you were going to exit. “We have to wait for Oscar.” He said and you nodded and without letting go of your hand he dragged you back towards the main area.

“Did you enjoy your weekend?” He asked as you two leaned against a wall. “It was an amazing weekend.” You smiled giddily, closing your eyes. “I hope this doesn’t change that.” You opened your eyes to see Lando coming closer to you, eyes looking down at your lips. You nodded lightly and he closed the gap between your lips. His teeth nipped yours, with a sense of impatience. “Just couldn’t wait could you.” You broke away with his head resting against yours. Oscar. Why did you feel so guilty? “Oscar I-” He just shook his head with a laugh coming to your otherside. “I won, does that mean I get a kiss?” 

You looked at Lando who still had that dazed smile, then back to Oscar. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” He said and Lando shook his head. “We’re dating, now can I kiss you please?” He said quickly before taking your lips in his. His kiss was softer but still as impatient. “We’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He sighed when he pulled away. 

“Really?” You asked softly, hand coming to press against your tingling lips. “Yes, since we started texting you. Oscar and I just couldn’t get you out of our heads.” Lando said with a small smile. 

“I thought I was being delusional.” You chuckled softly. “Not at all.” Oscar's hand went to your hip softly squeezing. “Come to Singapore with us, please.” You looked at Lando who took your hand and held it in his own. “Please.” You nodded almost in a trance.

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who accidentally finds out who you gave your first kiss to after being under the impression you still had it.

sure, you both were reaching an age where most people had already kissed another, been bedded, under-age drank, but kaiser never took you as the type to be so… promiscuous (“your dad was okay with it?” he had asked. “why the hell would i tell my dad about that.” your eye roll had never been louder.)

it was apparently some classmate you had dated briefly back in early high school, a time where you had both were barely able to see each other since kaiser spent some time in jail after being framed and after being bailed out by his manager, spent the majority of his time in his team’s training clubhouse. it didn’t help that it was quite a few towns away from your own, so communication grew weary between you and him during that time.

so when you and him finally reconnected and began to settle down with each other once again at an older age, where you and him were blooming into college, he’s amazed to see how much you had grown during the past few years, how your featured had matured into themselves so elegantly that sometimes, when you weren’t looking, he’d examine each bit of your features to get a proper look.

it was a little difficult attempting to gain a proper stance from him, since all the training at bastard mündchen had clearly done a work on him both good and bad, but when kaiser felt himself relaxing more and more with each frequented interaction with you—he’s brought back to when you were both children and didn’t know any better of the world around you.

so imagine his shock when you accidentally let it slip out that your first kiss went rather wrong as you and him are watching some sort of foreign sports movie where the main character’s long-time love interest finally kisses him.

“god i remember my first kiss,” you say casually, making kaiser snap his neck towards you so fast.

first kiss? you had your first kiss already? before he did???

sure, kaiser had a good amount of fans that flocked to him every chance they got and perhaps he’s done a little bit of entertaining to them, but even so—he still hasn’t necessarily had such a moment shared with another. he never felt like he needed to focus on it… never felt like it was some deed worth prioritizing becoming the best striker… until now.

“huh?” kaiser shuffles in his place and furrows his brows tightly, a vein barely visible from his forehead. “whaddya mean first kiss? with who? when?”

the questions shoot out all at once, you can’t help but laugh at kaiser’s (supposed) curiosity. you suppose the suspense of knowing what happened to that runt he met at eight years old has experienced since his arrest.

“oh, it was just a classmate from one of my sophomore classes,” you wave a hand, as if it was completely nothing to hold much regard to.

kaiser twitched, his eyes flickering towards your ripened lips. “and you gave him your first kiss?”

“probably my last too,” you sigh out wearily, “haven’t really had much people interested in me since then.”

he fell silent, going to scan your face again once more as you fixated your gaze to the tv, circling in on your lips again that give a soft pout. he twitched.

“he got too excited and ended up moreso clashing his mouth on mine—we ended up clacking teeth pretty hard,” you snort out as you stare in quiet amazement at how tender and soft the tv’s couple’s kisses were. “it ended up hurting too much to try and continue.”

you bite your lip, concentrated. “i dunno, i just wish it was more slowly, more… in-the-moment.”

kaiser twitched once more. noticing your wistful gaze at the movie playing in front of you and him. he flickers his eyes toward the intimate scene that you seem so focused on. he pays attention to how the lips of the two characters flow in a certain rhythm and how they meld into each other. they seem loose, relaxed, and that lack of tension made the kiss seem much more romantic.

he thinks back to some of how his teammates greet their girlfriends with kisses, or how he’ll just see a random couple locking lips with each other in the bars his team and him tended to as a celebration of a victorious game. kaiser had never felt a compulsion to experience such a thing, but there’s a strange magnetic feeling he’s getting that tugs him closer to you that is very much not his own rationale’s doing.

he says it with too much confidence. he says it like he’s done it numerous times before, like he’s a master at it, despite never even paying such avid attention to another’s lips until now. so kaiser doesn’t know why, but he suddenly blurts out,

“then let me show you a proper kiss.”

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter eleven: The Hunt Begins

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13

The atmosphere in the VIP room had shifted into something far heavier, something that felt like it could suffocate you if you didn’t breathe carefully. The VIPs were scattered around the room, lounging on the lavish couches with glasses of expensive drinks in hand, their eyes on the large screen mounted on the wall. The air was thick with anticipation, the same kind of energy you’d feel just before a storm hit.

You could feel their gazes on you, even though you weren’t looking directly at them. You were hyper-aware of their presence, as if they were all leaning just a little closer, just a little more eager to see what would happen next. You knew they were watching you—after all, you were the spectacle of the night, just like every other game participant. The only difference was, you didn’t want to be the prize they were fighting over.

In-ho had positioned himself near the back of the room, standing close to you but not too close. His presence was both protective and commanding, as though he was a constant reminder that the games—no matter how much fun the VIPs were having—would never be something you could truly escape. Even here, with all the plush luxury and the apparent peace, you were never really safe.

You shifted your gaze to the screen, trying to focus on the events unfolding there instead of the discomfort you felt.

The game was about to start.

On the screen, the city appeared—ruins. Buildings half-collapsed, streets littered with rubble. It was like a bomb had hit it, and what was left was a desolate wasteland. You couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in your stomach as the camera zoomed in on the players.

Each of them wore a bright orange headband, the color a stark contrast against the grey backdrop of the destroyed city. It was the perfect game—Hide and Seek, but with a twisted, deadly twist.

The players had to evade a pack of trained dogs. If the dogs found them, they were mauled. If they managed to stay hidden, they moved on to the next round. It was brutal. Violent. And the VIPs loved it.

The camera cut to the dogs. They were large, terrifying creatures, their eyes hungry, waiting for the signal to hunt. You felt a tightness in your throat, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t look away. The images on the screen were becoming more vivid, more real. The dogs—trained specifically for this kind of hunt—were restless, pacing behind a metal gate, snarling, their teeth sharp and glinting in the dim light of the arena.

A man’s voice broke through the tension in the room. “This is my favorite part of the games,” a VIP called out, slurring slightly, clearly a few drinks in. His voice carried a note of excitement, like a child about to see his favorite movie.

Another VIP laughed darkly. “You say that every time, but you never get tired of it, do you?” He looked at you, his gaze lingering longer than it should. It made your skin crawl, but you fought the urge to shrink back. You weren’t allowed to show weakness. Not here. Not in front of them.

The horn blared.

It was a sharp, loud sound that sent the dogs into a frenzy. They barked, their bodies tense, their noses twitching as they began to pick up the scent of their prey. You could see the players—still in hiding, trying to remain as quiet as possible—knowing that the moment they were discovered, they’d be torn apart. The camera panned across the arena, showing glimpses of broken buildings, the wreckage of cars, shattered glass that glittered like dangerous confetti in the dust.

One player, a man with a thick beard, tried to hide behind a crumbling wall. His breath was shallow, his body pressed flat against the rubble. The camera zoomed in on him, following every movement, every flinch. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to make it. The dogs were too close. You could hear their growls, their teeth snapping in the air as they closed in on their target.

A single dog, a massive black creature with piercing yellow eyes, sprang forward. The bearded man didn’t even have time to scream before the dog leapt at him, its jaws clamping down on his arm with a sickening crunch.

The VIPs in the room reacted—some of them leaned forward, watching intently as the man struggled. His arm was pulled out of its socket, his body jerking in spasms of pain. The dog didn’t let go. It was almost clinical in its violence.

Your stomach turned, but you forced yourself to look away. You couldn’t afford to show any sign of weakness, even though everything inside you screamed to leave, to run far away from this nightmare. You couldn’t. Not while you were here.

In-ho must have sensed the change in you. Without turning, he moved closer, his presence a shield. His hand brushed lightly against your shoulder, a subtle touch that no one would notice but you. It was a small thing, but to you, it was everything. It was the reminder that, even though you were surrounded by these monsters, he was here.

“You don’t have to watch this,” he murmured softly, his voice so low that it was just for you.

But you shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” he said, his voice firm, but his hand on your shoulder tightened ever so slightly, as if to say that you weren’t alone in this. It’s funny because this is what you had said to him in the first week of your marriage and now he’s giving you your own advice.

The game continued, and you had to watch—had to endure every violent moment. The players were slowly eliminated, each one either killed by the dogs or injured enough to be eliminated from the game. The tension in the room built, and the VIPs, unable to hide their excitement, began to lean closer to the screen.

It was as if you were all watching something… sacred. The chaos was intoxicating, even for you. But you knew it wasn’t real. These men didn’t care about the players. They were nothing more than objects to be discarded when they were no longer useful. And yet, they stared, completely enthralled.

Your eyes flickered to your father again. He hadn’t moved. He never moved. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his face a mask of impassivity. But when his gaze briefly flicked toward you, it was like a flash of lightning—a quick, cold look before it was gone. He hadn’t acknowledged you, not really. But in that fleeting moment, you saw the briefest flash of something in his eyes. Regret? Disappointment? You didn’t know, but you didn’t want to care either.

As the horn signaling the end of the game the remaining players slowly made their way out of their hiding places as the dogs retreated back to their cages.

The game ended in a bloodbath, as it always did. But that didn’t matter to the VIPs, they didn't care that people died, they only cared if they were entertained.

They began talking among themselves. Their eyes, however, soon shifted back to you. They were bored now, looking for something new to entertain them. The focus of their gazes was relentless.

You could feel them closing in, their words directed at you now, one by one, subtle compliments, veiled insults, thinly disguised advances. They were trying to reel you in, to see if you’d bite, to see if they could take something from you that they hadn’t earned.

In-ho’s protective stance didn’t falter. He stood between you and the crowd, blocking their advances with his quiet strength. His presence was like a wall, keeping you safe, even if only for a while.

You wanted to look away from it all, to pretend you weren’t part of this game, but the truth was, you were. You had been from the moment you stepped into this world.

And you weren’t sure how long you could keep pretending.

———————

Chapter 11!!! Woo! I’m prolly going to have 1-2 more chapters posted tonight… as always let me know what you think about the chapter! Thank you! :)

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