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junkissed · 11 months ago

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bad neighbor

member — neighbor!dino x f reader genre — smut, college au word count— 6.3k synopsis — pros of living next door to a frat house: your neighbor is really really hot. cons of living next door to a frat house: probably everything else. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, fingering, lots of making out, facial (cum on face), semi public sex (hooking up at a party) content warnings — slightly introverted!reader, chan is in college but reader isn't: can be interpreted as older!reader but that's up to you tbh, mentions of weed & alcohol (chan & reader are both sober), cameos from cheol & hoshi hehe notes — thanks again to @onlymingyus for helping me get my brain in order <3 please reblog or send an ask if you enjoyed reading!! it means a lot to me and it helps me continue writing :) i hope you like this fic!

it's still early in the evening when the music starts.

the sound of voices and cars honking outside your house draws your attention away from the latest episode of your favorite new show. you get up and walk over to the window, peeking out through the curtain at the bright headlights beaming at you.

with a sigh you push the curtain closed again, heading into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. if tonight is like any of the other nights, then it'll be a long time before you fall asleep. hopefully the chamomile will help—is what you tell yourself every time. and every time, it doesn't help.

living in the same neighborhood as the frat houses from the nearby state university was certainly a choice, but the rent in the area was the cheapest in town and you didn't have many options left. with the fall semester coming up fast, every other apartment complex and condo in the city was already rented out. after moving in, you'd quickly discovered why the rent was so cheap: not because the house was in bad condition or because the location was inconvenient, but because of the parties. nearly every fucking night.

you might actually be impressed at how these college kids find the energy to party so often, if you weren’t so fed up with them. every friday and saturday night, and even sometimes during the week, at least one house on your block was throwing some kind of wild party.

by now you'd seen it all: drunk girls throwing up on your lawn, shirtless guys doing keg stands in the middle of the cul-de-sac, people making out literally everywhere. and yes, including that one time on halloween when you found two playboy bunnies having sex with spider-man in your backyard. how they got back there was anybody's guess, but from then on you’d started double and triple checking that your back gate was locked every night.

tonight, it seemed that the festivities were being hosted at the house across the street. and the man behind it all? none other than lee chan, president of the fraternity and owner of the house.

you'd only officially met him twice, once on the day you'd moved in and once the day after. his red honda had pulled into his driveway at the same time you were unloading your boxes from the u-haul, and he'd jumped out and offered to help carry your furniture inside.

at the time it had felt like this was finally your meet-cute moment, the friendly and unfairly attractive boy-next-door that sweeps you off your feet with love at first sight. but once the final box had been moved, he'd simply given you a smile and a wave and went back inside his house. no cute bonding, no exchanging phone numbers, no asking to see each other again. he just left.

of course, that had been before you found out about the parties, and the shock you were in for that same night when people had started showing up in droves had nearly led you to call the cops. so the next morning you'd put on a nice outfit and went to knock on his door, and it was then that you found out more about the neighborhood you'd found yourself living in.

with the same polite tone he'd used yesterday, he'd been friendly and apologetic for the noise, promising that he'd make sure everyone stayed on his side of the lawn and that no one disturbed you or your house. he'd explained that it wasn't a quiet neighborhood, no matter the time of year, but repeated that if anything happened he would take full responsibility for it. he said that you were welcome to come over any time, whether you needed something or you just wanted in on the fun.

you'd taken his word for it, sheepishly waving goodbye as you crossed the sidewalk between your houses, though you figured you would probably never set foot inside his house while there was a party going on. and as you’d walked away, you had tried to ignore the feeling of your heart fluttering with the beginnings of a crush on your neighbor.

tonight, however, your heart was doing anything but fluttering. music blasted outside, definitely a lot louder than usual, and the sound of car engines revving was already getting on your nerves.

you dunk your tea bag into the boiling water at the same time a loud banging on your door makes you jump, and you narrowly avoid spilling it all over yourself and the counter.

quietly you rush over to the door, looking out the peephole to see a group of people carrying cases of beer, looking around at your front porch.

before you can figure out how to react, you hear someone yell something distantly and the group turns around in the direction of the sound.

"shit, wrong house," one of the guys says loudly. "sorry, whoever lives here! have a good night!" he calls as they walk away, the others laughing over a joke you can't hear.

with the crisis averted, you head back into the kitchen and pull the tea bag out of your mug, chucking it into the trash with a huff. full responsibility, your ass.

and then… you have an idea.

chan had been so insistent that you could come over if you ever needed anything, so you might as well take advantage of his offer. because tonight you did, in fact, need something. you needed the party to not be so goddamn loud that you can literally feel your living room floor vibrating beneath your feet.

you stick your mug in the microwave to reheat later and quickly change out of your pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. presentable enough that you don’t embarrass yourself, yet comfortable enough that you don’t feel so awkward.

with a deep breath, you pull open your front door, keys tightly in hand as you lock it behind you and start making your way across the street.

you're almost at chan’s front door when a man steps in front of you out of nowhere, stopping you short. "hey, here for the party?" he asks, holding up his hand for a high-five.

"um… kinda," you say, lightly tapping his hand. you figure he must be the bouncer of some sort, from his friendly yet confident no-nonsense attitude and the way his thick biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. "i'm looking for lee chan, he owns the house?"

"gotcha," he nods. "gotta check your age before i let you in, though."

you pause, his words sinking in as you realize why he's asking. "oh, sorry, i didn't think i'd need my id," you apologize. "but i live next door, my driver's license is just in my wallet, i can go grab—"

"are you over 21?" he interrupts, and you frown at the question.

"uh, yes?"

"cool. head on in, then," he says.

you look at him suspiciously. "you're sure you don't need to see my id? what if i was lying?"

"dino will probably be downstairs, his room is the door at the end of the hallway on the left," he says, pointedly ignoring your questions. "and while you're down there, tell him cheol sent you. ask him to grab another beer for me."

he waves towards the open front door, and hesitantly you make your way inside. you have no idea who the hell dino is, and you can only hope it's just a nickname of some kind and the man you're about to go find isn't some stranger.

the second you set foot inside the doorway, it's like entering a completely different world. the air is stale and humid, clinging to your skin as you push through a crowd of what must be hundreds of people packed like sardines into every corner of the room.

the music gets louder the further inside the house you go, and you have to focus on repeating cheol's instructions in your head so you don’t get lost in the maze of hallways and doors. downstairs, end of the hallway, left.

you soon find out where the music is coming from. unlike the normal house lights on the first floor, downstairs everything is dark except for colorful flashing led lights around the room. a man stands on top of a table between two huge speakers as people crowd around him, jumping and shouting lyrics to the song that’s playing.

there’s so many people that you have to push your way through the crowd, but most of the people around you either don’t notice or are too drunk to care. but finally, you make it to what looks like the hallway that the man outside—what was his name, cheol?—told you about.

you open the first door on your left and find four people sat quietly on the floor passing around a bong, a thick cloud of smoke hanging over the room. all four of them look over at you at the same time, glazed eyes silently asking who the hell are you?.

"sorry, wrong room," you squeak, slamming the door and retreating back into the hallway as you try your best not to step on anyone's feet.

with a deep breath you crack open the door directly beside the one you'd just opened and poke your head inside, and relief washes over you when you see chan inside.

he's sitting on a couch with a couple girls sitting next to him and a guy slumped against his shoulder, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

he looks up when the door opens, and a look of shock spreads over his face when he recognizes you. he calls your name and you step inside tentatively, saying his name in response. "chan?"

"close the door behind you," he says, and you jump to turn around and shut it with a click. he must notice you standing like a deer in headlights, because he motions you closer to him with a friendly smile. "sorry," he explains. "people will think it's an open room if you leave the door open. i don't want anybody in here without a reason to be."

you nod, but your eyes dart over at the girls sitting beside chan. he makes eye contact with them and clears his throat, and without a word they stand up, understanding the message.

he helps the man laying against him sit up, then helps him stand up and hands him off to the others. "don't let hoshi drink anything else tonight except water, okay? keep an eye on him until your driver shows up."

they nod and slip their arms around their friend, helping him stumble out of the room as he grumbles about something incoherent. "thanks, dino," one of them says with a little wave. "see you monday for that bio test."

the girls open and shut the door quickly, suddenly leaving you alone with him in the room.

"hi," you start, not knowing what else to say. it's been such an ordeal just trying to find him that you've almost forgotten why you came searching for him in the first place.

"hi," he repeats with a laugh. "honestly, i never thought i'd see you here. you don't seem like the type. so, what brings you over tonight?"

"you've only met me twice, how would you know what i seem like?" you reply defensively, thought he's spot on. this is not your usual scene at all, and you’re sure that anyone at this party who’s even a smidge sober must be able to tell how out of place you look.

he shrugs, patting the couch seat next to him. "alright, fair point. come sit down."

you carefully take a seat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the collection of ambiguous stains on the couch cushions.

"oh, before i forget. somebody named cheol told me to tell you he wants a beer?" you say awkwardly, relaying the message.

"bastard," chan mutters, but he's smiling, and you assume the guy you met earlier is a friend of his. "fine, i'll grab him something when i go back outside." pausing, he turns his attention back to you. "but really, why are you here? i don't wanna make any assumptions, but i doubt it's for the free alcohol."

"if i was, you'd have to tell me where to find it," you say with a shrug, and he laughs but stays quiet for you to finish.

you fold your hands together nervously. "anyway, i just came over to ask—could you maybe turn the music down, like, just a tiny bit? and also… can you tell people to stop having sex in my yard?"

he winces and gives an apologetic smile. "yeah, of course. sorry about that. i told vernon to keep it down, but you know how he gets when he's…" he stops as if he’s just realized something. "nevermind. i'll go let him know right now. do you wanna come with, or you wanna stay here?"

"no offense, but i'd rather not go back out there," you laugh awkwardly. “it was bad enough just trying to find you in the first place.”

"all good," he replies with that friendly smile of his. "it's not for everyone, that's for sure. just make sure the door stays closed, and you'll be fine in here by yourself. shouldn't take too long."

he opens the door and slips out, slamming it closed behind him. you sit unmoving on the couch, finally glancing at your surroundings.

unlike the first room, the air here is fairly clean, other than the faint smell of alcohol and weed wafting in from under the door. you realize this must be chan's actual bedroom, when you see the posters that cover the walls and the bookshelf full of knick-knacks and textbooks.

you start to wonder who else lives in this house, but soon the door opens again and chan returns, the sound of voices and music flooding in while the door is open but quickly falling quieter once the door is shut again.

"alright, he'll keep it down. i'm sorry about the noise," he apologizes again, but you wave him off, suddenly feeling shy around him. with him still standing and you still sitting, he towers over you in a way that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter back to life.

"no, it's fine. really, it's not that big of a deal," you rush, trying to ignore the growing feeling in your chest. was he always this hot? for the first time tonight you notice how his blonde hair falls in waves around his face, perfectly framing his soft features.

he shakes his head. "really, i mean it. vernon will make sure it doesn't get out of hand, he’s good at that. i can't exactly give you a quiet evening, but i can give you the best i've got."

you take a deep breath and stand up. you're already way outside of your comfort zone even just coming to this party, but maybe this experience hasn't been all that bad. after all, you got to see chan again, and you got to exchange more than a handful of words with him like you did all the other times you’d met him.

"well… what is the best you've got?" you ask him, and you almost see him raise an eyebrow.

he puts his hands in his back pockets, pausing for a second as he looks at you. "mm, best i've got? probably this room. my room. quietest in the house, and nobody will come in to bother us."

your heart races as you take a small step towards him, standing close to him but still keeping some distance between you.

"so does this mean you're not leaving?" he asks when you don’t say anything, just barely loud enough for you to hear him.

"do you want me to stay?"

he takes a step closer to you. "only if you stay with me."

"do you say that to all the people you bring in here?" your question is joking, but a part of you still worries that he thinks you're just another girl at the party looking for a one night stand. though honestly, you wouldn't even really mind if that's all this was. hell, maybe all the secondhand smoke is getting to your head and clouding your judgement, because hooking up with your neighbor seems like a pretty fantastic idea right now.

"the only time i let people in my room is to let them use my bathroom and to make sure they don't die of alcohol poisoning," he says in a low tone, a little laugh escaping him. "and now, i guess i let my hot neighbor in here, too."

"you think i'm hot?" you ask, taking another small step forward.

he matches your stride, taking one last step towards you so that you're finally standing toe to toe with him. "i'd be an idiot not to."

"but how would you know, if we've only met twice?"

he laughs. "well, you had just moved in. i wasn't gonna hit on you when you hadn't even finished unpacking your furniture yet."

"so you did want to hit on me, then," you say confidently, straightening up a little.

“did i ever say i didn't?” he rests his hands on your hips and gently pulls you towards him, closing the last of the distance between you. his eyes never leave your face, gauging your reaction and looking for any hesitation.

you wrap your arms around him and lean forward, a smile on your lips. "good to know."

he leans in the rest of the way and presses his mouth against yours, and everything else just falls into place. your hands reach up to find his hair, threading your fingers through his blond waves and tugging experimentally, and when he lets out a little noise of pleasure you kiss him harder.

the noise of the party fades into the background as his hands slide down your body to grip your ass, and you can’t help the little moan that escapes as he starts to back you up against the wall. his hands stay put, kneading your ass as you try to keep your legs from giving out already. it’s painfully obvious how bad you want him, but it’s equally obvious how he feels the same way.

“fuck, been dreaming about this since the day you moved in,” chan says, pulling away from you with a shaky breath as your fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt.

he pulls it off over his head before leaning over to kiss you again, his tongue tracing over your lips. he’s good at this; not like you’re surprised by it or anything, but it still catches you off guard.

he seems to be able to sense the tiny bit of lingering hesitancy, so he breaks apart from you but still keeps his arms firmly around you, loosening his grip just a little. “is this okay?” he asks in a low voice, but you can hear the concern laced in it.

you nod quickly, tugging your shirt off quickly and letting his hands settle at your hips before you pull him back closer. you never do this. maybe you really had inhaled too much secondhand smoke on the way in and you aren’t thinking straight. but deep down, you know that’s not the case.

as much as you hate to admit it, your harmless crush on your neighbor has grown into something much, much more. you can’t say you’ve never been a little jealous when you see girls leaving his house on sunday mornings after parties. you can’t say you’ve never let your eyes linger a few seconds too long when he goes out to check the mail and he’s wearing that tight black tank and thin silver chain he never takes off.

or the fact that he works out in his garage with the door open, and you aren’t really purposefully trying to look but it’s not your fault that your window just happened to be open. and it wasn’t your fault that you just happened to look outside and see him shirtless and bench lifting a very large amount and if you were really really quiet you could almost hear him groaning—

he slides his hands down your bare skin, hesitating again at the waistband of your jeans, but you arch your back a little to push yourself closer and he takes the hint. he easily undoes the button with one hand, and you try not to think about how many times he must’ve practiced that in order to get that skilled at it. but that thought is quickly pushed out of your mind when his hand makes its way into your pants, his fingers experimentally sliding down past your underwear and brushing through your folds.

you let out a groan, rolling your hips into his hand encouragingly. you’re already hot and sweaty, standing with your back against the door in just your bra and jeans, but it’s hard to tell if the heat is from the crowded, stuffy house or from something else.

“god, you’re so wet,” he murmurs under his breath almost incredulously as he presses his fingertip against your clit, circling the swollen bud before dipping back down to collect your arousal on his fingers.

you squeeze your thighs together out of instinct, trapping his hand between your legs, and he looks up at you for confirmation. “more,” you whimper, just loud enough to be heard over the music and the noise on the other side of the door. “chan, please.”

he groans and puts more pressure on your clit, starting to rub a little faster and a little messier. he slides his middle and index fingers inside and you let out an involuntary yelp, clenching and bucking your hips in search of more friction. he starts out slow, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion as his other hand massages the bare skin of your waist.

after more of your pleading he finally concedes, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on his stomach, leaving a glistening trail of wetness on his tan skin. he glances back up at you in questioning, but he finds no hesitation in your expression as his hands start to push your pants down your legs and you kick them away, leaving you bare in front of him.

“you sure you're ready?” he pauses to ask one more time, but your quick nod has him jumping back into action in seconds.

he follows hurriedly, stripping out of his pants and shoving his boxers down to free his cock. his length springs up and slaps against his stomach, the tip looking flushed and heavy, and your mind goes blank, replaced only with the thought of him inside you. he holds himself in one hand, lining his cock up at your entrance as you adjust your position in preparation.

you groan as he finally ushes into you, your fingernails digging into the back of his shoulder blades as you struggle to balance.

“feels good?” he mumbles as he lifts your thigh, wrapping your leg securely around his hip. he doesn't move yet, his hips still as he lets you move however you need.

you barely manage to nod in return, keeping your hands firmly planted on his shoulders, slowly but surely adjusting to his size. “god, yes,” you manage, trying to keep your breathing steady. “if i'd have known you felt this good i would've come over way sooner.”

“mm, well. you're welcome over here any time.” he grins at you. his dark eyes get hazier with desire as he holds you firmly against his pelvis. “for any reason you'd like.”

the best response you can come up with is “sure”, barely listening as you start to roll your hips, but you can tell the sincerity in his statement. your attempt at movement doesn't work very well in this position, but chan quickly takes the hint, pulling back and letting his cock slip halfway out before he drives back into you.

the first thrust has you seeing stars already, and you let out a broken moan as he starts to build up his pace. your back slides against the wall as you feel the bass reverberating through your bones, and it only enhances the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“if there weren’t so many people in this house, i’d have you screaming my name right now,” chan huffs against your lips, pulling your body closer and wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“mm, but the music is so loud they probably wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway,” you bite back with a brazen smile. you're feeling bold, the party atmosphere filling you with a cockiness that you don't usually possess. but something about the environment, the fact that you're fucking the hottest person here while hundreds of people rave obliviously outside the door, is a thrill you've never felt before.

he rolls his head back with a groan, and you feel his thrusts suddenly getting harder and deeper. you have to fight to stay standing, using all your energy to keep yourself upright and leaning most of your weight on him, but if he notices it he doesn't let it show. all those push-ups and bench presses that you ogle him doing in his garage must be good for something, from the way he hoists you against the wall and drives his cock into you without even barely breaking a sweat.

“say it, then,” he goads, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he holds your leg up. “you want to, don't you? you wouldn't have come over here tonight if you didn't.”

the worst part is that you know he's right. your own curiosity is what brought you here tonight, masked by the claims of noise complaints. the noise isn't even really that much of a bother: you could've gone to bed, turned on your fan and played some white noise, and you would've been perfectly fine. but some part of you longs to know what goes on at these parties, to see your devastatingly sexy neighbor in this setting you've never witnessed him in yet. so now that your curiosity has been satisfied, you really have nothing to lose.

“chan! fuck— mmph, yes—” you whine loudly, unintentionally clenching around him as the words fall from your lips. there's no way anyone would hear over the music, and even if they did, there's a high chance they wouldn't care either way. it's just what happens at parties.

his eyes light up at the sound, a moan of his own leaving his mouth as he thrusts into you over and over again, burying his cock as deep as he can go with every stroke. a familiar heat burns in the pit of your stomach at his movements, winding tighter and tighter with each passing second. your walls throb around his length, filling every inch of you until you can't take it anymore.

“chan…” you groan again, pulling him towards you with your leg around his waist. “please, keep going… c-close, i'm close—”

he leans in and presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth. “god, please cum for me,” he says breathlessly, pulling away but leaving just enough room for your lips to stay connected by a thin string of spit. “need to feel it, need to feel you. please, baby, fuck…”

he slams into you even harder, driving his cock right up into the spot that makes your knees nearly buckle. you manage to whimper out his name one last time before your lips go slack against his mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as you crash into your climax. the force of his steady, constant thrusts combined with the force of your orgasm leaves your body tingling, every nerve alight from the waves of pleasure pulsing through you.

his movements don't ever slow, but you can see the emotion twisting in his face in reaction as he watches you cum, squeezing around him so warm and wet and perfect that it takes every ounce of his self control not to immediately follow you over the edge.

his eyes bore into yours, watching your face until he's sure you've recovered enough to handle him. he pulls out and keeps his hand firmly wrapped around the base of his cock, jerking himself with tiny flicks of his wrist to keep the momentum going.

immediately you drop to your knees in front of him, tilting your head back to stare up at him between his thighs, your eyes wordlessly pleading with him as your tongue nearly rolls out of your mouth.

“fuck, you're so…,” he groans, keeping his fist tight around his cock with a few final motions. “you're so fucking hot, god, i'm gonna—”

he whines and his hips buck as he spills across your face, thick white ropes landing on your tongue and your cheeks. your smaller hand reaches up to replace his and you take him into your mouth, gagging only slightly as the salty taste fills your mouth. you wrap your lips around him and swallow, letting your tongue swirl around his sensitive head to collect it all until he's finished.

he pulls back and his cock slips from your mouth, leaving you gasping and licking your lips to catch the stray drops of his cum. his voice is low and strained as he reaches out his hand to help you up, his thick biceps flexing as he pulls you to your feet. despite the blissed-out look on his face you can see the guilt in eyes and it makes you pause, wondering if he didn't enjoy it the same way you just did. but it's only another moment before he speaks again, and your short-lived worries are put to rest.

“i'm sorry it was so fast,” he says almost shyly, pulling you over to sit at the edge of his bed. “i can go again if you aren't done yet. or we can do something else… or i could walk you back home. whatever you want, i'm happy to do.”

you expression softens into a grin, still a little hazy but definitely not finished. “oh, i can go again, for sure. i've got all night if you'll let me.”

his eyes crinkle with an eager smile, and you're already spreading your legs to give him space as he falls down onto the bed between them, landing on top of you. his hand cups your chin ans he pulls you into him, his lips finding yours and melting into you with a satisfied hum. his tongue finds its place once again in your mouth, prodding inside as he kisses you with a level of passion and desperation you haven't felt in a long time.

he groans into the kiss as he tastes himself on your lips, exploring your mouth and the bitter taste he left inside. you feel the vibrations from it in your jaw and down your neck, and it only makes you kiss him harder in an effort to draw out more of those pretty sounds.

"hey, dino, didn't you say you'd bring me a beer? it's so boring standing out there—"

the door opens and you jerk away with a scream, hiding yourself under chan and using the nearest piece of clothing to cover up as someone barges into the room.

"cheol, get the fuck out!" chan shouts, wrapping his arm around you and keeping you pressed tightly against his chest, using his back to shield you from view. "fucking knock next time, dude, you know better!"

"jeez! how should i have known? i thought you said you didn't hook up at parties," cheol mutters as he turns around, slamming the door shut behind him. "i'll get the damn beer myself."

the door slams shut once again, and chan sighs and hangs his head, his forehead leaning against your chest before he reluctantly crawls off of you and crosses the room to lock the door.

“you don’t hook up at parties, huh?”

he turns around to look at you, and you pause to take him in. his hair is messier than it was when you got here, glued to his forehead with sweat and sticking up at odd angles from you tugging on it. his broad chest is tinged red with tiny scratches from your nails, and it makes you want to bite him all over, but you contain yourself for now.

your voice is teasing, but cheol’s words have honestly made you feel a million times lighter. you hadn’t expected to be anything special to chan after tonight; at the very least, you hoped that it wouldn’t be awkward when you see each other, but you’d figured you were just the next in a long line of girls waiting to have their turn with him. for once, you’d never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“i’ll make an exception for the pretty neighbor girl. just this once.”

“oh, so now i'm just pretty. i thought i remembered you saying that i was the hot neighbor girl,” you giggle, watching as he hops on one leg to put his boxers back on.

“two things can be true at once,” he says with a grin as he walks back over to you still lying on his bed. “besides, i still haven't taken you out on a date yet. would be kinda forward of me to call you hot when i haven't even bought you dinner yet.”

you smile at him, trying to fight the warmth burning in your cheeks as you reach up to ruffle your fingers through his soft hair. he lets out a satisfied groan at the feeling, and it gives you an idea.

“do…” you trail off, suddenly unsure, until you see the warmth in chan’s eyes as he lays on top of you and it fills you with confidence again. “do you wanna continue this at my house? i’ve got the quietest room, and nobody will bother us.”

“mm.” he grins at the way you repeat his words from earlier, enamored with your shy yet playful tone. “if we’re at your place, does that mean i get to give you the noise complaint this time?”

“i’ll allow it.” you roll your eyes and pull yourself to sit up. “i need a shower, and i’m sure you would like one, too. plus i have food that hasn't been spilled on the floor or soaked in alcohol.”

he picks your shirt up off the floor and hands it to you with a smile, moving around his room with a quiet confidence you find unbearably hot. “does this mean anything to you, or is this just a tonight thing?” he asks.

you bite at your lip as you shimmy back into your jeans, shaky fingers sliding the button into place as you sit back down on the bed. “it does,” you reply simply. “you did tell me you'd buy me dinner, after all. i'm gonna hold you to that.”

he leans over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips. “and i plan on keeping that promise.”

you stumble your way through the house, squeezing chan’s hand tightly as he pulls you up the stairs, following him towards the door. you're not worried about anyone noticing you anymore: everyone's too wrapped up in their own business to care, including you. the party seems dulled now, the music fading and the people around you becoming blank faces. all you care about is chan, your eyes roving over his broad back muscles that peek through his shirt as you trail behind him. you must look no different than every other drunk college kid here with the giddy smile on your face, but you haven't had a drop of alcohol. it's just the effect he had on you.

finally you make it outside, and the cool night air feels sharp compared to the humidity inside the house. already it seems quieter as you start to walk the distance across the street, moving away from the party and towards the comfort of your own home. chan moves up beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist while you lead the way, but you're stopped once again by the same man from earlier.

“hey,” he greets chan, only sparing half a smirk in your direction but otherwise not bothering you, despite the heat that instantly rises in your cheeks at the fact that you were caught. “did you get my beer?”

“no. you said you were getting it yourself.” he rolls his eyes, and cheol whines and gives him a look that you swear almost looks like a pout. “if anyone asks about me, tell them i'm not home. tell them i had to…” he looks over at you with a cocky grin. “…had to go take care of something. noise complaint.”

cheol groans, making a face. “god, whatever. i don't want the details. but just don't make me stand outside next time. i'm doing you a favor here. i'm supposed to be working on my thesis.”

“sure,” chan replies, but he's still stuck staring at you, barely processing his friend's complaints. “yeah. anyway, i'll catch you tomorrow.”

he tugs gently on your waist and you start walking again, leaving cheol without so much as a goodbye or even a proper introduction. you'll deal with that later, you guess. there’s a lot of things you'll have to deal with, but at least the wild parties your neighbor boyfriend throws won't be one of them anymore.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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smutoperator · 1 year ago

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Breakfast at Jennie's

Kim Jennie x Male Reader

Tags: anal, carry fucking, celebrity, CFNM, creampie, cum drinking, edging, kitchen sex, morning sex, nymphomaniac, pantyless, "quickie", sexting, twerking

Word count: 4015.

Sex. This is always the first word Jennie thinks of when she wakes up every morning. A proud nymphomanic, Jennie keeps a full catalog of every single fuck she has ever had. There are many collectors out there, and Jennie is one of them. Her collection is made of cocks of multiple sizes, shapes, and colors that had the honor to penetrate her slutty holes.

At the luxury condo where she lives, Jennie keeps track of every elegible man to fuck her. From the bratty 18-year-old heir all the way up to septuagenarian retirees. Every time a new man moves in, she finds out and greets them with a special text message: a picture of either her pussy or ass with an invitation to come to her apartment for some morning sex. She gives them 15 minutes to answer before the picture is automatically deleted.

As a new resident of Jennie's condo, you were greeted with this invitation with a picture of her pussy before you could even finish setting your furniture up. But you thought it was just one of those porn spams that proliferate these days. The second day, you got another picture, this time of her asshole. Once again, you didn't answer. But you noticed that the house number was the same on both messages: 1601. You checked it, and indeed, there was a house with this number in the condo.

It took a few more days before Jennie sent another text of her intimate parts to you, but when she did, it was quite a naughty one, as she spread both her fuckholes for you to see the insides of her pink cunt and anus. "15 minutes, I'm waiting," she was very direct this time. You had just woken up, meaning you were just wearing your undershorts and hadn't even had your breakfast, and her villa was on the other side of the condo, but you still drove like a madman to meet her deadline, landing at the door of her house just in time.

You knocked at the door but heard no answer. Maybe the house was real, but it was just a prank. For a second, you thought of going back to your car before any guard could spot a man wearing just his undies on a cold day at the house of one of the most famous celebrities in Korea. However, as you put your hands on the handle, you found out the door was open all the time.

Jennie's house was very spacious. She was clearly way out of your league. You might be wealthy enough to live in UN Village, but her living room was the same size as your apartment. You walked around four rooms and three bathrooms and didn't find anybody, once again having second thoughts. It was only at your final guess, guided by the smells coming out of the kitchen, that you finally found a dark-haired woman wearing an oversized Calvin Klein shirt and drinking hot chocolate.

"You're late." Jennie reprimanded you. "For much less, I sent guys packing. My time is precious, especially at this new phase of my life," she said. Jennie was indeed very busy, learning the grits and grinds of running a record label all by herself after her recent departure from YG Entertainment. "But I'll make an exception for you; I see you just moved in and are also still patching things around in your new life," she said, looking at your underwear the whole time.

"I think we still have time for a quickie, but I won't take my clothes off," she said, setting the rules. "Sure, even if it's only 10 minutes, I'm fine with this. Your house, your rules," you replied to her.

Jennie didn't waste any time, as she was already behind schedule. Sensing your cock still wasn't ready, she grinded her ass against your clothed shaft. You could see her cheeks popping out, and she was wearing nothing under her shirt. You answered her moves, humping your fabric against Jennie's perfect pussy and sensing your cock get harder at each slow thrust of your pretending to passionately fuck her. You then reached under her shirts to grab her tits and followed it with a few spankings of her sexy ass, much to her enjoyment.

Jennie sensually licked your torso, then got on her knees and set her sights on the monster bulging under your underwear. You helped her and took your underwear off by yourself as your cock sprung out all the way into touching Jennie's nose. She looked extremely tiny from that spot, as her head didn't even reach over your hips. Jennie gave your tip a soft suck before jerking your cock as hard as she could, blowing your pipe off as her right hand ran all over your shaft while her left hand landed in your balls.

You wondered if Jennie just wanted to suck your cock for 5 minutes and let you go after you cum. She did that many times to guys who couldn't handle the power of her blowjob. It was all a test to see if you could take further leaps. Jennie put her nails in your crotch and started sucking your pole with no hands, leading to your first hard groan. That move has finished many guys over her 7-year career, and she has mastered it to a top-level degree. The way she throated a cock with ease had you on your knees, but you knew you couldn't literally blow this opportunity.

But her blowjob was tough to resist—ball touching, shaft stimulation, tip sucking—it seemed like she knew all the right spots. Indeed, you were just one of the countless cocks she has faced. As Jennie moved down to your balls, you looked at your tip, already fully red, wondering how you hadn't dropped a fountain of cum all over the kitchen's floor yet. And she wasn't going to stop. Recognizing it, Jennie blew some hot air right at your throbbing spot. It had barely been two minutes of her sucking you off, but it felt like she had been there for two hours. She was truly hungry for some long, big sausage for breakfast.

Jennie still hadn't stopped sucking your cock; you just groaned and stood on the edge, waiting for her torture to be over. You were conflicted; maybe you should just shoot all over her mouth and move on to something else. She licked, jerked, mopped, and, most of all, sucked your hard prick like she wanted to give you a heart attack. "Stop," you murmured, but she didn't hear a peep, instead shoving your tip to bulge under her cheeks and deepthroating your shaft using no hands, then slapping it under her clothed chest before giving your cock some kisses and resuming with her fast-paced sucking.

You barely survived Jennie's five-minute-long cock-sucking barrage. Your eyes brightened when she said those words: "Wanna fuck me?" as Jennie spread her right leg and placed it at the kitchen's sink, her holes just peeking under her shirt. You had 5 minutes at most, so you had to enjoy every second of it, sticking your cock in her tight vaginal entrance shortly after. Jennie pushed her right leg in your direction and let you grab her by her right thigh, making your cock point vertically towards her pussy to reach deeper inside it.

Jennie's tight pussy offered a lot of resistance to your shaft. No matter how many such sessions she had, she always managed to keep her holes tight with plenty of exercise. You had to grab her lower thigh instead, but so far only your tip has managed to dive under her massive clitorial hood. Your penetrations were somewhat shallow, but lucky for you, they seemed to have hit the right spots, unless she was faking those out-of-breath moans she started to give after a few adjustments you made to penetrate her cunt.

You made sure to sense how she felt as you suddenly penetrated her deeper, making Jennie squeal for the first time. She firmly held her small body against the sink, giving you a naughty stare as your cock finally managed to fully stretch her out, taking advantage to lift her leg even higher and grab her by the waist. You could finally get a view of her throbbing clit and you hadn't even touched it due to the inconvenience of her shirt; instead, it was Jennie who took advantage of her clit being more accessible to finger herself. "Give it to me, baby," she said in a sexy voice while running her tongue all over her lips.

Jennie held herself by your neck, while her elbow was the only thing keeping her still tied to the sink, making her little, fragile body ache. In spite of that, you showed no signs of slowing down, giving her short but very deep pumps in her slit. You firmly gripped Jennie's slim waist, giving her faster and deeper poundings each time. She switched positions, putting her legs back on the floor and clenching her pussy all over your shaft while doing so. Now you had both hands on her waist and only 3 minutes left, so it was time to hit hard with no worries.

You increased the speed with which you hammered Jennie's cunt, taking her fully under control as your right hand grabbed her waist while your left hand grabbed her neck. Jennie reached under her shirt and spread her ass cheeks a little to ease the pressure of your deep pumps hitting her cervix at full speed. Just as she did that, your balls clapped intensely against her cheeks, smashing her little fingers. You quickly found out that two hands on her waist was the way to go, as you were much stronger than her. She had no answer to your hard pumps except moaning and screaming like a slut.

Jennie stopped as she climbed on top of the sink, now facing you. You once again grabbed her right thigh, but this time she managed to push you closer by wrapping her left leg around your butt as you entered back into her pussy. Now you were the one putting Jennie literally on the edge, as her ass was about to fall from the sink before you pushed it up just in time. Jennie's pussy finally on full display to you makes you try even harder, as you can now fully see your throbbing monster bulge under her little trimmed bush. She's a master of moaning; her voice is so sexy, it makes you wonder if she could release a single just recording them and top the charts.

"Ah yes, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," she continues to moan as your cock stretches her fuckhole at a steady pace and your skin claps against her meaty clit. You hit Jennie as deep as you can before letting her climb down the sink. You assume your 10 minutes are over as Jennies goes back to kneeling to suck your meat and milk you dry in a minute or so. Using her no-hands sucking of your manhood, you brace yourself to blast in Jennie's mouth at any second. She places her hands on your thighs and then masturbates your shaft while muffling her moans under your balls. A fast jerking of your foreskin and her tongue running up and down your shaft have you on the edge of your seat once more. She kisses your tip and spits on your dick. You now have only one minute left, and try to hold on until the moment finally comes.

Jennie gives you a fast jerkoff while inserting your tip in her mouth. You know she's searching for that cum. She doesn't even try to hide anymore. You just feel satisfied if you fill her warm mouth with a hot and heavy dose of sperm at this point. 30 seconds left. More jerkoffs from Jennie. She slaps your tip on her tongue, then goes back to suck it deep. 10 seconds left. You just relax and close your eyes; whatever comes next will be enough for you. That's when Jennie surprises you with those words:

"I think you earned a few extra minutes," she says, putting her left knee on the kitchen table while her right knee is slightly lower on the bench. It takes a bit for you to regain strength from Jennie's almost deadly blowjob, as you start back with very slow pumps in her pussy, grabbing her by the hair as you manage to get halfway in, with her pussy tightening after those minutes without your cock inserted in it. As your cock finally disappears under her shirt, Jennie starts screaming harder. "AHHH. AHHH. AHHH. AHHH.." Her cheeks jiggle as she approves of your pounding. Then words that are about to send you to the heavens come from her mouth.

"Now I want you to fuck my ass," Jennie says as she closes her legs and plants both of them on the floor before spreading them back for your anal insertion. Jennie screams and gleefully licks her thumb as you insert your full length in her asshole, reaching under her shirt to masturbate herself. Your well-above-average girth was too much even for an experienced anal cocksleeve like Jennie, as she placed her hands on her ass to spread and ease up her butthole entrance. Your cock filled every inch of her anus, making her pant at each thrust.

"Oh, this feels good," Jennie says once the initial pain is gone. She's a quick learner and can adjust to any cock, enjoying your anal stretching to the fullest now. "Ahhhh, that's good!" Jennie screams of pleasure as your meat keeps drilling her asshole and establishes a consistent rhythm, not going super rough on her and just using your firm grip on her waist to your advantage when penetrating. She alternates sexy murmurs with more high-pitched screams as you advance inside her tight hole.

Jennie puts her legs fully over the table. The gape in her butthole is much wider now and makes for much easier penetration this time. You place both hands in her ass and softly push your cock, leading to more sexy noises from her. She licks her index finger and puts it in your mouth to suck. You go a little faster as your cock starts to fully disappear inside her anus, but even as you increase the speed, you're very passionate and try as much as possible not to hammer her just for the sake of it.

"Yes, just keep fucking my ass," Jennie approves. You once again increase the pace and hit her deeper as she pants and makes some cute little noises with her mouth barely open. Now it's your turn to shove your thumb on it as the tongues it. You ruin her lipstick and mark her neck with it as your thumb slides down. Your pace is very steady as you touch all of Jennie's erogenous zones, with a little grope of her tits under the shirt and some massaging of her neck as well.

You finally can't resist the urge to pound her asshole hard and fast, giving Jennie fast thursts that she enjoys a lot. "Yes, yes, please," she says as you finally clap her cheeks while performing anal on her. Jennie used the whole table as a support for her body and groans as your hard pounding finally arrives into her asshole, just like you did minutes before to her cunt. Clapping sounds keep coming out every time your hips touch her butt. Jennie screams harder as her butthole finally gets fully stretched out.

"YES. YES. YES," Jennie says, almost losing her voice as you take her by surprise with fast hammerings in her asshole. You now mold her rectum to the shape of your girthy manhood, making clap sounds in her ass that match with her perfect out-of-breath moans. "It feels so good to be fucked in the ass; I'll give you 10 extra minutes," Jennie says as you pull out of her.

Jennie gets on her knees and masturbates herself. She isn't lying. The last time one of her morning acquaintances got to have anal sex with her, she was still under YG. This was her first morning anal fuck as a self-made record label owner. She licks her chops and gives you a demand: "I want you to stick this cock in my ass until you cum," as she spreads her legs to sit in your thick man meat.

You weren't prepared for Jennie's fast ride on top of your dick as you grunt each time she reaches the base of it. You cling to her little tits, but that only makes her go harder. She might be small, but takes your big cock impaling her with ease. Your just like a veiny and meaty version of the big dildo she rides every day first thing in the morning.

After a few clashes with your hips, Jennie stops mid-air and starts fingering herself. You seize the opportunity to push your cock up her rectum. "Ohhh, yes, yes, yes, perfect," she loves when you do it. The harder you pound her, the more heat she puts in her clit while fingering it, and the higher she screams. "Just keep g..." She can't even finish the sentence as your cock and her finger team up perfectly to give her an insane orgasm.

Jennie's loud screams motivate you to fuck her harder; your cock is now taking full ownership of her asshole. You can't even barely see the results of your pounding, thanks to her shirt, but her screams are all you need to hear to keep doing what you're doing. "OH. OH. OH. OH," she keeps yelling as your impalement session shows no signs of slowing down—quite the opposite. Her stretched cunt muscles also expand as squirt starts coming out of her vagina with each pounding.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH," Jennie lets out a prolonged scream as your balls keep making a loud noise each time they smash her ass cheeks. She holds herself by the tip of her toes as each pounding now has her on the verge of collapsing. You suddenly stop and let her do the work now, as she bounces just as fast as your pumps. It ends up being a very smart decision, as Jennie tightens her anus around your thick prick and sends shivers all over the shaft of your dick. The rough pounding truly awakened her inner beast, as she now rides you like a maniac for a couple minutes.

"Carry me and fuck me hard," she demands, and you oblige, firmly grabbing her ass and lifting her tiny body. Your dick slides under her oversized shirt straight back to her pussy. "Just fuck my pussy nonst... AH, AH, AH, AH," once again she fails to finish a sentence as your cock hammers her hard. The cheek-clapping sounds at this position are the loudest so far, and you love being in full control and stetching Jennie's walls at full speed, turning her into a slut that only has one word in her vocabulary to speak. She attempts a little ride on your cock, but you are having none of it, just plowing her even harder after she tries it. "AH, YES, YES, YES, YES," is all she can say.

You want to relax a little after such an intense session and sit on the floor. "I think you earned this," Jennie says as she finally takes her shirt off and lets you see her naked body in full display. She sits her ass back on your boner, letting you see her little thong marks. Jennie twerks her little ass as you put just the tip inside her, giving you easy access to suck her tits as she tilts her body in your direction. Jennie may not have the biggest ass, but she knows how to twerk on a cock, spanking herself and turning her cheeks red while she bounces, letting out sexy moans at each slap.

You try to push up, but Jennie quickly shuts her tight hole down and smashes your shaft, moving upwards for more twerking. You grab her cheeks as she slowly opens up her butthole to your meat and increases the pace of her ride, flipping her hair while bouncing her ass straight into the base of your dick.

"Take it, stretech that ass," she commands as she gets her body close to yours, letting you do the work of attempting to drill her anus all the way deep. Her moans start to get out of breath once you pick up the speed. She starts dueling with your cock, twerking while you try to push it up her butthole. "Fuck my ass," she keeps demanding, urging you to rise to the challenge and impale her to the fullest.

You finally do, making your balls clap a lot against her cheeks as you groan at each thrust. You jackhammer Jennie and make her let out even sexier moans. You lift your body off the ground as much as you can, making Jennie's tiny body almost float in the air with each pump. "Ohhh, fuck," Jennie says as she starts panting, with you giving your maximum to fuck her now as she takes pounding after pounding from your massive meat.

Even though Jennie looks very tired, you ended up more exhausted than her, leaving room for her to restart twerking on your cock. As Jennie takes advantage of it, you just watch and let her be the star of the show, the it girl, the ace of morning sex. Jennie's rapid and shallow bounces end up being too much for you to handle, as you shoot ropes of semen all over her butthole as soon as she gives herself another spank that clenches her already tight anal walls to the point your cock can no longer resist.

Jennie turns her microwave on and starts preparing a little hot chocolate to heal herself after such a good fuck. As the chocolate finishes heating up, Jennie gets back to you and says, "I think it needs some milk.". She scoops the cum that fell onto your belly and farts the cum inside her asshole into a cup, adding it to the hot chocolate mug and mixing it up, drinking the whole thing in front of you. "So tasty, just like I wanted it," she says.

"I have to go now; I'm late to work, and I have a lot of business to do today. I'm starting a new life, so I'm very busy. I guess I'll have to take the helicopter to work," she said. Yes, Jennie was truly a celebrity beyond your league. You truly felt a little jealous but somewhat proud that you managed to cum inside the Jennie Kim's tight asshole as you dressed yourself up and took off, knowing you'd be at least an hour late to your work and face the worst of rush hour.

A few weeks passed by. Jennie did not contact you. Maybe she was indeed lying, and you were just a quickie to warm her up for a busy day. One day, as you were already on your way to work and on the verge of leaving the condo, a text message popped on your screen; it was from her, this time sending you a full-body shot of her naked with the caption. "Come to my house NOW".

You didn't hesitate, making a U-turn with your car and heading to Jennie's home. Her door was already open just waiting for you to come, as you find Jennie this time in her living room. In an inversion of the first time you two met, this time you had your full work attire on while she was wearing just her underwear.

"Do anything you want to me," she says, giving you the sign to come in her direction.

You're definitely not going to work today.

#jennie smut #blackpink smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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whowrotethenote · 3 months ago

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𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐞 𝐃𝐨

Summary: Alana has lived ten different lives since she met the infamous Tribal Chief. And once again, she finds herself entering into another phase of her life where things are ending and she has to make room for what’s to begin.

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Profanity // Age gap // Angst // Themes of abortion // Mentions of disease // Adultery

Word count: 12.8k

Inspo: All We Do by Trey Songz

Disclaimer // Part Two // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist

Saturday, April 27, 2024

“Jesus, Anthony,” Demi cackles grabbing ahold of his wrist. “Leave some room for the damn orange juice.”

I shake my head at the champagne flute he has eighty percent full of the expensive house champagne. Saturday brunch at The Terrace and Outdoor Gardens—located in a very vibrant Manhattan. Outside feels like when Controlla dropped in 2016. The sun is unforgiving on my caramel skin, despite it only being the end of April. The table cloth is an unrealistic white, matching the aprons of the waiters strutting around, hands high with trays of fresh food. Laughter of the wealthy, glasses clinking, and the background noise of a hot and moving New York fill the atmosphere.

He purses his lips shaking her off. “It's a lituation. My two favorite girls are officially graduating.” He continues to fill my glass and soon after Demi’s. He follows the same pattern, blessing each of our glasses with only a splash of orange juice from the decanter. “And honestly—even that was too much.”

A lot has changed since the semester started. My life looks completely different. Feels completely different. I am completely different. It's almost unbelievable what time can cycle in and out of your life. I feel like I’ve lived three different lives since this time last year.

The donation for my tuition was the seed planted that grew the forest. Now my reality is rooted and tangled in luxury I only used to dream of. The donations and compensation for my time and abruptly being tugged out of my life and into his, come more often than not now.

So much so, Demi and I were able to wish the studio apartment a long awaited farewell. Twenty-eight hundred dollar rent would’ve made me choke on absolutely nothing just a few months ago. Now, it's the minor cost I pay to live comfortably, in our three bedroom condo planted in the heart of Manhattan.

The space was a bit much for just two girls, who were barely there—by virtue of our packed schedules. So we took in a stray, as Demi would call him. Anthony—or as he referred to himself as, our Fairy Gaymother—was the perfect fit to our complicated puzzle. A twenty-four year old alum to Columbia, and the children’s hospital’s youngest surgical technician—who prides himself on dating the most giving and generous of foreign men, who only come to the city for business purposes.

Only three weeks shy of graduation, we decided to take a much earned breather. Celebrating on the rooftop of this hotel, with an overflow of mimosas, conversation about men and the things we hate about them, consuming food at the highest prices inflation can convey.

Dressed in all white, brown skins accentuated by the gold we decorate ourselves with, and champagne glasses held up to heaven.

“I’ve watched you two bust your asses for four months now. So, this is well deserved. I am so proud of y’all. Cheers to being young, black and educated.”

“Exactly,” Demi agrees.

“Raising the bar,” he continues. “And deleting that damn Canvas app… until med school.” A sharp clink of our glasses sounds off like a bold period to his cheers speech.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

I place the glass down after downing half of it, to replace it with my phone.

Your Tribal Chief wanted me to let you know you’re needed in Miami next weekend. Flight information has been emailed.

It's not even an inquiry anymore. They already know I’ll show.

Butterflies erupt in my diaphragm nevertheless at the realization that I haven’t seen him since the beginning of the month. He was generous enough to provide Demi and I Wrestle-mania tickets. In the wake of our schedules, we were only able to attend night one.

I’m sure he had desired to spend night two surrounded by family anyway. He took the pin and ended a legendary title reign. He’s been the top guy for so long—I’m sure it took a piece of him regardless of the preparation for the shift behind the scenes.

Demi and I watched in horror from the condo. Mouths catching flies, even minutes after the fact. We had just been there. I had just been with him. He gave no signs of anticipated defeat. He wasn’t moving like a man ready to step down from greatness. Or maybe he did. Maybe it was in between the lines of him practically demanding I be waiting for him in the trailer immediately after his match. Or the unsolicited aggression as he took me from the back. The unforgiving grip on my neck. The scandalous and countless slaps to my ass, followed by painful grips of flesh. The fine lines that garnished his nose as his upper lip curved into a snarl in between strokes. The sharp bites like a feral python in place of kisses.

Okay, thanks.

Call me if you have any questions. I’d pack very light. It’s scorching down here.

Miami…a city in such close proximity to his home. His real life. A territory nether of us touch as if it's poison ivy— opting to pretend it doesn’t even exist. But we know. It's all in the way I’m still only able to get in touch with Paul and not him. All in the days that pass between one getaway to the next. All in the routinely compensation for services. It’s disguised as a helping hand, but I already know it’s hush money. Insurance. A pretty bow wrapped on a box that guarantees his secret stays exactly that.

This isn’t the first time he’s flown me out. Our arrangement started as him just dipping into me every time he was on this end of the map. Now, wherever he is, is never too far to get me to.

The first time was in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Christmas was approaching. New York was covered and knee deep in snow. He was already in Wisconsin, preparing for Smackdown. Thursday, the night before, I received the regular text from Paul.

Locked away in another five star hotel, I waited all day for him. Watched the show air in real time as The Bloodline faced heat from none other than Mr. Voices In My Head himself—Randy Orton. The wee hours of the night crept up on me as I laid stretched out on the plush, king-sized hotel bed. The clock read 1:41 a.m. when the subtle buzz of the room key granting access, reached my ears. Like a dog awaiting its owner’s arrival, I shot up. Daddy’s home.

Lines of defeat and hard work all over his golden face. Rich beard, grayer than I had ever seen before. His bun, loose and not as pristine as usual. He was still the finest man I had ever laid eyes on. Every encounter—every late night as he shed another layer of Roman off to reveal Joe, it only made my attraction to him spread like wildfire.

Still, always reeling myself back to the impenetrable truth, that this was just sex. An exchange. Bearing witness to the lessons of my business classes— his market has a need and I’m his supplier. I know my role. And for him I act it out with grace and confidence every time.

He removed his Nike hoodie and emptied everything from his sweatpants’ pockets on top of the dresser. Again, twisting the black band off and burying it in the drawer with the rest of his guilt.

“I need a massage,” he declared with hands rested on his hips. The expression on his face and his tone suggested it was a question, but I knew better. I sat planted on my knees that sunk into the mattress, longer than I intended because the sincerity sparkling in his eyes—the neediness shook me.

Hastily, I disappeared into the ensuite bathroom as he took my place on the edge of the bed. The complimentary lotion and some type of oil, is what I return with. He’s shirtless laid out on his stomach. Eyes already shut in comfort.

Situating myself on his butt, I squeezed what I thought was a sufficient amount of lotion and scented oil into my palms. Rubbing it into my hands before sliding it evenly across his defined back in erratic patterns. Digging deep and showing supplemental love to every ridge and dip I find. I didn’t think my small hands were making an impact until he released a deep breath paired with a moan.

“Mmm.” The vibration transmitted from his core, to my hands flattened on his back, landing in my hot center. I’m sure he could feel her heating up—but nothing came of it.

That was how the night carried on. Me kneading and caressing his hard back and soft skin, until I heard the soft snores I’m accustomed to dozing off to after a long night. We didn’t do our usual. No sex. No head. No lingerie. No dirty talk. Just a much needed massage to a man who offers his life to his fans and the mat—followed by sleep.

As expected, when the sun hit my face through the drapes, I found myself alone. No trace of him. Just the lingering and faint smell of his natural scent mixed with whatever he uses for his hair. And the note on the dresser. Same message every time.

Thanks for last night.

Followed by his name and the two R’s.

I learned quickly that this little arrangement between us was exactly as Paul described that first night. He was just in need of company. Comfort on the road. An outlet. I’m here to help him unwind. That’s going to look different some nights. Some nights we fuck. Some nights he just wants to be held in complete and serene silence. Other nights I'm his personal masseuse. I know the declaration I made that night in the Hamptons, but I can’t help but always wonder if he’s like this with the others. I deem it exhausting to be spread so thin, wearing different faces for all of us.

I keep those inquiries to myself now, though. The less I know, the better. The thicker the line between us, the better. For me and for him. He’s living a double life as is. I’m here to help ease the other one or ones—and pull him away from it all, even if just for a few days. Catching feelings defeats the purpose, not making me useful anymore. And I’m not in the business of not being useful to him.

Yet and still, it nudges the back of my conscience how the inevitable split will come. I know this won’t last forever. It can’t possibly. I do have my own life too. Maybe it didn’t seem that way to him because every time he puts a Bat signal out, I’m here at the ready.

I yearn to be someone’s wife one day—yearn for love. Motherhood possibly. I can’t hang onto whatever this is forever. So yeah—the thicker the line, the better. That way when we have to break, it’ll be easy…Right?

“I’m actually a little tired of hearing about you and the Italian. All you two do is make love. Call me when y’all get into a scuffle or something.” Demi yawns.

“Well, someone has to share their mancapades. You’ve been single since Obama was in office.”He flicks a long finger my way. “This one here has a mystery sponsor she refuses to talk about.”

An unpremeditated grin adorns my me at the mention of him. Sponsor. I think I like that term better than Demi’s Sugar Chief.

“Mmph,” She catches my smile. I wish she’d get out of my head sometimes.

“I mean seriously— what is the big deal with him? I’m starting to think the man is famous…or married.”

Tight-lipped, I shrug, pulling my oversized Chanel shades over my face— to avoid lying straight to his. How has he hit it on the nail twice? Demi and I have been working like ants to keep Anthony at bay. He’s always interrogative of the secret phone calls, random deposits and last minute trips. I can feel his discovery creeping up like a lion on the prowl.

“You don’t worry about my friend and her mystery man. Her services have been keeping us all fed.” She gestures to the contents of the table. I shake my head at her mocking Paul.

“Yeah, well whatever the arrangement,” Anthony waves a hand. “Next time you see him, just whisper in his ear about me, would you?” I raise a brow. “Just tell him you have a roommate that’s on the hunt for a rich mantoy. And not one I have to hide.”

“Mantoy?” Demi’s face scrunches up.

“Yeah! I know baby boy has to have a cousin or something.”

“Yeah.” Demi chuckles bringing the mimosa to her lips. “It depends. You like seeing double?” I pinch her under the table, covering my laugh with my other hand.

“Oh, no. Maybe he prefers they come solo,” I add. We erupt into a fit of laughter together. coaxing Anthony’s wrinkly forehead as he looks between us both— smiling apprehensively.

“Wait,” Demi holds a hand up, lip quivering from all the shenanigans. “Twilight. Were you into the vampire or the werewolf?”

“Alright!” I reach into my purse pressing my lips together, barricading any more giggles. I pull out six crisp hundred dollar bills and slide them to the middle of the table. “On that note, I’m gonna go. It’s been real, gal and gay.” I raise up to kiss them both goodbye.

“You’re insufferable,” I whisper into Demi’s ear after a kiss to her cheek.

“You love me,” she replies lowly, flashing her teeth.

“Whisper in his ear!” Anthony reminds me before I reach the elevator that leads to the rest of the hotel.

“Believe me I will!”

“Thank you for your services,” Demi waves the hundred dollar bills in the air.

In the back of the Uber, I decide to check in with Paul.

“Lana,” he greets me over the phone. My phone. Thats right—we’ve also wished the payphone a farewell.

“Paul,” I greet back with the phone smushing between my ear and shoulder to shuffle through my purse. “I’m just calling to make sure it's only for the weekend?”

“Yes, the weekend is all he said.”

“Good.” Still with a million and one things in queue before graduation, I can’t afford to go M.I.A for a whole week.

“And you’ll be taking the jet again.”

“Lovely. Nice doing business with you.”

“Pleasure as always.” Ready to take the phone away from my ear to hang up, I hear my name again. “Oh—and Lana?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations.” For a man that presents himself as an evil, flip-flopping mastermind on screen, behind the scenes he sure is an empathetic softy.

“Thank you.”

“I know the concept of graduation and the real world is quite scary, but trust me, before you know it you’ll be thirty.” I cringe. “Married, with babies, wishing you had these same problems instead.”

Babies…babies.

The energy in my walk-in closet was charged with nothing but irritation and the doom of dare I say it—judgment. She sat on the white ottoman in the center as I moved about—sharply hanging shirts and folding jeans, that on a normal day, would’ve sat in the hamper for weeks until I found the drive to deal with them. But it's not a normal day. Nothing is ever normal anymore.

It's one of those days that’ll stick with me. One of those days that I’ll think about on a random day when everything is seemingly fine. One of those days that if I’m lucky, I'll never have ever again.

She’s not talking anymore since I revealed my verdict. Demi and silence didn’t go together. It was an unlikely pair. One that gave you angst—a tornado in your stomach. Usually a context clue that something was deadly wrong. She didn’t need to speak. Four years now—living together, learning each other—loving each other. I already knew. I could already feel it.

The stinging sensation in my eyes expanded the longer she waited to speak. I knew it was coming, but the anticipation was useless. That lump in my throat grew, until swallowing brought physical pain.

“—I can’t believe you wouldn’t even just tell him.”

“What is there to tell? Huh?” My eyes widen at her even as she purposely avoided my heavy stare. “What am I supposed to do? Call Paul? And say what exactly?” I ridicule. “It won’t change anything. What do you think will happen here?”

I’d rather be anywhere else. Doing anything else. And talking about anything else. But I had been hiding already. I knew this was coming. The appointment was made days ago. And I had the nerve to walk around the condo, not even mentioning it. Leaving out whenever she came in. Eating in my room, instead of hers or the living room. Making it painfully obvious. There was nowhere else to go now.

“You don’t think he at least deserves to know?”

“The appointment is already made. It's done.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it. Thats not for me to say. It’s your body—”

“So, what are you saying?”

“It’s half apart of him—”

“It,” I slapped the jeans in my hand against my thighs. “Is not anything. Okay? It is not even conscious. It has no cognitive abilities. It isn’t even the size of my fist. It's a fucking tumor— a parasite if anything.” I don’t know what took over me. All of the stares, bullhorns, signs with messages of hate and condemnation— the campaigns in the wake of all thats been going on with the laws surrounding it— was all starting to consume me. A problem I never thought I’d have to bear. But isn’t that what we always think? A problem isn’t really a problem, until it's our problem.

“And it's gonna ruin my life.” My voice cracks. “And his.”

I have things I want to do— accomplishments untouched collecting dust on the shelf, that I’d like to see through. This would put the ugliest blockade on that. I’m an absolute mess. Nothing that permanent would even fit into my life.

“It’ll change everything. This thing we have going—it's gonna be over and done with. I know it.”

“Thats what you’re scared of?”

The words get stuck in my throat—choking me. It's not about this new life and I really wish it had been. It’d be so much easier for me to just say I don’t want the perks to stop. But it's not about that. I hate that it isn’t. I hate that every time I wait in the five star hotel room, or his condo in Miami—that I’ve already forgotten about the lingerie, shoes, or bag he’s left on the bed—and my heart picks up speed when I see him walk through that door.

“I don't know.” I lie through my teeth.

“I don't think he’ll respond the way you think he would.”

“Let me guess,” I laugh mockingly. “He’s gonna come with me?” I raise a brow. “Come hold my hand? Tuh!” I shove the stack of jeans into a slot on the wall. It wasn’t fucking fitting, so I forced it— not having the capacity to figure out anything as simple as folding and putting clothes away. My mind too cluttered for simple every day tasks. “I know I don’t say what’s going on—mainly because I can’t. But you’re smart. You know exactly what’s been going on. I show you the lingerie—the shoes—my account. You see it all.”

“You’re a fool if you think it's still just sex, even now—”

“Demi, I don't need to hear this right now. Don’t you have to go to the hospital soon?”

“I told Miss Tonia I can’t come in today.”

Of course. Shaking my head, I lose the grip on the jeans in my hands. They slipped as I held the back of my hand to my nose, to ease that tickle. It started as one tear. Then another from my other eye, even heavier than the first, joined the race to my chin. Before I knew it my shoulders were shaking violently, and my vision was blurred.

I felt small arms encompass me from behind. Face pressed against my back as I came undone in the middle of the closet. If anyone was to walk in, they’d find two young girls, who had seen way too much, way too soon. Everything passing them by, but only one thing remained—stable and unwavering like a coast redwood tree. Their friendship.

“Right,” I force a laugh. “I have to go—thank you.” Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I press the red button and slam the phone face down on the leather seat. Breathe, Lana.

Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Brows turning down and nose turning up from the smell of books, books and more books—I stick a palm to my forehead, while jotting down the same notes repetitively in red pen. They say it helps to remember it this way.

The library is ironically empty, considering it’s final’s week. On the top floor like always, I sit alone at the extensive shiny, dark-wood table. A single antique lamp in the center of it, giving life to this corner of the library.

I take my last final of undergrad tomorrow morning. Marking the official end of my best and worst chapter in life. College.

They give all the trainings and seminars before they send you off, but they never really prepare you for the end. All month long, thoughts of what happens next sneak up on me.

Where will I go? What will I do? Sure I have a plan, but if there’s anything I’ve learned about life in twenty-two brisk years—it's that plans are just suggestions. Nothing is definite in this life. The curse and the gift.

My pen hits the thick college-ruled notebook, watching my phone buzz. A picture of a baby Lana being held by her five year old, toothless brother overrides my home screen.

“Yes?”

“You know—robbing banks even if you do it electronically—is still illegal.”

“The word you’re looking for is scamming, dickhead. And what the hell are you talking about?”

“There she is. That’s the Lana, I know. Not the one who buys me thirty-five hundred dollar paintings for my birthday.”

“So, you did get it?”

“Alana.”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Girl, where did you get the money for this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Uh— yeah, kind of? Especially since me and Chloe been throwing theories back and forth and all we could come up with was scamming or prostitution.” Well…he’s not completely out of range.

Something like a laugh escapes my throat. “How is Chloe?” I haven't seen my brother or his long-term girlfriend since Christmas. He didn’t show for the weekend I spent home on New Year’s and untraditionally of me, I didn’t come home for my birthday last month.

I miss him in only the way siblings can miss each other. We can spend an hour together, at the most—laughing and reminiscing about how we grew up and things we miss about it—before we start fussing about nothing and disagreeing about anything. Then, I need distance again and maybe I’ll miss him again in another two to three months.

“We broke up.”

“What?!” I shriek and immediately swivel my head to find I am in fact not the only person on this floor. Shit. “What?” I press in a fierce whisper.

His boisterous laugh fills my left ear, influencing my shoulders to drop a little. I shake my head—picking up the red pen I dropped again on the notebook. “I’m just fucking with you. Everything’s good. She’s good.”

“I can’t stand you. I don’t know how she does—willingly.”

“Don't try to switch the subject up. The painting?”

“You know—usually when people receive a birthday gift—especially a really expensive one—they say thank you.”

“I’m getting there. I’m just trying to figure out first, what my little sister has been doing to afford said really expensive gift.”

“Did you like it?” I side step his curiosity the same way I do with my parents. I plumule them with questions of my own. They’re still asking with every phone call,“how are you paying rent in a condo in Manhattan?” They bought the random donor for my bill. Everything else, they were absolutely not going for.

“You’ve never been this consistent with anything in your whole life.” It's not a secret that my brother is a nomad in careers. In high school, he fixated on basketball. In undergrad he wanted to get into tech. And now as an overgrown graduate, his new thing? Art. “Who’s paying you?” I probe.

“I don't know what you talking about…” I wait. “It's mommy. She said she’d pay my rent for the month if I got it out of you.” There we go. “She told me about you moving out the condo and going to Miami for your birthday. I didn’t believe her. Then I got the painting last week.” I exhale deeply. “She’s really worried, Lana.”

“Mommy starts her day worrying about something. How is me having money and living comfortably, cause for worry?”

“Because just last year you were asking to hold two hundred dollars and sharing a studio. Come on now. And when we ask—you do this. Deflect.”

“Make something up. I don’t know. Believe me—it's nothing to worry about.”

“I hope you’re leading with your head and not your heart.”

My face balls up. “You sound like your father.”

“That’s not good…” He’s quiet for a beat. Probably thinking of another angle. He can poke and prod like the detectives Benson and Stabler. I’m solid. He releases a breath through the phone. “Looks like I’ll be paying my own rent.”

“Damn.” It wasn’t just about the NDA. It was the weight of the judgment I anticipate. Hell, I look at myself sideways some nights thinking about this life I’ve created that’s sewn in lies and adultery.

“I saw your mans lost his title a while back. Shit crazy.”

I freeze up—pen stopping mid stroke at the mention of him. How does he find his way in every part of my life? “Crazy,” I agree with no inflation in my voice.

“You still watch wrestling?”

“Not really,” I lie. “Haven't really had that much time to, anyway.”

“That last lap is a bitch, ain't it?”

“Shitting me?” He chuckles.

“Don’t be expecting a thirty-five hundred dollar graduation gift. It’ll be more like thirty-five dollars. Seeing as I have to pay my own rent and stuff.”

“Still waiting on my thank you.”

“Thank you, Lana. I really do appreciate it.”

“There you go. Did that kill you?”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I went to this art show in Brooklyn. I saw it and it immediately felt like you.”

“So, this new Lana is paid and she has feelings? I don’t know who he is, but send ol’ boy my love and blessings.”

Thursday, May 2, 2024

“Completely bald?”

“Completely bald.” Demi confirms. “Wasn’t a single hair left on that bitch. I almost asked him did he have business hours. My wax lady don’t even get me right like that.”

I shake my head, continuing the assault on my MacBook keyboard, racing to the finish line of this paper before 11:59 strikes. The last lap, I remind myself. Curling further into the corner of the cream-colored couch—toes sinking into the spongy cushion—I use Demi and Anthony’s pubic hair exchange as background noise.

Unfortunately, for my best friend, she’s experiencing another failed attempt of “getting out there.” Everything was seamless with the younger twenty-one year old quarterback, who plays for St John’s an hour away from us. Closing in on two weeks of thoughtful dates and suggestive texts, she finally decided to see what he was talking about in the bedroom. To her dismay, she discovered a whole lot more than a horse. The horse was bald.

Demi and Anthony sit on the carpet below me by the coffee table. Their lax game of Go Fish on complete pause after her revelation to the group.

“Wow.” Anthony puts his entire deck face down now, too invested in her dilemma. “Now, as a ponk—I prefer it. I didn’t know straight men did that shit too?”

“Neither did I! I mean he pulled it out and wham! Like am I fucking a seven year old?” My unsolicited snort causes her to swivel in my direction. “He could’ve at least left a little bit. A nice trim. I don’t need the whole forest.”

“So you like a little hair?” Anthony presses with dents in his brows. You would’ve thought they were sharing how they like their steak to be cooked. “Thats interesting. La, what about you?”

Demi leans back on both palms where she sits—face fixing with amusement. “Yeah, La. What about you?”

“This mystery man—he’s older isn’t he?” I nod. Nonverbal. “I feel like older men don’t even bother with that type of stuff. They just let it do its thing.”

My Samoan giant definitely trims. My mind is overrun by the soapy smell as he forces me all the way down until my nose is buried in the black hairs. “Trim,” I reveal.

He gasps. “Really? Every thing I thought I knew is wrong.”

Capping the last sentence on the screen with a period, I release the deepest sigh. Proofreading. Yeah, right. The graduation application has been accepted already. Clicking submit, I shove the pink device off my lap. “Well, was it big?” I break the silence.

“Eh.” She waves a hand. “Now that mouth? Something completely different.”

Anthony swats her leg. “You naughty girl. I thought y’all didn’t do anything.”

“No.” She beams. “I told you we didn’t have sex.”

“Did you return the favor?” I ask.

“I wasn’t putting my mouth anywhere near that hairless hotdog.” I feel a buzz underneath my outstretched leg. “Back to abstinence I go.”

Without even knowing the contents of the message, a giddiness—girl-like and dainty—possesses me upon seeing the football and black heart emoji combo.

i’m outside

Like I said—my life looks completely different now.

“Uh oh.” Anthony retrieves his deck from the carpet. “I know what that means.”

Biting my lip between a smile— I stand, stepping into my Ugg slippers. “I’ll be back.” I regret to inform.

“Mmhmm.” Demi grins. “Tell him I said hi.”

Down the building elevator and through the lobby, the pit in my stomach grows with every advancement. Exiting my building into the night air of May—sounds of sirens and music from cars speeding by are powerful. New York is a different animal when the temperature rises. I spot the matte black Mercedes AMG a few steps up the block. Lights still on with a familiar sultry R&B beat, muffled and pounding from it.

I knock on the tinted window, placing my hands in the pockets of my Spider hoodie. Seconds later the door is pushing open to reveal him.

Jaire Alexander. Twenty-seven year old cornerback for the Green Bay Packers. He sinks back into the leather seat, getting comfortable, marinating into all his five foot ten energy. The car smells brand new despite him having it for over a year now. Always carrying the energy of “chill, but still a big deal,” he’s dressed in a black Nike Tech, accompanied by something very sparkly on his wrist. His Creed cologne, overpowering the small space in the best way. A smoke signal to anyone near by, that a man—a well established one—is in the midst.

I turn in my seat as we perform that same dance we do every time we see one another. Smiling like two teenagers who just passed the “do you like me,” note in class. His dimple is soft, a contradiction to his sharp jawline. He reaches to turn the knob on the radio—lowering the comforting sounds of Dilema by Nelly and Kelly Rowland.

“What you smiling at?” My shoulders rise and fall as my cheeks grow tender. His low chuckle fills the car. “Still not a woman of many words?”

“Still trying to figure you out, is all.”

A drunk night in Miami for my twenty-second birthday, had me literally colliding into him. I shut him down—like I do every man that crosses my path. But Jaire was consistent and charming as fuck. He was hard to sidestep and ignore. His laid back southern charm captivating me from the start.

It's unfortunate what lies behind the curtain. My life just doesn’t call for whatever this is. It was a classic case of right person, wrong fucking time.

I really wish we had met at a different time. Under different circumstances. Maybe five years from now—when I’ve exhausted all my use to him and he’s retired the ring, ready to live out the rest of his days with his football team of kids and the one that actually makes his heart beat like mine is right now.

“I could say the same thing about you.” He looks down—tongue sliding over his perfect top row of teeth. “Wouldn’t have to wonder no longer if you’d just let me take you out. A real date.” It's my turn to shy away from his intense stare. His pear-colored eyes with specks of brown, enough to make any woman fall to her knees. “Don’t you think this car thing is getting a lil’ old?”

This is as far as we’ve got. From Miami, to random phone calls and text messages, to unforeseen visits when his schedule permits—like right now. The most we do is talk about surface stuff. School. Major news. Our favorite things. How our day is going. Nothing too deep. That’s my doing. I don’t want the strings to get too tight in the event I have to cut them altogether. The most intimate thing we’ve done includes him taking my small hand into his large one as he compares the size.

“Soon,” I promise for the umpteenth time. I can’t see a near future where this works with what else I have going on, but the way my soul relaxes when I’m around him just won’t allow me to cut this off.

While in the spirit of disappointment—I release a deep breath in preparation to keep it going. “I’m gonna be M.I.A again this weekend.”

His head rolls back until it hits the head rest. “You killing me, Lana.”

“I know—I know.” I shake my head, fixing my gaze out the windshield, watching a couple hand in hand pass by on the street. “It's just the weekend.”

“And after that?”

My mouth opens and closes, because I have nothing for him. No plans. No good news. Just more words I can’t say. More half stories mixed with half truths.

This isn’t how any exchange between two potential lovers should start. A foundation built on lies, secrets, and deceit. No—thats reserved for him. This… This is something completely different. Or at least that’s how it feels. He feels good to me in a way that not just the other one doesn’t, but in a way no man ever has. It’s genuine. It’s organic. I’m myself. He’s hisself. There’s no angst— no looking over my shoulder. No confusion. No grey area with him. You know that feeling when you meet a man and you can just tell from the burn of your cheeks with every laugh, every word in that first exchange—that he’ll be in your life for a very long time? The heat—the jump in your heart when he says his name to you for the first time.

“Balls in your court…always has been.”

Friday, May 3, 2024

The cool water from his condo’s infinity pool is a soothing contrast to Miami’s humidity. Even now, at eleven at night. Paul was right. If the emerging heat in New York is unforgiving, then the heat ensuing down here is just relentless.

The city is lit up below me. Lively and vibrant—leaving me to wonder what could be happening. I down the rest of the costly champagne he had waiting for me, wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. No note and of course he wasn’t there with it. I’m not sure of the occasion, but there never really is one when I’m greeted with expensive gifts from him. Just candy to keep the baby quiet.

I’m sure he’s oblivious or rather careless to my recent accomplishments.

My insides heat up—face growing hot as I grow restless. Champagne bottle half gone. I push myself over to the opposite side of the pool where he’s seated.

I waited all day as usual. Excitement diminishing when he finally entered just to be on a business call. What fucking business is there to discuss at eleven at night?

I missed him—or maybe the dick. Either way I’m feigning for something that’s lacking. I rest my chin on my forearms—holding myself steady on the edge.

“That’s what I’m saying. If he wants more—the numbers have to go up.” He talks with a large hand. Legs spread apart, just begging for me to sit on him. Saying fuck the glass—I bring the bottle to my lips. A battery in my back to execute the plan in my head.

Reaching behind me, untying the knot of the colorful Pucci bikini top, I release the double D’s that never fail to steal his attention. The material pops as it comes undone, resting in between my now exposed breast. Nipples a shade darker than my skin and hard as rocks due to the cold water and stretching arousal.

He didn’t even need to do anything. Just thinking of him all day—the anticipation built since Paul’s text letting me know I would see him soon—was enough to turn me on.

His bottom lip sinks into his mouth as he squints in my direction. Shuffling in the lounge chair with a strong hand running down his thigh.

“Right,” he agrees with the other party of his phone call with a flat tone. I bite my lip failing to hide my amusement. I push away from the ledge to dive back. The water—cold and powerful swallowing me until I pop back to the surface. Fingertips wrinkly and chlorine invading my senses. Placing palms on the ledge— I push myself up and out. Breast bouncing freely with every step that leaves a trail of water on the stone flooring.

He hasn’t blinked once. Eyes bright—the lights from the city and pool reflecting off them. Fixating like a movie projector lens, recording my every move. I pay him and myself a favor— untwisting the cap off with a loud pop and pouring a double shot of whatever brown liquid was housing the decanter he brought out with him and hadn’t even touched. It runs smooth into the glass—mimicking the much broader sound of the pool’s filter.

I extend it to him. Tongue sliding over my teeth, watching him watch me. Instead of taking ahold of the glass itself, he wraps a large hand over mine—prompting me to pour the shot into his mouth. He doesn’t even react to the alcohol.

In the spirit of temptation, I turn to plant myself on top of his inviting manspread. Shifting to the side so both my legs can drape over his toned thigh. Dripping wet from the swim I took—he’s not even fazed. He just sinks deeper into the lounge creating more space for me to get comfortable.

“Mmhm,” he hums in agreement. The strong and persistent voice echoing from the speaker of his phone, a straight cockblock.

Sliding a wet hand up his black shirt, I find the soft skin of his abdomen stretched over his rippling muscles. Acrylic black French tips dragging up and across. Then down, brushing over the tent begging for attention despite its owner’s current distractions.

Rising to my knees, I maneuver one on the other side to straddle him. Making sure all of the heat from me brushes right up against the beast. All the while, leaning over to retrieve another shot from the decanter. This one is for me.

It hits me right in my chest and spreads—not showing any mercy on the furnace that is already growing in pussy. Literally aching— I shift in his lap, creating much needed friction. Taking his free hand in mine, guiding it to my slim stomach. His fingers spread, damn near covering my entire mid section. Eyes locking on me. I slide it up so he’s covering my entire left titty.

This is backfiring. Teasing him only makes me more antsy, feeling like a boiling pot of water with the lid shaking off.

His mouth widens—eyeballing the two thick fingers of his I slide all the way up to my warm mouth to suck.

“Sounds good…Yup—alright. See you soon, man.” In a rush, his thumb is on the red button and he tosses the phone to the table, not even looking to ensure its landing. Before it even hits the table I’m on him. Biting, licking, sucking everywhere that’s available. He’s no better. Gunning for my neck at the same time I angle to find his.

“We don’t know patience tonight?” He smiles through a kiss.

“I don't have any left,” I answer in between assaulting his mouth with licks. His smile deepens, advertising a single dimple peaking out from underneath the thick hairs on his cheek. Rough hands grip my face, stilling me. Everything pausing for a moment.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi.” I greet back—a small giggle ensuing. All confidence burning out under his immediate attention now. But he’s on me and there’s absolutely nowhere to hide.

He’s slimmed down a lot these last couple of months. I don’t know if it's intentional, but he looks damn good either way. Almost like his younger self when he used to run around with Seth and Dean. The ridges and valleys that map his body—from his arms, strong back and his core—more defined than ever. The grey in his beard a permeant staple now. Damn.

I look down between us—his stare too intense. I’ll never get used to this. No amount of alcohol—no drug can suppress the young Lana gawking at the one and only, Roman Reigns.

My eyes make the trail back up to his. Smiling with his eyes and nothing else. “There she is,” he whispers.

My heart thumps just a little harder. A little faster. Yielding to the courage of alcohol—slow and deliberate—I lean in again, but not to kiss his lips this time. Once over his forehead. Another over the crinkle in the corner of his left eye. The definition of his cheekbone. Then, finally I arrive at his mouth. He takes the initiative to slither his tongue inside, after a drawn out peck. Our breath picking up again as another power struggle ensues. My hand sneaks behind him to tug at the bun until it comes undone. My wild Samoan.

The kiss is sloppy and dizzying much like the alcohol is slowly but surely making me. So much so, I barely register the push of his hips, as he slides his shorts down just enough to release himself. The hand he has digging into my hip, unties one string on my bottoms, freeing me.

A sharp gasp pulls from me as I crane my neck up at the feel of him—wide and strong filling every inch of me.

“This shit…” The wind he releases from his nostrils is heavy against my neck, before he sinks his teeth into my throat.

I can’t wait to adjust. I need it now. My hips wind up and down chasing that feeling that’s closer than it usually is. Heat possesses me as I lean a hand back on his leg continuing to grind on him. Massive hands cover the entirety of my breasts, only heightening this euphoria.

“So tight.” He strains with a locking jaw. The depth in his voice another brick stacking itself atop of my nagging climax.

His mouth falls open with shut eyes, relaxing as I do my thing. “Oh my god—I’m gonna cum already.” I pant. Thigh muscles aching, breathless and grip on his leg slipping—but I refuse to slow up. This shit just feels too good.

He grows unbelievably stiffer inside of me. My end so close if I reach out I can touch it. I whimper and nearly throw a fit when he rises all the way up, standing at full height with my legs wrapping around him.

Top row of pearly whites sinking into his plump bottom lip, while he lays me flat on the lounge chair. My frustration is snipped watching him lift his shirt up and off, exposing that masterpiece of a body. The ink on his arm jumping when he grips himself to sink back inside.

“Unnhh!” A muffling moan erupts at the feel of him bottoming out, but as quick as he’s in, he’s back out to slide his full length between my lips. I jump at the tingle on my bundle of nerves where his head grazes. “Joe, please,” I beg. Vacant of any shame. One hand tangled in my wet hair, the other cupping my breast. Both our stomachs rising and falling at the thrill we’ve orchestrated.

My hole clenches around nothing and it’s enough to make me go mad like a woman possessed. Earning a full view of him and his naked glory will only make me spiral. I squirm against him and the soft cushion under me. Eyes inching down where he continues to rock on me and not inside of me.

I quite literally take matters into my own hands, reaching to bury him where I need. My breath coming out shaky. He goes as deep as humanly possible—heavy hands on the back of my thighs, spreading me apart. My everything on display for him. Lips glistening under the moonlight, pink skin pulling him in, and even pinker nub distended completely.

His eyes switch back and forth over my face and my center. “Touch it for me,” he urges not slowing his strokes.

His obedient soldier. I reach a hand down, eyes closing, mouth in an “O” shape. You would think I’m back at the condo, locked in my room during that small window on Friday afternoons, where Anthony is still at the hospital and Demi is in her last class. It's like he’s not even here. Just a silent passenger in the vehicle as I drive myself to the big bang. That is until the weight of him is crushing me as he accelerates, capturing my mouth in an invasive kiss. The hairs of his full beard scraping my face—a complete deviation from his delicate lips. I hum at the taste of him. Warm and commanding, just like the liquor he consumed. His tongue is everywhere. My neck, collarbone, shoulder, chest, nipples, the valley between them—until he finds his way back into my mouth. Warm, solid and wet.

He pulls back just enough to watch me. Brown pupils dancing over every inch of my face. Studying me. Every hit, loud and forceful. My whole body jerks with every entry up and down the long chair.

Eye to eye—no words exchanging. No need for them. It's all seen and felt where we connect. The “i’ve missed you,” being pummeled deep inside me. The “i’ve missed you too,” tangled with my fingers in his fluffy mane, pulling his face as close as possible and making sure he stays here.

The orgasm comes like a meteor. Catastrophic. Once you realizing it’s coming—it's too late. It's already here. My own scream is cloudy in my ears as my whole world comes crashing down. His face is buried in my neck. My nails pressing into his scalp. Eyes pooling with tears of passion, pain and pleasure. The twinkling lights from Miami almost look like stars in the sky watching us.

If sex was the equivalent to wrestling, he’d hold every title in the WWE universe stacked on his shoulders. He leaves no stone unturned.

The come down is cut short as I’m flipped on all fours. Full of him again. My back pressing to his front. His strong hand cupping my jaw. The other, squeezing the life out of my left titty—trapping me in his web of gentle dominance. He rocks into me. Slender nose pressing flush against the side of my face.

I take a hold of this wrist to get some type of grip on reality. I don’t know what to center on. I feel him everywhere he can possibly be.

Wet curls clinging to my neck and face—I gasp every time his hips snap against me. Huffs and pants in my ear, he breathes out like a dog. His tongue making shapes of every kind wherever it can reach.

In his strong embrace I feel untouchable. Nothing feels better than this.

“Mine,” a gruff declaration. Ready to default it as a figment of my vibrant imagination—enhanced by alcohol— I hear it again with twice the aggression. “Mine,” he growls directly in my ear, making it impossible to ignore. His shallow breaths and forceful thrusts picking up in unison. Knocking the very wind from my lungs. I'm helpless to think, respond, or react. Bagging his claim and wrapping it to save for later.

“Where do you want it?” He begs to question low in my ear still. I’m helpless. Mouth opening and then closing tight in a twisting pout at him hitting the spot still sensitive from my first release. “Huh?” His choppy strokes snap me to my sense. Please, not in me.

“My mouth.” Looking up at him with pleading eyes, I urge again. “In my mouth.”

Face contorting in pain almost, he fits in four good thrusts before pulling out. I scrape my knees rushing to them in front of him. He stands grand and tall like a statue. I take him in my hand to finish what I’ve started. His balls jumping with every jerk of my small fist. Underside of his thick tip pressing against my tongue that I hold out to catch what he offers me when it comes.

A much larger hand waves mine off his thickness so he can take over. His other hand gripping the top of my head—fisting a mess of wet curls, forcing my neck to crane harder as an intense wince escapes me. Still, I offer my mouth—wide and waiting at the ready. Eyes bouncing from his intense face to the head of his dick, so hard the tip is turning a pale color.

“Give it to me,” I plead. “Please—please. I want it.” Knowing exactly what sends him over the edge, I request desperately like I’m a woman in the dessert and he possesses the last ounce of water for miles.

“Ughnn! Aw, fuckkk!” It comes out heavy. Spurts of thick white fluid in my mouth. Strays landing on my chin and my chest.

“Mmm,” I hum in satisfaction listening to his guttural moans. Fixating on his stare locked in on me, as he doesn’t let up his strokes until he squeezes the very last bit on my lips.

“Damn,” he mumbles—fine lines forming in between his brows. A smug look resides over my face, right before I gather the saltiness from my tongue, allowing it to drip down to my chin. “Filthy.” He shakes his head.

The night is long and busy. He makes up for the weeks spent apart, tenfold. Filling me in just one night, with enough to hold me over for another month without him, if I had to. From the lounge chair, to the pool, to the shower, to the bed. We break in the condo and make our mark the same way we’ve done a hundred times before.

By the time we close our eyes, the Miami skyline was turning blue.

It’s not long before I hear the shower running. Morning’s burnt orange rays nearly blinding me from the glass balcony door. I groan, burying my head under the stack of fluffy pillows to drift back into slumber.

Consciousness didn’t see me again until a couple hours past noon. This is how it is when I’m in his world. I sleep all day and come alive in the night time like a bat out of hell.

My body is aching, sore with all the evidence of merciless sex. Bruising on my hips, my neck and my knees. Tiny scratches in the most hidden places. I observe them all with a sadistic smile in the steam ridden mirror after a much needed shower.

He left a key fob on the nightstand. I’m assuming it grants me access to the condo. Good. Theres no way I’m staying in here all day again.

The elevator dings as I exit into the lobby on the first floor. Three chandeliers in the center, looking like the price of my tuition. Ceiling high to heaven covered with artwork I didn’t even notice yesterday. I find myself staring up in awe and almost bumping into someone coming in my direction before I focus back on the task at hand.

I catch the eye of the young brunette behind the desk that’s almost as tall as her.

“Hello!” She acknowledges me cheerfully. I offer a closed mouth grin.

“Hi. Do you a have a phone I could use?”

“Eh—sure.” She sits on top of the counter a digital telephone that looks like it's never been touched, fresh out the box, with not a speck of dust on it.

“Thanks. I won’t be long, I swear.” She nods and I make my way to the other wall near the steel elevators.

I dial the number I was forced to memorize by heart.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh—bitch don't scare me like that. I thought you were that Iota from sophomore year calling me from another unknown number.” I stifle a chuckle in the eerily quiet foyer, with at best, only four other people.

“What’s going on back there?”

“Same shit—different day.” I return the stank face to an older lady eyeing my unkempt, “I just had sex,” hair paired with his t-shirt that only stops right below my butt. One raise of my arm and every one in this lobby would get a free show.

“Any calls?”

“Mom called twice. I text her and said it's a really busy day at the hospital and I’ll call when I can.”

“Good girl,” I commend. Demi and I have a routine down pack. It's full proof and hasn’t failed us yet.

“Your dad called. I sent him a question mark. He said nothing—just wanted to check in on you. Uhhh… Mariah from your business policy class asked if you know anybody that takes good grad pics.”

“Send her the boy who took ours.”

“On it. And Jaire called last night…” My eyes flutter closed, running my nails along my forehead. The line is grotesquely silent.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. When do you ever have nothing to say.”

I hear her huff. “What are you going to do about him? I don’t think it’s right that you got him hanging on like that—”

“Hanging on like what? You think this is on purpose? I already told him he couldn’t have came at a worse time.”

“So, then where do you go from here? Cause every time he pulls up you go outside.”

“I don't know,” I snap in an undertone. We don’t speak for a while. I marinate in this dilemma. I like Jaire. I mean—I really like Jaire. He’s charming, respectful, funny and patient. There’s no guess work with him—no mystery. He’s like a breath of fresh air in the line up of men who want nothing but to waste my youth and take what they can, while they can.

“I can tell that you like him, Lana.”

“I can’t really do nothing about that— can I? What am I supposed to do? Tell him, ‘yeah I really like you and we can start dating as long as I can still fuck my Sugar Chief on the side and go missing for days at a time?’” I smile coyly at the front desk lady, praying she didn’t catch any of that before turning away from her.

“Something has to give. You don’t want this thing to last forever, do you?” If I’m lucky, it will. But lucky, I have never been.

“It can’t.”

“You think Jaire will wait for you?”

“Honestly? No.” Great catches are hard to come by. I know in my heart theres another girl that actually deserves his time on her way to him. And when she crosses his path—what would make him choose me over her? “Say I do cut this off. What does that mean for us? Me and you?” It's no secret that it's not just I who benefits from this arrangement. Demi and I barely lift a finger these days. The strife of living paycheck to paycheck has been wiped away thanks to the head of our table.

“I don't know…I’ve been meaning to bring that up. Like—what if he wakes up next week and decides it done and over with? That he wants to be a family man for real? I know we’ve been stacking the money we make from work and the hospital—but that’s chump change. We’d have to downgrade. Like a lot. Are we really ready for that?”

“Can we talk about this when I get back?” The high from the events of last night are slowly being seized by conceptions of the days to come.

Too often I find myself wishing I can just stay in his world, and my world be the distant secret. But the thought leaves as quickly as it comes. I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want this set up. Sneaking in and out of cities, never seeing him in the light of day and fitting in calls from a condominium’s front desk phone. The whole thing is like period sex. In the dark it feels good. Once you turn the lights on to get a clearer look at the mess you’ve made—my god.

“Okay—I’ll leave it alone. The moment. We’re still in it. Worry about that shit another time.”

“Right. Well, I guess if you need me you can call this number back. Just ask for me. I’ll give the girl at the desk my name.”

“Okay. See you when you get back. I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you too.”

He returns earlier than he did the night before. So early, I was taking my routinely nap so I’d have enough energy to tend to him when he comes. I’m woken up by the softest kisses mixed with the coarseness of his facial hair. On my back en route to my ass. I’m wiping the drool from my mouth and lifting my hips for him to slide my panties down. The appetizer to yet another long and restless night.

Finally, we make it to my favorite part.

“Quizlot and all that other shit—we didn’t have none of that when I was in school.”

“Quizlet,” I correct. Tracing the lines of the intricate artwork on his chest piece where my chin is resting.

“Yeah—that. I saw my daughter using that stuff and I couldn’t believe it. I’m like— you’re only in high school. It’s only gonna get harder from here on out.”

“Oh my god. What did y'all do if y'all didn’t study?” I ride over the mention of his daughter like a bad pothole.

“That depends. Now, if it was a big lecture hall?” He waves his large hand in the air. “Just send somebody in to take the test for you. I was a football player— I could do things like that.” He nods in contempt with a toothy grin, pulling an eye roll from me. Fucking athletes. “Or just go in and say a prayer. Hopefully my coach could work something out. Most of the times I really just had to study. Even for the electives I didn’t give a shit about.”

“Wow. You’re like a fossil.” His sour face has my stomach aching with laughter.

“I’m the finest fossil you ever seen, babygirl.”

"I won't argue with you on that.”

“Just stay the course,” he continues with his original point. Taking me by surprise, he brought up graduation. I guess he does pay attention. “Stay focused. Work hard. I’m telling you, it’ll pay off. What’s next? Medical school?” I hum and nod. “Survival of the fittest, I hear.”

“That’s what they say. When I do my residency, that’s when they say I’ll know for sure if I really wanna be a doctor. That’s the real test. No more books. It's time for the real stuff.”

“Mm. You can handle all that—cutting people open and stuff?”

“Well, I wouldn’t do that. The surgeon would. But I’m pretty sure I won’t make it out of med school without cutting some stuff.”

The noise of Miami, cars blasting music as they ride by, horns honking—fill the room distantly. I collect his chin hair between my index and middle finger, watching him. He really is beautiful from any angle.

He clears his throat. “Did you always want to go into oncology?”

His inquiry catches me off guard. My hand releases him as he angles his head to look down at me.

“Um—no actually. I wanted to be a make up artist like my mom. When I was like twelve or something like that.” I shake my head laughing. “She didn’t have the heart to tell me I was shit.” He flashes a smile. That thumb running familiar circles on my bare hip under the covers. “And then—” My voice snags on apprehension. It's been years since I’ve talked about this. It's one of those things you bury inside. A block hidden all the way in the middle of a Jenga tower, that only if you’re skilled and worthy, I’d let you pull out of me. A story I choose not to tell to anyone who wasn’t there to live it with me.

“My uh—my dad was diagnosed with brain cancer. I was like fourteen when they sat me and my brother down to tell us. It was only stage two, but at that age—that didn’t mean very much to me. All I heard was that my dad’s brain was killing him.” He’s still as a statue. Gaze on me unwavering. “He’s good now, but we had a rough couple of years before he got to that point. My whole family fell apart. They got divorced. My brother left for school. It just…didn’t feel good.”

“But to answer your question—I wanted to get into oncology because I thought, yeah my dad made it, but he was lucky. Might’ve lost some other things.” I shrug carelessly even though it haunts me and has shaped eighty five percent of the attitude I’ve morphed towards life. “But he made it out with his life. Some other people aren’t so lucky. So—I thought I wanted to be one of the ones to change that. And I know I’m just one person and there’s been thousands of doctors before me. I probably won’t make much of a difference. I don't know.” I shrug again.

It's too quiet. The weight of his stare is heavy regardless of the fact that I can’t see it. I’m not looking at him so I can't gauge his thoughts. He’s almost impossible to read anyway. I should’ve just shut the fuck up. Made up some bullshit story about wanting to save strangers. My roots are way too deep for the shallowness of whatever we are to one another.

“That’s beautiful,” he expresses in an octave as soft as the sheets we lay in. Bringing my heart rate back down to normal with the comfort and reassurance of his words. "So beautiful," he repeats. Pools of brown jumping around my whole face in a matter of seconds. His big thumb running over my cheek. A part of me, tangling in what he means to refer to as beautiful. Me or the confession?

Before I can think too deeply, his lips are on mine. Soft and deliberate. Not like all the other times. No, this kiss is a little different. It might be the shots we took earlier. Or just the fuzziness that comes with staying up at the wee hours back to back like this. I don't know and I don’t really care in this moment. All I can seem to care for is the way his tongue glides over mine, igniting tiny fires all over me. The way his rough hand grips my chin to keep me in place. The look in his eyes—a look I’ve never seen before on him as he pulls away. And finally, the way he pulls me closer up under him before we close our eyes and choose our dreams over reality.

Sunday, May 5, 2024

“Uhn…Uhn…Eh…Uhn.”

Grunts and pants. Thats what pulls me from my slumber. I think I might be dreaming still. But the more cognizant I become, the louder they grow. My eyes shoot open. Big mistake. The shots taken the night before dig their nails into my head as I groggily lift up. “Mmm.” I groan in pain.

I’m floored as my attention is drawn to the source of all the ruckus. All man—big, burly and covered in a sheen of sweat—he pushes himself up and off the floor repeatedly. The digital clock beside me reads 11:03 A.M.

What the hell is he still doing here?

Mesmerizing. Watching his large frame break a sweat. Veins pumping. The muscles in his back prancing while the cuts in his arms pump to their full capacity. Hair hanging loosely around his broad shoulders. The rhythm of his deep pants waking up other parts of me before my brain can catch up.

I’m stuck in place, refusing to move on the bed even as he rises from the floor to his full height. It's evident that we shock each other.

“…Good morning.” He speaks first.

His attentive gaze, a reminder that it is in fact morning and we sit in the light of day. I grow self-conscious with every second that passes, realizing what that must look like on me after a full night of drinking and fucking like a wild animal. I run a hand through my curls which are most likely wilder and out of place from air drying. I pull the sheet up tighter avoiding his stare.

“Morning.” I clear my throat.

My eyes follow his every movement as he retreats and returns with a water bottle to his mouth. Basketball shorts hanging low around his waist. He moves in my direction and holds the half empty water bottle out for me.

I look at it then him, and back at it again. “Thank you.”

He’s gone right after passing it to me. The shower runs from the conjoined bathroom. “You getting in here?”

We don’t have sex. He barely touches me. Just washes himself. We do a funny routine of looking and then looking away once we realize the other is looking too. It's a weird kind of intimacy. Void of any sexual guise. Just two people—comfortable enough in each other’s presence, in each other’s nakedness—showering together.

It's about that time. I’m zipping my carry on after gathering the last of the strays spread across his condo inside. I peak over where he’s sitting in the chaise lounge chair by the balcony door, fiddling with something in his hands. It's too small for me to see.

The room is decorated with silence. Not an awkward one. It's not comforting either. It's that same silence when everyone is packing the last night on vacation. All the memories from the days before spent drinking, partying and relaxing are on replay in your mind. All the things back at home waiting for you, flood your mind shortly after. Every one is sad to leave, but no one really says it because it obvious.

My mind drifts to the last time I saw him before this weekend. Wrestle-mania.

I don't know what comes over me. Standing by the bed just a few feet away from him—I blurt out the only words that I can think of.

“You’re still my champion…”

Elbows resting on this knees he averts his gaze my way. Features twisting at first from my sudden outburst, but they soften after a beat.

He holds a big fist out. I don’t even fight the lazy smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth. The coolest motherfucker in and outside of the ring.

I take the necessary steps toward him to connect my minute fist to his larger one. He turns his hand so his palm is face up to reveal what I saw him messing with earlier. A dainty silver bracelet, adorned with charms that practically wink at me when the vibrant lights we sit under touch it for just a second.

Raising my brows—he mirrors my expression, holding his hand out further, initiating me to take it. Surely, not.

The stones dancing on the hanging “A” charm are cold under my fingertips. Another charm—a graduation cap—shines even brighter. Too bright to be anything other than diamonds. “I left your name downstairs.”

“For what?” I question, still in awe of the fine piece of jewelry as I clasp it on.

“Whenever you’re in the city, you’ll have a place to stay.” He explains holding out the key fob I used earlier to return to the room.

Twirling the key in between my fingers, I scan my brain for a reason not to accept the grand gesture, but I come up short. “Try not to have too much fun without me.” He adds, smirking.

“I can bring people?”

“Long as you follow the NDA, I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you, Joe.”

I’ve grown immune to receiving hand outs from him. But, this time feels different. The bracelet has meaning. The “A” charm and graduation cap—maximizing a pivotal time stamp—makes it personal. It's not just a bag he thinks I’ll like. Not just a lingerie set with the intentions of taking it off. No—this is different. This is special.

Saturday, May 11, 2025

I think about that last day spent with him all week. On the entire jet ride back to New York. The car ride back to my own condo. It's the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep every night. I can’t get that look he gave me as we laid in the bed, out of my head. It replays like a broken record.

Yet and still, it's not enough to ease the dilemma that was waiting for me back home.

The car thing is getting old… show me what’s new

Thumbs doing a little dance over the lit screen, I reread the same message for the twentieth time.

I’ve decided to give Jaire a chance. After I walk across that stage in a week, I’d be entering into a whole new chapter—a whole new space. A new Alana. Which means I have to make room for new things to fit. Only thing is, starting a chapter with Jaire and it actually meaning something, would require me to end the one with him—Joe. I must be insane. Just delusional. There is no chapter. There is no anything. It’s just an excerpt.

All we do is fuck, drink and sleep. He upgrades my life whatever way he sees fit. Not out of the kindness of his heart, but to make this arrangement more feasible. He doesn’t care about Alana. He doesn’t see me. He just sees a girl that looks at him like the star he is, so she’s willing to go the extra mile to stay in space with him. Well, not anymore.

That night I keep replaying is a figment of my wild imagination. Just a blimp in his, that’s long forgotten. Fleeting. My life can’t stop for him. Surely, his doesn’t stop for me. I’m twenty-two. My whole life ahead of me. I should be getting flown out to Miami to see Jaire. Partying the whole weekend, in someone’s section not even dreaming of touching my own wallet. Throwing back shots and acting bad. Handing out my number like candy on Halloween. Not a care in the world. Doing what twenty-two year olds do. Reaping the benefits of youth while I still can. Not hiding out in hotel rooms, waiting for a man twice my age, grey in the beard—to come fuck me and dip in the morning before I even open my eyes and stretch. But damn—I’m going to wake up in cold sweats after dreaming about running my fingers through that beard while he sleeps. And damn—I am going to severely miss that dick like a man misses his family when he has to serve time.

Just as I get a rush of confidence to press send, Demi’s call delays me.

“Yeah?” I answer.

“You gotta come back to the condo. Now.” My fight or flight immediately kicks in. Demi didn’t come into the hospital today because she didn’t feel well. God, what the hell is wrong?

“—Why? What’s going on?” I rise up from the nurse’s station briskly, making my way to get my stuff in the locker.

“Something’s…here for you.”

“Huh?” I stop jogging.

“Just get here. You only have two hours left. Tell Miss Tonia you’ll make it up tomorrow.” Click.

Upon arrival to my condominium, I’m immediately bewildered at the scene unfolding through the window from the backseat of the Uber.

“Thank you,” I tell the older man before hopping out, but not before inspecting the matte black Mercedes G Wagon parked right out front. A pink ribbon plants itself on the hood. Someone is definitely loved. Probably the girl that lives across from us. I think her boyfriend is an actor or some shit like that.

On the sidewalk, Demi, Anthony and a man I’ve never seen before meet me. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you Alana Floyd?” The man speaks first. I look past him before responding. Demi looks like she’s seen a ghost and Anthony looks like he might jump out of his own flawless skin.

“I am,” I finally answer.

“Do you mind showing me some ID?”

A chuckle escapes me. A product of discomfort and pure fucking confusion. When I see that he’s still waiting, I fish for my ID in the LV Neverfull hanging on my shoulder. He takes it. I look behind me. Every pedestrian walking by, gawks at the truck just as I did when I pulled up.

“Here you go.” My head snaps back. He holds a clip board out. My ID and a pen sit on it. “Just need the signature at the bottom. Proof you received the delivery.”

“Delivery?” One brow shoots up.

“The truck ma’am.”

On cue, Anthony pops like a can of Pillsbury biscuits. “Joe!” He waves a card in the air, beaming down at me. “Aha! So that’s his name!”

Shaking her head, Demi snatches the card, offering it to me. I take it, not missing the smirk that tugs at her full lips.

Happy belated and congratulations.

— Your Champion, Joe

The card and everything else in my hand slips—hitting the pavement silently. The blood in my veins run cold in the heat of May.

Someone must’ve hit the trunk button. And out falls the many pink roses that were stuck inside. They’re everywhere. Spilling from the truck. Onto the street. The sidewalk. Mimicking on the outside, exactly how whatever chakra is trapped in my heart is now overflowing and spilling out.

This. This is special.

A/N // in honor of Papa returning to work, i busted my ass tryna get this out lol. i wish i could post the warnings at the end lol they’re literally spoilers!

- any thoughts about Alana? any changes you noticed in her or her relationships with the other characters?

- any thoughts on the appointment Lana had to make?

- i know i didn’t reveal much about Jaire’s character, but that was on purpose. still, any thoughts about him?

- any thoughts on how Lana views what’s going on between her and Joe? do we think he sees it the same way she describes in her head?

- the graduation/birthday gifts? access to the condo??

- like her brother said, is Lana leading with her heart or her head?

- and just cause i’m nosy… trim, hairy or bald? lol

i would really love feedback. as always, if you read it or even just a portion, i am forever grateful and appreciative.

part 4 Desires is already in the works. depending on how y'all react to this, y'all might just hate me for some of the things i'm about to do lol

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negrowhat · 5 months ago

Text

Hello Neighbor

Well now that we know that Cir "just happens" to live in the same building as Phu, but just one floor down, I think we should talk about some other BL couples who just so happen to live in the same damn building as each other. Sometimes someone is aware and sometimes it's a total shock for everyone.

CirPhu from The Boy Next World. Like I said, last week Cir just casually revealed to Phu that he lives in the same building but just one floor below him. It's a bit weird for him to suddenly reveal that especially after claiming that he and Phu are lovers in another timeline somewhere. Do we believe he's a stalker? Or do we believe he's truly from another world and it's just coincidence that he lives in Phu's building? Let's place bets rn.

WinTeam from Until We Meet Again/Between Us. Win lived on the floor above Team in their dormitory and his room was right over Team's. Team living in Win's dorm definitely came in clutch for Team because he had somewhere to go when he couldn't sleep...which was every, single night. And Win gladly welcomed Team into his space and even offered him a key. They weren't just neighbors, Win's dorm was Team's sanctuary.

GeneNubsib from Lovely Writer. Nubsib was a proud stalker of his beloved Gene. He purposefully bought the condo directly next door to Gene's and didn't tell him. So when Gene kicked his ass out he just silently moved in next door and was just like "SURPRISE SHORTY!" And we all just ran with it. It is 1000% possible that Cir is pulling a Nubsib.

KongArthit from SOTUS. Kongpob was BOLD because he pulled this stunt TWICE on Arthit. First he didn't tell that man that his dorm was directly across from his in the opposite building. He just spent a few months lurking at Arthit from afar, enjoying the show of his cute senior fumbling around. THEN when Kong went to intern at the engineering company Arthit worked at (something else he didn't mention) he purposefully moved into the condo right next door to Arthit and once again DID NOT tell him. He just let his mans find out and was like, "See...what had happened was..."

PatPran from Bad Buddy. The Gods just blessed them to be in each other's spaces eternally. We all know PatPran were warring neighbors since childhood, the Romeo and Juliet of it all, but not them being across-the-hallway neighbors at uni too. Of course Pran seemed annoyed but Pat couldn't be more thrilled to be living next door to his most favorite dimply guy. Pat did seem to spend most of his free time at Pran's place, but that was partially because his baby sister was cramping his style when she moved into the dorm with him. But whatever because he got to annoy and snuggle his favorite guy.

VeeMark from Love Mechanics. What's fun about VeeMark living directly next door to each other was that Mark was Vee's side piece. Some days he was burning with rage that Vee lived next door with his girlfriend but also cackling other days because he was fucking that girl's man on the regular right under her nose. They was on some messy type shit. Wait, now that I think about it...that was ole girl's apartment so Vee was legit just bouncing around from room to room with whomever he felt like cuddling with that night. With his choosing ass.

GodDiew from Monster Next Door. They win because they were semi-anonymous next door neighbors for a long ass time. Gettiing to know each other without seeing each other. Dating while not meeting up. Romance blossoming while vaguely in each other's presence. Bonding without actually breeching a physical boundary until they were both ready. Their being neighbors and how they were neighboring was actual poetry.

I think 2025 might bring back my lists. I can't contribute much but I can make a fun random list. Hope you all enjoyed this.

#cirphu #the boy next world #boy next world #winteam #between us #until we meet again #gene x nubsib #lovely writer #kongpob x arthit #sotus #sotus s #veemark #love mechanics #goddiew #monster next door #patpran #bad buddy #I FORGOT TO TAG BAD BUDDY

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milfgyuu · 5 months ago

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Reset [M] Pairing: Jinyoung (Got7) x Fem!Reader Tags: 2.7k, exes to lovers, comfort/fluff, humor, smut 21+ Summary: Life works in mysterious ways - like when it puts two divorcees together and turns up the heat. It doesn’t help that he’s handsome, charming, and still in love with you.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content 21+ MINORS DNI. mxf, no protection (don’t make me tell ya’ll again), no foreplay - he’s just hot, ex-spouses rekindling, mild language, and a glass of wine. It's more banter and fluff than smut tbh.

When you got home, his car was parked in the driveway, so when you walked in the front door, you were not surprised in the least to see your ex-husband waiting for you. To be honest, you had a feeling he’d be here anyway.

“Jinyoung,” you hum patiently, hanging your purse next to his keys and kicking off your heels next to his shoes at the door, “Just because you still have a key, doesn’t mean you can show up any time you like.”

Jinyoung only smirks from his proprietary position on your couch. He’s plenty relaxed, his fitted grey pants stretched taut over his thighs comfortably spread apart, taking up more space than necessary. The crisp white shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows. No watch, phone, shoes, socks, or keys, and his typically perfect hair is tousled and relaxed.

He doesn’t plan on leaving any time soon.

“How was your day at work, sweetheart? Kids all settled in at your mom's?”

His playful response thins your patience, just slightly. “They’re teenage boys with dirtbikes and twenty acres of land. You know they don’t need to settle in anymore. They practically live outside all weekend except when mom calls them in to eat. They’re fine,” you ignore his first question and continue moving past him, straight toward the kitchen.

Jinyoung laughs and you can hear him getting up to follow you. You’re bent over, looking in the refrigerator drawers to pull something out for dinner when his hands slide over your hips, pulling you back up and away from your task. You kick the fridge shut with your foot and he kisses your temple. “I already ordered delivery,” he hums against your shoulder now, hands trailing up and around your waist, keeping you anchored to his body, “How about a glass of wine?”

You want to say no but it’s been a long day, it’s the weekend, and you’ll want one if you have to endure this for the rest of the night.

“Make it red,” you sigh in defeat, rolling your eyes when he kisses your neck.

As he pulls away, you catch yourself watching his every move. It’s been three months of this.

You were together for fifteen years, married twelve, brought two beautiful boys into the world, and divorced just over a year ago. It was a mutual choice, one you hated to make, but it was what felt necessary at the time. Jinyoung was still the same incredibly attentive father keeping the boys every weekend, showing up for every school award and sporting event, and you even agreed to still have holidays together as a family. You co-parented like champs.

And then he invited you over one night for dinner, just to catch up, about three months ago. It wasn’t even the first time you had done it. There were several occasions since your separation when you shared a meal with and without the kids. This one just happened to be…different.

Dinner was fine, pleasant even, and then he fucked you against every single surface in his condo like he was making up for time lost over the last year in one evening. Worse than that, you spent the night and did it all over again the next day.

Presently, Jinyoung hands you a glass and pours another for himself. You swirl the contents idly until he corks the bottle and lifts his glass to yours. “To our good fortune and health, our wildly handsome sons who are probably not going to shower for the next three days,” your pursed lips break into a small smile, amusement glittering in your eyes, “And to us, for everything we’ve accomplished, and for all that’s yet to come.”

His smile is a dazzling reminder of how you fell for him in the first place. You raise your glass and take a hardy sip letting the flavor splash over your palette. “How long until the food gets here?”

Jinyoung glances at the clock overhead and grins. “Twenty minutes.”

Your eyes slip down to his chest and that’s all it takes for Jinyoung to have you pinned against the counter with your panties pushed aside and one of your legs up around his waist. You cling to his shoulders, crying out his name as he fucks you recklessly right there in your own kitchen.

Because he can.

Because you want him to.

He pumps into you faster and you try to brace yourself on the cool granite, accidentally knocking into one of the wine glasses. Neither of you even stops to look as the glass tips over and shatters, red wine bleeding out until it’s spilling onto the floor. You’re too close and he refuses to look at anything other than your face, lids half closed, lips parted in praise.

“We’re running out of time,” he murmurs, still smirking as he says it because he knows you’ll finish before then. He reaches up, cradling your cheek in one hand which might seem sweet for a moment but then he pushes his thumb against the seam of your lips, parting his own as a silent order to open yours.

Despite how distracted you are, you understand easily what he’s doing and accept his instructions, opening up for him to push the tip of his thumb inside just long enough for you to wet it before he’s pulling it out and rolling it over your clit, lazily at first. He finds so much joy in dragging things out for as long as he possibly can, grinning the entire time. Then his phone buzzes in his pocket and he knows he’ll have to save the teasing for later.

He leans closer, kissing your neck as he speeds up both his hands and hips. Your head tips back into the cabinet behind you, panting into the open air above. The sweet sounds pouring from your lips spur him on and it is absolutely not in his plans to finish now, as masochistic as that feels at the moment, so he contains them, slipping his free hand behind your neck so he can kiss you hotly on the mouth, swallowing each sigh. It’s exactly what you needed too.

The doorbell chimes and you barely hear it, all background noise canceled out as your orgasm leaves you shaking, ears ringing, and chest heaving. He doesn’t move until you still, slumped back against the counter trying to catch your breath. Then, after he fixes his clothes, he slides your panties back in place, pulls your dress down, and kisses you again, much softer this time.

“Food is here,” he hums, smiling when you trail after his lips.

“Food can be reheated later,” you counter, catching him in another kiss.

Jinyoung laughs, the sound is beautiful and something you’ve missed so much. “Let me at least bring it inside and clean up the mess on the floor real quick.”

Oh, right. Broken wine glass. “I’ll clean that up.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Let me take care of it, please.”

Let me take care of you…

You hold onto him for a few seconds more and relent, “I’ll be in the bedroom. You remember where that is, don’t you?”

His brows pull together, “My favorite room in the house? Of course, I do.”

Jinyoung leaves you with an easy grin and you watch him go until he’s out of sight before trailing down the hall to your room. Bypassing the light switch, you opt to use the lamp on the bedside table instead and it fills the room with a low–light. You pull off your dress and bra, depositing them in the hamper, and decide to grab one of his shirts from its hidden place in the depths of your closet.

When he returns, food in hand as you predicted, he grins seeing that you read his mind.

“If we don’t eat it now, we never will,” you shrug, patting his side of the bed, “Come on.”

He hands over the bags to you and you begin pulling things out trying to not get distracted by him stripping off his clothes until he’s left in only his briefs and crawling into bed next to you. He helps set everything up and you grab the remote, flipping on the TV.

It’s so painfully reminiscent of your early years together. When you were wholly focused on your relationship with each other, not on your careers, your children, or your future.

After a while, Jinyoung lets out a small sigh. “When did we stop doing this?”

You smile wistfully. “It’s been a long time,” you poke at your food in the takeout container, “At some point we just…gave up.”

He understands what you truly mean.

Jinyoung stares at the side of your face, your eyes still trained on the contents you’re stirring around in thought. He has always loved you - he still does in this very moment. It was never about falling out of love, but because you both fell into roles. A husband, a wife. A father and a mother. You’d forgotten that beneath all of that, you were two people in love, and at some point, you stopped prioritizing your relationship.

“I love you,” he says suddenly and you look at him, wide-eyed, “I love you so much and I’m sorry I stopped saying it out loud.”

“Jiny-”

He sets his container down and turns to you, reaching out for your free hand. “I’m sorry that I stopped kissing you hello, and goodbye, and for no reason at all…that I stopped holding your hand in the car and across the table,” you set your food aside and take his other hand, squeezing it tightly, “I’m sorry that I didn’t even realize that I’d just…stopped trying.”

“I am just as much at fault,” you reach up, brushing your thumb under his eye, burning with fresh tears, “We were…young and so in love, and then we grew up and life got busy. We stopped prioritizing our needs in our relationship and we got burnt out.”

He nods, understanding exactly what you mean.

“I love you, Jinyoung, I have always loved you, and I’m sorry we had to go through all of this just to remember how to show it to one another.”

He cradles your face in his hands and pulls you closer to kiss you tenderly. It’s soft, sad, happy, sweet…it’s full of love. Your hands close around his wrists and he pulls back a touch, smiling at you softly. “I can’t say I am glad we did it, but it gave us this chance to remember who we are and what we want. I love you and I want to spend every day reminding you just how much I love you.”

“Are you asking me to go steady, Jinyoung?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing and steals another kiss. “I’m asking you to be my wife…again.”

“I don’t think I can go through the stress of another wedding,” you sigh, pressing your foreheads together.

“You don’t want to hear me recite my vows to you all over again?”

He says it as he leans over you, arms coming around your body in a way that says he won’t be letting go any time soon. It's a glorious place to be and the thought of calling him your husband again, just your husband and not your ex, is as thrilling now as it was when he proposed.

“Well, maybe I could be persuaded…a little intimate garden wedding sounds kind of nice…”

He grins and buries his face in your neck, savoring the beautiful sound of the laughter that spills from your lips as he kisses your skin over and over. Then he picks his head up and bites his lip, “How do you think the boys will feel?”

You scoff. “I think the boys know more than they let on.”

He tilts his head in thought. “Now that you mention it, I usually get a reminder text, sometimes from both of them, every day leading up to a stay with your parents. Almost like they wanted to make sure I knew you’d be home alone that particular weekend….my darling sons….handsome and clever, like their father.”

“Mhm,” you purse your lips at the wistful look on his face, “Come to think of it, I remember your eldest looking a little too smug, like his father, when he asked ‘What happened to what’s his face?’ as if he already knew. You told him, didn’t you?”

Jinyoung scowls thinking about the guy you had just barely started seeing before the two of you started fooling around again. “That tall motherfucker,” he grunts, “I can’t believe you were going to replace me with that guy. What? Just because he can cook? So what…anybody can take a cooking class!”

You roll your eyes, quietly laughing at his ongoing rant.

He finally notices the amusement all over your face and abruptly asks, “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head, still grinning, “Kind of cute to know you still get jealous over me.”

Jinyoung scoffs, stutters, and then closes his mouth for a moment. “Ok, yeah…fair. I was extremely jealous. You could have chosen someone less attractive.”

“That would have made you less jealous?” you quirk your brow.

“No,” he immediately shakes his head. No hesitation.

Laughter erupts from your chest. You didn’t think so either. “ Listen, I wasn’t replacing you and that guy is a good person, so be nice. Your boys were feral around him but he had the patience of a saint. I’m still surprised he didn’t run away after picking me up for our first date. They must take after you…hellions.”

Jinyoung gives you the most deadpan expression. “My boys are angels.”

“Your boys are howling at the moon and swinging through trees right now.”

He laughs but agrees. “Have they checked in at all? I haven’t heard anything.”

“I have no idea, my phone is still in my purse,” you pinch his arm, grinning, “I walked in to find you spread out on the couch and got distracted. I had to pretend I wasn’t drooling just looking at you.”

“You don’t have to pretend that I am not the sexiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on,” he teases with a pretty smile, “I think it’s obvious if you’re willing to marry me twice.”

“Go get my phone so we can be responsible parents.”

He obliges but only after he kisses you so thoroughly it leaves you breathless in his wake. He winks, climbing out of the bed. “Have I told you that you’re the hottest mom, ever?”

You reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head until you’re exposed to his hungry eyes. “How about you just move your ass so I can remind you exactly how hot I am.”

He has to drag himself away, quickly making his way into the living room, retrieving your phone from your purse at lightning speed, and then he jumps back into bed, passing it into your waiting hands. You unlock your phone and find a message waiting. You burst into laughter and hold it out for Jinyoung to read.

“Goodnight Mom (and Dad…we know you’re there. You share your phone location with us, remember?) Grandma says she knows too but told us to mind our business. I think she is really happy though because she gave us a high-five and extra dessert. Ok, LOVE YOU GUYS!!!”

Jinyoung laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah…I forgot about the location thing,” he admits, climbing back under the covers next to you, “I guess this means we can stop sneaking around.”

“I think I might miss the privacy in your condo,” you grin, playfully squeezing his chest, “We can’t be nearly as loud here.”

Jinyoung smirked, “Let’s sell both our places and buy a new one with the master bedroom on the opposite side of the house.”

“And a pool so the boys stay busy outside.”

Jinyoung kisses your forehead. “I love the way you think.”

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, rolling on top of your husband, “But I want you to make sure I can’t think straight for the next forty-eight hours.”

Jinyoung grins, flipping over to pin your body beneath his. “Happy wife,” he pauses to steal another searing kiss, “Happy life.”

Thanks for reading!

GOT7 M.List | Main M.List

→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Bubblebeom, 2020. ©️

#got7 fanfic #jinyoung fanfic #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #got7 jinyoung fanfic #got7 smut #got7 oneshot #got7 au

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year ago

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No One Else

➪the one where you throw a housewarming party, and a.j. isn’t fond of all the guys staring at you in his new living room.

Warnings: this man is such a dom i swear, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, swearing, pda, jealous a.j., alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 3.4k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

A.J. hated house parties. He would much rather go out to the club or a bar as he felt like the parties he threw at his apartment got too crowded too quickly.

But he was doing this for you.

About three months ago A.J. asked you to move in with him. He loved you more than anything else and he wanted you around him all the time, and you felt the same way. You agreed and moved out of your small loft and into his massive condo across the city.

While you were used to the city life, you were a bit overwhelmed since he was in the middle of it all. It was loud and chaotic whenever you opened the sliding door of the balcony, and the lights kept you up at night. You didn’t say anything about it, not wanting to give A.J. any ideas, but it wasn’t long until he discovered your distaste for this side of the city.

It was a big difference to where you lived previously, and he felt guilty about the sudden change.

So he offered to move away from all of it, to give up the city life he had been living in for around twelve years for a cute and modern house in a neighborhood just outside the city.

He let you have full control over pretty much everything in the house; from the appliances in the kitchen to the paint color in the living room. A.J. gave you his credit card and told you to go crazy, and you really took his words and ran with them.

You bought countless pieces of furniture and when they arrived at the home, A.J. spent a good day and a half building them with Jake.

Now, a full week after settling into the new place, you decided to throw a house party to really break it in.

The house was a lot bigger than his apartment, so it wasn’t as crowded, but he still hated having so many people in his personal space. But A.J. knew it was all worth it when he caught your eye from across the living room and saw the way your lips turned upwards into a happy smile.

He really would do anything for you without an ounce of hesitation.

A.J. crossed the room after wrapping up his conversation with Jesse, and his hands found their home on your waist as he stood behind you. He knew you were smiling as you listened to the story Rachel was telling you, and that smile only grew when he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“You two are so cute, seriously,” Rachel beamed, finishing off her drink with a smile. “I can confidently say you were made for each other.”

“Just like you and Jake,” came your sweet reply and A.J. felt the corners of his mouth lift upwards as you sipped on your wine.

“Speaking of,” he trailed off, lifting his head and looking around the packed room. “Where is your fiancé, Rach?”

Rachel furrowed her brows as she, too, looked around the room. “I’m not sure, actually,” she answered. “Let me know if you find him, and let me know if he looks like he’s had too much to drink. If he’s plastered, tell him he’s sleeping on the couch when we get home.”

A.J. laughed as he kissed the side of your neck before moving away from you. “Will do,”

“Come find me later,” you requested in a soft voice, smiling at him afterwards. “I shouldn’t miss you this much in our own house.”

A.J. held back a groan as he moved towards you again and firmly gripped your jaw, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. You grin against his lips and tangle your free hand in his hair, his lack of hat tonight making it very easy. “Damn, baby,” he muttered as he pulled away and you ran the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip. “You make a guy not want to leave.”

You grin at him and shrug. “Hurry back, Jay,”

He bit his lip as he nodded and turned to go seek out his best friend. He found Jake in the kitchen talking to John, and they both looked like they were on the verge of being wasted. “A.J.! Hey, buddy!” Jake greeted as the tattooed man entered the room. “This is a nice place you got here.”

“Yeah, man, I like how secluded it is,” John added as he looked around the room. “You buy it with that two million we snagged from those transport trucks?” He asked loudly and A.J. had to deliver a quick slap to his shoulder to stop John from exposing the source of his income to all his new neighbors.

And there were a lot of them.

The neighborhood you were now living in was well populated, and you had taken it upon yourself to invite all of them to the party in hopes to get to know them. A.J. wasn’t very fond of strangers in his house, but it was just another thing he forced himself to deal with since he was so in love with you.

“Keep your voice down,” A.J. muttered as John gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, man,” he laughed. “Your new neighbors were very generous with their housewarming gifts.” John held up the bottle of champagne with a bow tied around it, and A.J. just shook his head.

“Just try not to tell the guests all our secrets, yeah?”

John nodded and gave him a salute before wandering off towards the dining room where Gordon was. “A.J., buddy, I never thought I’d see you get out of the city, man,” Jake said as he leaned against the counter with a beer in his hand.

“You and me both,” he murmured as he took the half empty bottle from Jake.

“The things we do for the women we love, huh?” Jake asked as he moved to sit down at the kitchen table.

“Speaking of, Rachel told me that if I saw you and you were drunk, I have to tell you that you’re sleeping on the couch,” A.J. informed the tipsy man, who just laughed.

“She might say that, but she can’t sleep without me, man, I’m like her personal pillow,”

A.J. shook his head and set the bottle on top of the fridge, knowing damn well that Jake could easily reach it. “Good thing she’s marrying you then,”

“Hey, when are you and your girl getting married?” Jake asked as he grabbed a handful of chips and ate them all at once. “You’ve been together about as long as Rachel and I have, when are you gonna ask her the question?”

“I don’t know, man,” A.J. answered as he avoided the crumbs flying out of Jake’s mouth with each word he said. “Soon.”

“You have the ring, don’t you?”

A.J. nodded and Jake grabbed one of the cookies off the dessert plate on the table. “Yeah, I’m just waiting for the right time,”

Jake leaned back just as Rachel entered the kitchen and made her way over to the two guys. “Don’t wait too long, buddy,” he advised as Rachel moved to stand next to him. “Putting a ring on this one’s finger was the best decision I ever made.” He wrapped his arm around his fiancée’s waist as he smiled up at her.

Rachel laughed as she draped her arm around Jake’s shoulders. “You’re planning on proposing?” She asked with excitement lacing her voice. “Do it soon, then Y/n/n and I can be engaged at the same time. Ooh, maybe a double wedding!”

A.J. shook his head with a smile as he looked towards the doorway, expecting to see you enter at any second since Rachel was now in here. When you didn’t, he glanced at your best friend and asked, “Where is she, anyway? You leave her to get lost in her own house?”

Rachel playfully rolled her eyes. “No, I was just making sure this guy was behaving,” she nudged Jake, who just continued smiling up at her. “Last I saw her, she was talking to the next door neighbor who hasn’t been able to take his eyes off her all night.”

A.J.’s smile faded at that and he left the kitchen without saying another word. Rachel and Jake’s conversation faded into the background as he entered the living room again, and instead of finding you where he left you by the sliding door, you were by the couch and talking to some dark haired guy.

While he knew he had no reason at all to be jealous, seeing as this was his own fucking living room he shared with you, A.J. still didn’t like seeing you around guys who clearly just wanted to sleep with you.

And this guy did a very bad job at hiding the fact that he wanted to fuck you.

A.J. made his way over to you, receiving a slap on his shoulder from Jesse as he did so. You wanted him to find you later, and he was more than ready to take you up on that offer now.

Your eyes drifted from the brunet and met A.J.’s, and a smile formed on your lips, instantly replacing the barely hidden look of boredom on your face.

The guy probably thought you were smiling at him, but A.J. sorted him out pretty quickly as he stepped around the stranger and wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you into his side and he didn’t even bother glancing at the guy’s face before he was pressing a deep kiss to your mouth.

You return it immediately and lean into his touch when he lifts his free hand up to grip your jaw and angle your head, and you willingly give him full control of the kiss. He slowly pulls away and smirks at the way you keep your eyes closed for a few more seconds before he looks over at the guy, who did not look happy at all. “New friend, baby?” He asked, making you open your eyes and look over as well.

“Um, this is….Dean?” You question and A.J. held back a laugh at the offended look Dean gave you. “He’s our new neighbor, Jay.”

“Nice to meet you,” A.J. said and ignored Dean’s outstretched hand as he turned back to you and leaned in close. “Do you know how badly I want to fuck you right now?” He asked under his breath as Dean stood awkwardly next to him.

Your eyes widen and you let out a startled laugh. “A.J,” you gasp quietly and look over at your neighbor with a blush.

A.J. glanced over at him, too, before beginning to pull you towards the half-bath next to the hallway that led to yours and his room. You feebly waved at Dean as A.J. made a show of guiding you into the bathroom, a smug smirk on his lips when he saw Dean’s glare.

Once he entered the bathroom as well, he closed the door and locked it before pushing you up against it. “I gotta say, baby,” he murmured as his hands pulled up the black material of your dress. “I’m not a big fan of our new neighbors.”

You lean your head back against the door as he bunches your dress around your hips and teased your clit through the thin material of your panties. “Why? Not friendly enough?”

A.J. grunted as he pushed the lace material down your legs and let it drop to the tiled floor. “They’re too friendly,” he answered as he picked you up and set you down on the marbled countertop.

You squeal at the cold surface against your burning skin and cling onto his shoulders. “Fuck, A.J.,” you mumble and tug at his suspenders. “What’s gotten into you? You were fine when you left to go find Jake.”

He would never admit that he was jealous of that prick in his living room, so he shrugged and kissed along your shoulders. “Nothings gotten into me,” he said under his breath. “But hopefully I can get into you.”

You moan loudly, despite being able to clearly hear the party guests outside the door. “Well, when you say it like that,” you tease and drop your hands to the button on his dress pants. “But we have to be quick, Jay. We’re hosting right now.”

“Fuck them,” he rasped as he reached his hand in between your bodies and sunk his index and middle fingers into your heat. “Fuck everyone out there, baby. We’re in our house. I should take you back out there and fuck you right on that couch.”

You moan at his dirty words and run your hands through his hair, successfully making it messy. No one else got that privilege as he usually spent a good ten minutes doing his hair - just to throw a hat over it, but he would happily let you mess it up whenever you wanted. “You’d actually do it, too,”

A.J. smirked at you as he worked you open with his fingers. “I would,” he agreed as he looked down. “You’re dripping, baby. Did the teaser I gave you in front of Dean turn you on that much?”

“That and you,” came your muffled answer as you buried your face against the side of his neck. “Are you really going to fuck me in the bathroom at a party?”

“Yes,” he answered as you unzipped his pants. “Unless you feel like waiting until everyone leaves and I can fuck you all over the house. Fair warning, though, I don’t think this party is dying any time soon.”

You moan and lift your head. “Get to it, then,” you murmur and pull him free. A.J. presses his lips to yours at the same time he enters you with a single thrust, and the feeling has you grasping onto his shirt tightly. “Fuck. Is this how you did it in the Ivy League? Fucking random girls in bathrooms during parties?”

“Had to practice somehow. And you’re not just a random girl,” he said back and you laughed before moaning rather loudly as he began to roughly fuck into you. You slap one hand over your mouth with wide eyes and he smirks. “Can’t be quiet, huh, baby?”

You shake your head as you lean back against the mirror. “No,” you agree and tug on his hair with your other hand. “I can’t be quiet when it comes to you, Jay. You make me feel so good.”

A.J. groaned when you clenched around him, and he knew he wasn’t much better. One of the perks of living in an actual house and not an apartment, was that you and he could be as loud as you wanted.

Not that the thin walls of your last apartment stopped you from being loud. You’d received countless noise complaints, and they all were ignored by A.J., who just fucked you harder until the bed slammed against the wall with each thrust.

It was like how he was fucking into you now.

Your body moved further and further back on the counter until you had to place your hand flat against the marble, accidentally knocking over the bottle of soap in the process and making it fall to the floor. “Jesus,” you gasped as his hips rocked into yours.

A.J. grunted and kept one hand on your hip while his other reached up to grip the side of your face. “God, you’re tight,” he rasped, making you smirk as you wrap your legs tighter around him.

The smirk was promptly wiped from your face as he began roughly slamming into you, loud moans emitting from your mouth with each thrust. “Oh, my God,” you cried as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands bunching up his shirt tightly. “Fuck yes, Jay.”

A.J. groaned and pressed his mouth to yours, his tongue poking out and parting your lips, coating them in a layer of his spit. “Feel good, princess?” He teasingly asked and you nod uncontrollably.

“Feels so good,” you answer, clinging onto him as you feel your release approaching embarrassingly fast. “So fucking good.”

He grunted, kissing all over your neck as you squeezed him over and over again. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he praised, reaching behind you to pull on your hair.

You squeal a bit, hiking your body closer to his as you hear the sounds of the party-goers right outside the door. “I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you warned loudly, no longer caring about the guests hearing you at this point.

“Already?” He mocked, pulling at your bottom lip with his thumb. “You needed me just as badly as I needed you, huh?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, your body involuntarily bucking forward to meet his thrusts. “Oh, my fucking God, yes, please please please.”

A.J. gripped your waist in both hands, his still clothed thighs hitting the backs of yours as you moaned loudly in the surprisingly big half-bath.

You grip his back and pull his chest against yours as you feel your release take over. “Oh, God,” you cried out as you clamped impossibly tight around him. “I’m coming.”

A.J. cursed under his breath as he felt your walls pulse around him before a warmth took him over. “There you go, baby. Give it to me,” he muttered, and your whines increased in volume. “Good girl.” He praised, kissing the skin under your ear as you writhed against him.

“Are you…” you trailed off as you slumped against his chest, his hips still lazily rocking into yours. “Are you gonna come, too?”

A.J. let out a surprised moan at your dirty question and how sweetly you asked it. He leaned in and kissed you hard, using his hand to angle your head so he had better access to your mouth. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you answer instantly. “I want it so bad.”

His eyes shut tightly as he buried his face against the side of your neck. “I’ll come for you,” he promised, feeling his stomach tighten with each slow thrust he gave. “I always will.”

You whine and pull him impossibly close as he came hard, his hips fucking his release deeper and deeper into you as he groaned loudly.

When he pulls away, you smile shyly at him as you smooth out his shirt with a quiet laugh. “Is it all out of your system now?”

“Is what all out of my system?” He asked as he pressed a chaste kiss to your mouth. “My unhealthy need to fuck you all over our new house? No, that won’t be out of my system for quite a while.”

You laugh then bite your lip as he pulls out of you, then he reaches down to run two fingers through your sensitive core. He collects his release onto his digits before lifting his hand again, and you lean in to wrap your mouth around them, hearing him grunt deeply as you clean himself off his fingers. “Tasty,” you smirk once you pull away.

A.J. had to hold off on taking you right then and there as he felt himself grow a bit hard again. Instead, he cleaned you up, smoothed out your outfit and finished it off with a kiss to your lips. “You ready to go back out there?” He asked and you nodded. “Don’t be surprised when we get some dirty looks, because I think every single person out there knows what we did in here.”

You shrug, looking up at him with a teasing smirk. “Who cares? It’s our house,” you point out and pull open the door. “Do me a favor and don’t fix your hair, okay?”

Then you were walking out of the bathroom, leaving A.J. to look at himself in the mirror with a laugh as he took notice of his post-sex hair. If it wasn’t obvious enough what you and he just got finished doing, his messy hair will definitely get the message across.

And that was exactly why he left it as it is before following after you.

#takers aj x reader #takers aj imagine #aj takers smut #aj x reader #takers aj #takers #hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen edit #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader

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ssa-dado · 2 months ago

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Hi! So following up from your (incredible) breakdown of Hotch's apartment, I've always wondered why stayed in the apartment to raise Jack after Foyet/100 and I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!

Obviously, his and Haley's marital house was out after everything but the same apartment he got stabbed in is wild to me and to then to Jack who was held hostage by the guy who stabbed Hotch by the dining table? I get if it was for security with less points of direct entry but Foyet got in??? Is there a garden or green space for Jack to play in? Does Hotch do a background check on all new tenants?

Anyway, this is not anti-apartment slander because I happily live in one myself but I'm so interested in why Hotch would since he clearly has the means (Rolex watches are not cheap lmao) and this feels like the right platform to discuss it haha what do you think?

Breaking down Hotch's apartment layout until someone from Criminal Minds slides into my DMs with the damn floorplans: (The Empire Strikes Back)

I’ve thought about this a lot (maybe too much) and I honestly believe Hotch stayed in that apartment building for a mix of reasons. It’s not just one thing. Maybe one factor weighed heavier than the others, but ultimately, I picture him doing one of those classic pros and cons lists, like the fussy man he is, and letting the whole picture guide the decision... does it make sense??

Now, if we look at the architectural typology of his building, we know it follows a comb-plan layout - meaning it features two semi-enclosed, semi-public green spaces that are open toward the street. (I even made a little sketch to visualize it because I’m a visual learner... Like, I don’t know what “Hotch’s hands” means until I see them. Someone please send references...pls???)

That said, the green spaces aren’t the reason he stayed. Sure, the building has them, but they’re likely shared among all tenants, mostly decorative, and maybe even off-limits in terms of actual use (some buildings do that.. yikes). Plus, they’re super open to the street, which means they’re not really safe or private enough for Jack to play in.

So I don’t think the green spaces themselves were the selling point.

I think he stayed because of the overall architectural quality of the building. It's a historic structure (from mid 1920s-1930s??) that’s been carefully restored, updated with 21st-century systems and amenities, and built with high-quality materials and finishes. Maybe there’s a park nearby where Jack can actually play safely. Maybe it’s closer to his school. It also doesn’t strike me as a suburban area, which could be another plus - city life offers access to public transportation, shops, cultural spaces, sports activities… all of which might've played into the decision.

I am so so so so here for this headcanon and I fuck so much with the background check idea because yes, he absolutely asked Garcia for help and no, he doesn’t think that was an overstep. It was a precaution. For Jack.

Also, I’m convinced he’s very active in the tenant community.

He’s the one who created the condo group chat - no one asked him to, but it’s impeccably organized, with pinned messages and!!! a color-coded spreadsheet of recycling days (I'm European, this is wired into my DNA, sorry) he made himself at 3 a.m. on Excel. He barely answers texts from his team, but the second someone reports “unusual noises near the trash chute,” he’s replying in 0.3 seconds with “What time? Which floor?”

Sure, he’s fussy about noise (especially when he’s actually home) but he’s also the one everyone turns to when the building manager starts power-tripping or the garbage hasn't been collected. You’ve got a broken washing machine? Hotch already emailed the landlord and the building’s legal obligation clause. Trash not yeeted? He’ll yeet it himself. The man has a complex Google Drive dedicated to tenant rights #prosecutor!Hotch

I will die on the hill he is a chatty grandma. Sure, he’s serious, but he knows everyone’s business, and somehow people trust him with their extra keys and gossip. He's fbi, he's cunty, he has great hair... hello???

(Like, you knock on his door and say, “Sorry to bother-” and he’s already saying, “Your cat escaped again? He's in apartment 127, do you need anything else?”)

Another reason I think he stayed in that apartment is because, most likely between s3 and 4, he started spending some time there with Jack. I’m not sure how the co-parenting with Haley worked logistically, but I can easily imagine him having Jack over on weekends when he wasn’t working, or at least trying to carve out that time. And that apartment became part of Jack’s routine, part of what "home" felt like to him, Hotch probably couldn’t bring himself to move.

I don’t think Hotch stayed there for himself. Psychologically of course, it’s not the healthiest choice (he was literally stabbed there by Foyet) but it is the best choice for his son. And unless you’re talking about his job, Jack always comes first.

And Hotch… Hotch always comes last.

I think he bottled everything up. I don’t even think he fully let himself consider that the apartment might be an unhealthy place to stay in. If the thought of moving did ever cross his mind, I’m almost certain it wasn’t about him. It wasn’t “I don’t feel safe here,” it was: What if someone breaks in again? What if Jack’s here? What if it happens when I’m not home?

He stayed because Jack knew that place. Because changing homes again would be another loss. Another shift. Another instability. And Hotch would rather carry the weight of that trauma alone than risk making his son feel displaced.

Sooooo... yep. That's it. I guess.

Thank you so so so so much for the ask!!! I'm so so so curious to know what are YOUR! thoughts!!

#ask phi #hotch's dream home #archi phi #aaron hotchner #phi mansplains architecture #some headcanons made its way into the post... sorryyyyy #Hotch x tenant!reader (me) when???

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dejwrld · 2 years ago

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summary — in which the neighbor becomes a bystander in an explicit window show by infamous artist geto suguru.

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻ female reader, female anatomy described, exhibitionism, oral (suguru receiving), masturbation (f.solo), drug usage/drug consumption (weed), voyeurism, artist!geto suguru, if you squint a lil bit–you may see hints of dom!suguru, takes place in the same verse of my rockstar!choso fic, minors do not interact

sticky note from deja — one of my babies that i hold close to my heart. a repost from my old blog—only the girlies who followed my blog 2 years ago remember this gem. completely ahead of its time.

The large window was something you had to get used to. You thought about putting curtains up, but you adored how the natural sunlight gleamed into your newest condo. Or the fact that you had a perfect view of the apartment across from you. You weren’t even aware that someone lived in the apartment until you were near the window and saw a male figure carrying art supplies. Your curious eyes squint to get a better look at the person, but you just couldn’t see that far.

As you ate dinner alone, you would find yourself peeping at the man across from you. He always seemed to be cooped up in his artwork. Rubbing his hands that were covered with paint onto his sweatpants or ripping a piece of paper out from his sketchbook. You found yourself wanting to get a closer look, intrigued to get a closer look at the mysterious man. So you brought a pair of binoculars. Cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realize you were a peeping Tom. How desperate could you be to invade a man’s privacy like this?

One evening when you were twisting and turning in your bed, you gave up trying to sleep. Your feet dragged across the wooden floors towards your kitchen to make your favorite tea that usually helped you fall asleep. As you walked by the huge window where the moon illuminated inside your place, your eyes nearly popped out of your head seeing the view. Your hands frantically picked up the binoculars as you looked directly towards the artist’s apartment. There he was sitting in one of his living room chairs, a rolled blunt in between his lips as another woman was in between his legs. Your heart pounded in your chest watching his fingers comb through his long jet black hair as the woman’s head bobbed up and down on his cock.

You kept mumbling to yourself that this felt so wrong. But your eyes couldn’t pry away from the sight. The way he inhaled and exhaled while a smoke cloud swirled above him as he held the rolled substance in his hand. His other hand was placed on the back of the woman’s head moving with her movements. He was enjoying the wonderful feeling of being on cloud nine due to the weed he was consuming and then being brought back down from his high due to a woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. You felt the growing heat in between your thighs as you put the binoculars down, your hands growing sweaty at the thought of what you just witnessed. You wanted to close your eyes and hopefully, when you opened, you were just hallucinating…dreaming maybe. High off the same thing, the artist was smoking. When you brought the binoculars back to your eyes, your heart seemed to drop in your chest. There he was, the artist giving you a sly wave. If you squint hard enough, you would even admit that he was giving you some cocky smirk.

He knew you were watching.

You watched through the binoculars as he gently nudged the woman off him. The woman’s face was covered with her own saliva as he gripped at her hair dragging her closer to the huge window just so you can get a better look. Your heart seemed to beat faster as you tugged one of your dining room chairs closer to the window, your thighs clamped shut to ignore the ache from your pussy that was begging for attention. As your eyes peeped through the binoculars once more, the woman continued to suck the artist off. His rolled blunt was in between his lips as he would toy with the woman’s brunette hair, eventually putting it in a ponytail to stop her saliva from colliding with her hair.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, the little things like that turned you on. You couldn’t help but play with the band of your pajama shorts. You were aware that if he knew you were watching, he could most likely see you.

You would put the binoculars down for a second as you tugged your shorts down. You stepped out of them letting them decorate your wooden floors as you sat back down in the chair you pulled up. Your eyes once again peeked through the binoculars once you picked them back up. The artist’s large hand was placed on the window keeping his balance from the sensational pleasure he was receiving.

Your eyes peered at the man as his head fell back in complete bliss. Seeing the way his hips thrust into the woman’s mouth caused your fingers to climb into your panties. Your fingers rubbed at your folds, shocked at the fact that just by being a peeping Tom, you’ve grown wet. Brain rotting with the thoughts of the artist in the other building as you massaged your own cunt, your other hand gripping at the binoculars to get a perfect view of the artist.

Your lips parted slightly to let out a soft whimper as your fingers made a circular motion on your clit that was begging to be touched. The sight of the artist getting a blowjob from another woman caused you to be soaked below if only you were the one whose lips were wrapped around his cock. The thought of it caused you to push two of your fingers inside to feel around your damp walls. Your fingers stroked eagerly to hit that one spot that caused your toes to curl up in pure bliss. Binoculars glued to your eyes as you watch the artist stare in your direction. A smirk on his face as he would quickly put the blunt he was smoking out. You watched as his muscles flex at each movement the brunette made on his dick. Your teeth grind against your lower lip as you remove your fingers from yourself. Your own wetness glistened your fingers that now were rubbing at your clit.

You watched as the artist’s hips thrust forward. The brunette on the floor grasped at the rug under her knees, trying to hold her balance due to the sudden aggression from the man in front of her. Saliva dripped on the floor and on the brunette’s lap as tears trickled down her cheeks. The actions you were viewing caused you to rub even faster; you could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen. You watched as the artist’s head fell back as the brunette-haired woman used her hands to massage his shaft. Mimicking his motions as your head also fell back and once again insert your fingers to push around your wet walls. Your imagination lets you wonder and wish that the artist’s fingers were inside you, edging you on bit by bit. A moan hitched from the back of your throat as your vision was getting blurry. The last sight through the binoculars you caught a glimpse of before you were pushed into your orgasm was the artist removing himself from the woman’s mouth. A mixture of his cum and the brunette’s saliva dripped off the artist’s cock.

The binoculars clattered to the ground once you felt your walls clutch around your fingers. Your chest rose up and down as you seemed to slump in the wooden chair you were sitting in. Sitting in your own pool of wetness, you could see that the artists had also finished up. The girl who was blowing him off was walking out of the living room to clean herself up, her face a sloppy mess as she licked her lips of any cum that spilled out her mouth. You quickly grabbed the binoculars, your cheeks steamed with embarrassment as you couldn’t even believe the action you’d just done. You see him staring right back at you when you peek through them to end your night. He had a grin on his face as he gave you a wave right before he turned his living room light off, most likely to go join the woman he just face-fucked.

You placed the binoculars down and started to clean the mess you made. Your mind is still racing due to the actions you just committed. It was such a new thing, and your friends wouldn’t even believe you if you told them what you did. You pushed the chair back into the dining space of your condo and eventually went to shower. Praying that the shower's steam would push out the thoughts of the artist living rent-free in your mind.

The following morning, you seemed to have dozed off on your living room couch last night. A fluffy blanket tugged on your body, and your television was on. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you seemed to begin remembering the following night's events. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you jolted up, going towards the window. You couldn’t see the artist walking around his apartment, nor did you see the brunette woman that was wrapped around his cock. But you did see something. You grabbed your binoculars, peeping through them for one last time, and your lips parted to let out a scandalous gasp.

There stood in the living room, close to the large window that the artist once was using as support last night, a painting. A painting so explicit that it caused you to place your hand on your chest in disbelief. The painting was a painting of you last night. On the canvas was an explicit painting of you masturbating at the view of him. You couldn’t help but notice the details he put into his work, especially considering that you live in an apartment building across from his. He had to have such a vivid imagination to create such a piece.

And in the corner, you saw his signature in black paint.

Geto Suguru.

The artist’s name was Geto Suguru.

#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto smut #female reader #anime smut #anime x reader #black reader #angelshubnetwork #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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crguang · 4 months ago

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607. I MISS YOU.

" And I found photographs of our school, on the day we met I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess."

VIOLINIST AU MASTERLIST

It's here!! The official lore-filled post for the Violinist AU that my wonderful anons, @shalomniscient's godly input and I have concocted over the past three months. This masterlist will serve as guidelines for the AU so that newcomers and current enjoyers (me included lol) can easily refer to it and see if any burning questions have already been answered or not. Speaking of, every anon questions and rambles can currently be found under the #violinist au tag. Things will inevitably be added as time goes by, so I'll do my best to update this post when they do. Let's get into it! ♫

SOME BASICS!

SUMMARY ♫

╰┈➤ Kafka and Reader are classical musicians and childhood best friends who have been playing together since their respective instructors discovered their potential and made them work together on a piece at just 8 years old. At the time, they are both young prodigies in the making who share a dream of becoming the best in their field. They navigate the carefreeness of childhood, heavy expectations, close friendships and tumultuous high school years hand in hand. As they grow, so does their music. The two are intrinsically tangled up; where there is one, you can surely find the other. One day, when they're around 16 years old, R moves away. Their last bus ride together is a memory Kafka holds close to her heart and she remembers it viscerally whenever comes the time to bring an especially complex composition to life. This musical prowess eventually becomes the source of her recognition and success.

After R moves away, Kafka loses herself in her ambitions and Elio's strict teaching. He continues to groom her into the perfect musician and has little regard for her self-destructive behavior if the results surpass his expectations. She isolates herself from her friends, practices until her fingers ache, and spends a long time exteriorizing her feelings of abandonment through her music. She’s snarky, irritable and mean. She grows up to play the violin professionally and is recognized as a prodigy in that world. She goes through pianist accompaniment after pianist accompaniment, always looking for the “missing key” to her art that’s disappeared alongside R, but it remains unattainable.

R grows up insecure due to Elio’s hurtful favouritism towards Kafka; they never feel skilled enough to keep up with her, strong enough to shoulder their instructor’s expectations for them and thus worthy of Kafka’s attention and respect. When they move, they stop playing the piano for a while. Even they pick it back up eventually, it’s never in a professional context. While KFR have different relationships with music, since they’ve learned it as a duo, they understand each other’s art like no one else. R now makes records of songs covers that they’ve only recently started selling due to their popularity among the locals. It’s a hobby, not a career.

PRESENTING... KFR ♫

╰┈➤ KAFKA

We all know her, we all adore her, forever a superstar... Kafka's as close to HSR's canon as I could make her. Since this is an AU, there are obviously backstory/character traits that I've added to further flesh her out but the base of her character remains the same. Classical music is her life and she's played professionally as soon as she could; praised and admired almost all of her life (by her instructor and her fellows), she's a goddess with the violin. She's playful, confident with the skills to back it up, and guards her true feelings behind easy smiles only the ones closest to her can pick apart.

Some Kafka facts:

She's most definitely a media sweetheart. Her practiced elegance and distinct fashion style make her look very Cool, and it's an image she's carefully built brick by brick!

She lives in a condo with minimalist design, so it looks pretty empty despite her collections of records, musical instruments and mini libraries filled with books, music sheets and the likes. You can find an intricate, pretty vase in almost every room.

Outside of music, she doesn't do commitment. She sucks at it, hates feeling "hindered" and is often preoccupied by someone something else anyway. Hookups and FWB are more her style. She’s had like one serious relationship up until the present time.

As a teen, she was pretty rebellious. Though rigorous when it comes to the violin, she was never above skipping a day or two of class to have some fun and almost always dragged R along whether they thought it was a good idea or not. As an adult, she still enjoys the thrill but is much more calculated due to being under the spotlight most days.

She’s always heard humming! Though singing’s not her thing, she’s constantly humming her favourite orchestras, pieces she’s currently learning or just songs that she likes.

Heavy smoker, especially when she’s feeling some type of way.

She has no living relatives.

She harbours some repressed anger that she’s never fully healed from until the present time. That explains a lot of her defense mechanisms and current guarded behaviour.

She wears her sunglasses when she wants to hide.

Her closest relationships are: Blade, Acheron and Black Swan.

She meets Blade sometime after college and offers him a job as her personal driver. He understands her needs implicitly and she deciphers his moods just as easily. He’s the one who takes care of her when she drinks too much or needs to clear her head with a long drive. Sometimes, shared silence is enough. Kafka and Acheswan have been friends since high school and have stayed friends throughout adulthood. The three of them grew closer right after R moved away.

╰┈➤ Reader

Because this is still an x reader AU, they don’t have a specific appearance. All of their specificities lie in their character. R is an excellent pianist despite their traitorous mind convincing them otherwise, they genuinely have a passion for the piano and classical music as a whole so they’re very knowledgeable when it comes to it. They currently work at a record store alongside Serval and make music for themselves that others happen to enjoy. They’re an overthinker and tend to diminish the place they take up in people’s lives but they’re also very sweet, reserved and thoughtful.

Some R facts:

They’re a terrible liar. It’ll show on their face whenever they’re bothered by something, or they’ll have little tells like fidgeting or avoiding eye contact.

Funnily enough, they were the most direct one out of the two as teens. R had no issue calling Kafka beautiful on concert night or holding her hand unprompted as they walked to the bus stop. While she hid behind shitty humour and sarcasm, they were more open in their affection. It’s a little more complicated in the present time, as they have to relearn each other with their respective baggage.

Elio's berating is the reason why R starts hiding things from Kafka and their other friends. As a teen they keep more secrets from her than she thinks, it's something she'll come to realize in the present time.

R moves away for a couple of reasons; their parents consider moving due to having to take care of chronically ill relatives but that decision isn't cemented until R tells them that they're okay with it. By the time they make this decision they've let their dwindling passion for the piano, years of Elio's expectations and their own insecurities take up so much space in their mind that they simply don't believe they're needed anymore. They couldn't do it anymore, look at Kafka and be reminded of how insignificant they were. They don't inform her simply out of cowardice. At 16 they were going through so much that they just believed leaving was for the best.

They have a little sister! She's 14 years younger than they are, so she was 2 when their family moved away. In the present time she's 14!

R sings! Not professionally or anything, but their singing voice is (one of) someone's favourite sounds.

They live in the one bedroom apartment right above the record store. It's cozy and seems packed at first glance, complete opposite from Kafka's home. There are music sheets and drawings from when their sister was younger on the fridge, pictures framed on the walls, old posters of bands they still love in their bedroom, etc.

Their closest relations are: Serval, Acheron and Swan

Serval and R met at the record store, where she already worked at before they were employed there. R is often invited to her band's performances, and they grew close from working together so often (outside of the owner, they're the only two employees in the store.) They're here for each other as they both go through these ridiculous homoromantic situationships... Acheswan are high school friends and once KFR reconnects, so do R and our fav purple ladies. They're closest to Acheron.

TIMELINE ♫

╰┈➤ KFR are the same age and meet at 8 years old. They grow together under the same instructor, Elio. They go to the same school and don't live that far off from each other, only one bus ride away.

At 14 years old, in high school, KFR befriend Acheron and Black Swan who have just started dating. They're high school sweethearts!

At 16 years old, the Bus Breakup happens and R moves away. Kafka's left to finish the rest of the school year with Acheswan and throws herself into her music/goals to cope with R's sudden absence.

Kafka starts to get recognition in the classical music world in college, but more so in the years that follow. At 23, she's already pretty known as a violinist prodigy. Also the year she meets Bladie!

Around a decade after they last saw each other, at 28 years old, KFR meets again in the vintage record store R works at. When I say "present time" I'm referring to their first meeting and on.

KFR officially get together about a year later, at 29 years old.

SOME FUN STUFF!

DRABBLES

╰┈➤ I've written a few short drabbles for specific moments of KFR's lives together that particularly spoke to me. I intend to write more whenever I feel inspired, and you're all welcome to pitch in as well !

🎼 Bus Breakup

🎼 Record Store Shitshow

🎼 Random KFR drabble

HEADCANONS ♫

(more like fun facts since I decide what's canon...)

╰┈➤ These aren't in chronological order because that would take me an insane amount of time to figure out. As always, if anyone wants me to elaborate on any of these they can always send me an ask :)

R has natural perfect pitch while Kafka's worked hard to hone hers. In the present time, she’s much better than they are due to playing consistently and professionally.

Kafka picked up smoking in college to alleviate her stress. Very bad habit that she can’t seem to stop.

Kafka has tattoos! I don’t care, she at least has a spine tattoo. Her and R probably get matching ones at some point, much smaller though. I’m thinking particular music notes.

R eventually comes to own the record store they work at.

Kafka’s very close with R’s family. They hang out without R often. Their sister loves her and they've had a few spa days.

R’s dog tag is from a grandparent that passed away. It’s sort of a way for them to remember to keep their loved ones close. I can see Kaf gifting them one with a date engraved on the back.

Kafka’s tried her hand at composition but the one she’s been working on and off on for years is still unfinished.

Once KFR gets together, they're always touching in some way. One of them toying with the other's fingers is a common occurrence.

R still has the drawing their 8 year old self made with Kafka somewhere in their teenage bedroom. They've also held on some specific annotated music sheets/partitions that they've worked on with Kafka when they were in the school orchestra.

Kafka and Serval have a funny relationship; Serval loves to get on Kafka's nerves because she's a rich snob and Kafka's always a fan of getting even. The passive aggressiveness between them is off the charts, but they can also be found giggling together when drunk. They'll deny it wholeheartedly.

R and Himeko are friends! They go to the same coffee place almost every day and see each other often but work in very different fields.

Serval and Cocolia have something weird going on. They've been friends who kiss sometimes since college and now they have different career paths that add some distance between them but they still want each other but Cocolia tends to prioritize her work and Serval feels she doesn't care as much anymore and--- it's complicated. Bronya doesn't exist at this point in the AU, but she likely will in the future.

R's followed some of Kafka's success on social media for a few years before they met again. Kafka has a little fanbase!

R sells their personal collection of the records they make at the store. When Kafka gets wind of it, she makes sure to have a copy of each (mostly by having Blade buy them from people’s hands…) and keeps the records at home. That’s before they get together.

R plays the piano for Kafka for the time the morning after they sleep together hehehe.

R confesses to Kafka about Elio's mistreatment after Swan convinces them to. I would say it’s the biggest chance Kafka has to make them understand that she wants them at her side.

Swan was the pretty but kinda weird girl in high school who was very into palm reading and tarot cards. Acheron was probably on the track team or something. Super sweet but reserved.

Kafka and Acheswan see each other pretty often. They have brunch.

Acheron studied philosophy in college.

Acheron mostly taught Kafka how to do her makeup as teens.

Swan has always been able to see through Kafka's bullshit and defense mechanisms.

When they were in high school, R’s house was the designated hang out spot for the 4 of them. At school they had classroom 311B which was often vacant so they hung out there most of the time.

KFR's confession happens in R's teenage bedroom after a family dinner. Sev and I already have the whole thing planned out...

Their bus number, 607, means “I miss you” in pager code! I thought I was being clever when I chose it lol. It’s kind of the official title me thinks.

CONTRIBUTIONS!

╰┈➤ KFR PLAYLIST MADE BY @blinkinn <3

Very grateful and giddy about this one because I still can’t believe my brainrot has inspired someone to make a playlist out of it. It’s full of angst, as it should be, so I’m very happy. I’m still adding on songs that make me think of them and have some instrumentals/violin sonatas that I need to add as well, and I'm always taking anon suggestions for songs y'all think would fit them <3

╰┈➤ KFR PINTEREST BOARD

This pinterest board is unfinished but is essentially meant to be a progression of KFR’s childhood to adulthood. It was supposed to start off representing childhood carefreeness and nostalgia then progresses into their angsty teenage years, their separate lives, all to come back to the time they meet again well into adulthood. However, the board is structured from most recent to older years, so the oldest memories are at the bottom.

Thank you to all my anons and Sev for brainrotting with me, this AU is getting kind of big now and I’m really happy about it. I’ll add more info to this post periodically, I think about it often and I’ve likely forgotten some stuff that has been mentioned to me before so it’s a work in progress!!! Hope more people enjoy what we’ve all made together <3

#sat’s violinist au #kafka x reader #hsr x reader

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honeydippedfiction · 6 months ago

Text

The Edge of Defiance

Chapter 6 of The Game Of Seduction

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Summary: In this chapter, Y/N grows restless in the quiet monotony of recovery at Lando's condo, feeling trapped by her circumstances and eager to regain her autonomy. Despite Lando's protective objections and concerns about her physical readiness and the condition of her apartment, Y/N firmly asserts her independence, leading to a tense confrontation that underscores their conflicting perspectives and the unspoken complexities of their relationship. Their argument is laced with unresolved tension, past trauma, and Y/N’s determination to reclaim control over her life, even as Lando’s care reveals deeper layers of concern and possibly unacknowledged feelings.

WC: 4.9k

Warnings: Mafia Dealings, Emotional Confrontation, References to Violence or Trauma, Injury/Recovery, Conflict in Relationships

Taglist

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It had been nearly a week since the fight with Malik, and the tension in Lando’s condo had finally begun to ease. Y/N was healing, her injuries no longer the sharp reminders they had been but now dull aches she could tolerate.

The days had fallen into a quiet rhythm: meals shared in silence, brief moments of conversation, and the occasional sharp glance from Lando when she pushed herself too hard.

But Y/N wasn’t built for stillness, and she could feel the walls closing in on her.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, absently picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her hoodie. Across the room, Lando was leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze fixed on her like he was waiting for her to drop some kind of bombshell.

“I’m going back to my apartment,” Y/N said abruptly, breaking the silence.

Lando’s brow furrowed, his posture stiffening. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I’ve been here long enough. It’s time to go back to my own place.”

He crossed his arms, his expression darkening. “You’re not ready for that.”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Ready? I didn’t realize I needed permission to live in my own damn apartment.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Lando said, his voice dropping. “You’re still recovering, and your place is barely livable. What’s the rush?”

“The rush,” Y/N said, standing now, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “is that I have my own place. And in case you forgot, I’m not dating you, I haven’t moved in here, and I don’t intend to. This has been... cozy, but I’ve got my own space, and I want it back.”

---

She had a way of making every logical argument sound ridiculous, and it drove me insane.

“This isn’t about you staying here,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s about making sure you’re safe. You’re still hurt, Y/N. And your apartment isn’t exactly secure.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I appreciate the concern, Norris, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it long before you showed up.”

Her words stung more than I cared to admit. “You think this is about me wanting to control you?”

She shot me a pointed look. “You’re blocking the door, aren’t you?”

I sighed, stepping aside reluctantly. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when you realize this is a mistake.”

---

The ride to Y/N’s apartment was tense, neither of them saying much. Lando drove, his jaw tight as he navigated the city streets. Y/N stared out the window, her fingers tapping against her thigh in an erratic rhythm.

When they arrived, the building looked the same as always, but Y/N’s stomach twisted as she stepped out of the car.

Lando followed her to the door, his presence a quiet but heavy reminder of their earlier argument.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said as she unlocked the door.

“I know,” she replied without looking back. “But I want to.”

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

---

The air inside was heavy, stale, and full of memories I didn’t want to deal with yet.

The living room was a mess—glass shards still glittered on the floor, and the splintered remains of the doorframe were a stark reminder of what had happened.

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This was my place. My chaos. I could fix it.

Behind me, Lando lingered in the doorway, his arms crossed as he surveyed the wreckage. “It’s worse than I thought.”

I glanced back at him, raising a brow. “You should’ve seen it before the first clean-up. It had a certain ‘post-apocalyptic charm.’”

He didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” I said, walking further inside. “This is my space, Lando. I’m not letting Malik—or anyone else—take it away from me.”

---

Lando stepped inside cautiously, watching as Y/N began to pick up the broken pieces of her apartment.

She moved with purpose, her every action deliberate as she cleared the debris and set things right. But there was a tension in her shoulders, a weight she was trying to hide.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Lando said after a while, his voice quieter now.

Y/N looked at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I know. But I need to. This isn’t your fight, Lando. It never was.”

“It became my fight the moment you walked into my world,” he replied, his tone firm.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

---

It took hours to clean up the mess, but I felt better with every piece of glass I swept away and every overturned chair I set upright.

By the time I collapsed onto the couch, the apartment looked almost normal. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine again.

Lando sat down on the armrest, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the room. “You’ve made progress.”

“Damn right, I have,” I said, leaning back with a tired smile. “And before you ask—no, I’m not moving back into your condo. This is my space.”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re nothing if not stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one,” I shot back.

---

Lando stood, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at her. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re insane for coming back here so soon.”

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin.

“But,” he continued, his voice softening, “I’m glad you’re okay. And for the record, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, her tone losing its usual edge. “Thanks for helping me, Lando. I mean it.”

He nodded, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Don’t mention it.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, a faint warmth settling in her chest.

She wouldn’t admit it to him, but having him there—even for a little while—made her feel less alone.

---

Y/N waited until the sound of Lando’s car faded into the distance before pulling out her phone. She sat cross-legged on her couch, her fingers tapping against the edge of her phone case as she stared at Max’s name on the screen.

This wasn’t a call she wanted to make, but she didn’t have a choice.

With a resigned sigh, she tapped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

It didn’t take long for Max to pick up.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, skipping the pleasantries. “Too quiet.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/N replied, leaning back against the couch. “I’ve been busy handling my life.”

“Handling it or running from it?” Max asked, his tone sharp.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have a point, or is this just a check-in to see if I’m still breathing?”

“I have your next mission,” Max said, cutting straight to the point.

Y/N’s posture stiffened, her fingers tightening around the phone. “Go on.”

---

“Mercedes and McLaren have been getting too cozy,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “We’ve been hearing whispers of a potential deal between them, something that could shift the balance in their favor. We need to know what it is.”

“And let me guess,” Y/N said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You want me to find out.”

“Correct,” I replied. “There’s a warehouse near the docks, one of McLaren’s quieter operations. Our intel says there’s a file there—something that details the negotiations between McLaren and Mercedes. I need you to get it.”

She let out a low whistle. “Breaking into a McLaren warehouse? You really don’t like me, do you?”

“This isn’t personal,” I said, though we both knew that wasn’t entirely true. “It’s important. If they finalize this deal, it could set us back significantly.”

---

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a slow breath. “And what’s the plan if I get caught? You going to swoop in and save me?”

“No,” Max said bluntly. “That’s why you’re not getting caught.”

“Great,” I muttered. “No pressure or anything.”

“You’re the best we’ve got, Y/N,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “That’s why you’re in this position. I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

I didn’t respond right away, my mind already running through the logistics. Breaking into a McLaren warehouse wasn’t just risky—it was reckless. But it was also the job, and I didn’t back down from challenges.

“Fine,” I said finally. “Send me the details.”

“You’ll have them within the hour,” Max replied. “And Y/N? Don’t let me down.”

I hung up without responding, tossing the phone onto the coffee table as I leaned back against the couch.

What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

---

True to his word, Max sent the details of the mission within the hour. Y/N studied the information carefully, her mind piecing together a plan as she packed a small bag with everything she’d need.

Her fingers hovered over the knife she’d taken from Lando’s office, the blade still sharp and pristine.

He’d lose his mind if he knew what I was doing.

The thought made her smirk, but it quickly faded as the weight of the mission settled over her. This wasn’t just about proving herself to Max or the Redbull family—it was about survival.

If she failed, it wasn’t just her cover that would be blown.

It was everything.

---

The warehouse was going to be heavily guarded—that much was obvious. McLaren didn’t do anything halfway, and if this file was as important as Max made it seem, they’d have people watching it.

I’d need to be fast, quiet, and—above all—careful.

I double-checked my gear, slipping the knife into its sheath and securing it at my hip. The pistol went into the holster at my back, concealed beneath the loose hoodie I wore.

The plan was risky, but I’d pulled off worse.

I just had to hope my luck held out.

---

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the city, Y/N stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the skyline. The city buzzed with life, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath its surface.

Her phone buzzed again, a final message from Max:

We’re counting on you.

She stared at the words for a moment before deleting the message.

This wasn’t just about the Redbull family or their war with McLaren. This was about proving to herself that she could do this, that she could survive in a world where trust was a liability and weakness was a death sentence.

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

The night was just beginning, and Y/N was ready.

---

The air near the docks was sharp and biting, carrying the distinct tang of salt and oil. The warehouse loomed ahead, a hulking steel giant bathed in the glow of scattered floodlights. It was the kind of place that whispered secrets into the dark—if you knew how to listen.

Y/N crouched behind a stack of rusting shipping containers, her hood drawn low and her fingers gripping the hilt of her knife. Her breath was slow and steady, her eyes scanning the perimeter. Two guards stood by the main entrance, their postures lax, their focus minimal. A third patrolled along the side of the building, his flashlight swinging lazily.

She smirked to herself. Amateurs.

Sliding out from behind the container, she moved silently, her footsteps muffled by the damp ground. The side entrance was her target—an unmonitored door just outside the camera’s sweep.

Reaching the door, she pulled a slim lock-pick from her pocket and got to work. The lock clicked open in seconds, and she slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her.

Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with the metallic scent of machinery. Rows of crates and pallets stretched out before her like a labyrinth, shadows dancing in the faint glow of overhead lights.

Y/N crouched, scanning the catwalks above for movement. A guard paced slowly, his flashlight cutting arcs through the shadows. She waited, counting his steps until he turned away, then darted between the crates.

The office was her destination, tucked into the far corner of the warehouse. Her intel said the file would be there—evidence of McLaren’s dealings with Mercedes. It was the kind of information that could shift the balance of power, and Y/N was here to claim it.

She moved with purpose, her steps deliberate and silent. Every corner, every sound was measured and assessed, her confidence unwavering. This was her domain—the shadows, the game of cat and mouse.

What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t alone.

---

The air near the docks was cold, heavy with the tang of salt and diesel. The warehouse loomed in the distance, its steel walls glinting faintly under the glow of scattered floodlights. A symphony of muffled machinery, distant waves, and occasional footsteps filled the silence.

Y/N crouched behind a stack of shipping containers, her figure hidden by the dark, unassuming clothes she wore—a simple black hoodie, cargo pants, and a mask that covered the lower half of her face. She’d chosen her attire carefully, ensuring that even if someone spotted her, they wouldn’t recognize her.

Her eyes scanned the perimeter. Two guards at the main entrance, another circling the building’s side, and one stationed near the back. Predictable. Easy.

She adjusted the strap of her bag, where her tools and a small weapon were tucked securely. This file better be worth it, Max, she thought, slipping into the shadows and toward the side entrance.

---

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me.

I kept low, my movements silent as I reached the side door. The camera above it swept lazily across the area, its range limited. Timing its arc, I slipped into its blind spot and crouched by the lock.

Pulling out my lock-picking tools, I worked quickly. The mechanism was cheap—whoever set up security here didn’t expect professionals. Within seconds, the lock clicked open, and I pushed the door ajar, slipping inside.

The air inside was colder, the faint hum of machinery echoing through the vast space. Crates and pallets were stacked in neat rows, forming a maze that stretched out into the shadows. Overhead, metal catwalks crisscrossed the warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights.

I took a slow breath, letting the shadows settle over me like a second skin. The office was on the far side of the building, a small glass box elevated on a platform. That’s where the file would be.

---

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

Oscar had flagged the warehouse as a potential weak point in our operations, so I’d decided to check it out personally. It was quiet tonight, just a skeleton crew of guards. Exactly how I liked it—quick, efficient, and private.

From the catwalk above, I surveyed the floor, noting the layout and the guards’ routes. It all seemed routine until I spotted movement below.

Someone darted between the crates, their figure quick and silent, dressed in black from head to toe.

My body tensed, and my instincts kicked in. This wasn’t a worker or a guard.

An intruder.

I moved along the catwalk, keeping my distance as I tracked their movements. Whoever they were, they were good—calculated, confident, and precise.

But not invisible.

---

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me.

---

The office door was locked—naturally—but locks were rarely a problem for me. I slipped the pick from my pocket and crouched by the door, working quickly.

The mechanism clicked, and I eased the door open, stepping inside and shutting it softly behind me.

The office was cramped, cluttered with papers, folders, and a desk piled high with files. A single computer sat in the corner, its screen locked but still glowing faintly.

I went straight for the filing cabinets, my hands moving efficiently through the drawers. Pens, invoices, shipment records—nothing useful.

It wasn’t until I reached the second drawer that I found it: a slim folder labeled with a cryptic code that matched Max’s intel.

I opened it briefly, my eyes scanning the contents. Negotiation notes. Shipment details. Signatures. Bingo.

I slipped the file into my bag, zipping it closed.

And then I heard it.

A voice crackled over the warehouse intercom, distorted but clear: “Patrol teams to the main office. Possible intruder detected.”

My stomach dropped.

---

The faint sound of footsteps reached my ears, growing louder with every passing second. Someone was coming—several someones, by the sound of it.

I cursed under my breath, glancing around the office. There was no back exit, no easy way out.

I pressed myself into the shadows near the door, my hand hovering over the knife at my hip.

Stay calm. Think.

The door opened, and two guards stepped inside, their flashlights cutting through the dim space.

“Boss said to double-check the office,” one of them muttered. “Could’ve sworn he saw something.”

I stayed perfectly still, my breath shallow as they scanned the room.

---

From the catwalk, I watched as the guards entered the office.

The intruder had slipped in just moments earlier, their movements so fluid I almost admired them. Almost.

I signaled to the guards below, pointing them toward the office. If this was a thief or a spy, they wouldn’t make it out.

But something about this person gnawed at me. The way they moved, the confidence in their steps—it was... familiar.

Still, I stayed silent, waiting to see how they’d handle being cornered.

---

The guards moved deeper into the office, their flashlights sweeping across the room.

Y/N waited, her body tense as they came closer. When one of them turned his back to her, she made her move.

She struck quickly, her knife pressed against the guard’s throat before he could react.

“Quiet,” she hissed, her voice low and distorted by the mask. “Or you won’t get a second warning.”

The second guard froze, his flashlight dropping as he reached for his weapon.

“Don’t,” Y/N warned, shifting her position so the first guard shielded her.

The second guard hesitated, his hand hovering over his holster.

Y/N shoved the first guard into him, knocking them both off balance, and darted out of the office.

---

The intruder burst out of the office, moving faster than I expected.

The guards scrambled after them, shouting warnings that echoed through the warehouse.

I followed from above, my eyes locked on their figure as they weaved through the maze of crates.

Whoever they were, they were good.

Too good.

---

Y/N was almost at the exit, her heart pounding as she darted between the crates. She felt it before she heard it—someone else was following her. Not the guards, whose footsteps were heavy and clumsy. This was someone quieter, faster, and far more dangerous.

Her pulse quickened as she glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of a figure descending from the catwalks above.

Her jaw tightened. Who the hell is that?

The figure moved with precision, cutting off her path to the side door. Y/N pivoted, ready to change direction, but he was too quick. They collided with force, the impact sending her stumbling back.

Before she could recover, he lunged, grabbing her wrist as her knife flashed between them.

---

I twisted hard, my free hand striking out as I tried to break his grip. He was strong, stronger than I expected, and every move I made was met with an equally skilled counter.

His hand clamped around my wrist, forcing my knife away from his body.

“Not bad,” I muttered under my breath, the words muffled by my mask.

His eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. “Who are you?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I shifted my weight, kicking out hard. My boot caught him in the knee, just enough to throw him off balance.

He stumbled but didn’t let go, his grip tightening as he spun us around.

---

The intruder wasn’t just good—they were trained. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, and relentless.

They twisted again, their knife slashing toward my side. I dodged, the blade grazing my jacket, but I managed to shove them back into the crates.

“Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice cold.

They didn’t respond, their masked face giving nothing away. Instead, they came at me again, their knife flashing in the dim light.

The fight was fast and brutal, every strike and counterstrike a test of skill. I felt the sting of a cut on my forearm, but I ignored it, focusing on disarming them.

---

The struggle between them was fierce, the clash of steel and the scuffle of boots on concrete echoing through the warehouse.

Y/N fought with everything she had, her movements fluid and unrelenting. Lando countered with equal ferocity, his instincts honed from years of experience.

A crate toppled over as Y/N spun, using the environment to her advantage. She lunged, her knife slicing close enough to tear through the fabric of Lando’s shirt.

He retaliated, his fist catching her shoulder and sending her stumbling back.

Both of them were breathing hard now, blood staining their clothes from small but deliberate wounds.

---

I had to end this.

It wasn’t just some guard. I’d realized that the moment he blocked my first strike with precision that no hired muscle could manage. This was Lando.

His movements were sharp, efficient, and damn near impossible to counter. Every step I took, every calculated strike, was met with an equally brutal response. He wasn’t trying to subdue me—he was trying to figure out who I was.

That couldn’t happen.

My mind raced, adrenaline pounding through me as I reassessed. Lando wasn’t a target, and fighting him wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

I needed to move. To escape.

I feinted left, drawing his attention with a quick flick of my knife. His body shifted instinctively to block, and that was all the opening I needed. Twisting hard, I wrenched myself free of his grip, my feet already moving as I slipped around him.

For a split second, I hesitated.

My instincts screamed at me to press the attack, to strike before he could recover. But this wasn’t about taking him down. It was about getting out—alive and unidentified.

There wasn’t time.

---

Lando cursed, his hand flying out to grab her, but she was already gone, darting between the crates with a speed that left him no time to react.

Y/N moved like a shadow, her figure barely visible as she disappeared into the maze of the warehouse.

The guards, alerted by the commotion, converged on her position, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

She didn’t slow.

With calculated precision, she took them down one by one—an elbow to the temple here, a sweep of the leg there. Each move was efficient and brutal, leaving the guards sprawled on the ground as she made her way to the exit.

By the time she burst through the side door and into the night, her breaths were coming fast and ragged.

---

I reached the exit just in time to see the intruder vanish into the shadows.

My side ached, and my arm was slick with blood from the cut they’d landed, but that wasn’t what bothered me most.

Whoever they were, they weren’t just some random thief. They’d known exactly what they were doing, and they’d been after something specific.

As I stared into the darkness, one thought echoed in my mind.

Who the hell are you?

---

The docks were silent by the time Y/N made it to the drop-off point. Tucked away between two abandoned warehouses, the location was as unassuming as it was isolated.

She crouched near a rusted steel container, her movements deliberate as she pulled the file from her bag. The sharp pain in her arm flared as she moved, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.

Placing the file into the secure lockbox Max had described, she stood and glanced around once more. The faint glow of streetlights in the distance cast eerie shadows across the empty lot.

No loose ends.

With the mission complete, Y/N melted into the shadows, vanishing into the night.

---

The McLaren estate was as grand as ever, its sprawling grounds meticulously maintained, and the air buzzing with the quiet efficiency of the staff. Y/N arrived mid-morning, her steps light but her mind heavy.

She’d wrapped her injured arm carefully, the white bandage hidden beneath the sleeve of a fitted leather jacket. Though the cut wasn’t deep, it was obvious enough to draw attention if someone looked too closely.

And Lando always looked too closely.

As she entered the main hall, she spotted him at the far end, leaning against a marble counter in conversation with Oscar. He looked as composed as ever, his signature curls slightly disheveled, a cup of coffee in one hand.

The sight of him brought back the previous night in an instant—the fight, the way he’d moved, the close call.

But he didn’t know.

He couldn’t.

Y/N squared her shoulders and approached, her usual confidence firmly in place.

---

I noticed her the moment she walked in.

Y/N had a way of commanding attention without trying—her confidence, the way she moved, like she belonged wherever she chose to be.

But today, something was different.

She was holding herself a little too carefully, her posture stiff in a way that most people wouldn’t catch. And then there was her arm.

The faint bulge of a bandage beneath her jacket sleeve didn’t escape my notice.

My eyes narrowed slightly as she reached us, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Morning, boys,” she said, her tone casual as she leaned against the counter beside Oscar.

“You’re in a good mood,” Oscar said, raising a brow.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied smoothly.

---

Lando’s gaze lingered on her arm, his mind racing. He didn’t ask about it immediately—he knew Y/N well enough to know she wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

But something about the timing was off.

The night before, a skilled intruder had broken into one of McLaren’s key warehouses. The guards’ reports had been vague, but Lando didn’t need details to know whoever it was had been dangerous.

And now Y/N shows up with a freshly bandaged arm?

It didn’t sit right.

“Everything okay?” Lando asked casually, his tone light but probing.

“Never better,” Y/N said, her smirk widening as she met his gaze.

He didn’t look away, his eyes darkening as suspicion took root.

“Funny,” he said after a pause. “I heard there was some trouble at the docks last night.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, her laugh light and dismissive. “Trouble at the docks? Sounds like your security needs an upgrade.”

Lando didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking to her arm again.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked, his voice sharper now.

---

My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show.

“Cut myself,” I said easily, gesturing vaguely. “Kitchen accident. You know, knives can be tricky.”

Lando didn’t look convinced.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, the intensity in his gaze making my stomach churn. For a moment, I thought he might press further, might connect the dots right there and then.

But instead, he leaned back, his smirk returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Be careful,” he said, his tone deceptively smooth. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt again.”

His words felt like a challenge, and I forced myself to meet his gaze without flinching.

“I’ll try,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tension simmering between us.

---

As Y/N turned to leave, Lando watched her go, his mind racing.

The timing of her injury, the break-in, and her evasiveness didn’t feel like a coincidence.

He tapped his fingers against the counter, his jaw tightening as he considered the implications.

If it was her...

His thoughts were interrupted by Oscar, who spoke quietly. “Something doesn’t add up, does it?”

“No,” Lando said, his voice low.

And not for the first time, doubt crept into his mind—not just about Y/N’s story, but about who she really was.

To be continued...

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

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