#but it looks nicer right side up :)

[happistar]

Day 19: Tarot card

Past, present, future. You're fucked dude.

[frownyalfred]

Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:

Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.

You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.

When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.

A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)

Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)

The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.

Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.

Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.

[reidrum]

how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things | s.r.

A/N: this is literally prn with no plot i’m sorry. i just really love thinking about spencer on his knees sue me! this was supposed to be longer but then i decided to save it for when i write for juno heheh

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spencer AND munch!spencer look at that a 2-for-1!, fingering fem receiving, brief condescending!spence if you blink, many many pet names, spencer says good girl that’s a warning on its own, afab!reader

summary: you and spencer come home from a night out and he knows exactly what to say to get you wrapped around his finger (literally!)

wc: 1.4k

_______________________________________________

You stumble through the door with Spencer trailing not too far behind you. You’d both been out with the team getting drinks and as the night progressed Spencer found himself getting especially touchy with you, so much that you could still feel the imprint of his hand on your inner thigh.

The drinks of the night had long faded leaving you in a haze as you both entered your apartment, Spencer’s solid frame coming up behind you to hold your waist.

“Good thing I’m here to make sure you don’t fall.” He chuckles softly.

He slowly turns you around and gently pushes you against the wall. You give him a lazy smile as your hand reaches up to trace the outline of his jaw, “You’re pretty.”

“If I’m pretty, what does that make you?”

“Lucky.”

Spencer blushes and smiles softly, “That was good,” He bends down to press a kiss to the spot behind your ear, slowly trailing down to the sweet spot at the base of your neck. His fingers press into the sides of your hips, “You okay? Still feeling it?”

You shake your head no pointedly, “Just fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy is good,” He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, “You’re nicer when you’re fuzzy.”

“I’m nice all the time!” You feign offense.

He chuckles back, “Okay, you are nice all the time. I think I meant more…compliant.”

You grin up at him, “What, you don’t like me in control?”

“No I do, trust me, I do. But, you deserve to be taken care of. And I really like it when I get to take care of you. It’s easier for me to do that when you’re all…fuzzy.”

Another lazy smiles adorns you and Spencer can’t help but lean in and kiss your nose.

“Well, we aren’t doing anything until these devil shoes come off.” You mutter softly.

Spencer laughs and kisses you one last time before smoothing his hands down your side as he sinks to his knees, gesturing you to lift your foot up and perch it on his shoulder, allowing perfect access to your heel.

You lean back against the wall attempting to flatten your back to ease the aching of it. Through hooded eyes you look down to meet Spencer’s hazel ones staring right back at yours, as his fingers ghost over the straps of your heels.

“Feet hurt?” He asks as he presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh of your calf, gently massaging the skin as he works his way down the buckle of your heel.

“In these? Always.” You laugh back.

“Oh, poor baby.” He mumbles back with a pout, leaning forward to kiss the base of your ankle. Your eyes widen slightly in entice as you watch him leave kisses up your leg, hands following their path and caressing the skin it touches. He gently places your bare foot on the ground and picks up the other heeled one, placing it on his shoulder and repeating the same motions.

The intimacy of the moment strikes you as you watch his long fingers toy with the buckles and straps of your heels before sliding them off. Your hand subconsciously reaches for his hair and cards through it gently, pushing it away from his eyes.

“Hi.” you whisper.

He looks up to meet your gaze, “Hi, honey.”

“You look pretty down there.”

A chuckle escapes him, “Do I?”

You nod, “Are you going to stay down there or…?”

His fingers dance around your calves slowly inching upwards, “What do you want me to do?”

Humming softly at the touch, you lean your head back against the wall, “I want…whatever you want.”

Spencer laughs again, “See? My compliant, pretty girl.” His fingers reach the hem of your dress, slowly inching further up, “I think I’ll stay down here for a little bit…if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s o—okay.” Your breath hitches as he toys with the outer edges of your panties. His fingers trace the outline out to in, just missing contact with where you want him.

You whine softly as he continues to evade the one spot you need him, squirming against the wall for any friction you can find. He lightly chastises you, “So needy…you’re acting like you haven’t been touched in weeks.”

“Spence…”

He hums, “But that’s not true, right?” One finger strokes the front of your panties, tracing a path from the wet patch up to your clothed clit.

“N—No.” You half moan.

His finger lays more pressure, “I take really good care of you, right angel?”

A curse slips from you as he strokes you over your panties.

Spencer smirks as he hooks his index fingers on either side of your panties and slowly starts to drag it down, not missing how the fabric sticks to your slick like honey. “You know why, I take such good care of you?”

You’re too caught up in the anticipation to respond, but that’s not enough for Spencer when he stops his motions and taps your leg, “I asked you a question.”

You look down at him and shake your head exasperatedly, hoping the silent answer was enough for him to continue since you’re nearly on the ledge from the way his hands are moving.

His finger trails back up your leg and ghosts over your exposed cunt, teasing you endlessly, “I take care of you…because you’re a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Spencer…please…” You’re not sure how much longer you can take this, your body squirming for any contact.

“Say it.” He pulls back so he can look you directly in the eyes, a single digit sliding through your folds.

“Jesus, fuck,” you let out breathlessly, “Okay, okay I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl, just please…” You can’t even bring yourself to care at how desperate you sound, you would start begging like a sinner in church if he didn’t do anything soon.

He smirks, “That’s my girl,” he taps your thigh, “Over my shoulder.” You quickly abide and raise your leg over his shoulder and rest your thigh on it. Spencer leans in and dives into your folds like a man starved, your hands moving to tangle in his hair and in an effort to stabilize yourself. His tongue motions like he’s making a painting and you definitely think you deserve to be hung in the Louvre after this.

You feel him add a finger in and you’re a goner.

“Spence…I’m—fuck oh my god, please don’t stop.” You whine.

His lips detach from you while he adds another fingers and continues his motions and he mumbles, “You gonna come for me, angel? Been like, what a few minutes and you’re already about to make a mess on my fingers…so needy.” he teases.

He returns back to your core, licking long and thick stripes up and down, his fingers not slowing down as he brings you closer to the edge. The peak begins to build in your gut and the climax overtakes you, a mixture of expletives and Spencer’s name leaving your mouth like a twisted spell.

You release your death grip on his hair as he sits back to catch his breath. You slump down the wall to sit in front of him, your leg still swung over his shoulder. He smiles fondly at you and holds the ankle next to his head, leaning in to press a kiss, “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm…” You hazily say, “Peachy, even.”

His eyes narrow slightly, “…Because they’re fuzzy?” you giggle and nod feeling super proud of your pun. He can’t help but laugh with endearment with you as he gently helps your leg off his shoulder and places it on the ground before standing up himself and reaching his hands out for you to grab it, “Let’s go to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”

You place your hands in his and allow him to pull you up, once you’re on your feet you register his words, “Wait, huh?”

He slowly spins you around so his chest is to your back and starts guiding you down the hallway, “Oh baby, did you think we were stopping at one?” he whispers sultrily in your ear. A shudder runs down your spine and he laughs feeling you shake in his arms.

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[bunny-jpeg]

retired!price liked that you had daddy issues. aw, did someone not have a functioning relationship with their father as a child and now has to find that relationship in older men? aw, poor doll. price was more than okay with being called 'daddy' as long as you called him 'captain' too, especially when you were on your knees. while you got off to having an older man praise you, he got off to a pretty little thing calling him captain. you even went as far as to worship his strong physic, how easily he could bend, flip, turn and press into you.

didn't help that your pussy became a fixation for him.

he was close to fifty, his hip had a habit of locking from time to time. he had been hearing about it for years that it was time to have a family. even simon had managed to make a family, price was still hung up on young tail that he could bully his fat cock into. while most younger women were flavours of the week with no string attached. price made sure to attach every metaphorical string onto you. he had a copy of your apartment key. he added a profile for you on his streaming services. he knew on wednesdays you enjoyed pasta, but hated cooking on the weekend. he knew everything about his precious baby girl. you folded into his praise and always were eager to please. and that was what price loved about you. so imagine his shock (anger) when you told him that you thought you'd have to end your arrangement because you met a guy at your university. and when he asked why, you simply said, "i have to grow up at some point.", and that hit price in the head like an ice pick. if you wanted to grow up so badly, baby girl. there were other ways to do it.

the broken condom held weight in price's pocket while you had few drinks during your last 'date' together, he waited till you got all soft because of the wine. till you were on his side of the booth with your leg over his lap and your face pressed against his bicep. you ran your hand across his chest and giggled, "you're taking this whole break up thing so well." and he petted your head, watching you fold into him further, "like you said, you need to grow up." but you both had different definitions of 'growing up'. for you it meant getting over you daddy issues, but to him it was making him a daddy, for real. you giggled further while he gave you another glass of wine. when you tried to say no, he simply pushed it closer to you, "don't want to waste the bottle." and so easily you were in price's grip.

price took you three times that night. first was in the backseat of his expensive car. he pressed you into a corner, claimed that he needed more space for his larger body. your hazy vision was transfixed on the glimmer of his gold chain against his hairy chest in the low light. your poor body bent in such ways while he pace was relentless. he admired your unsteady gaze and your heavy breathing. he continued to move against you with such a pace that the whole car rocked. but don't worry, the parking lot was dead at that hour. you could scream your head off and no one would hear either of you. he did however put a tear in your panties. right in the crotch area. he sighed and said that he'd need to buy you something a little. while he loved the cheap pairs you owned, he thought his woman deserved something a little nicer. the future mrs. price needed to look next to perfection.

then he fingered you heavily in his bed and watched you squirm. he had to make sure every drop got deep enough before he bullied your sweet pussy once more. he loved the sight of you, still so fucked out from prior. you were in a daze in the car ride home. your breathing was heavy when he pushed the skirt of your dress up a little and teased your cunt while he drove. only to go further once you were naked on his bed. he watched your ass jiggle with each of his power thrusts while he took you from behind. he felt like a mad man while he fucked you. he was determined. he only got to where he was in his career because of grit and determination. he wouldn't back down to a challenge, especially when the stakes were so high. your pussy need to be bred, you needed to be with price. he never wanted to hear anything about another man ever again. price would hate to take drastic measures if another man tried to get in his way. if you needed a collar or a tattoo, the taste of his cum constantly your lips or leaked into your panties, price would do it all to ensure that you were his. the most effective way to ensure that was what kept him going through two rounds of sex without any pains. to get you pregnant. you had already forgotten about the broken condom, it still was in price's pocket! no use using it now, even bother giving the illusion that he wasn't breeding you.

the third time was when you tried to leave the next morning, he had you upside down on the bed. your bottom half on the mattress while all the blood rushed to your head as you tried not to fall on your head. price put bruises on top of bruises. your poor cunt was creamy with promises of the future. a future with him. the blood rush made you cum twice on his cock, adding fresh slick to his coated cock. you thought that older men were supposed to slow down with age. but it felt like price was even quicker than before. his pace brutal, almost like punishment for trying to leave him. but price didn't get to be captain because he followed one plan. he was going to ease you into married life, slowly make you the perfect woman for him. he was traditional that way. church wedding, the white dress, the vows. that would all happen, but might take a little longer. he wasn't too sure that a baby bump would fit nicely in a wedding dress. the thought of you pregnant, trapped to him made him eagerly finish in you two times. and when he got you back up onto the bed, you were fucked out. when you managed to collect your clothes and stagger out of his flat by mid-afternoon, you thought you made it in time to the pharmacy to get emergency plan b.

you prayed, and you never prayed. you promised three versions of 'god' that you'd convert to their religion if the pill worked. but three deities failed you and a month later price was in your apartment with his hands on the plastic pregnancy test. he scratched his beard and looked at you. he tried so hard to put on his best acting face. "that's a real shame, baby girl." he said in that rough voice of his that got you in trouble in the first place. he leaned back a little in your kitchen chair and placed the test back down on the table, "always wanted to be a father." he frowned a little bit, "never got the chance too. they said when i retired that the chances were low of me havin' a baby..." he looked at you. you should've known he was lying. his swimmers obviously weren't shot by how easily you got pregnant. you felt bad, almost like you were burdening him with getting pregnant. that it was your fault. you rung your hands and admitted softly, "we can try... we can make a family." and price smiled, "oh, doll." then got up to embrace you. you sniffled and cried a little in his strong chest. he held you in his strong arms. he was your protector even though his cock was straining in his jeans at the knowledge that he fundamentally changed you.

your body, your life, everything. when he released you from the hug, he got down on his knees. made a point to make a small 'huff' noise from being down on his 'bad' knee before he pushed up your t-shirt and pressed a kiss against your stomach. he said to you, "don't worry, love. daddy'll take care of ya." then gave that smile that wrapped around you like a vice. <3

[rafesproperty]

Thinking about how Rafe would treat you each season…

Bro was tweakin’ the whole show 😭 Good luck with the mood swings

Also can you tell S2 Rafe is my fav and owns my entire heart? Ok? Ok.

» masterlist

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Season 1 Rafe treats you horribly. Never there for you even tho you are always there for him. Always thinking about himself.

He can be nice behind closed doors but the second you are with him and his friends he’s cold. He almost acts like you guys aren���t together but if one of his friends flirts with you he throws a tantrum. Also he gets mad when you don’t give him enough attention but he ignores your messages for days.

He snorts cocaine in front of you even tho it makes you uncomfortable… but he doesn’t really care as long as he gets his high. He asks to snort it from your thighs or cleavage as well. If you say no he’ll keep asking until you say yes just to shut him up.

If you’re being all annoying asking him to drive you home he’ll just smear some on your gums.

“Shit. Alright, c’me here baby,” he mumbles and you sit on his lap as he grabs a tiny bit of the powder and uses his fingers to open your mouth. “There you go, baby, good fuckin’ girl.” He chuckles and kisses you. You instantly melt into the kiss, feeling as if the drugs effect melts your body. You’re on top of him the entire night, cuddling up to him, straddling his lap, purring when he kisses you. You’re just so good to him, so devoted when you’re in this state.

He never lets you snort it tho. And he won’t do it again for a long time. He doesn’t want you to be addicted like him.

He calls you in the middle of the night and demands you come over when he’s in the mood. He’ll pick you up but won’t give you a ride home so you’re either staying or walking alone.

He yells Kiara looks hot at Midsummers when you’re right next to him. You’re angry at him but he doesn’t care.

Probably constantly breaking up and getting back together when he has one of his breakdowns and needs you. So he seeks you out. Cries to you about his dad. Cries to you about your relationship. Promises to do better. And you always take him back.

He takes you on motorbike dates, goes way over the speed limit tho.

You are there when his dad kicks him out, he takes his sadness and anger out on you. You are there when he kills the sheriff, and you’re not running away, not telling anyone, you’re keeping your mouth shut. For him. You do a lot of things for him.

Season 2 Rafe aka the most unhinged psycho you’ve ever met is actually nicer to you (worse to everyone else… but nicer to you). He keeps you safe. Never lets you walk alone at night. He basically never ever leaves your side, when he does it’s to do something he doesn’t want you to see.

He keeps you away from Ward and Barry - especially Barry. Until you actually meet Barry and find out he’s cool and funny asf. Rafe is pissed at first but Barry is the only guy he’ll let you hang out with (only in his presence, tho).

Barry starts calling you “Mrs. Country cluuuub.”

Never lets you do drugs again. Not even a little bit. He feels bad for what he did before, smearing it on your gums when you didn’t even really know what he was doing. He won’t admit it out loud, tho. He just won’t allow it again.

He needs to touch you constantly. Hand on your back or your thigh at all times. Holding you close to him. He needs to know feel you’re there.

He swears he’ll buy anything you damn want with the gold.

He still gets mad when he doesn’t get your attention but this time he’ll just take it. He’ll force you to give him attention if he has to. Sometimes he’ll rile you up and piss you off just so that he’s your main focus.

He seeks you out for comfort when he comes to your house all bloody and beaten… whether the blood is his or not is a mystery. He’ll open up to you, he’ll talk about his dad and you’ll comfort him with sweet words, he gets so used to it. Addicted. His dad never listened to him. No one ever listened to him. But you do. He may be in love with you.

He’s possessive. Won’t let you talk to other people, will break anyones bones if they look at you the wrong way. You’re his. And he’s slowly starting to realise that he is yours, too.

“I’ll take care of you. Shit, I’ll fuck up anyone who tries to hurt you, got that?”

He’s harsh about everything he doesn’t like and especially to people he doesn’t like. You better not get in the way when he’s really angry.

He hates it when he makes you cry, but if he’s already pissed off he can’t stop himself from yelling. He never hurt you tho. Maybe a few bruises from gripping your wrist with too much force but nothing intentional.

His eyes soften when you flinch one time. That being the only time he actually somewhat calms down.

Not many peaceful moments with him given how little chill he had in S2 😭 BUT if you guys are just talking, playing with eachothers fingers in the dark and you start talking about your future he melts. You always include him. In all the details and in all the plans. He loves you. He’s sure of it now.

Wheezie absolutely adores you, she gossips about Rafe with you all the time. You guys play board games and he’ll scoff and roll his eyes but Wheezie will force him to join. For 5 minutes. Then he’s like “Fuck this bullshit” (he’s losing) and he leaves. You and Wheezie laugh at him.

He tells you everything, he tells you about how he shot Sarah, how he tried to drown her, how he almost killed Pope, how he hates these fucking Pogues so much and wants them all dead… he’s never saying it calmly, his pupils are dilated, he’s shaking, his words are mixing, he has this look on his face… sometimes he’s so scary. But you never run away from him.

His obsession with making his dad proud slowly turns into an obsession to make you proud. To make you happy. To make sure the gold is fucking yours and anyone who tries to take anything away from you two dies.

I seriously can’t stress enough how Rafe is always obsessed with one person only and does absolutely everything in the world for them. And his focus changes from his dad to you. You’re his priority now. He’ll protect you, not his dad. He’ll make you proud, not his dad. You. You. You.

Season 3 Rafe is an obsessed man. Spoils you. Takes you on fancy dates all the time. Gets you anything you like or anything he likes.

Gets you hot dresses that he’ll rip the same day. You’re actually angry because you liked that dress so he’ll just buy it again.

He doesn’t really know how to express his emotions so he’ll just constantly buy you expensive things just because he can and he’ll keep you close, cuddle you, kiss you, squeeze your waist. Physical contact all the time, basically.

You don’t really fight anymore. But if he does make you angry you’ll wake up to princess treatment the whole day. Food, clothes, jewelry, his attention, anything you want, you got it.

“Can we get a dog?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

… almost anything you want.

You are his priority, always. Always focused on making you secure, safe, happy, proud, satisfied. You don’t have to ask for anything, ever. He’s got you.

Constantly shielding you with his body when you two go out, keeping you close, thumb drawing little circles on your back, his attention on you the entire time.

He’ll take you on boat drives and just chill and make out with you out on the open ocean.

He’s so madly in love with you.

He’s loyal, pushing other people away from him, and he expects the same from you… tho you usually don’t even get the chance to. He’s scaring anyone away the second they look at you.

He doesn’t care about Ward anymore, all he sees is his pretty girl who’s been with him the whole time, through everything. His girl. That didn’t push him away when he was on his lowest. His girl, who didn’t run away from him when he killed people. His girl who makes him feel so warm and fuzzy it actually keeps surprising him.

He wants to marry you, give you everything he has, pay you back for always having his back.

[oneofreid]

Casual Tendencies

Summary: In which she’s never had an orgasm and he’s willing to please her until she cums. Straight to the point.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: (18+ Content) Dry humping, oral (female receiving), explicit language, the usual smut

A/N: so here we go again…bye y’all. my ride is here. (gif by @reidgif) → my other fics are here

“So you’ve never had an orgasm a day in your life?”

You shrugged at his question which was more of a response to your sudden confession. Reverting your attention back to the book that was in your hand. Your body completely sprawled out over the couch in your best friends apartment.

Getting lost in the chapter that your were reading before a hand suddenly pried the book out of your hands. “Reid, what are you-“

“You’ve never had an orgasm before.”

He repeated back to you slowly. Still mind blown at the fact that you’ve never experienced the exhilarating feeling of exploring your body to its full purpose and potential.

“And?”

“Well, it’s typically suggested that the human body have an orgasm at least three times per week. It has a lot of health benefits and by doing that, you’re releasing your body of stress. It can also act as a pain reliever, create dopamine, lower depression, and can even make you nicer-” Spencer began to ramble.

You shook your head, “I don’t see how that’s relevant though.” Slightly gnawing at your lip out of habit since you were growing nervous.

Spencer gulped, suddenly feeling out of place in his own apartment. Yet, the question hung from the tip of his tongue.

“Do you want to know what it feels like?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head, the air completely being knocked from out of your lungs.

“Spencer…I-I”

“You don’t have to. Please don’t feel like you have to, I’m only suggesting it…as an option, if you want to,” he trailed off. His shy demeanor coming back, realizing he might’ve just fucked up your friendship and relationship for life.

Your heart rate picked up, feeling as if the room was spinning around you. The room suddenly becoming all too hot for you, you might as well have just stripped your clothes off in front of him right then and there.

Closing your thighs together, you grew more aware of the fact that your best friend, the man who you’ve secretly held a crush on for many years, just offered to have sex with you.

“I’m sorry. I know I probably just crossed a huge boundary and ruined our fr-,” Spencer began.

“Okay.”

“What?,” he paused.

“I’ll do…I want you to make me cum.” You uttered, barely above a whisper.

Hardly noticing that Spencer had moved closer to you, his eyes studying your every move. Yet, all you could do was talk down your nerves and doubts that began to arise.

“Hey,” Spencer grabbed your hand to gather your attention, “You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.”

You turned towards him, his warm and familiar brown eyes still on you. The sunset that beamed from his open window shining a cast on him, illuminating not only his figure but the beautiful features that you grew to love about him.

“I want this.” You had made your decision.

Lifting yourself to straddle his lap, maneuvering your legs to kneel and place yourself on either side of him. The cool leather of his couch adding some much needed support as you felt it dip from your weight.

Spencer looked at you in awe. His heart rate picking up as the gravity of what was about to happen between you two finally settled in.

“You can touch me, Spence. It’s okay,” you leaned in to pur in his ear. All your nerves suddenly being thrown out the window the second your clothed center made contact with his hardening one. His bulge growing at the sight and feel of you.

It’s like the forces between you had finally collided when he found his lips meeting your soft, plump ones. Your lips melting together into one as you moved to run a hand through his brown curls. Tugging slightly which earned a low moan from him.

You smiled into the kiss, suddenly feeling more relaxed and in control. The scent of leather books, peppermint, and a few spritz of luxury cologne filling your nose.

Spencer broke from the kiss, his lips traveling down to explore and pepper kisses alongside your jaw.

“You smell so good,” he complimented you. Your signature scent of vanilla and amber were his favorite pheromones.

“So,” he kissed you, “pretty.”

His big hands wandering down to play with the hem of your shirt as he began to tug it over your head with one hand. The other one inches above your ass, pulling you closer to him until you were flush against his chest.

Not paying attention as Reid unclasped your laced bra in one swift move. The cool air hit your bare breasts, your nipples hardening at the sudden lack of clothing that you didn’t have on. His hands moved to palm your tits, grabbing one in each hand as he toys with them. Rubbing your nipples in between his long fingers.

You began to grow impatient, realizing that he was still completely clothed. Your body naturally beginning to ache for him as you sat on top of him.

Rocking yourself back and forth, you started to grind against him. Circling your hips, only to press your ass down a bit harder with each roll, onto his clothed dick.

“Fuck,” Reid let out a shaky breathe.

His hands moving to grip your hips to prevent you from moving. “I have a better idea. Lie down,” he instructed.

“But I thought we-,” you began to whine. Feeling your underwear grow soaked by the friction you had just started to ignite.

“We will. Just trust me, honey,” the pet name that fell from his lips causing your cheeks to heat up.

Squealing a bit as he picked you effortlessly up by your thighs, carrying you toward his bedroom. Placing you down gently on his beige comforter before helping you tug your grey sweatpants off.

“Okay love, lie down for me,” you nodded. Doing as he said, the plush and cool material of the comforter hitting your back. Leaning against his pillows for some added support. “Just follow my lead, I will do all the work. You just get to look pretty, okay?”

You nodded again, biting your lip, looking up at his ceiling as you tried to avoid eye contact at all cost. Suddenly growing nervous again at the idea of your best friend seeing you this exposed.

“Hey,” Reid had grabbed onto your knee, “Look at me.”

You obliged, your eyes finally meeting his sincere and concern ones. He began to rub circular pattern on your knee cap as he sat on his, attempting to comfort you.

“If at any point you change your mind and decide that you don’t want to do this, just let me know. Okay?”

Your nerves still getting the best of you, all you could do was offer him a little nod. He was your best friend. Your awfully smart, handsome, charismatic, and charming best friend who you have known. And been in love with for over four years now. So the idea of him seeing you completely naked and head deep into your pussy had you on completely edge.

“Use your words, sweet girl. I got you. I’ll be here to guide you the whole way through. Okay?” He reassured you.

You let out a shaky breathe, managing to get out a small, “okay,” before sinking a bit further into his bed.

Spencer moved crawled closer towards you on his knees, using his large hands to spread your legs open. Your matching lace thong now completely on show for him.

He sucked in a breathe, his own underwear growing incredibly too tight. “You wore this just for me, huh?”

You felt your cheeks grow red again, blushing at his comment. “It’s my favorite pair,” you said sheepishly.

Spencer hummed, not convinced yet all he could do was think about indulging himself into your delicious pussy.

Dipping a finger into the waistband of your underwear, he quickly yanked the thong off. Leaving a full view of your dripping wet cunt just for him. Your folds were soaked, already coated in your arousal. The sight alone was enough to make him go feral.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so wet for me.” He gawked.

His eyes set on the beautiful masterpiece in front of him.

Not being able to contain himself any longer, he sunk down further on his knees. Propping himself up so that he was closer to your core yet still at enough eye level for you to see him devour you.

Spencer began to run his lips over your thighs, leaving sloppy kisses along the inner part of them. Using his hand to grip the side of it for extra stability.

He was hungry. And he wanted more.

Your eyes began to squeeze shut, feeling him inch closer and closer towards your core. Growing noticeably more needy and desperate for him by the second. A loud moan finally leaving your own lips as Spencer swiped his tongue across your folds. The sweet yet salty taste being something he could definitely get used to.

Spencer continued his motions, opting to trace intricate and circular patterns with his tongue. Sucking on the skin of your pussy as if it was his last meal. Gripping harder onto your thighs with every lick and pull that you had on his hair.

“Spence….God, fuck. Holy shit.” You panted.

The sight of him on his knees, face deep in you was something you never thought would happen in your wildest dreams. His moans echoed against your cunt, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. A sweet lullaby to your ears.

You cried out, “Just like that. You feel so good.” Feeling him hit what you assumed, was your sweet spot, one that sent electrifying surges through your body.

Every flick and swipe of his tongue making you see stars. Your moans filled his ears, listening to the sweet melody that you sung to him. You were loud and he loved it. Feeling satisfied with every reaction he got out of you.

You felt your stomach starting to tighten, growing anxious at this unfamiliar feeling. “Spence-“

He lifted his head from your pussy for a second, saliva and your pre-cum dripping slightly down his chin.

“It’s okay baby, when you feel it, just let go.” He sent you a soft smile, kissing your inner thigh before continuing his work.

Flicking his tongue in circular motions, getting the last few swipes in. As you started to pant more, the coil in your stomach growing even tighter and unbearable. The sudden urge to shut your thighs together yet Spencer held you in place. His brown eyes never leaving yours as he sucked relentlessly on your pussy.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as your core clenched, your chest heaving up and down in anticipation. Before a wave of relief washed over you, your legs began to shake uncontrollably. The room filled with the sound of the moans that left you and Spencer.

Spencer lifted his face to finally meet yours.

Your pussy already becoming wet again at the sight in front of you. Spencer’s long, luscious curls all disheveled from you tugging and pulling on it. His brown eyes fully dilated, anticipating his own high as he looked at you ready to pounce again. Your cum dripped down his chin, licking his lips as he savored every last drop.

Spencer couldn’t help himself from pulling you in for a long, passionate kiss. Already missing the exhilarating feeling of your lips on his. His hands shifted to pull you closer to him, your legs now straddling his lap just like you had done before on his couch. You could taste yourself on him.

“That was,” you breathed.

“Amazing,” he finished, pulling you gently by the neck to deepen your kiss before preparing himself for your next round.

[kisakunt]

ODE TO THE V CARD!

description... losing virginity! taking the v card! getting laid!

warnings… honestly not many. just sex pretty vanilla

word from the writer… the gets killed is mid idk it’s not my best work but i tried ok guys

KILLERS

“aw, look at you,” his hands knead at your breasts, head dipping down to press a coy kiss to the side of your lips. “so sensitive.” you shudder at the contact, whine passing from your lips when he rocks his hips against you. “gonna make you feel good, yeah baby?” he loves you like this, so confused and needy under him, pure and vulnerable and so okay with him ruining you. his thumb hooks along the curve of your waist, tracing the outline of your bare skin under him before resting on your clit, grin widening at the garble that leaves you.

“no one’s ever touched you here, yeah?” you think, by default, this makes you his. as if that would ever be a question to begin with. “no one’s ever made you feel like this?” his finger moves— not in the small circles you’ve heard about, but up and down, pressing just hard enough without alleviating the pressure. it’s dizzying, the way his callouses shift over your bud, his breath shallow but composed.

“you want more, doll?” you nod— scared, helpless, desperate. it’s a mess— hands reaching over for lube to make the experience easier for you (though you think, honestly, you might be wet enough as is), an anxious laugh bubbling at your lips while you pull your legs back in an almost birthing position. it’s real, intimate and deep between the two of you, authentic and honest and nothing like the porn you’d watch late at night thinking about him.

and when he finally does it— when he slowly inches himself in between your folds, rubbing your clit with the tip of his dick, teasing you, right before slowly breaking at your walls, it hurts.

he doesn’t bottom out immediately. even when he’s cruel, he’s nicer than that. he takes his time filling you up, before he develops a slow rhythm that makes you squirm.

“that okay?” it’s not as sweet as you’d intend it to be, selfishness laced inside the question. you nod pathetically, hair laid out under you and eyes hazy.

“good.” then, without a second thought, he’s really fucking you. and you can’t do anything but lay there, legs loosely around his waist, and take it.

MEGUMI, GOJO, TOJI, CHOSO

GETS FUCKING KILLED

he didn’t know what to expect. maybe some flare of passion; ripping clothes off, declaring love, crying even.

he didn’t think it’d be you; down on your knees, one hand at the base of his cock, your lips suctioned on the rest with your tongue swirling over the tip. he didn’t think he’d be breathy, moaning, desperate before even trying pussy.

you don’t let him cum. you do a good enough job, pulling back with a pop, and then you give him a little lopsided grin. you trace your fingers over him, swirling up the last of the precum.

“so,” you’re standing up now, leaning over him and licking your fingers. you make a show out of it, he can’t help but wonder how insanely experienced you are compared to him. “you wanna fuck me or what?”

he won’t be too eager. he knows he’s already about to make a big fool of himself, so he can’t make an ass of him too. he nods, diligently, thoughtfully, and wonders how you’ll take him.

he expects maybe for you to ride him, but you lay on your back and rest your hands under your thighs, ready to pull them up whenever.

“you gotta learn sometime. get to it!” he’s nervous. his hands rest right next to your hips, one of them raised trying to figure out exactly how to get inside. you laugh and he feels his world crumbling.

“here,” you grab his cock, lining the tip up with your hole, hand massaging it gently as you do. “there you go, baby. you got it.”

when he starts, it’s too sloppy. his hips stutter, they can’t find a proper rhythm, but then you tell him how. you boss him, telling him how fast to go, where to angle, how to hit. it’s more of a tutoring session than sex maybe, but then he does something that makes you gasp and he’s obsessed.

“yeah, yeah, harder. no— don’t speed up, i said harder.” he listens to your every word, and the sound of your wet, and the sound of his breaths, and he can tell he’s going to cum all to quick.

“fuck, sorry. fuck! sorry!” it couldn’t have been more than five minutes, honestly. but you bring your hand to his face and pull him down to you after he cums, kissing him soft and sweet.

“lot of potential there, mister.” you swipe your thumb under his eye and he squints. oh. he guesses there was crying involved.

SUKUNA, GETO, NANAMI, YUJI

[mv1simp]

for the bully!Max, Leclerc!Reader and chubby!reader simps in my requests…I heard you and I’m here to deliver 😼😼 enjoy!!

You Belong To Me ♥️

Bully!Max Verstappen x Chubby!Leclerc!Reader

say it louder, say it louder, who’s gonna love you like me (who’s gonna fuck you like me?)

Growing up as the youngest daughter in the Leclerc family, you’d had a childhood crush on your brother’s rival and friend, Max. But when you grew older he turned into your worst nightmare, always bullying you. You’ve been able to avoid him for the last 5 years - but now with your new engineer job on the paddock, you can’t hide from Max any longer…and can’t stop the feelings you still have for him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub, dark! Max who bullies innocent virgin!reader, dub con, brainwashing, bimbofication, somno, yk all the good shit, WC 9k 😨

You shiver as you walk into your family’s childhood vacation home along the Cote de Azure, despite the summer heat. It’s been a long time since you’d visited this house. Even though your Mama and three older brothers came by often, looking for a weekend break from their busy lives or a romantic getaway with gorgeous girlfriends, you’d always turn down their offers to join once you were in college. They'd always be confused at your hesitance - but then again, they don't know just how many bittersweet memories this home holds for you. You’d grown up here in the summers, the youngest daughter of the famous Monegasque Leclerc family. Racing was in your bloodline, and your beloved Papa had instilled his passion into all of his children before he’d passed away.

Your older brothers, who were all handsome, tall and athletic, made natural drivers right from childhood and easily progressed through the karting competitions. Meanwhile, you were the youngest and the only daughter, and were raised in a far gentler manner as the apple of your family’s eye, their cute bunny as they’d nicknamed you, after your favourite childhood pet. In comparison to your brothers who ran around outdoors, you were more shy, preferring to be left with your books and colouring pencils in the safety of the patio.

Of course, with all your differences, there had been the healthy sibling rivalry of brothers vs sister growing up. They hated being forced to play house or pose for your scribbly drawings (not Arthur though - even at age 5 you were convinced he secretly loved when you made him join the Barbie tea party.) And in turn, you'd alway complain when you’d be dragged to cheer on Charles from the sidelines as he won his karting competitions. You would sulk, childishly annoyed at your parent’s attention shifting from you to their middle son’s rapidly growing racing career.

But it all changed when Charles raced against Max Verstappen for the first time at age 11. The blonde Dutchman aggravated your competitive older brother immediately with his aggressive driving tactics. You’d heard Cha, as you’d been calling him since you were little, furiously ranting about the illegal moves Max had been pulling and your 7 year old brain tuned it all out. But when you first saw the mysterious blonde in question, your heart fluttered with a feeling you’d never felt before and a bright blush overtook your chubby cheeks.

You immediately became infatuated with the older boy, who was far nicer to you than Charles had been back then. Your middle brother's idea of “sibling time” involving hiding beetles in your bed and laughing when you screamed. So it became a common sight to see you wandering after Max instead of being by your family’s side, tugging on his shirt sleeve and showing him the racecar drawings you’d made. Max always entertained you, ruffing your hair and smiling back toothily, telling you that you were a much better artist than his little sis Victoria.

You’d beam from the praise, only leaving Max’s side when his scary father Jos would approach and eye you with disdain. You scampered back to your family, to your older brothers who accused you of the worst crime imaginable to the loyal Leclerc blood - exchanging racing strategies with the enemy Dutch. Your mother had hit all three sons on the back of the head and told them they could learn a thing or two about treating Bunny with respect like that cute boy Max did.

As you grew older, your pigtails were replaced with cute pins and headbands in an effort to look pretty whenever Max would come around to your summer home. By now, his rivalry with Charles had turned into a reluctant "frenemies who also spent summers together to discuss racing". You'd get to be with Max all day, swimming in the turquoise ocean and eating sweet stroopwafel that he always brought. An in the evenings, the two car-obsessed 14 year olds would be arguing about overtaking strategies at your family’s dining table. You’d pout, childishly wanting attention at age 11, interrupting whatever stupid point you're sure Charles was making to bat your eyelashes at your guest. Holding up your now detailed drawings of a black kart, you asked Maxie - as you’d taken to calling him - if he liked your recreation of his.

He’d grinned at you, still boyishly handsome and in the lanky phase of growing up as he told you he loved it, should he sign his autograph on it? with that Dutch accent you adored. Charles watched your shenanigans with a roll of his eyes, snidely muttering (in French, thank god) that the annoying little bunny wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her crush on the enemy Dutch. You flushed, frantically checking to make sure Max hadn’t been able to understand, and had run off with a red face to tearfully rat him out to your Mama. Unlike Charles, she found your crush on Max rather cute, and always encouraged you to give your favourite ribbons and bows to Max for a good luck charm the way you did with your brothers pre-race (Traitor, teen Arthur and Charles mouthed at you).

She eyed you knowingly when you do your best to avoid blushing as you grew older still, this time seeing Max when you were 14 and him 17 with an impressive winning streak in the Junior Redbull team. He’d started to develop into his tall 6 foot frame now, towering over your tiny 5”2 frame like your brothers did. What, no drawing of a racecar for me to sign Bunny? he gently teased, leaning down so you could shyly kiss both of his cheeks - a Monegasque tradition Max had become accustomed to from your family. You stuttered out your no, of course not, you were too old for that now! making him laugh at how cute you looked before walking off. Arthur watches the exchange with a smirk, elbowing Cha when he emerges from the changing rooms. Your middle brother’s frenemy status with Max was more of a friendship these days, and his earlier accusations of you being a traitor had turned into something much more annoying. Max and Bunny, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-

But by the time you turned 16, your Maxie changed from the sweet, laughing boy you’d always trusted into someone darker, someone who you felt scared of at times. You were at the age where you now wanted Max as your boyfriend, naively thinking that the 19 year old driver would return your affections when he’d attended your Sweet 16th. You’d spent hours getting ready, styling your long curly hair and wearing a cute dress all your friends had insisted you would be irresistible in (but had almost given your older brothers an aneurysm). It was tight and short, and although you'd always been a chubby kid, you feel a self conscious of the new plush curves around your hips and chest, in comparison to your older brothers who now looked very handsome and muscular.

You’d lit up when you saw Max across the fancy yacht club, flooded with all your schoolmates and family friends who’d come to celebrate the baby Leclerc’s birthday. He'd looked so handsome, his muscular frame now filled out and catching the eye of many girls. There was a devilishness in his smile that came with the confidence of being the youngest F1 driver in history. Lately, your innocent crush had started to drift towards naughtier, dirtier fantasies about what Max’s large hands and lips would feel like on you, if he snuck into your bedroom in the middle of the night and told you he loved you as you willingly gave him your first kiss.

But all your naive hopes come crashing down when you see a slim, sexy blonde approach Max where he’s talking to Charles intently, drinking a beer. His hand squeezes her ass in a familiar motion as she wraps her arms around him, leaning up to give him a kiss. You quickly turn around in the crowd before you can be seen, heartbroken, and drown yourself in blurred conversations and slices of birthday cake. Max doesn’t even come to wish you happy birthday like he normally did, always with a special gift in hand. At some point in the night you’re talking to Charles and try to subtly ask who that blonde girl with Max had been. Your older brother gives you an amused look, asking if you still had your silly little childhood crush on Max? You adamantly deny it, and he smirks and tells you that was Giana, Max’s girlfriend and an Italian model. You’re upset, of course, but thankfully he changes the topic to tell you how Max had recommended his old F2 seat go to Charles, wasn’t that amazing Bunny? You nod mutedly, having become used to Cha being less and less aware of anything that went on outside his racing career these days.

After a sneaky shot of tequila your friend gave you, you have the courage to go approach Max. His girlfriend is still at his side and raises an eyebrow, pointedly glancing down at your figure to make it clear what she thought of your curvier body. What shocks you, though, is seeing an annoyed look on Max’s face as well, as he demands to know why you’re interrupting, couldn’t you see he was busy? You’ve never heard him speak like that and are confused, asking him why he’s being so mean, did I do something wrong, Max-

He cuts you off, smirking as he asks why you weren’t calling him Maxie anymore. The girl laughs at that, saying no way, she’s such a kid, she calls you that? A few of your older schoolmates have wandered over, curious to see what was going on and you flush from the embarrassment of having Max treat you like this in front of your friends.

From then on, Max just became crueler and crueler to you. It’s like he enjoyed seeing how you'd react, your cute chubby cheeks darkening with embarrassment as you avoided his gaze. Once he'd officially moved to Monaco, you ran into him everywhere as him and Charles formed a close friendship and would often hang out. Max would always time his harsh remarks just when your brother wasn't in earshot. He'd mock you about everything, from your childish appearance, to your innocently conservative outfits, your nerdy perfect grades, your animated Italian gestures and accent which he'd always seemed to adore growing up. Your popularity in school plummeted as your friends watched the talented F1 driver roll his eyes and mutter how pathethic you were when he heard you were reading romantic novels on Friday night instead of partying, saying the only reason you had any friends was because of your talented brother’s fame. Your family had no idea what was going on - as Max’s bullying started the same time your Papa becomes unwell and landed in hospital. Your brothers thought the change in your sweet demeanour was because of your sadness for your father.

If only they knew the real culprit was right under their noses.

It seemed there was nothing teen Max enjoyed more than seeing your big brown doe eyes welling up with tears. He’d use everything you told him growing up against you, making gossip and rumours fly around your school constantly. Any guy who tried to talk to you was assumed to be doing it as a dare. The first few years of high school had been like hell - the only thing making it bearable being your perfect grades and promising future. Unlike your older brothers who were natural sportsmen, you were the opposite and excelled at academics, and you’d used it to get a full ride scholarship at a prestigious engineering course in the UK.

That’s what you reminded yourself to get you through a graduation party at the end of high school. You'd been reluctantly dragged by the small group of friends you’d thankfully kept despite all the bullying and rumours. In true Monaco trust fund kid fashion, the party was hosted on one of your schoolmates' yacht, with many juniors and older siblings tagging along as well. Towards the end of high school, Max’s bullying was less common as he became busier with his racing - something Charles had become fully invested in with his new F1 Alfa Romeo seat. And you’d grown up, too, maturing into your curves and pretty dark Italian features, catching the eye of a few boys in your year.

It seemed you’d been briefly relieved of your duties of being a social pariah when you're yanked into a circle of already wasted partygoers playing 7 minutes in heaven. But when your friend pulled out your name with a drunken flush, you could only widen your eyes in horror when the next name she announces was one you'd never expected - Max.

And then you see him, on the other side of the deck, leaning against the railing and ignoring the girls trying to speak to him as his ice blue eyes intently watch you. You squeaked out your protests, begging your friend to try again, but it's hopeless when the circle begins chanting your name and Max’s. Giving up, you turned around and ran through the crowd, trying to reach the ramp and get off the boat -

-when a large, warm hand wrapped around your waist and easily pulled you into a broad chest. Before you knew it, you're in a tiny, dark storage room, with Max Verstappen blocking the door and smirking down at you. Your naive heart still ached with conflicting feelings for Max, who was your childhood knight in shining armour, who always stood up for you when your older brothers ganged up on you, always knew how to make you laugh when you were crying from their teasing. But this was also the same Max who made your high school life hell, had teased you mercilessly behind your brother’s back, and used all the secrets you'd trusted him with against you. He'd make you look like a childish little girl in front of your effortlessly cool, rich peers. This reminder brought you back to your senses and you quietly but firmly ask him to let me out.

He hadn’t let you leave, of course, instead leaning down until he was whispering in your ear with his deep voice that still send shivers down your spine, mockingly asking if you’d had your first kiss yet or if you're still the same stuck up Leclerc who thinks she's too good to be fucked by anyone here?

Heart racing furiously from nervousness, you mumble out that you hadn’t had your first kiss, avoiding his ice cold eyes as he chuckled. You know his game well enough by now to understand he wouldn’t let you go until he gets his answer. You hated the boy you once hoped to give your first kiss to. He’d ruined your reputation beyond repair, had made it so no guy at school would touch you even if they found you pretty.

Well, apparently except for one boy.

Turns out Max himself had no issues laying his hands on you, hidden in the darkness of the storeroom. His hands had pushed you up against the wall, your face cutely scrunched up in confusion, and then your jaw almost dropped in shock when he pressed his lips to your ear. He huskily whispered how pretty you looked, how he’d hated the way boys had been checking you out all night. They didn’t know you’d already promised to marry Max when you were little, yeah Bunny?

And then he’d captured the surprised gasp you let out, shocked that he’d remembered your childhood wish to be his vrouw, his wife, when he leans down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss against your soft lips. When he pulled back, his face remaining close to yours, your brown doe eyes looked into his with whirling confusion and hurt - but also desire flickering in them. And then you’d both gotten lost in another kiss, then another, and then Max being Max had starting running his hands all over your body. Squeezing his hand into your juicy ass to make you shyly moan, and then greedily slipping his tongue inside.

That’s how everyone had found you when they yanked the door open, with Max having you moaning his name, one hand sliding up your skirt and the other running over your tits. The darkness in his gaze returns as he pulled back and left you leaning against the wall with wobbly legs. He laughed as he strode off the party, saying it’d been so easy to get you to beg for him like a little slut, who would’ve guessed with your innocent appearance?

You couldn’t wait to graduate high school and go to university after that. And it had been amazing, moving far away from Monte Carlo. No one knew who you were or how deep your history with world famous athletes like Charles or Max went. You reinvented yourself, becoming confident after months of therapy and your intelligence becoming something you were admired for instead of teased. You’d though that was the end of it, that you’d never have to be humiliated or have your heart broken by Max Verstappen again. Until 5 years later when you got a call from Lorenzo asking you to come home.

With the intimate engagement party of your oldest brother being held at your family’s scenic vacation home, you’d been unable to refuse. You knew Max was going to be there, but you’d taken a deep breath and reminded yourself that things were different now. You were 22, a qualified engineer and had used your own hard work to get a job within the Alpine garage - even using your mother’s maiden name as your last name because you wanted to prove it was because of your skill, not connections. Charles had been bewildered, begging you to please come work at Ferrari, bebe but you’d been adamant about needing to prove your own worth. You loved your family, and were so happy for Cha’s success as your relationship with your brothers blossomed into a close, loyal one as adults. It had always been your father’s dream to see him in the red suit. It was unbelievable to have millions of Tifosi literally worship your older brother - and their adoration extended to you, his sweet younger sister Bunny. You make rare appearances on the paddock but were hailed as a good luck charm when you did, Tifosi cheering when you affectionally kiss your brother on both cheeks and tie a hair ribbon to his suit. You always made sure to stay well away from the Redbull garage.

And you’d become radiant in your beauty, too, in pretty, flattering dresses and fitted miniskirts that showed off your soft stomach and thighs, your generous cleavage and juicy ass. Full, lush lips and long dark curls framed your sweetheart face and you’d been finally been able to put makeup on without fear of being mocked. A few guys had tried to ask you out in college, but you hadn’t been quite there yet in your confidence to say yes. Max had seemed to put you off all men, for now at least….and your protective Italian brothers seemed to make it their personal mission to protect your honour and integrity. Very dramatic, you’d said to them with a fond roll of your eyes, secretly enjoying how they cared for you despite their luxurious celebrity lifestyles. So you’d ended up still being a virgin at your college graduation, wanting to save it for the man you fell in love with.

You reminded yourself of all that you had to offer, of how you weren’t the same nerdy little girl who was going to be bullied, when you heard Max would be joining your family prior to the engagement party. The night before he was meant to arrive, you’d been overthinking and anxiously wringing your fingers so hard that your whole family had started demanding to know what was troubling you. After giving them some weak excuse about being worried about your new job, you'd gone to read one of your romance novels by the pool after dinner to destress. You had ended up falling asleep under the stars, your tired mind eager to rest.

You didn’t know the man you were desperately hoping to avoid had landed a night earlier with his private jet. When he’d greeted your middle brother late in the night, saying he would crash for now and greet everyone properly in the morning when they were awake, Charles had gone to bed and the last remaining light of the house switched off. Only the silver moonlight illuminated your pretty face and unsuspecting figure when Max Verstappen stepped outside his bedroom's French doors, hoping to cool off - but instead felt his blood pumping heatedly at the sight of you.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to see you for years as you'd understandably fled to the other side of the continent the second you had the change to escape. You’d turned from a nervous, cute schoolgirl into a gorgeous woman, and his intense gaze hungrily roams over your peaceful sleeping body. He was going to ruin you, he thinks wickedly, gently stroking your still chubby cheeks that subconsciously leaned into his touch.

He decided to give you one last night of quiet as he left you in deep sleep, walking back inside with dark desire brewing. The childish bully he’d been as an angry teen, desperate to prove himself, was gone. He was now a thrice proven world champion, a millionaire, a man who’d been with dozens of women but found only one he still wanted through it all. And it was none other than his racing rival's sweet younger sister, the one who'd stayed loyal to him since she was little. He was ready to make you his, whether you still wanted him or not.

When you finally saw him at breakfast the next morning you had been suspicious at his pleasant behaviour, greeting you like he would any family friend and asking how college had treated you. Your whole body had gone stiff, eyes distrustfully following his every move. You’d been forced to respond back politely as your family watched you, your mum still grinning as she rooted for her daughter to become romantically involved with her childhood crush. If only your family knew how much Max tormented you, they’d never let him get within 10km of you again. But to your surprise, Max kept up his kind manner even when your family would be out of the room, laughing and smiling easily at you and somehow bringing confusing butterflies back to swirl in your stomach. After the week he'd spent at your vacation home, you'd naively started to think maybe he had changed. Maybe the five years away had made him mature into the charming, funny driver you'd seen in numerous interviews and ads, being unable to avoid his far reaching fame.

But it turned out his respectful behaviour, all through the engagement celebrations and the after party, only served as a ploy to get you to foolishly lower your guard. Max had greedily collected up all the information he’d missed over the years, about what your likes and dislikes were now, about how you’d gotten a job with your own means at the F1 paddock. And then he casually informed you over dinner that he’d spoken to Horner who was coincidentally looking for a mechanical engineer - and had wanted to interview you after seeing your resume. Your family had been ecstatic at a job for you in a prestigious garage, despite their blood thirsty Ferrari loyalty. Even Cha had caught you after dinner, telling you that it was thoughtful of Max to look out for you, that as your big brother he’d feel so much better if you were working in a winning team’s garage and being protected by Max, instead of alone in a poorly performing team.

You were so confused, couldn’t understand why Max was trying to get involved - and you told him so that night, hushed angry whispers in the hallway after everyone had gone to bed. He’d smirked, leaning down to press you into the wall, saying Wasn’t it obvious Bunny? I want you.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you stammered out your confusions, asking him why he would say such a thing, only to feel his lips brushing your ear. His deep voice murmured his explanation of how his father didn't think Max had been focused enough when he was younger, had wanted him to throw all distractions to the side...including you. I'm a three time world champion now, Max said with a cocky grin. It doesn't matter what he says anymore, I do what I want.

Although his initial words about how the change in his behaviour being due to his controlling father sent a pang of empathy through you, you hadn't come this far to just give in. You pushed him off you with all your might, only being able to get a couple of inches as you glared and said you're delusional, Max, if you think I'd ever forgive you. Much less want you back after the hell you put me through. Storming off, you naively thought that was the end of it, that Max would back off once he saw you weren't the same lovesick girl he could toy with anymore. Not gonna call me Maxie anymore? he teases at your retreating back.

You should have known Max always got what he wanted, because he finds his way into your bedroom later that night. It was stupid to not lock your room because you think he wouldn't lay a hand on you when under the same roof as your brothers. Softly closing the door behind him, Max's dark gaze took in your curvy, sleeping figure in your childhood room. It was still decorated with your younger self's belongings as your Mama had always wanted you to feel welcome - but you had never come back after graduating. So you slept against a large plushie Bunny, cutely dressed in a pink matching shorts and camisole set. The twisted desire to corrupt the sleeping beauty in front of him rushes to Max's head - and his hardening cock- and he doesn't hesitate to slowly run his large palms over your body. He teasingly slides one hand up your sheer camisole to graze your large tits and the other down your shorts, to lightly toy with your pussy through cotton panties. The sweet dream you'd been having started to turn into a dirty one from the stimulation, and you instinctively grind back against the warm, hard body pressed into your back as you moan sleepily.Your dream is getting more and more heated as Max plays with your sensitive body, and only when you’re starting to drench your panties with slick do your eyes hazily blink open. Your adorably confused expression turns him on even more as he captures your gasp in his mouth, using his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth. Soon he has your panties pulled to one side and his thick finger sliding into your dripping folds. Your muffled protests have started slipping into confused moans, and he doesn't need to keep you silent any longer as start kissing him back when your body's frustrated needs take over your mind's denials. Max looks down on your face, memorising how pretty your wide brown eyes looked as you teared up, and he whispers filthy things in your ear to send you off the edge and spiralling into your first orgasm. You're so sensitive, bunny, you’re still a virgin aren’t you? Saved yourself just for me like a good girl, hmm?

You’d silently cried into your plush toy as you buried your flushed face into it, feeling lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you knew you shouldn't be feeling, that was wrong but felt so right. Drool stained your poor bunny plush as you bit down on it to muffle your scream of Maxie as waves of satisfaction rolled over you. You'd fallen back into a deep sleep after the overwhelming stimulation, distantly feeling Max's lips press a goodnight kiss to your tear stained cheeks. And when you awoke in the morning, you almost thought you'd imagined up the whole thing, a particularly naughty wet dream, but when you found that your panties were missing underneath your cute pajama shorts you knew there was only one person who would have taken them with him.

You didn’t even get a chance to confront him because you find out the very same day that Max had gotten his lawyer to cancel your Alpine contract and have Redbull send you a new one, complete with a generous signing bonus that anyone would be a fool to refuse. With your family watching you expectantly, you knew it would be too hard to explain your way out of this. So you reluctantly signed the 1 year contract, telling yourself it was only a temporary problem, that you would surely be hiding out the back of the garage and in the workshops, well away from your childhood bully.

That’s all Max needed to get you alone, to start his corruption of you, his favourite Leclerc sibling. Right from your first day, he’d welcomed you with a firm hug, his swollen biceps pressing you against his broad chest, squeezing your plump ass and making you squeal - but striding off before you could say anything. Or coming up behind you when you were bent over, tinkering on something, and making sure you could feel his impressive semi against your covered slit. You'd always desperately try to move away, anxious someone would see - but you stood no chance against the adult Max's strength when he tightened his grip around your thick hips and grinded himself on your jiggling ass.

He still teased you, sure, but now it came off as harmless flirting, steeped into your childhood friendship. And conflicting feelings swirled in your chest when you saw the lucky ribbon you’d gifting him as a kid somehow still tied to his seat, an ever present good luck charm. Everyone else would smile at you two encouragingly, saying you looked so sweet together, where you secretly a couple? No one seemed to share your nervousness around Redbull's champion driver, or pick up on the undertone of darkness in his intense gaze when he looked at you.

Soon he has you travelling exclusively with him, staying in all the same hotels, under the guise of being his personal mechanic for any last minute corrections. Charles loved it, saying this way Max could always keep a close eye on you when you were away from home. If only your overprotective brother knew he was sending his little sister right into the den of the lion. And the so called Dutch Lion was no longer holding himself back from taking your sweet innocence all for himself.

You'd always belonged to him, after all.

It first started when he’d gotten absolutely furious seeing you at a race afterparty in Miami, giggling cutely in a pretty minidress with an engineer you’d started to flirt with at work. Max had all but dragged you to his private booth, tossing you over his strong shoulder when you tried to stand your ground and stand firmly in your strappy high heels. He kicked all the models and B list celebrities trying to leech out of the dimly lit room, pushing your head down till you were staring up at him, your pretty face bathed in the red neon lights as you anxiously bite your glossed lip.

If you wanted to get fucked so bad, he growled deeply, unbuckling his belt and making your eyes go wide with fear as the biggest cock you’d ever seen emerges, you can just beg for it nicely like the good little slut you are, hmm? You’re sniffling, tears emerging in your wide doe eyes as you beg him please Maxie, please don't do this, I promise I’ll stop-

But he doesn’t listen to one pleading word, his twisted mind obsessed with one thing and one thing only - making the pure Leclerc sweetheart gag and choke on his mean cock. You knew better than to get in the way of what Max wanted, because he always ended up getting it. Instead you let your mind go blank, letting the guilty pleasure cloud your senses to ignore the reality of how mean Max was being, your pliant mouth dropping open as you let him ruin your throat. There isn’t a glimmer of his childhood sweetness in his dark, icy blue eyes as he memorizes the hypnotising sight of your chubby cheeks slurping at raging erection, the tears falling down your face at performing your first blowjob on your knees at a nightclub just making him impossibly harder. He groans as your sweet mouth slurps on his warm length, continuing to whisper his filthy promises to punish you and slipping into dutch as he climaxed. Fuck, fuck, erg lekker, so fucking good- He made sure your crying cheeks was pressed right into his tense abs when he finally emptied his load inside you, panting heavily from how good your heavenly tongue felt. He didn’t move until you followed his instructions and tried to swallow every drop. Your inexperienced mouth struggled, half of his sticky cum leaking out the corners of your mouth. He tutted mockingly, smearing his release all over your swollen lips with his thumb and saying he’d have to give your throat so much more training so it knew how to suck a cock, hmm?

Your cheeks burned with humiliation at failing to please him properly, even though he was practically forcing you to deepthroat him. The next day, when you woke up with no voice, you’d had to pretend you had a cold when seeing Cha for brunch the next morning.

And when he’d have a bad qualifying, he’d easily swipe his way into your hotel room two doors down from his. He often finds you in a cute silky babydoll, getting ready to sleep after a long day in the garage but making sure to dress prettily because you never know when Max is in a bad mood and wants to take it out on you. You had one more job to do, and that’s to make up for whatever mistake you must have made with the car and fucked up his hot lap, Max would argue. An angry Max always scared you so you would sweetly beg for his forgiveness, even for a mistake you would never have made on the car, letting him abuse your petite frame to vent his frustrations.

Tonight, he wanted to play with your breasts, sliding the silky straps off your nightie off your shoulders to hungrily eye your curves, tanned nipples quickly tightening from the chill. Can’t get enough of these pretty fucking tits, he said as he sloppily fucked them while you obediently kneeled in between his spread legs. You’re squeezing your plush chest together to cushion his raging erection, his angry red tip making you squeal when he growls and splatters cum all over your deliciously tanned skin. Knowing he’d get mad if you don’t let him mark his territory, you rub the sticky cream all over your hardened nipples and large breasts before you clean up his drooling cockhead with your mouth. He cooes his praises at you, telling you see, you’re perfect at this, maybe he’ll have you promoted from engineer to his personal cocksleeve to relieve his stress, hmm?

You feel so dirty at the wetness gushing between your legs at his filthy words, biting your lip at the thought of Max fucking you in his driver’s room while your brothers stood just a garage over in Ferrari. But despite his constant teasing, he knew to never cross the line fully and actually fuck you. That would scare you away, make you too anxious, and although he played rough and mean when he'd been younger, he now had the patience to wait and leave you wanting more, so that you'd be the one to come to him. So he edged you constantly, working you up only to pull away just as you almost climaxed, his name on your tongue like a prayer. Or pulling you into sleep against his bare muscled chest, so that you'd feel his morning wood against your soaked panties but be unable to do anything except dry hump him.

And his plan worked because after only a few months, your once pure and innocent mind has become utterly ruined for Max’s attention. The Dutch Lion has convinced you that you’re meant to be his plaything, and you can’t find it within you to try and deny him any longer. Would it truly be so wrong to give in to the naughty desires you’d been having about your childhood sweetheart, your school bully, your brother’s rival on track but friend that had been trusted to keep his little sister safe? When you’d grown too desperate to satisfy yourself by grinding on your pillow or your tiny fingers, you’d decided to entice Max even more in the hopes that he’d properly take your innocence.

You’d certainly caught the Dutchman’s eye, as well as many other hungry gazes, when you started arriving on the paddock in cute heels and floral minidresses. And of course, your generous cleavage was out on full display in sweetheart necklines, instead of conservatively hidden in an oversized Redbull shirt. You’d made sure to have your lanyard tucked right in between your bouncing tits too, the label of Max Verstappen’s Enineering Team dangling and drawing attention with each bounce of your tits when you walked. Because you knew your Maxie just as well as he knew you, after all - and he was a intensely competitive and jealous man. You hadn’t even had to wait till the debrief as he’d hightailed it right out of the meeting room, taking you to his motor home through a back passage.

You still play the clueless little virgin, adamant on trying to resist him even though you're secretly finding it just as dirty and hot as Max does when he shoves you against the door, locking it firmly. Fuck, your body drives me wild, it’s all your fault that I’m getting distracted like this. How can you be such a naive virgin but walk around with the body of a slut just begging to get fucked, huh?

You frantically shake your head, trying to plead your innocence but he doesn’t hear your words, instead grabbing a hold of your miniskirt and asking if you understood girls with thick asses like you shouldn’t be showing them off unless you wanted attention, yeah? You started crying easily, already finding your thoughts going fuzzy as you slipped into submission, craving the way he’d degrade you for his own pleasure.

He’d have to punish you for distracting him, he said, even though he’d won P1 it had been torture seeing your fat ass bending over when you dropped your phone in front of him. You were lucky no one else had seen your cotton panties or he’d have to fucking kill them.

His possessive words make you shiver, doe brown eyes staring up at him expectantly and waiting for his orders. He swears at your obedient expression and guides your hand to his sizeable bulge, making you squeal, hoping it sounds like fright and not eagerness. He rubs your tiny palm across his pants, demanding to know just how the hell he was meant to focus with a hard on the whole race?

When you can’t answer him properly he smirks and tells you that you’ll just have to take your punishment like a good girl, then. Within seconds he has you lying across his lap, your miniskirt up around your hips and white cotton panties pulled down to snugly trap your thick thighs together. And then he’s spanking you with his large hands, telling you to count and meanly restarting each time you lost track when he hits extra hard to watch your ass bounce. By the time he’s finally content your cheeks are red and burning, and you’ve left drool all over his sofa from your desperate efforts to muffle your wails.

You like that, don’t you bunny? He asks meanly. You start sniffling again at his mean words, cheeks burning with humiliation because it had felt soooo good but you felt so naughty for enjoying it. You'd die if he found out. So instead you tell him he was being so mean, Maxie, couldn’t he just be nice to you like when he’d been younger?

Your eyes widen as you blurt the words out instinctively, making Max’s expression grow stormy at your bratty reply. Ripping your panties off entirely, he stuffs them into his pocket and tells you to explain why you’re fucking dripping all over me then, hmm? - running his thick fingers along your dripping cunny and smirking at the long strands of sticky wetness that connect to his fingers when he pulls away. When you don’t respond, too embarrassed by how your body has given you away, he slides the fingers into your closed mouth despite your attempts to turn your head. He makes you lick him clean, tasting yourself on him, murmuring if you were a good slut and spread your legs for him he might consider eating you out.

The ache between your thighs is almost as painful as your tender ass now, and your virgin cunny tingles from the idea of Max kissing you down there. Even though he’s being so mean, you can’t help but sit down willingly against the sofa arm and slowly part your thick thighs, blushing all the while as he examines you intently. You whine when his hungry gaze continues to linger, but he doesn’t stop, even taking out his phone to snap photos of your pussy after holding your thighs open to stop you frantically closing them when you see what he’s doing. It’s so cute and wet he murmurs distractedly, looking entranced as he slowly sinks a single thick finger in and finds it completely sucked in by your tight, drooling pussy. Really, you’ve never let any boy except for me touch you here, not even with his fingers? At the shake of your head and shy murmur of no, just my own, I promise, Maxie he breaks into an evil, satisfied grin. So this little hole is really all mine to claim, huh?

It turns out going down on you was really more of a punishment than a pleasure because he makes you cum multiple times with his skilled tongue. You’re begging him to stop, feeling overstimulated and completely wrecked, mascara stained tears running over your chubby cheeks. When he finally eases his sadistic torture after teasing flicks of his broad tongue have you squirting a third time, you’re too fucked out to protest him separating your puffy cunny lips and spitting onto it, as if it belonged to him. Bunny, if your brothers knew the kind of things I was doing to their precious baby sister, Max says, chuckling darkly. They’d want to slam me straight into the nearest barricade and have my head on a spike.

But your brothers remain as oblivious to your corruption as ever, with an endless supply of work excuses easily being used by Max and now you, as you started to fully give in and enjoy the intense pleasure being his personal fucktoy brought you. He’d taken your sweet virginity on a hot night in Singapore after beating Charles to P1, telling you that the best reward wasn’t the trophy but knowing he got to cum raw inside your untouched cunny. After plying you with champagne at the yacht afterparty, he'd taken you back and fucked you on the French chaise, not even making it to the bed. He’d been gentle the first time, huskily whispering praises in your ears as you desperately tried to adjust to the size, his cock so much larger than his fingers. He licked away the tears at the corner of your eyes as you bite his shoulder, lost in the waves of pleasure as you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally carries you over to the bed, climbing over your satisfied figure, you’re fooled into thinking he’s going to cuddle you. He’s turning you onto your front and you’re expecting to feel him behind you, bringing you into him as his little spoon like he does ever night. But your sleepy eyes go wide open when your thick hips are suddenly pulled up into the air, and your flushed face pressed down firmly into the sheets. And then he huskily whispers it’s time to fuck you properly, be a good bunny for me and take it, okay?

You wailed into the cushions, your open mouth leaving drool all over the pillowcases, as his cock bullies your tight cunny over and over. He reaches around to toy with your sensitive clit, smirking when your crying turned into confused moans of pleasure as the pressure in your pussy starts to feel so good. Soon he’s slamming his hard length into your twitching figure, slapping your red plump ass repeatedly and telling you how funny it’d be if Charlie found out his rival had claimed your virginity, hmm? Should he tell him next time the Ferrari driver tried to one up him on the track? You sob, begging him not to tell your protective brother, shaking your ass onto him and telling him he could even cum inside if he wanted instead of telling your brother. Max groans at your gullibility. Silly girl, he croons as he bends down to whisper in your ear, his muscled abs pressing down on you. I was always going to do that anyways, hmm? This ass belongs to me.

And then he’s moaning into your drooling mouth as his hips still above yours, draining his heavy balls into your pussy that had already been stuffed full of his thick, creamy load from the first round. Rivulets of your mixed juices run down the inside of your thighs, overflowing from the sheer amount of cum he’s pumped you full of. You know better than to ask him to wear a condom, instead praying that it was the wrong time of the month to get knocked up. Especially when he doesn’t let you get up and try to pee it out, instead murmuring he’s just going to stuff a couple of fingers inside and make sure you don’t waste anymore, okay? You try to resist, crawling away and wanting to save your poor, overstimulated clit but once again Max easily holds you still. Hmm, guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson and use my cock to plug you up, he threatens meanly, making tears fall down your face again and his dick twitches with interest. Every man had his pleasures, and world champion Max Verstappen’s was to see the Leclerc baby sister crying and begging for him. Sick bastard, you think distantly through a pleasurable haze as he sinks back inside your gummy walls and makes you keep his cock warm.

Your secret affair with the Dutch Lion continues easily throughout the year. And at the end of your contract, at the yearly FIA prizegiving, you attend with Charles instead of with the Redbull team, dutifully doing your part as the Leclerc sister now that your term at a rival garage was done. At one point you get up from dinner, saying you had to find the bathroom, but end up gone for 20 minutes, missing Cha being awarded overtake of the year for when his Ferrari had divebombed the leading Redbull. Later, when everyone is mingling, Charles walks over to Max’s table, shaking his hand and taking a seat to reminisce about the season. They’d come so far together from their childhood karting days, wasn’t it heartwarming now that they stood together on the F1 stage?

The two men laugh, catching up on missed updates during the busy end of season. Soon they’re talking about their love lives, Max congratulating Cha on his relationship he’s recently made public. The Ferrari driver warmly returns the compliment, saying whoever the Redbull driver was seeing recently must be treating him well because he’s never seen Max so relaxed before. He’s seen the gossip magazines speculate who the silhouette of a mystery girl seen making out on Max’s lap in a paparrazi shot through his car window. Max slyly commented that it was good the camera hadn’t been able to go lower, because then they’d have seen that she’d actually been bouncing on my dick underneath her skirt. Charles laughs at Max’s deviousness, patting him on the back for being such a shameless fucker.

Charles had forgotten to go find the youngest Leclerc, which was just as well because he would never have been able to guess where you had been hiding. You’re diligently on your knees, drooling on Max’s cock underneath the tablecloth, safely tucked in close between his spread legs. Your brother is completely unaware that the girl he and Max are joking about is his innocent baby sister, who’s currently worshipping his rival’s thick length eagerly. Paying the price for her brother’s overtake on the track with her glossy pink lips, just as Max had ordered you too when he found out what award his rival was getting tonight.

As the night continues, all formality lost as the party goers make use of the open bar, it was all to easy for the blonde Dutchman to make you follow him to the private bathroom. It’s so degrading, so mean of Max to do this, to have you on the dirty bathroom floor with your pretty curls unpinned from the classy updo you’d spend ages styling. Your expensive red silk dress hangs off your hips and exposes your bare, bouncing tits to his hungry gaze. So slutty, no bra and all, hmm? You wanted me to fuck you tonight, didn’t you? Answer me! He slaps his hard length repeatedly against your chubby cheeks, spraying precum everywhere and making your perfect makeup run.

Soon mascara stained tears are dripping down your face as Max makes you finish sloppily sucking him off, his phone camera on you and recording every single filthy sound that fills the air. It’s obscene, the way his huge cock stretches your small plush lips open all the way and your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his tip grazes the back of your throat. Hmm, so eager to drink my cum, aren’t you? He coos, and you nod dazedly, your doe eyes glassy. Fuck, you’re such a good little slut, letting me do whatever I want you to your body. My own personal fucktoy. Bet you’d even let me piss down your throat if I wanted, huh?

You gag at this, trying to shake your head but finding it impossible with the strong grip he has on your hair. Max chuckles at your panicked expression, reassuring you not to worry, he wasn’t that mean. You don’t believe him, because later he bends you over the bathroom counter and makes you look in the mirror to see where his leaking cock repeatedly sinks in to the hilt, stretching your cunny out yet again, filling it with his thick seed. You text Cha some excuse about feeling unwell and leaving early as Max buckles you into his passenger seat, knowing there was no way you could explain your absolutely wrecked appearance to your brother afterwards.

You’ve realized that the legal end of your Redbull contract really had no say on anything. Because at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was what Max wanted - and he wanted you to stay by his side, forever. So you let him take your hand in his a few months later at Lorenzo’s wedding, revealing the secret relationship to your family. Your mother is overjoyed, telling you both that you always had her blessing, ever since you’d been kids. Your brothers take a lot more convincing, of course, as well as Max swearing privately to Cha that you certainly hadn’t been the girl from the paparazzi car incident, he’d never treat the Leclerc princess like that of course! He was a playboy before, sure, but for you he was willing to stop all that and commit.

Charles gives you two his begrudging yes, seeing how attentive Max was with you, always intently watching you whenever you entered the same room as him and always knowing where you were if you walked away. And the way you’d look up adoringly at the blonde, desire and love clear in your doe eyes. Soon you’ve accepted Max’s offer to move into his penthouse, unpacking all the lingerie and diamond necklace sets he’s been buying you for months. And when he comes home at the end of a tiring day, sighing and settling on the living room couch, you now know to anticipate Max’s needs before he has to tell you. You crawl over to him, wearing skimpy lingerie in his favourite colour, nuzzling your face into his clothed thigh and asking please Maxie, could you please suck him off, your mouth felt empty without him?

He places a loving kiss to your forehead and unbuckles his belt for you, cooing praises at what a good little pet you were being for him. This time, when he cums, you have no issue greedily swallowing every single drop of his hot, sticky cum, licking your well trained lips. So yummy, Maxie…Would you like my pussy or my ass next?

He smirks down at your slutty words, a dazed expression on your face, dumbly ready to please him however he liked, whenever he was in the mood, wherever he wants it. Nothing quite beats having his own personal toy, even if it’s taken some time to break you in. Doesn’t matter now, though, because it has been worth it. Because you’ll never leave his side again, completely devoted to him, the concept of being with any other man ruined for you.

Time for him to make good on his childhood promise, Max thinks. Make you his vrouw, his wife, once and for all.

[acoazlove]

A New Place

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Your birthday felt ruined until you met someone new.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

─────────────────────────

They forgot. They forgot that it’s your birthday.

You really couldn’t blame them considering they all have their own lives and issues to deal with, but it didn’t make it any easier.

The main problem you have isn’t really that they had forgotten your birthday, it’s actually that they had celebrated every other holiday and birthday no matter what was going on. They dropped everything for everyone. Except for you.

So to say it hurts is an understatement. The forgotten sister, as per usual. Always left behind and pushed to the side. You suppose it makes sense considering you’re the youngest of your sisters. Always pushed to the side, whether it was intended or not.

For the last three years, things had gone from bad to worse, to just about perfect for your family. But not for you, you felt like a burden. Birthdays are supposed to be special, to celebrate whose day it was. It certainly didn’t feel like it right now.

Wandering through the River House, not a single soul in sight. Everything felt too quiet. No breakfast being made, no presents—not that you expected to get any—and none of your sisters to greet even. They were who you wanted to see right now.

Instead, you make your way to the kitchen and grab an apple instead. As you were about to leave to go for a walk, you hear loud laughing coming from the front door. In walks your sisters, their mates following close behind.

As they make their way to split off from each other, you only get a few smiles and greetings. Nothing else. That’s how you know they have forgotten. So you give them a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Once they’re all out of the doorway, and not giving you a second thought, you take that as your sign to finally go for your walk. The walls now feel incredibly claustrophobic.

What you don’t notice is a certain pair of hazel eyes studying you as you tug on your coat, and pull the door open. The spymaster’s calculated gaze, noticing everything no matter how discrete you think you’re being. His shadows agitatedly circled him as you passed the threshold.

─

Dress brushing the cobblestone streets of Valaris as you stroll down and take in your surroundings, relishing in the fresh air and sunlight warming that previous coldness you felt from the negative start to the day.

Walking past shops, bakeries, and cafes. Passing an oh-so-familiar bookstore before doubling back to head into. You think that maybe browsing for an hour or so could help brighten your already tiring day. Without realising you’re already ambling your way over to the shelves.

Picking up many books, reading their synopsis, and then putting them back in their previous places, you finally find a book that interests you. Feyre’s money isn’t mine. A sour taste fills your mouth at that thought, so you decide against getting it.

Exiting the lovely bookstore with a wave to the cashier you think it might be time to make your way back to the house. Maybe you’ll be able to fix up some food once you’re back. Mindlessly dawdling you through the crowded streets, then deciding to take the long way. There’s no need to be home any earlier than needed.

Moving by stores you’d never seen or heard of before, peering in through the windows, but not daring to go in. A sign catches your eye, ‘Benny’s Bar’ read above the doorway. From the outside, it looks similar to one that you remember in the human lands, just not nearly as beat up. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, hopefully, they’re not too expensive.

You enter, not giving yourself enough time to argue, and the strong scent of alcohol quickly invades your senses. Ignoring it you meander over to the bar.

The interior is much nicer than what you see from the street, with dark wood floors, and the walls a deep shade of green. The same wood as the flooring extends up the wall behind the bar, lined with long shelves, and all kinds of liquor. The tables scattered around the room were well worn, in a charming and homey way, with mismatched chairs pushed under them. Old paintings that seem to have been passed down for generations are pinned up around the room. The lights dim but not dingy, giving the place a warm glow without being too bright.

Passing by the fae, face down on the tables, and loud groups either brainlessly arguing with one another or laughing their asses off, either way, their conversations were unintelligibly slurred. Glancing at the clock hung above the door frame, you wonder just how long they had to have been since it’s only two o’clock. A loud breath escapes you, registering that you’re joining them. Disregard that thought and slide onto a stool regardless of the depressing realisation.

You finally grant yourself a minute to have a proper look at the people working. A large, muscular, older-looking male is behind the bar pouring out drinks, while also barking orders at a couple of younger males out the back, in the kitchen. A tall, black-haired female, her face lips set in a firm line, as she saunters around the room, handing out the drinks the larger male poured. Another stocky male makes his way around the room to wipe down tables and booths, while also pushing in chairs and picking up dirty plates and empty glasses

But the fae who sticks out to you is a female with deep blue skin, and hair a darker navy shade as she walks by some large cabinets with a heavy-looking crate in her arms. Once she notices your presence, a charming smile stretches across her lips and makes her way over to you. Your lips quirk up in response.

“Hi, Love, what can I get you?” her voice has a lovely rasp to it. However, your face heats for an entirely different reason, not having any experience with taverns in general, but also not much with alcohol either.

Contemplating your answer, your hands wringing together in your lap, “What do you recommend?” your words come out softer than intended. Her smile softens slightly, and it makes you tense up, now feeling out of place. “Don’t drink much?”

Her words cause a soft huff to pass your lips. “Not really.” your shoulders slump forward, but her smile brightens once again as she heads over to the alcohol-filled shelves that line the wall behind her. Grabbing a bottle of clear liquid, and a tall glass. She takes the lid off with a pop, and pours out a small amount, slowly sliding the glass across to you. She watches you, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

You pick up the drink, lift it to your nose, and instantly recoil. The smell felt like it singed your nose hairs. A soft chuckle escapes the female's lips. “I wouldn’t recommend sniffing it,” she leans over the counter as if to tell you a secret, “It’s easier if you down it in one go.”

With a slight nod, you lift the glass to your lips, follow her advice a down it in one go. It burns your throat as it slides down, and your nose scrunches slightly in response. “Didn’t taste easier.” a snort escapes her. “Unfortunately this bar doesn’t have any of the fancy sweet drinks that others do.” Your lips curve up. “I’m Benny by the way.” The Owner. Your grin grows a little and you give her your name.

─

Hours later you’re in the same spot, conversation is flowing easily with Benny—who hasn’t left her spot behind the bar since you entered. Refill your drinks when needed. The alcohol is easier with every drink you have. The bad morning your day started with is like a distant memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see It’s now dark out.

Sloppily turning to the clock to see the time—11:30—then back to face the female in front of you, now aware of the fact that you had spent your entire birthday in a tavern, you let out a long sigh. Benny tilts her head to the side from the sound, but as she opens her mouth to speak you beat her to it.

“It’s my birthday.” you blurt out, words coming out slurred, but you brush it off and continue. “My entire family forgot. Didn’t even wish me a happy birthday before I left the house.” a small sniffle followed your words.

Benny frowns. “I know who your family is, honey,” you stiffen and she resumes. “You never know, they could have a surprise birthday waiting for you.” trying to lighten your mood at least a little bit, and it makes you straighten briefly before your shoulders curl inward once again. Not believing her words. And by the way, Benny shifts on her feet, you know she doesn’t even believe it.

“Unlikely,” you mumble. Finger swirling around the edge of your empty glass. Benny lets out a huff, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar before she turns around and grabs a different bottle from the shelf, a rich brown one. She also grabs another glass before turning back to you.

She pours a generous amount into both glasses, and rather than bringing it straight to her mouth she holds it in the air, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. So you mirror her movement. She clinks her glass with yours, “To you! Happy Birthday, Love.” Both of you finish your drinks in one go.

“Thank you, Benny.” Looking over your shoulder another sigh exits you. “I should head back now.” Turning back to her. She nods.

As you slide off your seat, swaying as you straighten your dress, readying to leave. “If you need a place to stay, I have an apartment upstairs that needs an owner.” she offers just as you are about to turn away. “I know I don't know your current situation, but a new place to stay might do you some good.” A smile tugs at your lips.

“I don’t have money to pay for it,” You reply. Yes, your sister and her mate have more money than one ever could imagine, you still couldn’t help but feel like you’d owe them if you used any more of it than just drinks you had today.

Benny dismisses your words with a wave of her hand. “Don't worry about that, I have an opening to work here.” she gestures to the bar. “If you don't, I could always help you find a different one.”

Your smile softened slightly. “Thank you, Benny,” repeating your words from earlier. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, you wave her goodbye and exit the tavern. Swaying and stumbling drunkenly over the uneven cobblestone streets, as your mind churns with the thoughts that your family are most likely gathered in the living room, after sharing a lovely family dinner. They’ll probably judge you for the fact that you had a couple of drinks too many, that thought makes you feel a little queasy.

─

After a long time of manoeuvring your way through the nearly empty streets, you finally find yourself staring at the front door of the River House. Dread fills you thinking about what kind of conversation you’re about to have.

With a heavy sigh, you push the door open, stepping inside. The first thing you hear is their loud laughter. The door closes behind you louder than expected, and you grimace. The voices quiet down as you stumble your way towards the sitting room. From the doorway you see all heads turn to you. Everyone’s here. Even Lucien and Varian are seated next to their partners.

“Y/N!” Feyres's cheery voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Your back.” You step closer, her nose flares subtly, and her smile falters. But Nesta’s the one who says something. “You smell like a Tavern.” Her tone is sharp enough to make you flinch.

“I had a couple of drinks.” your reply words slurred, shrugging your shoulders drunkenly, and an uncomfortable silence follows.

“More like the whole bottle.” Mor seemingly trying to lighten the mood, her joke makes a couple of people snicker.

“We didn’t even notice you were gone.” Amren deadpans. Heads whipped in her direction at her statement, ready to scold her. “It’s true. Don’t even try to deny it.” Her voice is harsh.

Your brows pull together at the fact that no one tried to argue, and your nonchalance falters, giving way to frustration and anger at the entirety of the situation and your ruined day.

“It’s my Birthday.” your voice a near growl. Everyone’s eyes widen both at your admission and at your unusual tone of voice. Usually so soft-spoken, and gentle. The complete opposite of right now. Another disappointment.

“I was willing to chalk it up as stress from your own lives.” Your breathing ragged. “But you've been sitting here for hours and like Amren said, you didn’t even realise I was gone for something as small as a family dinner!”

Your eyes flit around the room as you continue, “Oh, and not to mention the fact that you have all taken the time to celebrate every other holiday and birthday! I guess my day isn't important enough to remember compared to the festivities that hardly even get recognized by the general public!” You practically spat your words.

Now you take a moment to look around at them. Feyre’s face is contorted in guilt, Elain looks as if she might cry, Nesta’s staring at her lap, and everyone else is either wide-eyed or unable to meet your gaze.

The lack of response further fuels your rage. The only person who looks as if they might say something is Azriel. His usually stoic features falter, but he hesitates. A look crossing his face that you couldn’t quite make out. Not wanting to linger on that any longer, you turn your gaze back to the rest of them.

You scoff. “Nothing?” Looking up at the ceiling, too many emotions are warring in you and are far too much for you to handle in your drunken state.

At the extended silence, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the entrance. No one even calls after you. That's enough for you to grasp the fact that you can't stay here. Not anymore.

The door slamming behind you, rings throughout the house. It didn’t matter as the cool nighttime air slammed into you, the lingering effects of the alcohol wearing off entirely.

Your arms wrap around yourself to keep the cold out as you amble down the streets of the City of Starlight, the stars shining above you now not bringing the same comfort as they once did. Once again you find yourself outside a familiar building. Making your way inside, Instantly finding who you unconsciously were looking for.

Benny turns towards the entrance as the door shuts, her face falls as she takes in your expression. She quickly makes her way to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you to a more private corner of the tavern.

“Is your offer still on the table?” Your voice is hoarse and watery. Benny gives a nod, ushering you passed the kitchen and up a set of stairs.

A new place. Already feeling more at home than with those who are supposed to care for you.

─────────────────────────

a/n: I know there isn’t any interactions between Az and Reader yet but there will be! This didn’t come out exactly how I wanted, so I might came back to this at some point, and there might also be some spelling mistakes. The editing took longer than expected so sorry for the delay. I’ll try and get a part two out as soon as I can, hope you enjoyed. <3

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @blackgirlmagicforever

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.2

christmas special

previous part next part

summary : Lando Norris’ teasing doesn’t stop on the slopes. With cold weather, bad skiing, lots of unwanted flirting (or at least that’s what lando thinks), and a soothing hot tub, another day in your new favorite christmas town is done.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : suggestive comments! dual pov! swearing! i’m starting to love this fr! comment to be on tag list <3

words : 3885

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Morning, Sunshine!” Lando Norris swings my door open, leaning against the door and smirking at me.

Max pops out behind him, “Time to hit the slopes!”

P is the third in my door frame, “Up and at ‘em!” I loudly groan and push my face back into my pillow. Fuck my weird friends and their urge to piss me off.

⋆༺

lando

P forces us all into a shop to look for hand warmers before we go on the slopes. I find a candy cane and pop it in my mouth while looking around mindlessly, not truly caring about the small things.

I find Y/n looking at the Christmas cards. I tug on her braid, her head dipping back as she yelps slightly. Turning to me with a stern look on her face she says, “Can’t you go bother Max for once?”

I grin, the candy between my teeth. “You’re so much nicer to look at though.” Her eyes roll and she turns back to the cards. I get closer, looking over her shoulder, “Late shopping?”

She eyes me, “Just looking.”

I hum to the Christmas music playing and reach over her shoulder to grab a card, “I like this one.”

She scoffs, looking at it with me, “Of course you do.” I laugh as I read the piece of paper.

It has a little Santa stuck in a chimney and reads, ‘I might not come down the chimney, but will surely go down on you.’

She does not find this as funny as me, but I still clock the smile on her face. She smells like cinnamon and peppermint, but that could also be my candy.

“What did you ask Mr Claus for christmas?” I ask her as she turns to face me fully.

“Definitely not dirty Christmas cards.” She scoffs, motioning to the others on the shelf, “My ex to stop calling me? My work to pay better? A trip to Paris?”

I raise a brow, “You know there’s a great little feature called ‘block’, right?” I only really heard the first thing she said. I joked about her ex but am not liking the sound of him calling her still.

She sighs, crossing her arms over her sweater, “What’d you ask for, then? A good start from pole?”

“Mmm, there’s my little comedian.” I feel like I'm in F1 twitter when I'm around her. Biting the end of my candy cane, I answer her question, “I asked for Someone to go down on.”

She lets out a genuine laugh, “You mean someone to go down on you?”

“No.” It’s quick because I mean it. Her brow raises slightly as I look her up and down before leaving her in the paper aisle. I’m serious too, but I left out the part that I’d hoped would be her.

“Bob!” Max says as I walk up to him and P, they’re staring at gloves. “Need your help mate, pink or yellow?”

“God I was better off with your sister.” I quickly turn, making my way back to Y/n.”

She’s still next to the cards, I see the back of her as I approach. But something’s… off. There’s a man I do not know, making her laugh…?

Fuck no.

I can’t see her face but I can see his, definitely not her type. Blonde, blue eyes, swedish? Who cares.

I switch my candy cane to the other side of my mouth, walking up with one hand in my pocket and an annoying smile on my face.

The guy sees me and his smile instantly fades. I stand behind Y/n again as I hear her sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re Lando Norris.”

I blink, pulling the candy cane out of my mouth and looking him dead in the eye, “I don’t know who that is.”

He says an awkward goodbye and just as I think Y/n is going to yell at me, she turns, laughing. “You’re an ass.”

Her laugh makes something inside of me warm, “Yeah, I know.”

Max and P pop into our aisle, “I chose yellow!” Max smiles as his eyes move between the two of us.

I step around her, getting far before Max senses anything, “Perfect bro, really your color.” Y/n says sarcastically as she follows me out.

P gives us both a look as I stare down the blonde one last time.

⋆༺

I’m snowboarding with P while Max and Y/n are Skiing. I try not to laugh at Y/n as she falls on her ass but It just comes out! I ended up halfway down the hill while halfway on my board after she pushed me.

The snow last night was perfect and Max and I cruised for some time after losing Y/n and P. “I’m calling P.” I say after they stopped responding to us.

It’s Y/n who answers. She sounds panicked, “Lando!?”

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” I look at Max who sees my face and gets just as nervous as me. I can hear her heavy breathing, “Hey, seriously, what is it?”

“P got hurt and we’re in the lodge and-” Max stops breathing as Y/n sniffles, “And you two are so fucked and tell Max he’s sleeping on the couch!” Her change in tone makes my heart slow and my eyes roll.

“So she’s fine?” I ask, a little sassy now.

“Yes you asshole! We’re getting hot chocolate because you two ditched us!” Max grabs the phone and starts yelling at his sister.

I can’t help but laugh at the scene unfold. Max starts walking away, carrying his board as I struggle to unlock my boots to go after him.

P is most definitely is fine, and Max is most definitely laying it on thick. “My love!” He hugs me from behind as she rolls her eyes, bringing her drink to her lips.

I slide a chair next to Y/n and lean close to her. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say anything, barely even moves.

“You’re evil, Sunshine.” I see the smirk on her face as her shoulders lift up and down softly.

“Not evil, just motivated.” The corner of my mouth lifts, something that’s out of my control when I'm this close to her.

P and Max giggling force me to look away from her and focus on the loving couple. P has her hand on his face as he stands behind her chair still, “Alright! Who’s up to hit the slopes?”

I keep learning more and more things about Y/n on this trip and today is no different. This woman cannot ski.

“Christ, Y/n!” Max yells at her from the top of the mountain. We all just watched Y/n fall on her face while getting off the ski lift. “Should I even trust you to go down this mountain alone?”

“Don’t worry Maxie!” I grin, slapping my hand on Y/n’s head, “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Right like you’re any better! If I leave her with you then she might just end up getting pranked on your instagram story.” P laughs at this.

“Why doesn’t she just chill on a bunny slope?”

“Um excuse me! I am not that bad! I can handle myself!” Right as she says this, she slips but catches herself, clearing her throat. “It’s fine.”

Besides my slight concern for Y/n slowly following behind us, it’s a great day on the slopes. None of us are experts so we keep it chill and fun. Plus I know i’ll be sore if I do too much.

P races me to the bottom for the third time and just when I'm about to tap out, I see some guy talking to Y/n. Her gloves and goggles are off and I'm so distracted that I almost get knocked over by Max trying to stop.

Max and I are both about to walk over to her but P stops us in our tracks, holding us by the hoods of our jackets. “You two are the absolute worst, she does not need this right now!”

“I’m not letting her have some holiday fling after her heart was ripped out by that idiot!” Interesting reaction from Max.

He’s always been passionate about his sister's safety and has not once liked any boyfriend. But this is new and a bit threatening.

“You don’t have to ‘let’ her do anything! She’s a grown woman who’s pissed off and deserves a good man.”

“Like he’s a good man?” I mumble, watching the guy bite his lip and flip back his stupid fluffy hair that falls in his eyes.

I can feel P staring at me. “Both of you shut up and go get in line for the lift.” Y/n turns back to us, clearing seeing us watching and looking away quickly.

She excuses herself, blushing a bit and it’s definitely not from the cold. I know there’s a disgusted expression on my face and I don’t even try to change it.

I know she’s pretty.

Scratch that, she’s beautiful. Like actually the sort of stunning that makes her feel like a magnet. I know this about her! I tell her often.

But I do forget that she actually is seen by everyone else around us. I see the turning heads, the guys going up to her, I've just chosen to ignore it. Twice in one day is a little too much for our wholesome Christmas week though.

Maybe it’s too much for me because I hate every man that even looks her way.

P breaks the silence, “He was cute.”

Max groans at his girlfriend's comment, “Don’t encourage her!”

“Chill out! He was way too old.” Max looks shocked that this is his only flaw, “And i’m spending christmas with you guys blah blah blah, come on! I’m ready to ski again.”

Max drops a glove off the ski lift and we fall back into our usual friendship banter. I do love my friends, even if Y/n won’t admit she likes me in the slightest.

I laugh the whole way down the snow, racing all three of my friends as Max tries to sabotage his sister.

“I’ll eat your fucking gingerbread house, Max!” Is Y/n’s threat to her brother as she zooms past me.

The Fewtrells are very serious when it comes to gingerbread.

I slow and grab some snow to throw at Max, I unfortunately miss him and hit P.

The blonde screams at the snow stuck on her goggles and beanie, “Oh you’re gonna get it-” I'm suddenly being chased by an angry girl in all pink.

I can hear Y/n laughing as Max almost gets taken out by a kid going faster than all three of us combined.

We all have a smooth run, and just when I actually believe that Y/n may be getting better, I'm shocked once more at her clumsiness.

She was ready to Ski again! She was not ready to be back on flat ground.

In fact, as soon as we start to move back to the ski lift, she twists her ankle.

“I’m fine!” She fights me, pulling her mask back up over her nose so I can’t see her facial expression.

“Lovely you’re clearly in pain.” P pulls off her goggles as Max asks for directions.

“I’m fine! Let’s go again.” When she starts to move forward, she winces. Max yells at her which makes her more upset and P more distressed.

“It’s probably just a sprain, let’s go to the medic.”

“No!” Y/n fights me again as she argues with Max and a very worried P, “I’m seriously f-”

If I hear her say ‘fine’ one more time, I might cut my ears off. She’s over my shoulder in an instant, her skis clicked off and in Max’s hands now. She hits my back but I can barely feel it through my layers.

“Let me down you cunt!” I’ve had Y/n on me far more times this trip than I expected.

“There’s that sunny personality I know and love.” I mumble as I maneuver my way through the crowd, smiling at the people who give me weird looks for having a screaming girl over my shoulder.

The medic area is small and already taken up by three crying kids. The look that Y/n gives me when I set her down might just be enough to catch me on fire.

I pull her goggles off her face as Max and P explain what happened and repeatedly explaining that she wasn’t actually skiing when she got hurt.

I wipe the snow off and smile at her pouty expression, “How much does it hurt?” I’m squatting in front of her as she’s sitting on a small bench.

She argues immediately, “Not even-” I unclip her boot and she makes a noise that is nowhere near pleasant.

“Tell the truth, sunshine.” something in her face changes when I say the nickname i’ve had for her since childhood. I don’t get to dwell on it because a woman in red and white smiles at us as she approaches.

Max and Y/n argue so much that we both get kicked into the hallway. I pull my beanie off and shake out my hair, “I know I get mad at you a lot.”

I raise a brow at my friend, one that’s rarely serious.

“But I do appreciate you caring for Y/n. Even when she’s a pain-”

“I can hear you!” Y/n tells from the room as I let out a dry laugh.

I whisper, “Just wanna keep that christmas spirit up.”

He narrows his eyes a bit, mumbling, “Right…”

⋆༺

Turns out, Y/n is fine. A bit sore but comfortably on Max’s back as we look at the reindeers, “Shit this really is a Christmas hallmark town.” Y/n says as P laughs at the creatures.

“I always thought reindeers were fake.” Max frowns as it eats a carrot from his hand hesitantly.

“What’s hallmark?” I say innocently. Little did I know I would be attacked by the three people standing next to me.

“Oh mate…” Max shakes his head, “You’re so single and it’s so obvious.”

P sighs, “And uncultured! We need to have a movie night.”

“It’s only the best TV Christmas program ever! There’s a million movies and they all loosely follow the same plot line with a couple of opposites and a small town and a failing business and an old man with a white beard who might be santa.

I laugh at them, “The fuck…? I have to watch now.”

“Not tonight!” P groans. It’s already pretty late, we grabbed dinner and are now walking through the town.

“Or tomorrow!” Max shrugs, “P and I are going out, date night!” Y/n’s jaw drops at this while I smile. “Please don’t kill my friend while we’re gone.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, still on Max’s back, “No promises.”

“Let’s get back.” I shiver, “P looks like she’s about to snap in half.”

She glares at me, “You’re the one whose teeth are chattering!”

⋆༺

you

“My whole fucking body hurts.” I groan as we walk into the house, the warmth comforting me instantly. Max throws the keys into the catch all and yawns.

P is practically asleep next to Max and Lando is not even out of the car yet, “I think I'm just gonna go up.” She hums, her eyes already closed.

“No!” I frown, pulling off my puffer, “Come in the jacuzzi with me, i’ll bring wine!”

She shakes her head, “Sorry, Y/n. I’m wiped.”

“Max?” I look to my brother as he brings his arm under his girlfriend to hold her up. He’s looking at her with such love even as she’s half asleep and practically drooling. “Whatever. I might snap in half if I don’t go in.”

I say goodnight to Max and P as I walk up the stairs alone. He was quiet the whole ride home which was definitely new but not unwelcome.

I change as quickly as possible into a brown bikini and wander into the cold with my uggs and a towel. The jacuzzi is already hot and soothes my aching legs and back.

I take in the cool air against my face and look up to the dark sky. It's absolutely covered in stars, the moon is most definitely the focal point.

I switch the jets on and close my eyes, breathing in slowly. Today was chaotic and all I needed was a good soak and some quiet.

As soon as I sink deeper into the water, the door creaks open and Lando appears. He’s listening to music and pauses when he sees me, pulling off his headphones.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

He steps into the jacuzzi, his arms bracing himself as he slowly sinks into the water. I can see every muscle in his body and am trying to hide the feeling I get as he lets out a moan. He sucks in a breath and leans his head back, his adam's apple bobbing as he sits down in the hot water.

“Shit that feels good.” His voice sounds tired and content with the steam.

I’m almost speechless at his casual display of what, to me, is deeply sexual. Then again, a lot of things Lando does are sexual.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks.

I cringe at the memory of us on the mountain, “Better.” I know he came here because he knew I would be. I sigh, “My legs hurt.”

“Want a massage?” His grin is promptly back on his face, cheeky as ever.

“Max is gonna beat your ass someday.” It’s true, the amount of times he’s yelled or thrown something at Lando because of his remarks is astounding. And hilarious.

He swings his arms around the sides of the hot tub, “I’d like to see him try.” He sounds cocky just saying it.

I sigh, looking out at the land beyond our house, “So would I, trust me.”

He sinks his arms back down in the water, “Oh please, don’t pretend you don’t like my teasing.”

“I hate it.” I say it to his face, a face that looks unconvinced as he dips under. He comes back up, wiping his face and pushing his curls out of the way.

He changes the subject and floats around a bit, “I thought you knew how to ski.”

I swear his sole purpose in life is to aggravate me! He’s sitting across from me, looking all innocent with those green fucking eyes that I can see even in the shitty light.

When I don’t answer, he turns and rolls his shoulders back. My eyes trail down his back… until his voice rings out again.

“Stop checking me out and come here.” I don’t know why I do it, there’s just something about his tone that urges me to float across the hot tub and rest my arms on the side.

“I got Max a present… but I don’t know if he’ll like it.” I raise a brow at Lando’s soft words.

“Um… what is it?”

He turns around so we’re facing opposite ways, my knees resting against the all around seat, “I can’t tell you.”

I sigh and lean my head against my arms, “Well how am I supposed to help then?”

“Ask Max what he wants.”

I roll my eyes, “He said he wants the Mclaren championship and that sort of happened so…”

Lando smiles at this, sighing softly and looking at me, “Well, what are you getting him?” His eyes are so sincere, one of the few times he isn’t flirting or teasing me. He must catch my odd pause because he furrows his brows, “You okay, Sunshine?”

I look back at the trees, “Stop calling me that.”

“I have other nicknames I'd be happy to use.” I can hear the smirk in his voice as I rub my eye and bite back a smile. I hate when he makes me laugh.

“So do I. They're all race related, sure you’d like to hear?” It’s like my words go completely over his head, his eyes go soft.

“You watch my races?”

I roll my eyes again, “That’s what you got from that?”

He scoots closer, teasing, “You watch my races!”

“I watch F1 races!” I retort, “Don’t act all high and mighty, you’re definitely not my favorite driver.”

“Who the fuck is your favorite then?”

I shrug, egging him on a bit, “Oscar and Lewis.” I can see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Nuh uh. I saw you on Max’s stream wearing my merch once!”

I scoff, “Once! I was cold and he gave me your hoodie. Apparently I can’t wear anything of Max's so I had no choice.”

“I knew he was my friend for a reason!” He acts like his life goal was finally figured out before smiling softly, “You looked good in it.”

I eye him solely because I know he’s watching me and I won’t give him the chance to not be intimidated, “I look good in a lot of things.”

His eyes rake down body, or at least as much as he can see with the jets still on. “I know.” I feel sick, but not nauseous, more like butterflies.

With one last smile, Lando tilts his head back and looks up at the sky. My ears are cold but I could care less. I feel weirdly at peace, even with the man who won’t stop bugging me.

His nose is red and It feels oddly endearing. I tear my eyes away from Lando and back to the snow that’s started slowly falling over us.

There’s a quietness here, one you don’t get in the city. I can hear Lando breathing and music far in the distance.

I don’t realize he’s staring at me until my eyes find his again. How long has he been watching me?

“Stop that.” I say quickly.

His head tilts back ever so slightly, a curl in his face and the corner of his lip turning upwards, “Stop what?” He blinks, as if he’s the most innocent man in the world.

I motion towards him and breathe out, “Thinking…”

“What do you reckon I'm thinking, Sunshine?” He’s making me angry and I don’t even know why.

“Nothing good…” I whisper it, It feels illegal to say it any louder than that.

His eyes flick to my lips, his nose scrunching a bit just as my heart starts beating faster, “It’s good. It’s about you.”

I hum, stretching my arms out in front of me, not caring about the cold against my fingertips, “I figured, you seem to have that theme often.”

He laughs at this, shaking out his hair and standing. I watch his toned body leave me in the water all alone. The heat is the exact same yet I feel much colder without him.

Lando grabs his towel, wiping off, not looking at me.

“You're not gonna tell me?” I can’t help but say it fast to get it over with.

He looks back, wiping his chest and shrugging, “Maybe later.”

[v1x3n]

TIME TRAVEL ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - torture, mockery, threats, drunk creeps, harassing, tension, blood.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

A quick yet cold splash to the face awoke you, you cough as your face splattered with freezing water, you jolt up and choke. “Mornin” a rough voice sounds from beside you. You peer over and see Johnny McTavish, “how’d you sleep, bonnie?” he mockingly sneers. “Fuck you” you spit at him, look down at the floor you had passed out on, the dried blood and the water spilled all over below you, you grip onto the floor and slowly look up, meeting your eyes with the door in the corner, you could see prices beefy build standing there on the other side of the bars that held you in this room. The gaps through the metal you could make out a stern yet upset face , one that you gotten used to when you had helped him ease his worries after a harsh mission, or when you had gotten hurt and he was dreadfully worried for you. You sometimes thought that maybe he was nicer and cared more about you than others but you know now that wasn't true - it couldn't be fucking true if this is how he treated you when one fucking person accused you of being the traitor.

Johnny glances over at price then his gaze arrives back at you, “divnt look at ‘im, look at me.” your eyes move down to the floor as you choke once more, a string of saliva drips from your mouth and platters onto the floor, your breath smelt like vomit, you scowl at the memories of last night. Prices fist clenches at the look of you, so so scared. Johnny's hand is brought to your jaw as he bends down, forcing you to look up at him, “are ye gunna talk?” Your continued silence was enough to make him wince. His fingers dug into your jaw, you whine at him and continue looking at him. Trying to make yourself seem the tiniest bit strong - even for one moment, but you knew he saw the nervous, scared look you had in your eyes. “It's not me!” you shout out, your eyes moving back to the spot where price has stood just moments before but he had vanished. You felt like you were almost hallucinating, between this and your dreams - your fucking stupid dreams - you felt like you were going insane. The only thing keeping you sane right now was the pure pain, it kept you realize that you were alive. Still fucking alive, living through all of this shit they are putting you through. 

You spit on his face, the small collection of saliva in your mouth manages to spew out onto him, he scoffs at you before swiping it off. “Fucken hell, lass.” that mocking glare peers into you, a sense of danger swells into your heart. “Let.” you shout, “me.” your voice gets louder after each work, “out!” you scream, trying to push him away from you, his breath hot on your face while he forces you closer, almost cheek to cheek. “Keep fucken shoutin’ nd yer gunna lose yer tongue.” the man sighs onto your cheeks. 

You shut up real fast, lips sealed and you glare at him, he steps up whilst realizing your jaw from his tight grip. Johnny stands above you and peers down at you. “Sit up” demanding whilst grabbing some pliers from his left pocket, he bends down - waiting for you to obey his command. 

Your knees are weak as you fumble, trying your hardest to get up but as you see the pliers you instantly freeze, “wait wait wait!” you panic, trying to back up. Your mutilated hand gripping onto behind you to scoot away. “Awh bonnie, don't be scared” he chuckles, grabbing onto your hair once more, forcing you closer, shards of hair ripping out as he pulls you by the scalp. He drags your hair back so you're looking up into his eyes, one of his rough hands on your head whilst the other holds onto the tool. “Open up, lassy” Johnny's harsh smile pulls a deep concern deep into your heart.

If you felt like you were in danger before who knows what the fuck you were feeling now.

His soul scarring smirk as he tortures one of his best friend is un-fucking-godly. “I said open up.” his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you, the pliers spin around and he brings the handle to your lips, forcing them apart. Your jaw opened by force by the tool, johnny eyes meet with yours as your stomach sinks. “Keep it open, jus’ like tha’” you decide to comply - too scared for what he would do if you wouldn't, you held your mouth wide open, eyes squeezed closed to prepare yourself for what johnny was about to do. The tool brings close towards your mouth and it chips at your front teeth, a spark of your tooth hits the ground. 

Your knees scrape against the floor as you unconsciously squirm away, he grips onto your scalp further, pulling your hair so you were kneeled in the position you were earlier. The pliers hit your tooth and create a clinking sound, the tool pulls onto it. Eyes squeezing together as the tooth pulls out and blood pools from the gum, “Aye” the man in front of you grunts and holds onto the tooth with his gimmick. Johnny's expression did not change as he ripped out your tooth, his smile plastered onto his face with a concentrated expression - simply watching his friend and past coworker pull teeth from the person he cared about. A trail of garnet lingering through your saliva and you spit out onto the floor - well, you try too but with Johnny holding your head back. The wetness trails down to your chin and down your neck, the blood mixing with your spit. You stayed silent as the pliers held up with your torn tooth. “Atta girl” he sneers once more and his hand detaches from your hair as his posture straightens up. 

That night had started off easy but soon it turned into hours on torture, the one memory replayed in your mind as johnny harmed you, over and over. Trying so desperately to get information out of you but you obviously wouldn't - and couldn't - say anything. The memory you kept repeating was after a long mission. You and the rest of the taskforce decided to go out for a few drinks at the closest bar. Long story short - all of yous were pissed. 

That night yous laughed around a small table and passed banter along to one another. You fumble over to the bar and bend over the counter, almost yelling over your thoughts running through your head. Then some fucking creep comes over and starts talking to you. 

God, you felt his eyes trail your body as his hand moved down your arm, you flinch back and politely mutter, “oh uhm s-sorry but i have a..boyfriend.” you lie but he ignores your almost plea and he gets closer towards you, “c’monn… he doesn't haf t’ know” he slurs - clearly tipsy. You gulp and back up, looking over at your table to say if anyone was looking. But the table had one person missing, john. Eyebrows furrow and you back up slightly, only to be stopped by a large frame, before you could turn around you heard his booming voice, “he bothering you, sweeth’art?” the gross man in front of you eyes widens, he steps away from you. “N-no he's okay,” you mumble, looking up at the man behind you. His furious face was kinda hot, but you were too focused on how his rough hand moves to your waist. “No need f’ a fight, hm? Leave the bar and get yourself home,” John smiles.

Before the man could speak, John growls, “if I see you talking t’ my girl again, you'll get your tiny cock cut off.” a dangerous smile plastered on his face as the tipsy man trembles away from both of yous and eventually out the bar doors.

“You seriously okay?” he peers down at you, his hands still lingering on your skin. “Oh yeah!” you smile, turning around to look up at him, “thanks, you uhm- you didn't need t’” a layer of blush covers your cheeks and your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him. “Couldn't let that disgusting bastard touch you up like tha’” a distant shout from the table you were sitting at earlier interprets you and john's conversation, a scottish voice, “oi! Yous two quit flirtin’! Ye’are two drinks behind!!” another swarm of blush fills your cheeks and you two move back over to the table. 

You wish time travel was invented, maybe you would travel to that bar on that night, or maybe you would travel to before you met them - start it all over or change choices in your life. Ones that wouldn't end in betrayal and your heart broken. The things you would give to rewind this all. 

You gasp and reach out as John holds a dagger to your throat, “last chance” he dares - holding onto your jaw to hold you up whilst he knees behind you. His breath was hot on the back of your neck which in any other situation but this time it scared you. But after all he needed you to fear him. “We both know it's easier if you start talking, told you before. Last chance.” spitting at you and the dagger gently digs into your skin, creating a small slit. Your head leans back to try to get away from the pain but his strong grip on your jaw keeps you steady. The blade digging into you, almost too deep, “you have five seconds or i'm done with you.” after a few weeks you had finally given up. 

“Five” 

Your heart thumps, was he really going to do this?

“Four” 

Trying to squirm away from him yet once more his grip grew stronger. 

“Three” 

John's hand tightened on the weapon he had in front of your throat.

“Two” 

His voice grew deeper as the blade stings, drops of blood trails down your neck and onto your bare chest.

“One” 

Two hearts beat in that room as you were about to have your throat slit but John hesitates. 

Just as he went too, Kyle stomps into the room, “w-wait no stop!” the blade backs from your throat and the man backs up, “she-” Kyle breathes heavily - obviously trying to catch his breath. It was very clear he had just ran here. “She's not the traitor- w- was framed” Kyle's hands go down to his knees as his breathing slows down. You cough and hands fall to the floor as blood drops from the cut on your neck. Your face looks down at the floor and your hand reaches to your neck to stop the blood. John backs up and straightens himself out, staring down at the body before him trying to stop the blood. 

“Oh.”

[biteyoubiteme]

brrr

seungmin x fem!reader

⊹ ₊ ݁ . ❅ synopsis: friends with benefits either ends in love or indifference. ⸝⸝⸝ warning: fwb, reader and seungmin are toxic/avoidant/mean, not too much aftercare at all, mentions of menstruation, period pain, slight spit kink, mentions of no prep, no protection, creampie(s), oral (f!rec), lots of kissing, minho side character, I probably did forget some this time im so sorry

⊹ ₊ ݁ . ❅ wc: 13.5k ❅ . ݁ ₊ ⊹

❅ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: brrr- kim petras an: this was not my best work pls forgive me ;-; ive had this idea since august last year and im glad I could get it down- this is not proofread im so sorry for any mistakes that you come acorss :p

[m.list]

The two of you weren't friends; you didn’t even share any acquaintances, classes, or hobbies. It was better for the both of you that no one knew the other existed; there was no need to make things messy with questions. It was a one-night stand that turned into two. Six months later, the two of you were still inviting each other over for no-strings-attached sex. 

You remember that second night when Seungmin rolled out of bed already halfway to putting his jeans back on when you asked, “Are you leaving?” The look he threw over his shoulder was cruel to anyone else, the one that said he would kick a girl while she was down in the dumps for him, put an end to any relationship with complete certainty, and never look back.

“I don’t want to sit and cuddle, I told you that already. I don’t do relationships,” 

“I wasn't asking to cuddle you idiot, I wanted to make sure you would lock the door on your way out,” you were sitting up in bed the sheet halfway up your body, “I need to shower and I don’t care enough to walk you out again,” 

Seungmin had huffed a laugh tugging his shirt on, “You didn’t walk me out last time,” he looked down at his phone flipping through his calendar, “Does Thursday at three work?” 

“Are you really trying to schedule sex like we’re a forty-year-old married couple?” 

“Yes, does three work?” he repeats himself looking bored. 

“I have a chem lab then, I'll be here at seven,” 

“Okay, I'll just meet you here,” 

And if you didn’t see Seungmin all week you would be sure to find him standing at your door Thursday at seven, hands in the pockets of his jeans leaning against the door frame waiting as you unlocked your door. Your standing dick appointment was penned into your schedule along with any other time one of you felt an itch. It wasn't past either of you to text randomly in the middle of the night a quick you up? 

In minutes Seungmin would be in your bed, on your couch, over the countertop, or even right at the front door. Neither of you really wasted time with kissing or prep, most of the time Seungmin’s spit was the most lube to help with the stretch of taking him so fast after he came in, it was a month in when he brought over a bottle of lube with him to keep in your nightstand. “look what I got you”

One of the nicer things he had done besides make you cum but you only ever used it if you made it to the bed. The only times he had his mouth on you was to keep his moans down after a noise complaint from your neighbors. Every sound pressed right against your pulse. 

Seungmin often came over when he was angry, always upset about one thing or another. Pressing your face into the mattress as he pounded into you, complaining about his classes, his roommates, and someone getting his coffee order wrong. Any slight towards him sent him right to your door, his perfect crutch to getting his anger out. It didn’t matter much to you either way as long as you had at least one or two orgasms by the time he left you were fine to be used without mercy. 

It was easy to ignore him, push everything away until he was there in front of you, leaning on the door frame already hard just knowing you would pull it open. But if you weren't in the perimeter of your apartment neither of you even looked at the other besides a sideways glance you would share with any stranger you walk past. 

It's how you could stand in the same line for coffee, a few feet away chatting with your friends while he picked up his order. Just a boy with a scowl on his face as he sipped from the still steaming up. You didn't even look at him as he brought his cup back up, cutting your friend in line just to complain. 

“He's always so rude,” she mutters as soon as Seungmin has gone, rushing out without a blink your way, taking his newly redone cup of coffee with him. “He was arguing with our professor the other week about the context of some passage. Went on and on and it was so awkward because he was kinda right but neither of them would drop it,” 

Seungmin had come over that day, the door slamming behind him when he finally came in, no questions as he pushed you down onto your bed, not even stopping to help pull down your shorts. “Stupid fucking prick, doesn't even know how to properly teach a class he's paid to teach-”  

But you just shrug now, arms crossed holding your coat like a blanket you could throw over your lies. You didn't care what Seungmin got up to when you weren't around, but it made sense that he was angry even outside the walls of your apartment. How he got through his fits before you wasn't your concern but you're sure he did have some other form of release. And now you knew he would be right back in your bed when you got home. Because it didn't matter how small the inconvenience was. 

And you were right, the second you turned the corner you could see his stupidly big black car sitting outside in the parking spot with your apartment number on it, unused when you spent most of your time biking or walking the short distance to campus. 

“It's fucking freezing outside,” was the only thing he said as he watched you roll your bike into its spot next to the entryway, your keys jingling as you pulled them from your coat pocket, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open. 

“Is it the cold weather of the bad coffee that has you back here,” you ask, your smirk only making him roll his eyes. He lets you get out of your outerwear, watches you slowly unzip, the sight less tantalizing and more annoying. He knew you liked to play with him, especially when you witnessed the problem for which he came over in the first place. 

“Shut up,” he walked right past you to your bedroom, pushing open the door to see your half-made bed. He moved around like he knew where everything was placed and located. You're sure that if you asked him to do the laundry he would know where to fold and put away your clothes, even where to put the basket and fabric softener when done. 

You follow, shimmying out of your jeans before he's on you, pushing you against the wall and pulling your panties to the side. His fingers are cold and he runs them through your folds, your body jolting forward until your face and chest are the only thing keeping you up. “Warning next time?” but if he's going to warn you it's the first drag of his tip from your clit to your entrance right before he slams himself in. hands digging into your hips and he curses, sinking in all the way so that there is no room for you to get away, no way for your to fuck back onto him. 

“No,” he grunts, pulling out only an inch before slamming back in, picking up a steady pace that has you biting your lip, hands sliding down the wall searching for purchase as he holds you in place. You lean forward so that your shoulder can keep you up, hand snaking down to rub at your clit because you know he won't do it right now when he's so focused on getting off. 

He’s quick, grunting into your ear and you're right there at the edge ready to fall over when he pulls out. His cum dripping down your lower back after he gives a few short tugs of his slick cock, your whine an exasperated expectation when he's this fed up. “Seung-” he cuts you off with his fingers, shoving them back into your waiting cunt, pumping at the same pace he had been at before, letting you finish the second he curled the digits to meet the perfect spot inside you. 

It's a rush of a high before he pulls away, fingers in his mouth before he zips his pants back up. It didn't matter to you if he got you off when you had your hands to help. Neither of you was past using the other like it was nothing. You had done it before and you're sure it would happen again. Late nights where you called over Seungmin to eat you out when you just couldn't get off, toys doing little for you when you wanted someone right there between your legs. There were plenty of times you sucked him off without wanting anything in return, but finishing now felt like a bit of a gift. 

“Sorry,” he huffs, less an apology but a way to fill the space. 

“You don't have to apologize,” you try to look at the stain he's left on you, the warmth already cooling against your ass, “I needed a shower anyway,” 

To anyone else it would have felt cold, the dismissal as clean cut in your eyes as you waved him away. But it's the exact reason why you liked Seungmin, if even a little bit. He wasn't one to get attached, less so one to linger; hover around like the ghost of past regrets. The two of you knew exactly what this was, down to the way you turned around with a small goodbye, his in turn response just as cold, transactional. You would have it no other way. 

You jumped into the shower after hearing the door close, Seungmin always remembering to turn the first lock so that you would only have to deadbolt it when you were done. The routine down faster than it took you to memorize your class schedule. He was a constant you knew would always be around, one that you even liked from time to time when he could hold up a conversation longer than a few words. 

It hasn't always been like this, not that first night you met. The conversation flowed, aided by the drinks in hand, tucked into the corner of a frat party neither of you wanted to be at. It was a glaring contrast to the second night when you had called each other back. Less wanting and needy under the LED lights half hitting your faces and more like tonight. It had been one of the only times he had kissed you, lips chasing yours when you pulled away, hands greedy to get a feel of your body, so new and undiscovered to him. “I don't do relationships,” had slipped from both of your mouths between kisses, his apology then for feeling as if he had cum too soon and not because he had pulled out to release on your favorite lace panties. 

But it didn't matter, you didn't need an apology when he had stayed hard, finding himself back in you without stopping, making you feel things you never thought possible, finding your moans in his mouth, as he echoed back the perfect choir to match. It had been the best night you had had with someone, the one you turned to when you needed help to get off. And it wasn't as if you hadn't had great times with Seungmin after that, it was only different because the two of you knew who you were.  

You could see into each other and you didn't have to hide. Somehow you had stripped down to the basic raw instincts of each other, no need for the added layers of emotions when all you wanted was everything physical. Neither of you had to hide from the other when it would be no use in the first place, the two of you looking into a mirror that shouted back the same image. 

It's why when he came back hours later, the knock on your door had the same rhythm he always found, you didn't think to even turn him away. “It almost seems like you missed me,” his eye roll, a welcomed response. 

“Shut up,” but he couldn't deny the way he had already been hard just thinking about driving over to your place. The idea of someone being so open to taking him whenever he saw fit was something he found addicting, something he wouldn't admit to anyone except you but never in words. The confession tucked in between his moans as you sucked him off, the warm, wet skill you have over him bringing him to your door over and over again. 

He did miss you, in some strange way when there was no sex and he was sitting at your doorstep waiting or in the short time it took him to get up and leave, the small conversations shared before you got in the shower he liked the solace he found. The sex was an added bonus nonetheless. But he wouldn't be able to deny that he liked how easy it was to just be himself when around you. It was something he avoided thinking about too much but crept up on nights like this where you just wiped the corner of your mouth and sat next to him on the couch not kicking him out as you turned on the TV. 

The two of you could sit in silence that is not strained, no questions asked when the air is still. It was peace he didn't know that he needed; didn't even know that he wanted. And yet he always went home. 

Because when you woke up, tucked in on the couch right where he left you it wasn't surprising. You just picked yourself up and got ready for school all over again. Bundling up in an extra layer since the seasons were changing, the bike ride numbed your face and ears. Your lecture halls were stuffy with the heat turned up enough to make you flushed, stuck in a roundabout feeling as if you were defrosting. Your partner already waiting in the seats you had picked out at the beginning of the semester, assigned together at random to work together on your final assignment of the quarter. 

Minho was always on time, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you to join, coat thrown over the back of his chair. Your exasperated ‘hi,’ enough to turn his head in your direction, a soft genuine smile gracing his lips, the the edge of his mouth turned up. 

“I only got a few words in on the doc last night, the research isn't going too well,” he confesses while you pull out your laptop from your bag, setting it up once you have taken your seat in the unbearably uncomfortable chair. 

“I only got a few more lines in before i had to take a break, maybe we can work later if you're free,” it was usually how things ended up going, you got most of your work done after class while sitting over coffee growing cold. The work slowly devolved into giggling over stories you shared together. But you two always fell right back into working. 

“I'm free after my lit class, around three if that works,” it's how you ended up back at the cafe, your usual spot occupied by your laptops and books, research underway as you tried again and again to locate the proper evidence you needed. You needed Minho there in times like this to be the soundboard to bounce ideas off of, making sure that your topics lined up and you didn't have the wrong points being made. 

“I can never tell if I'm doing the citations correctly,” Minho muttered, blowing a puff of air out enough to tousle his dark bangs. The two of you had been sitting here for well over two hours, the sun just starting to set from the wintertime. It made the whole cafe feel warm now that most of the bustle of the campus was dying down, everyone just milling around doing work, muttering with their friends, the hum heavy in the air. 

“Let me see,” the table was long, filled with all the books and empty cups you two had yet to clear so you got up to lean over his shoulder to check. 

Minho sat with his hands in his lap, letting you look over the work he had done poorly, “what have you done?” The words are mostly a giggle at how messed up he got the format, every line was at a different indention, nothing lining up properly at all. 

“I have no idea,” he giggles right back, his hand rubbing down his face as he tries to hold back his laugh, “I really didn't want you to see it but it got too bad,” 

“I could have helped when you first had a question,” you remind him, leaning over the side of him to get the keyboard in place for you to help fix. It was something you would have done in the cramped library closer to your lecture hall, the larger study rooms always taken up leaving the single cubicles available, the two of you squeezing into one if you weren't lucky enough to find one together. It's why you preferred the cafe, so much space to look at everything you needed and apparently the free entertainment. 

Pushing open the door, Seungmin waltzed in, eyes glued to his phone before he ran right into the poor soul who happened to be walking right out at the same time. The crash is loud enough to turn everyone's heads, Seungmin's loud “fuck” echoing in the newly silenced room. 

He was drenched in coffee, the front of his cream-colored sweater only showing off the river of the stain for everyone to see it. The perfect design you would wear for a bad day. 

You're frozen leaning over Minho, his hand resting hot on your lower back to steady you. It's the first thing Seungmin sees when he looks up from his soaked sweater, his lip curling in as he holds back his frustration, balling his fists, shaking his head. It's a rush of apologies from the coffeeless person, Seungmin waving him away without the need for the theatrics, what's done was done, and now he's pissed. 

Minho laughs, loud and shocking in your ear, cute teeth on display for the cafe as you gape at him. “Bad day?” he asks, and unlike the rest of the cafe who tries to turn away, shy eyes from the mess made, Minho only racks his eyes up and down the front of Seungmin. 

“Now made worse,” seungmin mutters, not even looking at you as you stand up straight, Minho's hand leaving you as he pushes his hair away from his brow. 

“Oh this is my roommate by the way, seungmin this is my project partner, the one i was telling you about,” he gestures between the two of you, sharing your name, seungmin only sharing you a brief glance. 

“Hi,” “Hello,” it was probably the few times you two had shared niceties, even when he watched you walk up your front steps he was quick to complain about the wait and you were quick to tell him to fuck off. But it was clear Seungmin was surprised to see you now with his roommate. 

Seungmin hadn't even caught on that it was you who was Minho's partner until that very moment, seeing you lean over him, his hand on you like he was comfortable enough to even do so. He listened when Minho talked but clearly not close enough to realize it was you. Now not only soggy and angry he was able to admit the hint of jealousy he was feeling at the sight of the two of you. If not jealousy, annoyance that he hadn't caught on, annoyance that the two of you seemed so comfortable, so able to be seen in public. 

But the two of you had made the rule without thinking much about what it would do in the long run, no need to go on and on thinking about some kind of claim he had on you when in turn you two had no claim over each other at all. But it didn't keep him from feeling the crinkle of unease in his stomach, the feeling so similar to anger that it was easy to feel the emotions flip-flop with each other. “We are just about to finish up and I was wondering if you could take me home,” 

“Don't you have your own ride?” Seungmin asks, Minho was the only other one who had a car in the apartment they shared. It was the point of contention every night who got street parking and who got the lone parking spot by the front door. 

“I dropped it off at the shop before class and just walked the way, and it's too cold to walk back now,” Minho shrugs,“wait dont you bike home?” you've moved back to your side of the table, slowly packing your things as they talk, seungmin ignoring you. 

“Yeah, but I'm used to it, when it snows I'll catch a ride with a friend or just walk once it's settled,” 

“I could give you a ride whenever you wanted,” and he's so obviously flirting it's like you're caught. Seungmin is watching you, looking for your response as you blink at Minho who is smiling so sweetly the corner of his mouth dipped just right to turn any girl to agree just to see that smile again. 

“Flirting when I'm right here?” Seungmin flicks Minho's shoulder, and you can feel your face heat, as Minho rolls his eyes. It should feel small, like a joke, Seungmin poking fun at Minho in front of a girl he likes, but it feels like Seungmin trying to tug you from Minho’s hands.  The obvious glint in Seungmin’s eyes could be written off by his bad day but you know exactly what it means, if anyone knew what he looked like when pissed it was you. 

“Maybe i'll take you up on it for now youre right i should be back home it's getting late and i don't like to make the trip in the dark,” it's all you have to say to get away from really answering in front of seungmin, your bad thrown over your shoulder as you wave bye to them, “its was nice meeting you, see you tomorrow minho,” seungmin dipping his head in a stiff nod as you leave. 

It wasn't too long after that there was a knock on your door, the first words out of your mouth teasing him, “Is someone upset?” he doesn't even try to answer with his usual bite, his hands in your hair before he's nipping your neck, leaving a trail of wanting bites and muttered words you can't grasp. The door is kicked shut behind him as you clutch his shirt, still warm under his open coat as you stumble back. 

He was needy, hard already, and grinding into you as you fell back on the couch. His hands were hot, working off your shirt, not stopping to worry over your bra as he shoved his hands down into your sweatpants, sliding them down your legs along with your panties. 

It's rare that Seungmin comes over to eat you out, not unless you send him a text to head your way. Now with his lips on your clit it shocks your system, thighs trying to close in around his ears, hands twisting into his hair as he sucks. He doesn't even have to try to get you wet, he's lapping at your cunt like he had been starved for you, the lewd sounds only making you shake. It's when he slips his fingers in, curling them just right that you cry out, moaning without warning that the noises would even leave your lips. 

“Wait-” It feels too soon to finish, like everything is hurtling towards you as you feel the tightness in your stomach burns. You don't want him to stop now when you're crashing as he pulls his mouth away, thumb working over your clit to help ease you down from your hair, the fingers still inside you, pumping slowly as he watches the way you tremble for him. 

“Tell me you want it,” chin still slick with your wetness, his tongue darting out to taste you on the edge of his lips. Your heart is beating in your ears, so caught off guard that you're stumbling to keep up but Seungmin is right there tugging you closer to where you need to be. His thumb which had been so slow is now replaced by his persistent circles, speeding up the longer it takes you to answer. “Tell me,” 

“I want it,” you can't even remember what it was a few minutes ago opening the door for him, teasing only to be teased right back, now you're looking for anything to hold onto, searching for the right words as your mind spins. 

“Beg me for it,” he pulls his fingers from inside you, placing them on his tongue as he soaks in your desperate whimpers. 

“Please-” hips moving on their own, you're grinding forward trying to catch more pressure as he slows down his circling fingers on your clit. “Please Seungmin- I want it, please,” 

Free hand pushing down his pants he releases his aching cock, pre-cum bubbling up from the tip, thumb rolling over his slit to catch the release. “Louder,” his eyes are hooded as he watches, so dark you are sure that you'd fall into them if you didn't know what this was. But you couldn't care about that, not when he was demanding something so little of you. 

“Please- please Seungmin,” his lashes flutter at the sound, his name on your lips like an antidote to his frozen limbs. He moves so that he can sink into you, falling over your body as the two of you gasp at the entrance, the stretch gloriously needed to leave you mindless. 

He doesn't even realize he's doing it, nose to yours, breathing in the same air, gasping on the same breath, lips just brushing and before he can help himself he's kissing you, sloppy and consuming. The taste of you fills your senses as he finds it in him to devour you. Your arms wrap around his neck, hands pulling on his hair as you let him take control as if you ever had an ounce of it before. 

Every drag of his cock only draws out both of your hums, the slow pace only speeding up as Seungmin’s need grows. He had only been here yesterday, felt the warmth and squeeze of your cunt less than twenty-four hours ago, and yet even he could admit he was addicted. He needed a long fuck, that drawn-out ache working into his bones the whole way to dropping off Minho back at their shared apartment. The only thought on his mind was the way you said his friend's name instead of his, how many times had you uttered his name? How many times would you do it again if you had the opportunity? He wanted you to think of him in the way he was starting to think of you. 

Not in the way he had imagined, he knew I wouldn't fall into loving you easily as horrible as it sounded. Seungmin had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't find anyone to love, but you…you were an obsession, that jealousy twisting around his mind, burning down every rational thought until he couldn't help but need to hear you say it, say his name, over and over again. 

And you didn't stop saying it, the reverberation of it pressed to his lips as he tried to hold back his moans but it was impossible when you felt this good under him. He didn't even realize it was happening, the kissing, until he was cumming, his breaths uneven, whines pressed right into your mouth as you came along with him. The warmth of his cum spilling out of you with each added thrust he made, his face pressed into your neck to try and hide what he had done. 

His mind was clearing, from the jealousy, from the orgasm, from you, and he needed to leave.  

It felt so unceremonious; so quick to move from passion to regret. He shouldn't be here, not when it wasn't just anger getting him off but jealousy, unreasonable jealousy that felt heavy and sick in his stomach. He had no reason to be jealous, not now when the both of you had made it clear that if the other found a partner you would stop seeing each other. That the two of you would let the other know when it was even close to happening. And maybe that's why he was angry, not over the fact someone had the opportunity to get you in bed but because it would mean he would be left alone with nothing but his hand.

Since being with you in whatever way it was you had, he hasn't even tried to look for anyone else because he didn't have to and he didn't necessarily want to. He liked the ease at which you put him. Even now, pulling out of you and cleaning you up it felt so normal until your phone lit up on the table. Minho's name flashed across the screen for the small second it needed to let you know he had texted you. So late at night when you don't usually text your project partner. 

You didn't even see it, too busy throwing your clothes in the hamper, warming up your shower, and asking if Seungmin wanted to hop in with you. It was an offer, not a plea he knew as much. 

He could still feel your kiss, the thrumming of the memory scaring him more than he would like to admit. So much so that he's gone with a wave, ditched from the situation like it was the first week of seeing each other and not two years deep. 

You knew he would do it, the second he kissed you he would be gone. It was rare he made the slip up but it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last time and each time you knew he would be out the door no matter how much you told him it didn't matter. 

It was something you had trained yourself not to be hurt over but it's not as if you didn't see it getting easier with time but it only got disappointing. Seungmin had only stayed over a few times in your bed, sleeping over without realizing he was doing it, not realizing that you two found each other sharing a meal over the course of a few episodes of TV, sitting around on your phones, sending each other videos you found funny because he was right there and on your mind. 

So you climbed into bed feeling drained and wishing for just one time you could spend it tucked back into it, not even cuddled, with him after a night like this where it seemed like he wanted you so bad he couldn't stop himself from taking and taking. But you didn't care, or it's what you liked to tell yourself, you had signed up for it, knew what you were asking for, and had enjoyed it, loved the rules you had fit so snugly against, all until it felt like a straight jacket you could pry yourself out of. 

It kept you up most of the night, the chill of the air outside sinking in between your floorboards making your bed seem warmer than it really was, wanting you to stay in it and skip the day so that you didn't have to face the ride to school. But you fell into the monotony of the day, dressing and making sure your bag was packed with everything you would need for the day. Minho has texted you to tell you he wouldn't be in today because of his car, needing to take it to get checked out across town. It meant you could leave early and work in the comfort of your own home but it also meant you had to keep yourself accountable in getting the work done alone. 

It's halfway to campus that the first snowfall starts, the fat white puffs coming down like rain; fast and hard. You have to keep your annoyance in check at the sight. It was snowing so much earlier in the year, that the hassle of finding someone to take you on the worst days already makes you upset. You can feel the scowl set in on your brow, the tilt of your mouth taking its shape. It's how Seungmin sees you, locking up your bike with your hands in fingerless gloves, spinning the combination, the snowflakes catching in your hair. Scarf tucked close to your chin, nose scrunched as the wind sends a flurry of snow in your direction. 

The decision is easy, he knows when your class is out, your schedule memorized just like you had his down. And when the day is over, your last lecture out he waits next to the bike rack not caring if anyone sees him. Leaning right against your bike he wipes away the build up of snow that had already accumulated. You don't even notice him, head down as you try to avoid the breeze. 

“It's snowing,” the sound of his voice startling you, the obvious observation making you irritable. 

“I know,” you tug on the lock, fingers already falling numb as you put in your combination. The second it clicks seungmin’s hands are on the handlebars, pulling it from its spot, and rolling it away from you. “What the hell-” but you don't stop him, following after as he leads you to his car, already on and warmed. 

The suv was completely oversized and obnoxious, the kind of car that was made for families or people with entourage, not a college student. But it was Seungmin’s prized possession, the only thing he put all his care into, and he was proud of it. You had made fun of it before, the spot in front of your apartment hardly big enough to fit it between the other two much smaller cars next to it. But he took no criticism of it, completely blacked out with its heated seats. It was a blessing when the road's reflection of the winter sun bounced off the blinding snow. 

You had only been in it a few times, that first night being one of them, his hand on your thigh as he drove you home. Even now it was a welcome warmth as you got in, body instantly feeling the effect of defrosting as you buckled in, seungmin lifting your bike to place in the trunk like it was something he did all the time and not the first occurrence. 

And for the first time, the air was stale between you two, not the usual understanding, not after last night when both of you couldn't get the feel of each other's lips to go away. The radio was low, your hands twisting together as an excuse to do something besides sit still; eyes dancing over the oncoming snow, raining down harder than it had been earlier. The soft thumps of the windshield wipers keep up with the pace of your thoughts, say something- don't, say something- don't.  

It's not until he pulls into his usual spot that you speak up, the light, “thank you,” fading into the background. The wind is howling, beating the flakes against the windshield at a rate the wipers can't keep up with, the inside of the car keeping the two of you in a reverse snowglobe, watching the world shake as you ask, “do you want to wait it out inside?” 

“If you don't mind,” he doesn't even share a glance your way, eyes passing you to look out the window before looking over his shoulder into the backseat, “we can just leave the bike in here for now,” 

The two of you rush out of the car, huddled close as you fumble for your keys, Seungmin standing in the way of the wind, taking the brunt of the weather before you push open the door. The two of you shedding clothes without the intention of fucking for the first time in a long time, your school bag falling to the foot of the couch as you move to turn up the heater.“Do you want anything to eat, i have a few snacks and things if you're hungry,” 

He already knows where the pantry is, pulling open the door to look inside. It's casual and yet you feel the distance, not only in the way you had been before, the barely talking had been comfortable, but now the barely talking felt heavy. But you wouldn't be the one to break it, it wasn't you who came around to take you home, it wasn't you who had kissed him. But you knew exactly why you wouldn't say anything. Somewhere the worm of thought was wiggling around your brain, telling you that you weren't as casual as you had hoped to be, you were in some way friends at the end of it all, even if no one knew about it. 

Seungmin pulled out a bag of popcorn, still folded nearly, ready to be popped. You sat back down on the couch, getting under your blanket and ignoring your work as you reached for the remote to the TV. The air filled with the buttery scent of fresh-popped kernels, seungmin reached for a bowl in the cabinet already having seen you do this exact task before. 

“I didn't know you knew Minho,” you don't even turn in his direction when he makes the statement, watching the TV shows and movies flip past, looking for something to watch. 

“Yeah we’ve been working together for most of the year,” you watch Seungmin’s lips pursed, nodding to your answer lightly before moving over to sit next to you on the couch. He kicks his socked feet up onto your coffee table and you click on a random show that neither of you care much about. “I didn't know he was one of your roommates, I knew you had them of course it's why you keep me away from your coveted apartment,” 

“It's not coveted, they are just nosey,” you lean over to grab a handful of popcorn as he chews, “and your place has no one else we have to worry about, if we went to my place yesterday and tried to fuck on the couch we would have a lot of explaining to do, and the decor is better here,” 

“So it's the decor and convenience that keeps you coming,” you're leaning on the armrest of your couch, half turned to him so that you can push your foot into his side. Toes cold as you tuck them under his thigh. 

“You know that's not the only reason,” but it's the way he looks at you when he says it that makes you freeze, the soft tilt to his eyes and the quick realization that he was doing it in the first place. But you knew it wasn't the sex, not when he was quick to flush about the statement. He never got embarrassed to talk about your sex life, seungmin was the most open partner you had, slowly pulling that same confidence out of you. He was easy to talk to about what you wanted and when you wanted it, his one-month-long journey to get you to speak up in bed worked wonders on the way your sex had evolved. 

But this, the blush on his cheeks staining your mind as you knew turned over the meaning in your mind. He knew the same comfort that you did, felt the same relaxation settling over him as it did you when you could just strip back to someone who was entirely yourself and yet hidden from so many other people. “I know,” it's a whisper because anything more would make him run, just like a kiss, anything more and he would be out the door in seconds, snowstorm be damned he would sit in his car. And you were starting to hate that truth, that fear he was feeling. So you kicked him again, “and you can't resist my-” 

“Do not start right now, I'm eating,” he cracks a smile, the corner of his mouth turning up as you fake shock. 

“I was going to say personality i have no idea where your mind was going,” 

“Your personality makes me sick,” his tongue poked out for a moment as you shoved your feet further under him, toes wiggling in the cramped space. 

“Your attitude makes me sick,” you quip, rolling your eyes as he leans over, hand sliding up your calf. 

“You love my attitude,” it's the kind of moment that would have led to sex, you could see it, him leaning over to kiss you,if he let himself. Spilling popcorn but neither of you cared as you fell into each other. But that wasn't the way things felt for you two, because that would have been too close to a couple and you could see that in his eyes when he pulled away.“I should head out soon before the roads get too bad and it looks like it's clearing up a bit,” he nods to your window, the curtains pulled back to see the light snowfall. 

“Yeah, let me get my bike-” 

“I'll just pick you up tomorrow, you're seriously not going to bike in the snow again,” he passes you the bowl of half eaten popcorn, setting it in your lap as he stands. 

“You don't have to do that-” 

“But I am, you don't have to worry about it I don't mind, and you can't deny you don't love the heated seats,” and you want to ask him to stay, and spend the night. He had clothes here, ones he had left and forgotten. He knew where in the drawer they were and put them occasionally, it wouldn't even be the first time he used your shower whether alone or not. Even sharing your bed wouldn't have been too much. But you let him go without asking. Too scared to be turned away, too scared to think about why you wanted him here this close when you swore to yourself that you wouldn't let that happen, he had told you it wouldn't happen. But the lines felt so blurred when he was being nice even if it was the bare minimum. 

So he left, took your bike along with him, and you found yourself alone in bed again, turning and turning as you tried to find the right spot to lay. You had accounted for the bad sleep to that, the constant moving, and yet the second you made it to the bathroom you found your period had started. Your groan sank into your stomach as you got ready. Seungmins knock on the door was punctual and all too much a reminder of not having enough time to crawl back into bed and skip. 

“You look like shit,” it's the first words out of his mouth and you're not sorry for the look you land on him. 

“I hardly slept,” you mutter, locking up and following him back to the waiting warm car. The few steps down were slick with a mix of melting snow and salt, Seungmin’s hand helpful as he hovered it just slightly next to your hip without actually touching you. It made you want to shout at him for being nice, for blurring lines you didn't think would ever be spotted with questions. 

It felt like he was toying with you, pulling on the little string on your back to hear you, all before he left again. It was tiring and you already felt drained. Especially when he was back to not knowing you on campus, the library filled with people, and there he sat with his friends, ignoring you when everyone else said hi when Minho introduced you, picking up notes he needed from one of them. It felt like falling backward, hurtling in a different direction than you had been going when on the couch together less than a day ago. 

And it was so easy to feel annoyed today of all days, when your cramps were starting to work their way through your body, and make you more uncomfortable than sitting silently in a car with seungmin as he took you home. But you did have to agree about the heated seats being the perfect makeup for not having to bike to school. 

But as you sat there trying to focus on the warmth under you all you could feel was pain in your lower back, that hollow ache pressed right against your pelvis. 

Seungmin could see the way you were trying to hold back a whine, eyes squeezed shut as you rested your hand over your stomach, leaning back with a frown on your mouth. He didn't say anything, just followed you back into your apartment unasked, and you let him too tired to care. “I don't feel like it today,” you muttered while he followed you into your bedroom, already halfway undressed as you slipped on pajamas. 

“Neither do I,” he shrugged, pushing out of his coat. “If you want me to leave I can,” 

But you don't tell him to go and you don't really tell him to stay. Groaning as you fall into bed, face pressed into the pillow trying to find some way that relieves even a bit of your pain. Seungmin climbs in after you, but not next to you as if he was going to nap but straddling the back of your thighs, hands warm as he pushes the back of your sleep shirt up, fingertips pressing into your lower back as you whine. 

He knew your periods would get bad occasionally, once you had texted him to come over just so that he could help you to bed, your body curled up on the bathroom floor, head pounding with a headache and nausea making it hard to want to stand at all. He hadn't said anything, helped you up, and took you to your bed without questions. It had been one of the truly personal moments you had shared and didn't care that he had seen you like that, didn't care if it had made you seem less sexy because it hadn’t, he had been back just as often as he had the week before. 

Now he massaged you, hands kneading slowly as you tried not to think about what it meant to have him here with you now. It would have felt embarrassing to have anyone else around to see you like this but at the same time, it was natural. And Seungmin liked to know he could make you feel good, not only when he was having sex with you but that he could make you feel good in a way that was similar to how you made him feel. He liked to know you were okay, liked to see that he could provide as you had for him when he was in his nastier moods. Because sometimes he felt bad that he used you, even if you had used him right back it left him feeling like he owed you an apology, even if you would never accept it. 

So you let him stay, let his warm hands work you to sleep. And when you woke up with the lights dimmed, curtains pulled closed to let you sleep in you felt like crying. Your bed empty but your bedside table dawned a full glass of water, a few painkillers, and crackers. He was gone but he hadn't left like it was nothing. 

You climbed into the shower trying to wash away the feelings that had started to cling to your skin, your mind. It felt wrong to hear his knock on your door and know the second you saw him you wanted to hug him and say thank you. You wanted to let him know how much it meant to you, how much it was affecting you. The only thing you could come up with as a thank you that didn't seem too much was to gift him your apartment spare key, shoved in the back of a junk drawer where it should not have been, the little heart keychain getting tangled in a bunch of old changing cables you had no use for anymore. 

It was a long overdue gift, one you should have given a year ago in the winter where he would stand next to the front door with his hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders to his ears. But you had been so used to avoiding your feelings that it was easy to write them off as nothing more than a complication. But now it feels silly to think that. This isn't even the first time he was nice, much less the last time seeing as he was already leading you down to his warm car. 

“Here so you don't have to freeze your ass off and so you can deadbolt my door when you leave now,” it was another casual dismissal like it meant nothing to hand your house key over to someone you only slept with when you needed to take a load off. But it was the way you knew wouldn’t make him run, if you had said it any nicer he would leave and you wouldn't see him for a week or more, damn it if you're cold or not. 

“Took you long enough, didn't I ask for a key once and you told me if I didn't make one there was no way of me ever getting one?” he slipped the key into his back pocket, the little pink heart made of easily shattered plastic hanging out right against his dark jeans. 

“Well you have it now so no need to complain about how long it takes me to make it back from campus,” you were setting yourself up for the morning when he didn't show up, did not knock or let himself in so that he could take you, snow or not you knew it would sting. 

“You love it when I complain,” your answering eye-roll enough to make him chuckle. 

You didn't think that he would use the key so soon, the weekend rolling in, no reason for him to pick you up, no reason to come over. He had even dropped your bike off right outside your door on Friday so that if you needed it you had it. Spending most of the day hunched over your books working on your project that you and minho would have to submit by the end of the week and present. 

It was late enough that Minho had logged off the shared doc and retired for the night and you knew you wouldn't hear from him until he was ready to put in work again. So you stood going over your presentation trying and failing to work your way through the parts you had to memorize. You got more points if you didn't use flashcards, and even more points if you only gestured towards the board and didn't need help to remember plot points from it as you flipped through slides. But you kept having to look down and remember the parts you had to interject in between Minho's parts. 

The task was distracting enough not to hear the door open behind you, your hand falling over your heart the second you turned and away Seungmin coming in, the flashcards holding Minho's parts of the presentation fluttering to the ground,“you scared me you asshole-” 

“I texted you like an hour ago that i was coming over,” and you know your phone is on the charger in the other room, turned face down to try and keep you from flipping it over and going on it to procrastinate. 

“We can have sex after you help me with this,” picking up all the notecards you file them in order shoving them into his unexpectant hands. 

“I don't really want to do homework this late at night, it's not even my homework,” fingers deftly working through the cards, “and it's not even your work i’m reading, shouldn't minho be working on this with you?” 

“He was busy and i didnt even know you were coming over so, wrong place wrong time, now help me,” you wave seungmin to sit on the couch, standing in front of the coffee table, closing your eyes to try and remember the first line in your speech. 

“He is back at home watching TV with the guys,” Seungmin says leaning back as he reads over his half of the cards. “And you know sometimes I come for the company,” it was the truth, or at least as much as he was willing to share. He didn't know why he had texted that he was on his way, he knew less as to why he couldn't think of what to say when he finally put his key in your lock. He was glad to have found you somewhat shocked to see him so that he wouldn't have to jump right into your bed but had time to do what he really wanted; just sit around in your presence. 

“Well either way I want a very nice reward for doing so much school work so late into the night,” and it had been a while since you had found each other twisted up together, especially after seeing each other around more often than usual these past few weeks. “For now I need you to read those when I get to the breaks,” 

Seungmin picked up the pace easily enough, pointing out the grammar mistakes that had been rushed over in haste to get the cards done. But you were thankful to have him help you. His easy chuckle and smooth cadence helped more than you thought you needed. Even halfway you order food to be delivered, taking a much needed break and calling it a night for work. You had been standing the whole time, looking for a way to make it seem less awkward talking with nothing in your hands. Now your legs were tired, your groan leaving you the second you laid out on the couch not caring about putting your feet into his lap while you did it. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes covered with the back of your hand as you sighed through your nose. “I know it sucks to come over for sex and get this instead,” 

“I didn't come over just for sex, believe it or not. Sometimes I like your company enough to not be inside you,” but it didn't matter about him trying to brush it off when now all you could think about was sex. And with him looking the way that he did, half disheveled and relaxed was enough to make you want to sink to your knees for him. So you did. Sliding from the couch so that you could be in front of him, hands gliding over his thighs, looking up from under your lashes. 

“I mean we don't have to…” but just the sight of you like this on your knees for him was making him grow hard, his hands reaching out for yours, capturing them before you could find his zipper. 

“Sit with me,” but the words themself felt like a ‘no’, a direct denial that he could read over your features as they sink into you. But it wasn't the way he wanted you to take it, not when he couldn't get the idea of your lips out of his mind, not wrapped around him but pressed to his, chasing his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. So when you got up he pulled you down to the couch with him, pushing you into the fabric and finding your mouth without warning. 

He knows he shouldn't, knows it goes against the quasi-distance he puts between you two, and yet all he could think about was the last time his lips were on you, kissing you, trying to hide his truths right against your mouth. And you were so willing, arms pulling him in, needing him closer, wanting to be here, and not pushing him away like you should have. But even you couldn't deny how good it felt to have him this close to you, semi-hard just from the sight of you. And there was something about breaking the thin rules you two had in place like his need was more than his conscience. No longer able to resist himself. 

It was a slow kiss, exploring the way you fit together as if you hadn't learned each other's bodies before this one bit. All his kisses turned intense, dripping with desire as you spread your legs, letting him sink in closer to you, rolling his hips as he caught his breath on the edge of a whimper. And he was looking at you, really catching you in his sight, blinking down at you. His hair hanging around his brows that you couldn't help but push it back, fingers running through the strands as you tucked them behind his ear. “You look so pretty,” 

It was the truth, one you didn't know you had said aloud but you had, and now he was pulling away. Sitting up and leaving you laid out, disheveled, and feverish from a few kisses. “I have to go,” 

“Seungmin-” 

“No i should go, i need to go,” and it was a switch, that boyish smile cleaned from the surface like a stain he didn't want visitors to see, and you were just a visitor he allowed to see it occasionally but not one he let stay. Now his scowl was set in, his shoulders set as you sat up. 

“Fine, go, run away,” his eyes flickered at the dismissal as if he could be angry at you for kicking him out so willingly. 

You watch the way his eyes roll, “we have rules for a reason,” 

“Rules,” the word feels foreign in your mouth, arms crossing, “you're the one who came over, you're the one who told me it wasn't for sex, if it wasn't for sex what was it for? Huh? Think about the rules next time you want to stay a while,” 

“We said no kissing,” 

“You said no kissing, and I never kissed you first, think back to every time it's happened, you did it, take up the rules with yourself,” 

“You should not let me-” 

“Let you, you're acting like a child, get over it, people kiss all the time, go if you want to, act like you don't like me,” 

“Fine,” he mutters grabbing his coat, “and it's not an act,” you don't even try to stop him, let him walk right out and even listen to the sound of him locking the door, deadbolt slamming like the shutting of a heavy book, echoing in the room as you fall back where he had pressed you, heels of your palms pressed to your eye sockets, sighing. 

He was scared and you didn't help it, didn't want to push him so you pushed him away. The both of you are childish and cold to the other, running around like you don't know that this would one day crack so much so that you wouldn't be able to glue it back together. But you had never predicted it would be over a kiss or even the friendship you had started with one another. And even that made you want to cry, now alone on a warm couch soon to grow cold because he's not here anymore to keep you warm. 

He doesn't call or text you, doesn't even come to pick you up Monday morning. The snow already settled and mostly shoveled away from the roads and sidewalks, and a lot of other people from campus were already back to walking. And you had prepared yourself for this, your sadness turning to anger more than anything else. The walk filled with a scowl and half pouty stomp, cursing Seungmin under your breath knowing that if it was anyone else making you feel this way you would have called Seungmin over to work you out enough to let it go. And now you have no one to help you, having to find more conventional ways of getting your anger out. And so you turned to overwork on your projects. 

You spent more time at the library and the cafe, calling Minho to practice so that you knew in some way Seungmin might know that you were busy. The whole week you poured over every little note to take your mind away from his and his rare smile and soft kisses. And when you did see him at the cafe ordering a coffee neither of you acknowledged the other, brushing past each other like true strangers, like it had been before when you first set your rules.

But it did sting, like an ember that only aided a fire and didn't put it out because you bottled it up and didn't wallow over it. You wouldn't be the first one to crack, not when you didn't see what you had done wrong besides letting him do what the both of you were thinking. 

Minho had picked up on the irritation, “everyone is having a bad week, some of my roommates are in a pisspoor mood,” he commented while you waiting for your turn to present your project, “you should come out with us tonight, we are celebrating the end of the quarter with lots of drinks and dancing but mostly drinks,” 

Most of your time had been spent indoors and now would be the perfect time to get out. The much needed time away from your apartment, letting go and not thinking about Seungmin on your couch, and if he wanted you he would text you,or wait for you to come home. “That sounds perfect actually,” and Minho planned to pick you up for your place, texting you when he was outside and watching you lock up from the comfort of his car, headlights shining over you as you walked across to get to the passenger side door. 

Both of you had done great on your project, the time you spent pouring over your work and not worrying about boys with commitment issues helped tremendously. Now without a care you wore the shortest skirt you owned and didn't care if Seungmin saw or not. Until you made it to the bar and watched his eyes find you. Minho's hand in yours led you through the crowd to the table they had all gotten, seungmin’s jaw tight as he held his glass of water, gaze trapped on the way Minho helped you get into the booth. 

It felt liberating to be ‘allowed’ to talk to him in this sense. He couldn't hide behind the fact he didn't know you after this, you would now know of each other publicly even if he never did break and text you again. For now, you would sit and let him stew for as long as he wanted. And stew he did, watching every little move you made although he was trying not to seem obvious about it. He listened and didn't talk, nodding along to what his friends were saying and yet still treating the room like it was only you two and your fight between you. 

And when Minho asked you to dance you didn't stop yourself from agreeing, taking his hand and letting him hold you, standing as close as he wanted knowing exactly how angry it would make Seungmin to see. He traced the path Minho'shand had made on you, from the underside of your rib cage down to your hip, catching your eyes as he fumed. His tipping point when you caught him looking you knowingly blew him a kiss, the taunt going too far for him. His scowl set as he stood grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. 

“I think I'm going to head home,” your hand cupped near Minho's ear, “I'm going to call a bad I'm a little lightheaded,” 

“I can wait with you-” he started, concern written over his face before confusion.

“I can wait with her, Chans asking after you,” Seungmin’s voice was a cool balm over your flushed skin, hot from the crowd, the lights. His face had an indifferent cold exterior as you nodded, “Yeah, you stay, have a good time,” 

Minho gave you one last final look over, nodding with a quick,“Okay, text me when you get home,” before you were walking out the same way you had come in. the chill sinking into your bones the second you left the stuffy club. Your phone in hand, fully prepared to call a cab just like you had claimed you would. 

“You could sleep with him if you wanted to,” Seungmin wasn't even in front of you when he said it, your head snapping to look at him over your shoulder, his brow raised like he was waiting for you to take the bait waving in front of you. 

“Oh I know,” the sarcasm dripped from you like venom. You didn't want to sleep with anyone, not when the one person who you enjoyed getting your anger out on was being an ass. 

“Go sleep with him, you have my permission,” he tipped his head in the direction of the door, goosebumps rising along your arms from the anger, the cold. 

“I don't need your permission to sleep with anyone, you don't do relationships, remember,” you were standing right at the edge of the pavement, where the sidewalk met the parking lot. “Go home,” the words felt heavy as you said them, hitting him with each syllable. You felt so silly standing here before him, both of you dancing around each other but you could see the cracks in him, watching the way the water bubbled to the surface ready to spill out between the two of you. 

“I'm just reminding you,” it made you sick, the arrogance, the casual brush off as if he wasn't the one who started the conversation over nothing. 

“Maybe I will sleep with him,” but you're bluffing, crossing your arms and stalking closer to him, your breath fanning white in front of you like smoke, “maybe he will actually invite me over and not run away from his feelings,” 

But he's angry even at the thought, “no,” the word like a slammed door at the unwelcome proposal. He looks disgusted, nose scrunched, shaking his head, “No,” as if repeating it would make it stick.  

“didn't you just say I could? Go back so easy on your word when people play with your toys, if you like me just admit it- stop acting like a toddler and fess up,” you're standing so close to him now, it didn't matter what height you were when in this conversation he knew you were right anyways you looked you would be the one on top. You just wanted once for him to admit it, say it without having to reduce yourself to begging him. You wanted him to say yes, to tell you, even if you had to stop seeing each other you would live with it because you could live with him being scared but not dishonest. 

But he just blinked back at you, mouth pinched closed like he knew it would drive you insane. Sometimes he loved to deny you, wait it out because it was better that way than just giving in to losing. “Let's go, you can't walk home it's too far,” the words felt like a clear wave of his hand, taking everything you had said and swiping it off the table into a drawer that was easy to slam closed and ignore for later, or never open again. 

You turned around, arms crossed, fiddling with your phone as if you weren't too angry to look at the screen properly. You would walk all the way home if it would fuck with him, just to say you did as petty as it was. You would be the only one at a loss and still, it didn't matter, you knew it would piss him off nonetheless, or if you went back in and asked Minho for a ride, that would hurt him even more. “I'm going to get a ride,” you throw over your shoulder, the angry padding of his following steps right behind you. 

“You already have one,” he holds up his key and you see your keychain as the only other one on there besides his house key and car key, the small heart dangling in his fist, “come on, get in,” 

“Admit it,” you don't care that you are stopped in the middle of the parking lot, standing there in what felt close to nothing, numb from the cold. 

Seungmin watched the way you shivered, hated that he knew you would torture his mind until the end if he didn't get you into the warmth of his car, no matter how badly he wanted to keep his mouth shut. Because he did like you, hated that he was backed in the corner to say it when he could hardly think about it when alone, less when he was with you and the idea was right over him. He was so good at ignoring things, he had been doing it since that first night that he had you. “Fine, get in the car,” it was already on and warm. 

“Say it,” your hip dips, ready to hold out. 

“I like you,” he says it like he hates the words, the tone chipped as you pull it out of him, but you know him, know him best when he's on the edge of anger and desire, “now get in the fucking car,” 

“Fine,” both of you headed for the car, Seungmin reaching out around you so he could pull your door open. He even helps by keeping his hand right on your lower back as you step up to get in, closing the door behind you as you reach over to turn up the heater. The seat was already warm and welcoming. He doesn't say anything when he gets in, putting the car in reverse, hand on the back of your seat as he twists to get a good view behind him. You sit watching outside the front windshield, arms still crossed as you ignore the way his shirt rides up across his waistband. 

“You could have cleared up so much if you had just said something sooner,” you mutter, “hell even if you didn't want me because if it did, it would have been better than sitting around thinking about how I must be a horrible kisser-” 

“I never said that,” he cuts you off, watching the road as the snow starts to come back down. The roads had been cleared and it was only a light dusting, flurries that would melt as soon as they hit the pavement. 

“Exactly you never say anything, you come, you fuck, you leave. I don't even mind it, I welcome it, but then you come over and just hang out, kiss me, and leave but deny you have feelings for me-”

“I never said I didn't have feelings for you, you never asked,” 

“I shouldn't have to ask,”

“I shouldn't have to be the one to start the conversation, you're just as much to blame as I am,” it shuts you up, lips twisting closed as you sink into the seat knowing he's right. But it didn't matter, what's done was done, and you were never the one to run away from him, annoy him yes, but you never ran. 

The two of you sat in silence, watching the snow fall, the anger slightly dissipating as you let the thoughts of him take over. You knew you were a hypocrite, and felt it as easily as you felt the feelings you had for him. You didn't want to push him away, you didn't want him to take you home to drop you off and ignore you all over again. Not when it would feel closer to breaking up than him not coming back to pick you up from school. “I like you and I don't care about the stupid rules, not when you like me too. I like you more than just the sex and that's saying a lot because you can be distant. And I like it when you kiss me, even when you don't mean to, I like it when you come over just to hang out, and I like your stupid car and its heated seats, and I like your smile,” 

The words came out in a rush, “I used to like that you ignored me and now I just hate it, and I hate your stupid jealousy over nothing at all, and I hate the way you make me feel sometimes,” 

“Like when?” His grip on the wheel was tight, knuckles white from the hold. 

“Like when you pull away from kissing me and leave me alone, when you don't show up to pick me up the next week and walk past me like you don't know me anymore, when you watch me dance with someone else and you don't admit when I'm right. And I hate it even more that when you kiss me and it doesn't make you want to stay but run,” your throat felt tight, your teeth working into the flesh of your lip, trying to ignore the way this conversation was making you feel. You didn't even notice him pulling off the shoulder of the road, not until he was putting the car in park. 

Unbuckling his seatbelt he leans over, catching your chin in his hand, pulling you to meet him halfway across the center console to press his lips to yours. You know he's doing it to prove a point, the slow kiss weakening you. Breaking the kiss, you're only just ghosting your lips over his still searching ones, “Seungmin-” 

“I like you, a lot more than I care to admit, and I-” he doesn't even open his eyes as he says it, brows coming together as if it pains him to admit it, “I want to spend all my time with you, I want to kiss you over and over until we can't breathe and I want you to want me as badly as I need you,” his nose bumps yours, the whispered, “please,” pressed right against your mouth, so close its as if it came from your mouth too. 

And you can't help yourself from clinging to him, pulling him by his shirt, hands fisted in the fabric as he devours you. His hand slid behind your ear cupping your skull to get you as near as he could and still he needed you closer. With his free hand, he clicked your seatbelt button, needing it off of you. It was easy enough to follow his instructions, even the silent ones after so long of knowing each other in movements instead of words. 

Pushing out of your seat you made the climb over to his side, his chair pushed back to give you room when between him and the steering wheel. Your skirt bunching around your hips, now short enough to be a belt in this position; arms wrapping around his neck as he holds your waist, keeping you steady as your knees dig into the sides of the seat. He doesn't give you much time to wait before his mouth is back on you, his control slipping as you meet him with the same need, his exploration of you turning messy in seconds. 

It's when he starts to kiss down your jaw, mouth open and hot against your skin that you feel how hard he has gotten, pressed against your thigh as you roll your head back for him. He drags his teeth over your neck, kissing away the trail, groaning at the taste of you. He wants more, needs more, hips rolling up into your as if that bit of friction would fix anything. It didn't matter how many times he had you, he would need more, needed to hear you say his name like you did now, meeting him with a slow tantalizing grind back down on him. 

Your nails scratched along his scalp, gripping his hair with one hand as the other wedges between you two fiddling with the button on his pants. “We don't have to,” he's gasping, the car steaming up. The snow thickened against the windshield, the wipers cut off once he had pulled over.

“I want to,” you say against his mouth, relishing in the way he gasps as soon as your hand grips him. He's never been so whiny before, vocal as you rise on your knees, panties pushed to the side as you drag his tip through your slick folds.“Tell me if you want me to stop,” but he's shaking his head, nose brushing your cheek, hips pushing up to try and catch your entrance before you can think about stopping. 

“No, don't stop,” hands on your hips holding you hard enough to bruise the second he slips in an inch. “Please don't stop,” 

The stretch makes you gasp, forehead to his as he tries to keep himself from pushing all the way in so fast. But you don't care, you want him as deep as he will go, as close as you can get him. Sinking down you take in the overwhelming feeling, hand falling to your stomach as you moan, “You're so-” the words won't even form anymore, brain finding it hard to make connections to your mouth now that you had him this far in.  

“You always feel so fucking good,” Seungmin groans, body melting into the seat, the warmth of the heater only making the two of you flushed and easily pliable. “I knew it that first time that your pussy was made for me,” he rolls his hips finding any room that he can to give his shallow thrusts, his pelvis pressed to your clit making you blink hard. “Can you feel it?” 

“Yes-” the word a confession as you find your own pace, grinding your hips, finding a rhythm that would have you finishing without much effort, but you know it's because it's him, the way he knows your body, fits you so well. His nails scratching at your clothes, finding a grip so that he can use you as leverage to rock into you, tip pressed right to your g-spot at this angle. 

“You're so fucking perfect, how could I not like you, how could I not think about you and only you,” his puppy dog eyes watching you, his hair a disheveled mess, brows close together as he whimpers again. “Look at you,” his sweet mewls fill up the space, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his seat as you drag your hips back and forth on him.“So pretty riding my cock so desperately,” 

“I want you to cum for me, please, please,” you can't even keep yourself up anymore, crowding his space, pressing your lips back to his as he takes over, and you know he's cumming the second he starts to tremble, mouth frozen in a moan as you catch the sound in the back of your throat. Your own climax triggered by the sight of his, by the feeling of being so full. He can't even stop himself from using your hips to ride back down on him, wanting to keep you right where you were, full of him in every way. 

You wrap your arms around him, his face tucked into your neck, the light kisses over your still hammering pulse only making it flutter longer than calm down. It's not until you pull back to look at him that you see that hazy smile on his features. “Come home with me? Spend the night,” 

His smile only grows, spreading across the expanse of his face until he's nodding, “I do have a key, maybe I could stay longer than just the night…” his eyes caught on the way you smile right back at him. 

“As long as you want, since I happen to like you, I could keep you around for a long, long time,” both your smiles caught against each other's lips right before he's back to kissing you. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @possum-playground @ch4nn13luv @izzyy-stuff @jellymochii @yeoningz @filmnings want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[phantomrose96]

Prometheus

content warnings: horror. body horror. ghost show can have a little existential horror, as a treat! :)

...

Tucker and Danny sat as silhouettes in the Foley attic rec-room.

The ghoulish light of the television pinned their shadows against the back wall, pulsing in and out like fireflies at each flash of the screen. It left their backs drenched in darkness, and it made monoliths of the old furniture and piled-high boxes that wrapped the perimeter of the attic. Drafty air whistled through the gaps in the insulation. Plicks and flicks of moths beat in tone against the light of the television where the seal of the attic window failed to keep them out. Danny hounded the controller in his hands, clackering with each frenetic beat of his thumb while he mashed his buttons and leaned his full bodyweight into the assault he wrought, virtually until--

“BOOM!! Headshot!” Danny yelled with a pump of his fist. From his nonexistent peripheral vision, he could not see the way Tucker would not look at him.

“Come on, man,” Tucker said.

“Get it?” Danny asked.

“Dude, come on, like… Maybe don’t.”

Danny let out a disappointed huff of air from his nostril, spirits dampened. The wayward glow of his eye settled back on the screen: Victory blazoned across his split of the screen. You Died pulsed on Tucker’s. Danny mashed the rematch option. “Maybe get good then,” Danny said, “and then you get to make the bad puns.”

“Sorry man look I’m just—tired okay?”

“Yeah I know—”

“You can be goofy about it tomorrow—”

“I know—”

“I promise it’ll be hilarious then just—”

“Okay okay, I get it. I’ll save the jokes—”

“How much longer?”

“Hmm?”

Danny looked, and Tucker was looking now too, and it was taking all concentrated will on Tucker’s face to keep looking.

“How much longer until you’re like… You know.”

4am chimed from the grandfather clock stowed in the Foley attic. The ghostly sheen of the television splashed bright and pallid across the right side of Tucker’s face, as he stared at Danny. And it splashed bright across the left side of Danny’s face, which was the only side of Danny’s face remaining.

“I don’t know like… maybe 3 more hours, I think?” A lisp whistled from the absent flesh of his jawbone.

Tucker watched his lips. And his eyes drifted to the shadow carved dark and empty in the socket that could no longer see him, a merciful concealment of where skin turned to raw exposed flesh turned to bone.

Tucker looked forward again, and he mashed his thumbs into his own controller. Danny’s character’s skull exploded into a cloud of meat-rain before Danny had the chance to notice the match resume.

“Fine. I can do 3 more hours,” Tucker said. “And start watching your head.”

…

It wasn’t until the camping trip 4 months ago that Danny knew anything was strange.

It was a yearly Fenton tradition, which Danny tolerated and Jazz dreaded, to haul the four of them and the RV out into some swampy campground 3 hours from home. They’d roll in roaring, RV stuffed to the brim with wilderness equipment and enough mechanical monstrosities to scare away all actual wildlife. All except for the fish, who had the disadvantage of not seeing the mechanical affront to God parked with questionable legality on the campgrounds.

This year, Danny had decided he was embracing it. Because for the first time, sitting grubby and wet in the mud for 3 days sounded much nicer than his typical weekend plans, which was mainly getting his ass kicked by ghosts. He’d flagged down Valerie a week ahead of time to tell her, between gunshots, that he’d be absent for those 3 days. Valerie had taken equal offence at the request that she pick up Phantom’s slack, and the implication that she wasn’t already doing that.

But it meant the ghosts were covered for the weekend, and it meant Danny was free to do nothing more exciting than sit in the mud, which was all well and good enough for Danny. Although his hopes of leaving the weekend with the same number of scars he started with were dashed by hour 5. It was his own fault too. Jack had insisted Danny gut the fish Jack caught via a blast of the Fenton Disintegrator to the lake (unconventional, not even a fishing device, a ghost weapon he and Maddie were fine-tuning. A ranger came and yelled at them about it.) And while distracted by his parents getting told off for being menaces, Danny miscalculated the slipperiness of both fish and knife.

Luckily the RV was, among many many things, a hospital on wheels, and Jazz had quit sulking long enough to take a morbid fascination in cleaning Danny’s palm out with antiseptic that burned like acid and bandaging up his palm. For dinner that night, Danny ate his open-flame grilled fish with a little more prejudice than usual.

By Saturday, his hand hadn’t healed. Nor by Sunday. And on Sunday evening while Maddie and Jack busied themselves with packing up the tent they’d both invented and yet struggled to collapse back into its box, Danny flagged Jazz with quiet urgency.

“I think there’s something wrong with my hand.”

“Wrong how?”

“Infected, maybe.”

Jazz knit her brow in concern. “It looked fine this morning,” she muttered as she pulled Danny down onto the stump beside her and flipped open the First Aid kit latch. She unraveled Danny’s bandage layer by layer, and the concerned knit to her brow loosened to confusion.

“It looks fine. It’s barely even red.”

Danny snatched his hand back. “Yeah, and it’s barely healed at all.”

“I mean, it’s healed a little bit.”

“Yeah but. Barely.”

“It looks pretty normal.”

“Jazz my day-job is getting whacked with ghost machetes,” Danny said, tone growing a little tense at Jazz’s lack of concern. “I know how quickly cuts are supposed to heal.”

“And how quickly is that?”

“I mean. It depends. But like a day.”

“A day?”

“Or maybe 25 hours, I guess.”

“Danny, you cut yourself pretty deep.”

“26 hours max, literally.”

Jazz was staring. Danny felt awkwardly judged.

“Hey um, as a question Danny, do you remember the last injury you got before your ghost powers?”

Danny hesitated. He racked his brain and some part of him felt a little embarrassed how hard he had to search, as if it were shameful to have been so delicately uninjured before this whole thing.

“…Dash, maybe. But Dash it good at the kind of quick jabby punches that hit your nerve but don’t bruise.”

“Anything else?”

Danny fell quiet. Then brightened. “I fell off my bike last year. Racing Tucker. Scraped up my shin and knee.”

“And how long did that take to heal?”

The delight faded a bit. Danny thinned his lips thinking. “…Maybe a while.”

“Probably a few weeks.”

“Jeez, really? No.” Danny said. And he so deeply wanted to be offended, because he’d become the biggest expert in the family on getting his skin used as a ghost shrapnel canvas, which should make him the authority on injury healing. And Jazz was doubting all of that. “No. That’d heal in like. A day.”

“Maybe with ghost powers,” Jazz answered. “Maybe in ghost form. Which, currently and for the last 3 days, you have not been in.”

Danny fell quiet. He considered this information that deeply annoyed him until, with grudgingness edging to acceptance, he looked at his hand, and then his sister, and then his hand.

“….Oh.”

That night, home and showered and with the clock creeping toward 1am, Danny sat on his bed. He pooled his hands in his lap, lit by the moonlight pouring through his bedroom window. He sat an inch above his bed, in fact, hair shimmery white and his right glove removed. In the wash of moonlight he watched his palm. And there was something haunting, almost, in the way he could see the edges of the cut stitch themselves back together bit by tiniest bit. He lost himself in a grainy infomercial on his television, and when it ended, his cut was gone.

…

Phantom returned to the ghost fighting scene with an unwarranted new confidence. In truth nothing had changed. But Danny operated now with the knowledge that he was a particular kind of resilient that he’d not actually realized before. And while he did not like getting fileted by Skulker’s ghost gut-hook knife, or seared by Ember’s flame guitar, or bonked in the head by Fenton Bolas (Dad why), there was a certain delight in the “This will all not be a problem by tomorrow”-ness of it all.

Even better, he now knew that just idling in ghost mode for an extra hour or two was all it took to be right as rain again. (“This is making your Gameboy addiction worse than Tucker’s,” Sam had commented. “Well how else am I supposed to pass the time?” Danny asked while mashing buttons with one less finger than usual. “You could read a book.”)

On the flipside, it did make Danny grouchier about mid-school-day attacks, which didn’t afford him the luxury of floating around to bake in ghost mode for an hour or two watching bad tv. And unless Mr. Lancer got real chill real fast with Danny Phantom taking Danny Fenton’s English tests, it meant that any school-time fight injury had to be dealt with conventional human-style, and super-healed after school.

And Danny carried this knowledge with more bitterness than usual one fall afternoon when a fight with Technus had already gouged into the first 15 minutes of his math test, and now Danny was going to have to suck it up for the last 45 minutes if he wanted to pass geometry this quarter. Which was bullshit because that last blast Technus got on him had really fucking hurt.

Danny landed, and in his math-induced funk, he missed the particular wide-eyed way Sam and Tucker stared at him. “Here,” Danny said, handing off the thermos to Tucker, and Danny let his human transformation slip through in rings around his sternum.

“Danny stop,” Sam said, and with an urgent breathlessness that froze Danny in place. “Do not turn back.”

Confusion seeped into Danny’s blood. He let the transformation rings fade away, and he felt the thermos heavy in his outstretched hand that Tucker would not take. Heavy and wet. Heavy, and very very wet.

He looked at his hand, and his white glove was unrecognizable beneath the saturation of red. The thermos dropped from his hand, and suddenly Danny wasn’t so sure which direction was up.

“Sit,” Sam maybe said, or said something like it. Her hands were on his shoulders. He was easing in a direction that was probably down. His butt hit cold pavement. And suddenly he raked in a shuddering breath which was wet as mud.

Sam was pulling away the top of his suit, which was the worst possible place for her to do that considering how much it hurt. She was pulling right where Technus had blasted him, and Danny had half a mind to tell her off until he saw what was underneath the fabric.

“That’s not good,” he bubbled out through a lot of blood in his mouth and throat.

Baseball-sized. Like someone had taken a very large hole-puncher right to his sternum. A very good hole-puncher because it had in fact punched him straight through and run off with the little cut-out it stole. Globby flesh spilled to fill in some of the empty space. But a solid chunk of sternum, and heart, and lung, and spine, were rudely elsewhere.

Danny was in a very slippery wet dream, and his fluttering eyes agreed.

“No,” Sam said with an unnecessarily aggressive pinch of his skin. “Absolutely do not fall asleep.”

“Ow,” Danny said, maybe about the pinch but also his missing organs.

This wasn’t good enough for Sam who was a little bit ghost-shaded herself while she grabbed both Danny’s ears tight and angled Danny’s eyes to hers. “If you turn human now that’s going to be very very bad. You’re fine, Danny. You’re just in shock, I think. Focus on me. Come on, count with me Danny. 1. 2.”

“Isn’t counting sheep supposed to put you to sleep?” Danny quipped, but all the blood gurgling maybe ruined his delivery a little.

…

His heart sewed itself back together in 20 minutes. His esophagus and trachea kindly followed at the 27-minute mark, the last of the tubage knitting itself together and forming the correct kind of air-seal against anything else in his chest cavity. That was a blessing, because passing the time was easier when he could talk without re-enacting the elevator from The Shining – a joke Danny had tried to deliver several times and which refused to land.

And while he still did not have his new spine vertebrae nor sternum by the 30-minute mark, Danny could see the way the last of the white fear had left Sam’s face and the way Tucker could now face him directly. And that told him that however he looked, he no longer looked like someone who was going to die.

By the 1-hour mark, Danny sat drenched in his own blood from a fatal wound that no longer existed. And he’d missed his math test.

…

Super healing was cool. Very cool. What other kind of power lets you just walk away from fatal injuries?

At the close of a ghost fight, thermos capped, swimming in the eerie silence of a street cleared of screams, Danny stood. And he shivered. He ran his hands up and down his stomach, his chest, his back his face, pressing any pain-point to discover if his fingers would sink in wet and deep. Was it safe to transform back? If he made a mistake, would he notice fast enough? Would he be able to turn back again in time?

Alone in the snow of the Amity golf course. The roof of the mall. The back archives of the library. Danny lingered. Many places were good for lingering, and so Danny would linger, wherever and whenever he could. It made that held-breath feeling of transforming back easier, to know no part of him was at risk of undoing him.

And sometimes his hand did come away sticky. And in the black of night Danny went home, mindful to step only on the kitchen tile from which blood could be wiped up cleanly. And he was tired from too many nights of this when he pulled cereal from the cupboard and splashed milk into a bowl and cleared away the nuts and bolts from the half-undressed Fenton Disintegrator (undergoing v2 upgrades) and flickered the noxious glow of the muted television to life while his liver stitched itself back together. The tremble would not quite leave his cereal spoon hand but he’d manage.

One night Walker had blasted off half of Danny’s skull. And he lay shaking hunched on the pavement willing himself to overcome the pangs of shock radiating through his body until he had enough composure to call Tucker on the phone and ask if he could come over, if they could play Man vs. Zombie maybe, and stay awake through the night while his brain matter remade itself.

One night he had to grab Valerie by the ankle before she flew off, and she probably only heeded him because the break in Phantom’s superhero bravado unnerved her so much. “Please just stay and talk to me. Something bad will happen if I fall asleep,” he said, while holding the parts that used to be his stomach. “Define ‘bad.’” “I’ll die.” “Sounds like a human.” She shouldn’t have taken pity on him. But she did. Maybe because she was a human who would die like Danny if left on the pavement with her stomach open. Valerie stayed until the sun rose.

And he was lucky, because as a human he should have died. And Danny didn’t. He just came close, more and more and more. Until the sight of a raised ghost weapon forced a very human flinch from him.

…

“…losing an edge, you’d say, Craig?” “Not exactly. As a psychiatrist who’s worked with many veterans and active-duty soldiers, it’s common to—”

“Morning,” Jack said, flipping up his welding mask just long enough to nod to Danny before re-busying himself in his soldering.

“Dad, do you think maybe you could do that in the lab?” Jazz asked over a bowl of cornflakes, with a tone one might use when asking a 10-year-old to move his basketball game outside.

“Hmm, why? The table won’t catch fire.”

“Which is what you said last time,” Jazz said, carefully plucking up a cooled bit of metal scrap from beside her cereal bowl.

“…ffered many fatal injuries on camera, who knows how many weren’t capt—”

The television drowned beneath the screech of Jack’s welding, let up to breathe for moments at a time before Jack resumed the drowning. Danny’s eyes followed. The refurbished Fenton Disintegrator had nearly reformed, bigger than its original body, with a gaping fish-mouth twice the radius of the thing which had blasted up the fish in the campground lake.

“I just think, Dad, that you and Mom have a whooooole laboratory basement to yourselves, and I have just this one dining table to eat cereal at, so—”

“But then you kids would miss out on what I’m making. See, Danny’s interested. Danny, watch this—”

Jack hoisted the monster up. He hitched it atop his shoulder, and set his eye behind its sight, and twisted at the hip to point its open maw directly at Danny.

Danny froze.

“Dad, Jesus, at least show some trigger-discipline if you’re—Danny?”

Danny could not move. He could not move or really see. The shockwave rippled through him, and he believed for the moment that surely he’d been shot until Jazz shook him. “Danny, are you okay?”

Danny’s heart was intact but still it squeezed like it had been ripped. His legs were whole but they were numb beneath him. And he was useless too. Over what? Over nothing. Over a gun pointed at him, the sort which had been pointed at him 4,000 times before.

“…Danny?” Jazz asked, more worried than before. Jack had put down the gun, and he was staring at Danny in the same way.

And it was stupid. So very stupid. Because Danny had super-healing, and a hit from something like that would heal. It could rip him apart, and he’d be completely fine.

So it was all actually incredibly incredibly stupid that he was somehow, without even meaning to, crying.

…

The fight had ended three hours ago. And three hours was longer than only the worst of his injuries took to heal. Tonight had not been bad at all, just a bit of ripping and tearing at his leg from a bear-trap Skulker had laid (despite Skulker insisting he did not know what a bear was). And that had healed up in 20 minutes flat.

Danny lingered anyway, sitting soaking cold in the snow on the golf course. He liked that it was high-up here. He liked that the lights fanned far and wide. He liked that the razed-flat golf turf allowed nothing to hide. He wiled away the hours he ought to be sleeping, because there was a security in consciousness, in his ghost form. If he slept, he could be killed. And if he sat resting in ghost form on the crest of the golf course hill, he could not.

But he could nod off. Catching his head at each dip. But his mind fizzled and faded, rubbing against the staticky edge of sleep, enough to perhaps not notice steps in the snowfall that tracked him to where he sat.

The whir of the charging gun kicked him to high alert.

All alert, all at once, so suddenly adrenaline soaked that Danny had no sense of orientation when he spun on spot and his eyes drank in the sight of the barrel-mouth breathing to life in his direction.

“Told you I fixed the calibration on this, Honey.”

“Well at least it’s not a fish.”

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he was paralyzed. He was dread. He was stone.

It screeched. And it roared. And with a connection of a car crash, it took greedily for itself a gibbous moon of Danny’s torso.

He collapsed. Eyes spinning. Ears ringing. Sensation like fire and like ice and like buzzing static and nothing, feeling, at all to connect to his legs.

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he needed a mouth for that. So the second blast connected.

…

It had been an amount of time. Jack and Maddie Fenton may have stooped in the snow and collected samples to study. Danny could not know, because he’d need eyes to know. They may have crunched with their boots and mused about the resilience of ecto-flesh, more resilient than fish-flesh. Danny could not know, because he’d need ears to know. They may have picked him up piece-meal and carried him in their pockets. Danny could not know. Not without touch.

He may have been on the golf course. He may not have been. There was no ‘where’ Danny could know. He needed his proprioception for that.

There was was. There was something Danny hoped was be. This was, Danny hoped, awake. This was the only awake he could be without a brain. And if this was awake, how long could he last? And if this was awake, was it enough to heal again?

Super healing was cool. It saved you from death. But maybe not always.

Was time passing…? Was the snow cold. Was the wind blowing. Was the hilltop white under pooling lights. Was it. And did it. And was he and did he.

Was time passing?

Surely, it had been just an eternity, by now. An eternity at least.

Or had it been only one second.

Or Danny wasn’t here.

He was, though. He had to exist to feel what he felt in the moment. He had to exist even if he was deprived of the mouth needed to scream the agony that was, in its entirety, him.

…

Sun glazed the snow on the east bank of the golf course down to a slushy sheen by 10am the next morning. Mitted, in snow boots, three trespassers combed the 18 holes of Amity Park Golf Course.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Sam asked, voice hoarse with a question that had been repeated once an hour for the last three hours between heaving breaths of clearing snow.

“It has to be this one. They said golf course there’s only one golf course,” Jazz answered, and her hands trembled against the heel of the shovel she dug into her nearest snowbank.

“Do you see any foot prints?”

“They’re melted.”

“Well check the melted sides then!”

“We checked the melted sides.”

“Maybe we missed—”

“Guys shut up,” Tucker said, and he said it low, and he said it with lips the color of ash. He stood rooted. And his eyes shifted to the crown of the hill 30 feet to their right.

Jazz and Sam shut up. Because they heard it too.

Jazz abandoned her shovel in the snow. She ran. But Sam was faster.

And it was a noise. Long and piercing and deflating. Quiet. Then starting fresh from the top. Long and singular, like the note of a bagpipe. Sam rounded the crest of the hill. And she found the noise first.

And this close, she realized what it was. The noise was relief. Because the thing lying in the melted snow was finally enough of a mouth, and enough of a throat, and enough of a lung, to scream.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ bad liar ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @gothic-rat112 (lost the ask...) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. seong gi-hun x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ how he is when jealous & insecure┊1.2k words 

setting: season 1 contains: age gap relationship (unspecified but legal obviously), insecurity & jealousy, he’s a little immature & broke as hell but it’s okay i love pathetic men, reader is a sweetheart, this is all over the place omfg

➤ author's note: okay i kinda went on a tangent, first season because i miss his stupid smile and his fluffy hair (also look at how cute he is in this gif omfg i love him sm, i need to write for him more, underrated in his own show, THE PUPPY EYES)

╰₊✧ honestly, gi-hun isn’t so much as jealous as he is insecure. sure, he has an outgoing personality and always makes you laugh without fail, but he can’t think of any other positive traits aside from that. he doesn’t think of himself as particularly attractive with his scruffy appearance, and he’s painfully aware that he’s lacking when it comes to finances and has a gambling problem to boot. on top of all that, he was a divorced middle-aged man who didn’t even have joint custody of his only daughter and still lived with his mom rent-free, a terrible husband, father, and son— he’s truthfully the type of man people avoid when dating.

╰₊✧ yet he still managed to pull a pretty young thing like you who looks past all that, not sure if you were stupid or desperate. during the first few weeks of being together, he made jokes about still being able to date younger women in his old age because he was still in disbelief it was happening, but when you stuck by his side through all his flaws and the first year passed with you supporting him to get better, insecurity hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized that he was genuinely in love with you and that he didn’t have what it took to be the boyfriend you deserved when he wasn’t even someone his biological family deserved. 

╰₊✧ he sees other people buying their girls jewelry and clothing from name-brand stores, taking them out to eat in luxury restaurants with multiple courses, driving them around in european cars, and he’s out here saving money to do something as little as cake for your anniversary. he’s always on cloud nine when he spends time with you, but there’s something so humbling about looking up “broke date ideas” and scraping together what he already has to make it more special. no matter how much things like that don’t matter to you with the mindset of the intention counting more than the price, he still feels shitty about having you pay for most of the things you do together when he’s the man and the older one in the relationship along with the fact that you were barely better off than he was. 

walks around to admire the sights: especially during holiday seasons when there are pretty lights, you like holding his hand and admiring the sights of the city you often take for granted. if the streets are empty then he doesn’t mind it, but he does get self-conscious about the looks you both get so it’s not super common.

candlelit dinners of takeout and beer: a regular one, gi-hun likes to gather a bunch of candles to make the place look a little more romantic, maybe even having some roses to make it look nicer. the man doesn’t cook much though, so you’ll just have replated takeout with bottles of beer, but he always makes it lively with conversation and puts effort into fixing his hair to look more handsome.

and anything else he can think of, he can be really creative when it comes to you and you’re pleasantly surprised each time.

╰₊✧ these things bother him a lot more than he will let on, but he tries to stay all smiles around you which you see right through like glass. he’s a bad liar, a trait he would always get in trouble for when he was a child since he couldn’t lie about his antics.

╰₊✧ he feels awful when he finds that you also entered these games to pay off your respective debts, because no matter how much you try to convince him you aren’t, he knows that you intended to use any extra money to help him out as well with his debt being higher than yours. it should be the other way around, he should be the one helping you, and when the first shots are fired during “red light, green light,” he makes you swear that you won’t come back.

╰₊✧ of course, you do come back, because while he is your boyfriend, you’re also a grown-ass woman who can do what she pleases (also because you’re desperate and prefer not to find out what those loan sharks would do to you if it took too long to pay them back, and you might as well go to support gi-hun because you know his ass went back).

╰₊✧ he feels a little bit better about himself seeing all of the other people in a similar position as him, drowning in debt and petrified of death. he tries to be protective over you, but let’s be honest, you’re the protective one who mothers him, and since the constant threat of death is always looming, he lets you do it even if it looks stupid. people are either judgemental or jealous, but there are bigger things to worry about.

“people are staring…” he muttered, his eyes darting around to meet theirs and watching as they looked away the second eye contact was made. “you don’t need to do this, you know, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“i don’t care, let them stare,” you stated simply, rubbing into the back of his shoulders with practiced circular motions. “they are just jealous that they don’t have a cute girlfriend to take care of them like you do, and i want to! your muscles are so tense— i don’t want you participating in the next games when you aren’t in the best shape. we could die any day here, i want to give you all the love i can!”

╰₊✧ jealous of sang-woo with his intelligence and emotional security. even if both of them are wearing the same teal tracksuit, his childhood friend was in here because of failed investments which sounded a lot better than just losing constant bets in gambling dens. (to be fair, if you were gi-hun’s controversially young girlfriend, i don’t think either of you would get along well as he probably looks down on you and you probably find him stuck up, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being stolen away by him). not really jealous of that block-head deok-su hitting on you, after the little altercation they had on the first day, more annoyed than anything but the feeling quickly vanishes when he sees you reject him with a roll of your eyes. 

╰₊✧ actually jealous of anyone your age paying attention to you, especially ali who has a really sweet personality and gets along with you really well, maybe even sae-byeok who has a pretty face and is decently nice once you get to know her. 

“you need to stop pouting.”

“‘m not pouting…”

“you’re a bad liar, you know that? but it’s so cute,” you exclaimed, reaching out to pinch his cheeks childishly. “you don’t need to be jealous of ali, he’s already married and has a kid.”

“i know, i know…”

“i don’t think you do.”

╰₊✧ it’s so obvious when he’s jealous, it’s actually painful. he stares holes into the head of the person talking to you and is pouty until you address it. he’ll also blush when you call him out and tease him about it, it’s so cute. please give him assurance, pinch his cheeks, ruffle his fluffy hair, and give him lots of kisses, he deserves it.

(author is slightly delirious with a fever, i took medicine dw, i just really wanna kiss gihun)

[tac-the-unseen]

how slasher reacts that s/o is rude and hot-tempered with everyone but with him he becomes sweet and kind ?? (pleaseee do Tommy)

Slashers x Rude Reader

Micheal Myers:

•Honestly whatever

•He thinks it's a little funny when you're sassy or bitchy with people

•He chill with almost whatever you do

•Loves feeling like He's the only person in your world (He's toxic like that)

•giving only him your affection sends every happy chemical to his brain

•No matter what your relationship, He wants to be the only one

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•You give these boys whiplash

•One second you're yelling at somebody, and the next you're giggling and laughing with them

•However watching you blow up at a guy for flirting with you is enough to make them stay

•If you're also a Ghostface, they're putting you on phone duty. They love your sassy one-liners

•They both back you up all the time, whether you're wrong or right

•these boys are real ride or dies (You did watch the movie right?)

Thomas Hewitt:

•Confused

•He has no idea how you can switch up so fast

•He loves how kind you are to him, But watching you be mean to everybody else makes his head spin

•On one hand he loves being around you, and you are truly his best friend. On the other, he doesn't know How you even became friends in the first place at times

•Your smile is enough to remind him though

•But he also knows that your mouth is going to get you in trouble, So he's double protective

Bubba Sawyer:

•Another case of whiplash

•But at least you get to stand up and fit in with his brothers

•they're the rudest people he knows, So at least he knows that you're truly part of the family

•And someone has to tell the cashier he ordered no pickles, And it's not going to be him

•Loves seeing your ‘soft’ side (It makes him feel special and trusted)

Bo Sinclair:

•Loves it

•Couldn’t be more proud

•Watching you snap at travelers is enough to put hearts in his eyes

•He cheers you on while you verbally brawl with others

•Sometimes wishes you're that bitchy with him (But then he remembers all the people you made cry, and prefers not to be on that receiving end)

Vincent Sinclair:

•A little unsettled by the deja vu he gets

•You remind him so much of his brother that it bothers him to a degree

•Then you're so sweet to him and he forgets that feeling for a while

•However he will have a mini crisis by how many rude people are in his life….or were

•Asks you to try and be a little nicer to people, while also giving you permission to have screaming matches with Bo (You leave poor Lester out of it!)

Lester Sinclair:

•He kind of needs someone to stand up for him

•someone has to set his brother's straight, and it sure ain't going to be him

•views you like a guard dog

•He's so grateful for it too

•Tries to repay you by taking you the scenic routes if you tag along with him for work

Billy Lenz:

•Whenever he's fed up he hands you the phone line

•Another slasher that cheers you on

•Scream at the sorority girls all you want, no matter what he'll be behind you with imaginary pom-poms

•And when you turn around and look at him with affection, it makes him melt

•Will be snuggled up to your mid section with you curse a bitch out

•If you literally weren't the only person in his life, you'd be a little concerned that you are his comfort person

Brahms Heelshire:

•as long as you're not rude to him, whatever

•kind of loves it, but will not admit it

•It makes him less prone to jump out and grab people

•Will still snatch a hoe if needed, but he loves to watch you take care of ‘pests’

•Sassing the grocery Boy is a sure way to get Brahms to do whatever you want

•It just makes him feel secure, heard, and understood

Hannibal Lecter:

•Be honest with yourself

•You do not have Will Graham privileges

•You're going in the soup

•om nom nom nom 😋

Will Graham:

•another case of: whatever don't care

•(Not) The rudest couple in town

•You've both mastered the “Bitch Please” Look

•Hannibal tries telling Will that you are bad influence, Will doesn't listen and does not care

•you're as sweetest can be to him and feed his puppies, that is enough for him

The Lost Boys:

•You fit right in

•What other possible qualifications would you need to have to join the residential sassy vampire biker club??

•Watching you curse out a clumsy Tourist makes their day

•David Loves to stand back and watch you ruin a sleazy dudes day

•Dwayne tries to reel you in when you go to far, but will mostly let you do your thing

•Paul and Marko Are your personal cheerleaders through and through! Right or wrong!

•But walking around the boardwalk, terrorizing tourists, spending time together in the cave, and overall spending time with them Really solidifies your place in the gang!

Thanks for Reading!