#but you don’t know what you signed up for

[wingedhallows]

— RUSTLING MAPLE LEAVES —

— ✩₊˚.⋆☾ PAIRING southern!vi x citygirl!reader / 2.5 k words — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ SYNOPSIS When you inherit your grandmother’s farm in the heart of Georgia, the last thing you expect is Violet Lane—your rugged, maddeningly charming neighbor with a slow drawl and a smirk that could bring anyone to their knees. What starts as a simple favor—a little help with the land—quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Because Vi isn’t just good with her hands; she knows exactly how to unravel you, one lingering touch at a time. And resisting her? Well, that might just be impossible. — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ WARNING smut (minors DNI) — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ AUTHORS NOTE hey babes, i'm super late with this but it's my first time attempting to write actual smut. I thought you might enjoy this as a thanks for 400 & 500 followers. thanks babes, love u

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Moving into your grandma’s old flat in Georgia wasn’t exactly on your bucket list this year. But when she decided she was done with the ranch—tired of the early mornings and aching bones—she signed it over to you and packed her bags for a nursing home.

And now, here you stand.

Hands on your hips, staring up at the massive oak tree out front. It’s old, gnarled, and overgrown—a mess of tangled branches just waiting to drop and split someone’s skull open.

"Surely needs trimmin’, ma’am."

The voice is smooth, warm, dipped in something slow and syrupy. You whirl around—and nearly forget how to breathe.

A woman stands there, tipping her hat with a lazy smirk. Pink hair peeks out from beneath the brim, catching the golden light just right. One hand rests on the belt of her worn jeans, and the way she carries herself—easy, confident, like she’s got all the time in the world—makes your stomach flip.

Jesus.

Since when did you have a thing for Southern women?

"Violet Lane. Pleasure. Call me Vi."

She pauses, giving the tree a once-over, and for a moment, you swear you catch a sharp cut along the edge of her jaw—like she was carved from something wild and unyielding.

"Shimmer Farm’s mine." She nods down the road, and just like that, it clicks.

Your new neighbor. And, quite possibly, your newest problem.

You finally manage to clear your throat, lifting a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s too damn bright, or maybe it’s just her.

"Bonnie’s my granny—left all this to me." You gesture vaguely at the ranch around you, hoping the motion hides the slight tremor in your fingers.

Violet—or Vi, as you’re already calling her in your head—gives a short nod before leaning against the white fence. The wood creaks beneath her weight, but all you can focus on is the way her flannel stretches over her arms—sleeves rolled up just enough to show off tanned, sinewy forearms and biceps that look like they could throw you clean over her shoulder.

Jesus. Get a fucking grip.

"She mentioned it—nice lady." Her voice is slow, deliberate, dipped in molasses, and you find yourself watching her like she’s something out of a dream.

Of course, she’d know your granny. They were neighbors.

"Tell you what, city girl—I’ll trim it for ya'."

She pushes off the fence with a lazy sort of grace, nodding toward the tree.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What? No, no—you don’t have to.”

You shake your head quickly, hoping she’ll back off, because if she gets any closer, you might just lose the battle against your absolutely feral urges.

But Vi just smirks, the kind of smirk that’s all trouble, all slow-drawled confidence that makes your stomach flip.

"Nonsense, sugar. ‘S what we do ‘round here."

And then—she winks.

You stand there, completely useless, as she turns and strides back down the driveway, hands tucked in the pockets of her beat-up jeans.

All you can do is stare after her, mouth slightly open, and hope to God nobody catches you drooling like a love-struck teenager.

Vi returns not long after, carrying a ladder, a hedge trimmer, and—oh, hell—without the flannel.

The wife beater she’s wearing should be illegal. It clings to her like a second skin, outlining lean muscle and sun-kissed shoulders, and as if that wasn’t enough to completely fry your brain, your gaze catches on the ink stretching across her upper back. Bold, intricate—something that probably runs the length of her spine.

You stand there on the porch, awkward as hell, gripping the railing like it might keep you from falling over. God, help me.

Vi doesn’t say a word as she props the ladder against the thick trunk of the tree, adjusts her hat, and climbs up like she’s done this a thousand times before.

And maybe it’s your imagination—or maybe she flexes, just a little, when she lifts the trimmer.

She knows you’re watching. And she sure as hell doesn’t mind.

The hedge trimmer hums to life, and you realize you should probably say something—anything—to make this feel a little less like you’re shamelessly ogling her.

"So… what kind of farm is ‘Shimmer’?" Your voice is quieter than you intended, but steady.

Vi doesn’t look away from her work, but she answers anyway, cool and easy.

"Horse farm. Got some sheep, too. Ma’  Pop, and my sister run it with me."

You nod, soaking that in. So, she works on a horse farm, probably rides, probably knows how to rope cattle, probably looks stupidly good doing it.

One question lingers in the back of your mind, burning at the tip of your tongue before you can stop it.

"Just you three? No boyfriend?"

You swear you hear her chuckle—low, rough, the kind of sound that zips straight through your bloodstream and leaves a warm ache in its wake.

Then she turns her head, baby blues locking onto yours, lazy smirk playing at her lips.

"Nah. I don’t swing that way."

Her voice is amused, like she already knows the effect it’s having on you.

And just like that, your brain short circuits.

She’s into women.

Oh.

A few hours later, the tree is neatly trimmed, the stray branches hauled off to God knows where—somewhere in the back of Vi’s truck, probably, but you’d been a little too distracted watching her maneuver the damn thing like she was born with a steering wheel in her hand.

She’d backed into your driveway with one arm slung over the passenger seat, her other hand steady on the wheel, and you swear your heart flipped clean over in your chest.

Now, you lean over the railing of the porch, holding out a cold bottle of beer. A peace offering. Or maybe just an excuse to keep her around a little longer.

Vi takes it with a soft huff, swiping the back of her hand across her damp forehead before twisting off the cap. "Thanks, sugar."

Her voice is a little rough, a little breathless, and it sends a spark straight through your bloodstream.

You watch as she tilts the bottle back, throat bobbing as she takes a sip—your eyes helplessly tracking the way a single droplet of sweat slides from her temple down the curve of her jaw.

And suddenly, you forget how to breathe.

"Are you hungry?" The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, blurting out in a rush of reckless impulse.

Vi lowers the bottle, her smirk slow and knowing as she tips her head. "Don’t wanna trouble ya', city girl."

Her voice is low, husky, damn near sinful, and you—God help you—have to press your thighs together, because how the hell is this woman the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen?

"It’s the least I can do, please." You nod toward the house, pushing the door open in silent invitation.

Vi takes her time stepping forward, letting her gaze drag over you in a way that feels deliberate.

And she’s doing her best not to stare at your ass too long—because, fuck.

Inside the house, you make your way to the kitchen, racking your brain for something—anything—you can throw together. Not like you’ve got much to work with. You’ve only been here a week, and your fridge is a sad excuse for a meal.

Behind you, Vi leans against the counter, the beer bottle dangling lazily from her fingers. She’s watching you—no, devouring you with her gaze—slow and deliberate, like she’s got all the time in the world.

You pretend not to notice. Or maybe you just don’t know how to function under the weight of her attention.

She shifts, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, and you let out an awkward chuckle, tugging open the fridge with a grimace.

"I, uh—I don’t really have much. I just moved in, and… grocery shopping…” Your words fumble over each other, and the sheer intensity of her gaze makes you regret speaking at all.

Vi waves you off with a slow flick of her wrist, stepping closer.

And that’s when you catch it—the faintest hint of her cologne beneath the scent of sweat and sun-warmed skin, the lingering trace of sawdust from working on that damned maple tree.

You swear your knees go weak.

"S’alright, hun," she murmurs, voice richer, huskier than before.

Your back presses against the counter, your pulse skittering as she closes the space between you.

The air shifts—thicker now, charged with something electric, something dangerous.

And suddenly, food is the last thing on your mind.

Vi moves in, slow and deliberate, until her arms cage you in against the counter, the scent of her—leather, sweat, a hint of cedar and smoke—wrapping around you like a trap you don’t want to escape.

Her gaze roves over you, heavy and smoldering, like she’s sizing up a meal she’s about to devour.

“Ain’t that hungry—least not for food.”

Her voice dips lower, like a secret meant just for you, like something sinful curling between your legs. Your breath shudders, your fingers gripping the countertop behind you as if that’ll keep you grounded.

She leans in, breath hot against the shell of your ear, and your knees damn near buckle.

"Wanna repay me another way?"

It’s not even a question—it’s a promise wrapped in velvet.

Your lips part, but words fail you. All you manage is a nod, shaky, desperate.

Vi tilts her head, a slow, knowing smirk playing at her lips. Her hands find your waist, calloused fingers curling into the soft skin beneath your sundress, sending a rush of fire through your veins.

And then—before you can even think to touch her—she grips beneath your thighs and hoists you onto the counter like you weigh nothing.

Your legs part, a breathless gasp slipping from your lips as she presses in close—solid, hot, the heat of her searing through thin fabric.

You lean back against the cabinet, exhaling a shaky sigh, your whole body thrumming with want, with anticipation.

And Vi—she just watches you, like she’s got all the time in the world.

Vi’s lips find your neck, warm and insistent, each kiss slow and deliberate, a teasing drag of softness against your skin. The heat of her breath lingers, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You tip your head back instinctively, granting her better access, and she hums in approval, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat.

Her hands roam—rough fingertips skimming the curve of your waist, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your sundress with a slow, knowing touch. Your breath hitches, fingers clutching at her shoulders, a feeble attempt to ground yourself against the way she unravels you.

Then—her palms slide lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your thighs, pushing your dress up inch by torturous inch.

Her fingertips graze over the damp fabric of your clothed cunt, and a shaky gasp tumbles from your lips, your thighs twitching at the featherlight contact.

Vi chuckles, low and deep, the sound rolling through you like a slow Southern drawl, thick and sinful.

“Oh, sugar,” she murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re drippin’ for me, ain’t ya?”

She grins against your skin, her voice sultry and smug, and all you can do is nod, breathless, aching, already at her mercy.

Vi presses one last, lingering kiss behind your ear before she sinks to her knees, slow and deliberate. The sight alone—her looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, that damn smirk playing on her lips—has your grip tightening on the edge of the counter.

Her hands skate over your thighs, warm and teasing, pushing your dress higher, higher, until the cool air ghosts over your skin.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, her fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, a mischievous glint flickering in those baby blues as she drags them down.

A soft gasp slips past your lips when her knuckles brush against your heated skin, and you barely catch the way she tucks your soiled panties into the back pocket of her jeans like a prize.

She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement, lips quirking as her thumb presses against your aching bundle of nerves—just enough pressure to make you tremble.

“Mmm, she’s screamin’ for me, sugar,” Vi drawls, her voice all honey and gravel, thick enough to drown in.

Your mouth parts, a protest, a plea—but before you can even think to speak, she leans in and drags her tongue in a slow, sinful stripe up your slit.

A breathless hiss escapes you, thighs twitching, and when she pulls back, her tongue flicks over her bottom lip, savoring.

“Delicious,” Vi hums, that cocky smirk only deepening.

A breathless moan tumbles from your lips as Vi leans in again, her tongue plunging between your folds—hungry, unapologetic, like she’s been starving for you all her life. The sensation is blinding, white-hot, and when your fingers thread into her hair, tugging at the soft strands, she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

Her grip tightens around your thighs, keeping you right where she wants you—helpless, unraveling beneath her touch. Each flick of her tongue, every sinful suck against your aching clit, has you teetering on the edge, stars bursting behind your eyes.

“Vi—” Your voice is shaky, breath hitching as the coil in your belly winds tighter, tighter. “I-I’m gonna—”

She pulls back just enough, her lips glistening, pupils blown wide as she watches you fall apart. That smirk is there again, the one that makes your stomach dip.

“I know, sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice thick and dripping with something wicked. Then, as if to seal your fate, she licks one slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy - from entrance to clit, savoring the taste, before whispering—

“Cum for me.”

And you do—helpless against the force of your own undoing. The coil inside you snaps with breathtaking intensity, pleasure crashing over you in waves so strong it leaves you gasping.

Vi doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath—her strong hands keep you steady, gripping your hips with enough force to hold you together as you shatter.

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of your pleasure—high, breathy moans mixing with the wet, obscene sounds of Vi’s tongue working you through it. You barely register the way she groans against you, drinking in every last bit of your release like it’s something sacred.

And when the aftershocks leave you trembling, thighs still twitching in her grasp, Vi finally pulls back—chin glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smirks up at you, voice thick as molasses when she drawls—

“Sweetest damn thing I ever tasted.”

[mssishipi]

say cheese — pjs, sjy

— in which jake and jay capture the most beautiful, fucked-out masterpiece on film.

warning: explicit content (smut), threesome (rough dom jay, soft dom jake, sub reader), blowjob, deep throating, facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex position, hentai like expressions, picture taking, some mxm scene (don't like? don't read), double vaginal penetration, straight up porn. MDNI.

note: this is rotting in my drafts, i really need to clean since my storage are full (128 gb is not enough for my fucking files lol)

"I can't believe you spent a hundred dollars on a Polaroid camera."

You huffed, arms crossed as you stared at Jake, who was grinning ear to ear while unboxing his parcel. Across the room, Jay chuckled, his fingers absentmindedly adjusting the tuning pegs on his guitar.

Jake barely acknowledged your complaint, too absorbed in peeling away the tape and lifting the lid of the box. His eyes practically sparkled as he gently pulled out the camera, running his fingers over its smooth surface.

"I've been jealous of my friends showing off their Polaroid pictures—sticking them on their phone cases, tucking them into their wallets, pinning them to their walls," Jake explained, turning the camera over in his hands. "I just had to get one for myself. Besides, Polaroid film is so aesthetic. I wanna start a collection."

You scoffed, unimpressed. "We have a printer, you know. I could literally edit a photo with a Polaroid frame and print it out for you. Same look, less money wasted."

Jake shot you an incredulous glance, his nose scrunching slightly before he turned back to the instruction manual. "It’s not the same," he muttered, flipping through the tiny booklet.

Jay, who had finally set his guitar down on its stand, stretched his arms before strolling over. "You know what’s so special about Polaroid photos?" he mused, plopping down beside Jake and watching as he struggled to insert the film. "It’s the fact that it’s a one-time shot. No retakes, no backups. That exact moment, captured forever in its rawest form. And because there's only one copy, it's yours alone. It makes it feel... special."

You raised a skeptical brow, watching the two of them fumble with the camera like a pair of kids assembling a Lego set. 

"It's called being practical," you said, holding up two fingers in a peace sign to emphasize the word.

Jake finally managed to snap the film cartridge into place, and the camera let out a satisfying click. He gasped in delight, shaking Jay’s shoulder. "It’s in! It's ready!"

Jay grinned, leaning back on his hands. "Then take a test shot. Let’s see if it works."

Jake eagerly lifted the camera, aiming it at you. Your eyes widened. "Wait, no—"

Click.

A soft whirring sound filled the room as the camera ejected the developing photo. Jake snatched it up, waving it in the air with excitement. "Ohh, this is gonna be so good."

You groaned, covering your face. "I wasn’t ready!"

"That’s the beauty of it!" Jake beamed. Jay laughed, watching as the image slowly began to take shape. "If you hate it, just take another one."

You shot him a deadpan look. "Defeats the whole ‘one-time special moment’ argument, don’t you think?"

You leaned in to get a better look at the Polaroid in Jake’s hand. The moment your eyes landed on it, your mouth fell open in horror. Your expression in the photo was atrocious—wide eyes, lips slightly parted, caught mid-protest.

Jake, instantly reading your mind, grinned wickedly. Just as you reached to snatch the photo, he yanked his hand up, holding it high above his head. "Oh-ho, no way! This is a masterpiece!" he cackled, his laughter echoing through the room.

"Jake, give it!" You lunged, but he danced backward, still laughing, the Polaroid waving mockingly in his grip.

"Throw it away, fuck you!" you huffed, but instead of complying, Jake grinned and tossed the photo to Jay.

"Catch!"

Jay snatched it midair, immediately taking off across the room. Your eyes widened. "No—Jay, don’t you dare!" 

The room erupted into chaos. You bolted after him, but before you could get close, Jake grabbed you around the waist, locking his arms around you in a tight hold.

"Not so fast!" he teased, holding you back as you squirmed in his grip, your feet kicking wildly, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Give it!" you shrieked, voice pitching with sheer indignation. "I’ll let you guys take another one—just give it to me!"

Jay stood on the couch, tilting the Polaroid in his hand as he examined it with an amused hum. His gaze flickered toward you, still trapped in Jake’s arms, your face twisted in frustration.

"I need a Polaroid to display in my wallet too," he mused casually.

You rolled your eyes and marched toward him, reaching for the photo, but Jay smirked and lifted it just out of reach.

"You can take a picture of me anytime and display it however you want," you huffed, stretching on your toes. "But not this one."

Jay watched, clearly entertained, as you finally managed to snatch the photo from his hand. You immediately scowled at the image. 

"We need a lot of photos with you," Jake chimed in from behind. Ignoring them, you dropped onto the couch, still glaring at the Polaroid.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just need to fix my hair first before we take another one."

Before you could move, Jake suddenly wrapped his arms around you again from behind, pulling you close against his chest. You barely had a second to react before he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.

"No need for that, love," he murmured, his voice low and affectionate.

You stiffened, gripping the Polaroid tightly, heat rising to your face. Jay raised an eyebrow, watching the two of you with a smirk.

“Tongue out, baby,” Jake groaned, gripping his cock, his one hand holding the camera as his eyes locked onto your flushed face. 

You knelt before them, naked, skin damp with sweat.  The heat of their gazes burned into you. 

Obediently, you let your tongue slip out, and beside him, Jay let out a low groan, his fist working himself faster at the sight.

The sharp click of the Polaroid camera echoed through the room, the flash blinding for a second. Before you could even register the moment, Jay’s fingers tangled into your hair, yanking you forward.

A startled gasp left your lips before his cock pushed past them, the thick weight of him filling your mouth. You choked out a moan, hands gripping your knees, keeping still as his grip tightened.

"Fuck—just like that," Jay hissed, forcing you down further, his other hand fisting his base as he watched you struggle to take him. His grip was rough, tugging you back only to shove you down again, setting a ruthless rhythm. 

Tears pricked your eyes, spit dribbling down your chin as you gagged around Jay’s cock. Beside him, Jake smirked, watching intently, his own fist gliding lazily over his length. 

Click.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned, lowering the camera slightly, his gaze trailing over you—your swollen lips stretched around Jay, your flushed cheeks stained with tears. "So beautiful."

Jay chuckled breathlessly, his grip tightening in your hair as he angled your face toward the camera. “Yeah? Then let’s give him another good shot, baby.”

Without warning, he pushed deeper, his cock sliding past the tight ring of your throat. You gagged, body jerking, but Jay only moaned, holding you there, forcing you to take it.

“Holy shit,” Jake exhaled, capturing the moment with another click. His eyes darkened as he watched your lashes flutter, the way your throat contracted around Jay. “Hold it, baby. Just a little longer.”

"Me too, please."

Jake grabbed your free hand, guiding it to his cock, groaning the second your fingers wrapped around him. He was hot and heavy in your grip, pulsing with need, and as soon as you started stroking, he let out a low whine.

“Ahhh, you're so fucking sexy,” he breathed, hips twitching upward, fucking into your fist as he snapped another photo.

The Polaroid films were scattered across the floor in messy disarray—blurry flashes of you on your knees, your lips stretched around Jay, your eyes glossy with tears, your hand wrapped around Jake. Each moment captured, each one more obscene than the last.

Jay let out a sharp breath, his grip in your hair unrelenting as he started thrusting into your mouth. Your throat tightened around him, gagging as he pushed deeper, his groans growing desperate. Jake wasn’t any better, fucking into your palm, his breath coming out in ragged pants.

You forced your head back, Jay’s cock slipping from your swollen lips with a lewd pop as you turned your attention to Jake. His breath hitched, eyes blown wide as you wrapped your mouth around him, tongue swirling over the tip before sinking down.

"Fuck—" Jake groaned, head tipping back, his grip tightening on the camera as he barely managed to snap another photo.

Your hands worked them both—one stroking Jay’s slick length, squeezing just right, while your tongue alternated between them, switching back and forth, keeping them both on edge.

Jay hissed, hips twitching into your grip, his thumb swiping over your cheek, smearing spit across your flushed skin. “So fucking greedy,” he muttered, watching the way you licked up Jake’s shaft before turning back to him, taking him down again.

Jake cursed, his free hand gripping the back of your head, guiding you down further. 

Jay shifted, slipping from your grasp, moving behind you instead. Your mouth slipped from Jake’s cock, a needy whine escaping you as Jay manhandled you into position.

"I need to fuck you so bad," Jay murmured against your ear, his hands gripping your waist. 

You hummed in response, too focused on the way Jake kneel to adjust and tugged you back toward his cock. Obediently, you opened your mouth again, tongue flicking over the head before sinking down. Your head bobbed eagerly, taking him deep, and both of them chuckled at your desperation.

“Such a good girl,” Jake groaned, brushing your hair back to get a better view.

Behind you, Jay spread your ass cheeks, groaning at the sight of your glistening cunt, slick and ready for him. His cock pressed against your entrance, sliding slowly along your folds, teasing—rubbing against your labia, down to your clit, making you moan around Jake’s length.

Jay watched as your pussy clenched around nothing, making his cock throb. He let out a shaky breath, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses along your spine, trailing up to your nape before whispering filth into your ear.

“So fucking hungry,” he groaned. “Let me feed this needy little pussy.”

Then, without warning, he pushed inside.

A sharp squeal tore from your throat, body jolting forward at the sudden stretch, but Jake was there, his grip firm on the back of your head, keeping you in place.

“Stay still, baby,” Jake murmured, voice low and commanding. Behind you, Jay’s fingers dug into your stomach, trapping you against him as he bottomed out, your walls squeezing around his cock.

“Fuck,” Jay groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he felt you pulse around him. “You’re so fucking tight." His hands moved up, grabbing your breast, kneading the soft flesh with slow, deliberate squeezes.

Jake’s breath came in heavy, his cock twitching against your tongue as he shakily lifted the camera. His fingers gripped it tight, the moment too perfect to miss.

Click.

Jay smirked at the flash, looking directly into the camera, his cock buried deep inside you while his hands continued to toy with your body. Meanwhile, your face was a wreck, tears clinging to your lashes, cheeks flushed, mouth stretched full around Jake’s cock. 

"Try to smile for the next photos, hmm?" Jake murmured, brushing his fingers over your cheek, smearing your spit and tears.

“Yeah,” Jay mused. “Give the camera a pretty little smile while we ruin you.”

Both of them started to move, fast and rough.

Their moans turned breathless, high-pitched with pleasure as they used your body, stretching you open, leaving no part of you untouched. Your tears kept falling, slipping down your cheeks as you struggled to keep up.

Jay’s hands roamed everywhere, gripping your waist, squeezing your breasts, trailing down to your stomach, pressing against the outline of his cock buried deep inside you. Meanwhile, Jake was losing himself above you, his head tilting back, jaw slack as his hips stuttered, his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over.

"Hey, give her mouth a little break," Jay gritted out between clenched teeth, his pace never faltering as he slammed into you from behind. His fingers dug deeper into your hips, anchoring you in place.

Jake groaned, looking down at you, watching the way your lips stretched around him. 

He clicked his tongue, brushing damp hair from your face. “Tired already, baby?” he cooed, his thumb swiping over your puffy bottom lip. “Alright… but don’t think we’re done yet.”

With a final, slow drag of his cock over your tongue, he pulled out, tapping the tip against your cheek, smearing precum over your flushed skin. He sat back, stroking himself lazily as he watched Jay take over completely, his smirk growing as he reached for the camera again.

“Guess it’s time for some close-ups.” 

You squealed as Jay’s thrusts turned brutal. His hand went to your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks, forcing your lips into a soft pout as he fucked you harder.

Click. 

Jake adjusted his angle, the camera capturing everything—the way Jay was ruining you from behind, the exhaustion in your glossy eyes. His own cock twitched as he positioned himself between you both, rubbing the leaking tip against your flushed lips.

"Come on, my love. Smile." Jay’s voice was teasing as he whisper it. 

You tried—forced out a tired, dazed smile, your mind was too hazy with the pleasure. Click.

Jay groaned at the sight, gripping your chin to turn your face toward him, pressing a hot, messy kiss against your parted lips.

Jake chuckled, the shutter clicking again. Click.

Jay growled against your mouth, his pace turning erratic, slamming into you even deeper, hitting your sweet spot over and over. Your moans came out in broken cries.

Suddenly, Jay pulled away from your lips, his grip never loosening on your waist as he reached for Jake’s cock, guiding it into his own mouth.

Jake cursed under his breath, his thighs trembling as Jay’s lips wrapped around him, tongue flicking over the tip. You whined at the sight, leaning in without hesitation, your tongue trailing along the base, tracing every vein where Jay wasn’t covering.

“F-Fuck,” Jake gasped, his camera shaking slightly in his hand as he struggled to focus. His hips twitched, his body torn between watching and giving in to the overwhelming pleasure of both your mouths.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to steady the camera. Click.

The flash illuminated the scene—Jay sucking him off, your tongue lapping at his shaft, eyes eager with lust.

Jay pulled off with a slick pop, stroking Jake lazily. "Shit, you’re shaking already?" he teased, glancing up at him through heavy lids.

Jake let out a shaky breath, smirking despite himself. “Hard not to when you two look this good.” He ran a hand through his hair, barely holding back a groan as Jay flicked his tongue over the slit again.

Meanwhile, Jay’s thrusts never faltered, still driving into you, keeping you stretched around him. His free hand snaked back to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles that had you whining into Jake’s skin.

“Go on, baby,” Jay murmured, glancing down at you. “Make him cum.”

Jay pulled away, straightening his back, leaving you alone with Jake’s cock. You didn’t hesitate, immediately taking him back into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as your moans vibrated against his length. The brutal pace Jay set behind you only made it messier, your body keening, your cries muffled as Jake groaned, watching you struggle to take it all.

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks when Jake decided to thrust deeper, fucking into your throat without mercy. Your gag reflex flared, but you took it, letting him use you, letting Jay ruin you from behind.

“Shit,” Jake hissed, his fingers tightening in your hair, keeping you in place as his hips twitched forward. “You look so fucking good like this—choking on my cock while he splits you open.”

Jay groaned, his head falling back, completely lost in the way your cunt clenched around him, sucking him in tighter. 

"She's about to cum," Jay told Jake, voice breathless and strained. “She’s squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Jake gritted his teeth, looking down at you, he bites his lips as his stomach coiled painfully tight at the sight.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum too,” he muttered, his hips jerking forward, his cock twitching on your tongue.

Jay let out a strained chuckle between moans. "Fuuuck, already? Goddamn," he whined, barely keeping himself together as he felt you pulse around him.

He pressed two fingers against your swollen clit, this time he rubbed it with ruthless, desperate circles.

"Come on, baby," Jay gritted out, his thrusts turning messy. "Cum for us—fuck, I wanna feel you shake."

Jake groaned as you whimpered around him, your body twitching violently, your thighs squeezing shut as the overwhelming pleasure took over. You couldn’t hold it back, your orgasm slammed into you, your walls clamping down so hard on Jay’s cock that it had him cursing, his rhythm faltering.

“Fuck—fuck, there you go, baby,” Jake grunted, watching your body shudder, the way your moans vibrated around his cock. With a sharp inhale, he pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He replaced your hand with his own, stroking himself fast as he positioned the camera again, angling it just right to capture everything.

Your body still trembling from Jay’s relentless thrusts, but you forced your eyes open, letting your tongue loll out in anticipation.

"Paint me with your cum, 'Ikeu." 

Jake cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering as his orgasm hit. Hot ropes of cum spurted across your face, dripping down your cheeks, your lips, your tongue—just as the camera shutter snapped.

Click.

Jay grunted, his grip firm as he pulled you away from Jake's arms, his hands cupping your breasts, pressing your back flush against his chest. He carried you effortlessly, not once slipping out of you as he moved toward the couch.

You whimpered, your walls clamping down hard around him. Settling onto the couch, Jay wasted no time—his arms slid under your thighs, forcing your legs wide apart, keeping you completely open for him and Jake to see. His forearms bracing your trembling body as your hands clung to him for support.

He slammed into you again. The force had you crying out, your back arching. Your vision blurred, as the tears continue spilling freely down your cheeks.

Jake groaned at the sight, his cock twitching as he looked around at the polaroids scattered across the floor—each one capturing every filthy moment, every ruined expression on your face.

“Take it, take it, take it!” Jay gritted out, his focus solely on the way your pussy clenched around him, sucking him in with every thrust.

Your breasts bounced with each movement, the force of his strokes sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He was hitting that spot—that spot—so perfectly that your screams filled the room once again.

Your dazed eyes locked onto Jake, who was fisting his half-hard cock, watching the two of you with dark, hooded eyes. The moment he noticed you staring, he smirked and raised the camera again.

“Say cheese,” he teased, voice dripping with amusement.

Jay tilted his head over your shoulder, making sure to be in the shot, his cock still sliding in and out of you, the slick sound echoing in the air. Your body was trembling, overstimulated beyond reason, but somehow, you managed to raise a shaky hand in a peace sign, your eyes half-lidded, a ruined little smile tugging at your lips.

Jake grinned, angling the camera just right. Click. And by that time the flash illuminated, your orgasm hits.

“Ahh—fuck! Yes!” You screamed, your body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through you. Your walls fluttered, tightening so brutally around Jay that he nearly lost control.

Jay cursed under his breath, slowing his thrusts for a moment, trying to hold back the heat coiling in his stomach. Your pussy was gripping him too damn tight, milking him, begging for him to spill inside—but he wasn’t ready to give in. Not yet.

Still catching his breath, he smirked down at Jake. “Come here,” he panted, gripping your thighs tighter. “We’re gonna get a shot of you, too.”

Jake’s eyes darkened, his smirk widening as he give the camera to you. He knelt between your trembling legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he leaned in.

The moment his tongue met your clit, you jolted, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as fresh overstimulation crashed into you. Your fingers instantly tangled into his hair, pulling him closer as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking softly.

Jay groaned, feeling every little tremor of pleasure ripple through you, feeling the way your walls pulsed around him as Jake devoured you.

“Shit,” Jay exhaled, his grip bruising on your hips. “You better get a good fucking shot of this, baby.”

He grabbed your trembling hand, guiding you to lift the camera. Your fingers barely steadied around it before the flash went off—click.

The image burned behind your lids for a second—Jake between your legs, tongue out, teasing your swollen clit while Jay’s cock was still buried deep inside you.

A whimper left your lips, your body shuddering violently as the pleasure became unbearable. Your legs tried to close instinctively, but Jake was quick to push them apart again, palms against your thighs.

“Stay open,” he muttered, his lips brushing over your slick folds. “Let me taste all of it.”

A drawn-out moan escaped you as Jake trailed his tongue lower, licking along the outline of Jay’s cock stretching you open. The sensation sent a shiver up Jay’s spine, his head falling back as he groaned.

“Fuck, Jake—” Jay gritted his teeth, feeling the wet heat of his boyfriend's mouth so close to where he was buried inside you.

Jake hummed in response, the vibration making you both shudder before he dipped lower, his tongue sliding over the mess of your fluids dripping down. Then, without warning, he took Jay’s balls into his mouth, sucking lightly, his hands still keeping your legs spread wide.

Jay let out a strangled moan, his grip on your hips tightening. “Stop for a moment—I don’t wanna cum yet,” he gritted out.

Jake pulled away from Jay just to latch onto your clit again, sucking hard. The sudden jolt of pleasure made you gasp, your back arching as another wave of heat surged through your body.

Jay smirked at your reaction, his hands sliding up your trembling torso. His fingers found your nipples, rolling them between his fingertips before giving them a sharp pinch. You cried out, your thighs twitching against Jake’s face, but he only held you down harder.

Jay started moving again—slow, teasing thrusts that had you gripping the camera weakly, your fingers struggling to keep hold as your body trembled under their combined assault. Every part of you was being used, overstimulated to the point of madness, and you could barely process the sensations anymore.

“Jake, open up,” Jay breathed. Jake lifted his chin from your stomach, parting his lips obediently. 

“Ready the camera,” Jay commanded, his gaze flicking to you. Your fingers trembled as you struggled to lift it, your body still reeling from their touch.

Then, without hesitation, Jay pushed three fingers past Jake’s lips, pressing them deep onto his tongue. Jake groaned, his lashes fluttering as he hollowed his cheeks around them. The sight had your breath hitching, your grip on the camera weak as you barely managed to angle it. Click.

Jay smirked, watching the way Jake took his fingers so easily, how his lips stretched around them, drool beginning to pool at the corners of his mouth.

Slowly, he pulled his fingers free, only to bring them down to your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles with the slick mixture of Jake’s spit and your own arousal.

“Up,” Jay ordered, “we’re gonna fuck her stupid.”

Jake grinned, licking his lips as he stood, positioning himself above you. His hands gripped your trembling thighs, spreading you wide as he lined himself up.

“W-wait—” you gasped, barely able to get the words out before Jake groaned, pushing inside you in one slow, agonizing stroke.

Your body arched, a broken scream tearing from your throat as your walls stretched around him.

Jay moaned at the sensation, feeling the press of Jake’s cock against his, both of them buried deep inside you, stretching you beyond anything you thought you could take. 

“Relax, baby. I can’t get inside—fuck,” Jake groaned, his jaw clenched as he tried to push in deeper.

You whimpered, your breaths coming out in sharp, uneven gasps. The stretch was burning and your walls struggling to take them both.

Jay, still buried inside you, hummed against your ear, his fingers never stopping their relentless circles on your clit. “Just focus on this, baby,” he cooed, “It’ll feel good soon, I promise.”

Your fingers went slack, the camera slipping from your hands and hitting the floor with a dull thud, forgotten.

With a deep breath, Jake pushed again, his hips rolling forward, forcing himself inside inch by inch. Your walls fluttered desperately around them both, your body trembling as you tried to adjust.

Finally, he bottomed out, a deep groan escaping him as he settled inside you. Your head lolled back onto Jay’s shoulder, body completely limp between them. The stretch was overwhelming, but they fit—stuffed so deep inside you, pressed against each other, filling you to the brim.

Jake exhaled shakily, looking down at the way you swallowed them both. “Goddamn,” he muttered, he slowly starts moving inside you, his dick brushing on Jay's was making his mind lost it completely.

Slowly, he began to move, his cock sliding against Jay’s with each thrust, the tight space forcing every sensation to heighten. The friction and the heat was enough to make his mind go blank.

Jay’s jaw clenched, his fingers digging into your hips as he felt every movement, every shift inside you. Since he was underneath, his own thrusts were shallow, but the way Jake’s cock brushed against his still sent sparks of pleasure.

“F-fuck,” Jay groaned, “She’s so—tight—”

You cried out, back arching as the overwhelming stretch turned into pleasure. Every roll of their hips pushed them deeper, stuffing you so full that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Ahh, ahh,” you moaned,  your voice is so shaky.

Jake smirked at the sound, gripping your thigh to keep you open. “You hear that, Jay? She’s losing it.”

Jay let out a breathless laugh, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. “Not yet,” he murmured. “She can take more.”

And with that, he bucked his hips upward, meeting Jake’s thrusts perfectly, filling you over and over again, stretching you to your absolute limit.

“Fuck, no matter how many times we stretch you, you’re still so fucking tight,” Jake moaned.

Your mind was lost, floating somewhere between pleasure and delirium, your body completely surrendering to them. It wasn’t just the way they fucked you—it was how perfectly you fit together. The way Jay’s girth stretched you open, making you feel so impossibly full, while Jake’s length filled every inch, reaching places that made you see stars. And the way they both curved just right, their tips pressing into every sensitive spot inside you, leaving you utterly wrecked.

Your lips parted, a choked sob escaping you.

“Hey, you still with us?” Jay murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. Jake chuckled breathlessly, his fingers gripping your chin, tilting your face up to his. 

“She’s barely holding on,” Jake smirked, rubbing his thumb over your spit-slick lips before pushing it past them. “She's completely fucked out.”

Jay groaned, rolling his hips even deeper, setting a rhythm that made your entire body tremble. They moved in sync—when Jake pulled out, Jay drove in, and when Jay withdrew, Jake filled you again. The push and pull leaving you with no moment of emptiness, only the overwhelming sensation of being utterly ruined.

Your moans vibrated around Jake’s thumb, eyes rolling back as pleasure consumed you. Your body was overstimulated, wrecked, yet you wanted more.

You always wanted more when it came to them.

Jay’s grip moved to your breasts, kneading them just the way he knew you loved, while Jake’s fingers found your clit, circling it with expert precision. They knew your body like it was theirs—knew how to break you down, knew exactly how to tear you apart.

And in this moment, the only thing your mind could process was their names.

“Jay, Jake! Fuck—fuck!” you cried, body arching between them.

Both of them were completely lost in you, drowning in the way you took them so perfectly. But still, their focus never wavered from your pleasure. Their thrusts turned rougher, deeper, until Jay’s movements stuttered first. With a deep, strangled groan, his hips slammed flush against you, spilling inside with a shudder, his hands still greedily kneading your breasts as he rode out his high.

Jake whined, his hips stuttering as he felt Jay spill inside you, the warmth of it making his cock twitch violently.

“F-fuck, that’s so hot,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your thighs as he chased his own release. “You’re so fucking full, baby, and you’re still squeezing me—shit.”

Jay hummed lazily, his grip on your breasts tightening slightly as he kissed the side of your neck, still buried inside you. “She’s greedy like that,” he mused, his voice husky. “She wants it all.”

And you were definitely going to get that.

Jake thrust into you harder, his fingers rubbing relentless circles on your overstimulated clit. The pleasure teetering on the edge of painful as he used you to reach his high. Your body can't stop trembling uncontrollably as your walls clenched down around him.

“Fuck, fuck—” Jake’s head tilted back, his mouth hanging open as his orgasm crashed over him. He spilled inside you with a deep, shuddering groan, his fingers still lazily circling your clit, forcing you to ride out every last wave.

You gasped, body going limp between them, trembling as the aftershocks wracked through you. Every nerve was on fire, your skin glistening with sweat, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure.

Jay leaned back against the couch, keeping you pressed against his chest, his fingers trailing lazy circles over your skin. He pressed soft, lingering kisses against your temple, whispering low, soothing words into your ear, grounding you even as your body continued to tremble.

Jake was the first to pull out, hissing as he did, still breathless. He reached down, grabbing the fallen camera from the floor, his fingers brushing over the discarded polaroids scattered around.

Jay shifted next, carefully lifting you, rolling you onto your stomach. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he watched both of their cum spill from your wrecked pussy, dripping down your thighs. His hands spread you open just a little more, admiring the mess they made of you.

Jake knelt beside you, his fingers carding gently through your damp hair, his touch soft and tender. “Last shot, baby,” he murmured.

You barely had the strength to lift your head, but you did, your fingers resting against your flushed cheek. Your hair was damp with sweat, your lips swollen, your eyes hazy—completely fucked out.

Jake framed the shot just right, both of them beside you, the aftermath of their work on full display.

Click.

The flash flared and faded, casting a fleeting glow over the room before leaving behind only the three of you. On the floor, some of the polaroid slowly developed, its edges soft and hazy, immortalizing the moment in perfect, messy detail.

[mggslover]

learning sign language so you can make inappropriate comments to spencer while at work and you sign “want to suck your cock” and spencer just looks at you all bewildered like “since when did you know ASL?”

dirty talking to spencer in ASL genre: sfw with sexual innuendos word count: 1,8k a/n: a lil something while i'm working on kinkfest :)

Spencer Reid is a man of many talents. People say — well, specifically, Spencer once told you that learning a new skill is easiest around the age of ten and how the process will be more difficult once you reach the age of eighteen. Something about neural connections forming rapidly, the unconscious system, the critical period… To be honest, you lost your focus the moment he mentioned the new skill he’d learned: sign language. 

Spencer was excited to tell you about this new skill. He already knew a handful of languages, from Russian to Yoruba, but what appealed to him most about ASL was the hand motions. How he didn’t need to pronounce any of the words. You still chuckle to yourself when the memory of him pronouncing a Spanish sentence pops up in your head. How vividly you could picture Elle correcting him. There was nothing funny about him using ASL, though. In fact, you remember the way your throat tightened and your cheeks heated when his hands started moving — long fingers, decorated in veins, flexing into different symbols at a speed that other beginners would envy.

“That means ‘I love you, and that sweater looks pretty on you’.”

You had laughed. Had leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you,” you replied. A hot pink flush made its way onto his face, a shy smile tugging on his lips. 

“Does this mean you’ll be speaking to me in sign now?”

Your comment was meant as mere teasing, but Spencer had taken it as a challenge. He’d made sure to at least communicate a couple of ASL sentences to you every day. You could imagine it being a good way of practice for him. For the both of you, actually. Because over time you started to recognize some of the movements. A sign you had mistaken as rock and roll before, you had now concluded meant I love you. A swipe of his hand over his face? Pretty. There were a few others you could recognize, but as the sentences grew longer and his signs faster, you gave up.

You had always assumed everything Spencer signed to you was something sweet. You’d smile, kiss him as a thank you, and forget about it, assuming he was complimenting you. That was until Derek caught Spencer in the act, signing something to you before the elevator doors closed in front of him, ready to head over to the lab for another case you were on. 

“My man,” Derek chuckled heartily, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Your brows furrowed, the smile that had lingered on your face moments before dropping instantly. “What?”

He kept laughing, not noticing the clear confusion you were in.

“Derek!” you said, giving a soft punch to his arm to catch his attention.

“Oh, you don’t-” He raised an eyebrow, pointing to you and the closed elevator doors before laughing even harder.

“Stop it!” You cried, getting embarrassed by the scene you were causing in the middle of the bullpen. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he started, taking a deep breath to recover, still grinning widely. “Pretty Boy over there should be getting the title of Dirty Boy from now on.”

Your mouth opened, then quickly closed when no words came out. “I don’t understand.”

Derek looked around the bullpen, finding no one near. Still, he leaned in, shielding his mouth with his hand as he recited Spencer’s words to you.

You gasp, hand clutching your chest dramatically as if starring in a soap opera. “He didn’t,” you say in full disbelief.

“Oh, yes he did,” Morgan smirked in full pride.

“How would you even know that?”

“My buddy works at a youth center. I teach the kids football from time to time. Some speak ASL.”

You scoff. “Kids have taught you these words?”

Derek shrugs. “What can I say? It’s the dirty words that are most fun to learn.”

-`♡´-

You had struggled to think of anything else after that encounter, your mind wandering to every possible naughty sentence when Spencer signed to you from then on. It was frustrating, really, how he must be gleaming knowing you had no clue what he was saying. As long as he knows that you’re also up for a challenge. 

After work that day, you told Spencer you’d be home later, having to pick something up from a friend’s house. It wasn’t completely a lie — you had to pick something up, just from a different location. You parked your car in the parking lot in front of the public library, feeling like a criminal as you knocked on the glass doors. A woman in her late sixties greeted you, her kind beady eyes framed by thin glasses that hung low on her nose.

“You’re the one who called? From the FBI?”

You nodded, smiling. “Hi, yes, that’s me. I am so sorry to be bothering you at this hour, but we’ve got a killer on the loose, and it’s very urgent.”

The older woman cringed at the mention of a killer, muttering some words under her breath, and turned to grab an entire stack of books. You reached your hands out, accepting the heavy weight of the books, the title A Beginner’s Guide to ASL written on the top one. 

Her hand trembled lightly as she tapped the front cover. “This one comes with a DVD.”

“Oh, that’s perfect. Thank you for your help.”

“You better catch that bastard!” You nodded confidently in response as you turned on your heel.

-`♡´-

Unfortunately, Spencer was right: learning a new language as an adult was far from easy. Especially with the lack of time you had because of working a demanding job. You had to make do with the rare free weekends and some late nights during the week to study as much as possible.

You were tucked underneath a blanket on the couch, laptop in your lap, as you were watching a YouTube video Derek had recommended: “Sign Dirty to Me: A Guide to Dirty Talk in Sign Language”.”

“The next sentence we’ll be learning is ‘I want to give you a blowjob’.”

“A what?” 

You screeched, lifting yourself up on the couch at a speed that made the laptop fall on the ground with a thud. You mutter a string of curses as the video continues playing, using your foot to stomp the laptop shut.

“Jesus, Spencer, can’t you knock?”

You turn your body, spotting your boyfriend's tall figure leaning against the open bedroom door, an amused smile lingering on his lips. “I think you’ve forgotten that you’re in my house.”

You groan at his smug grin, trying to find an excuse. 

“What were you watching anyway?” He asks in curiosity before you could explain.

“Nothing!”

He takes a stride toward you, and you scramble from the couch to grab the laptop, holding it tight in your arms as a safety measure. Spencer leans on the plush frame of the couch, appearing rather relaxed as a gleam sparkles in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you were watching-”

“No!” You exclaim in offense.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you were.”

“I was not watching anything.”

The content look doesn’t fade from his face. He looks rather pleased by the scene you’re making. The tips of his fingers brush against the bare skin of your arm. Those damn fingers. “I don’t mind, angel. I would just offer you my help instead.”

You swallowed. He was distracting you, and you were not going to fall for his dirty ploys yet again. No way.

“I’m good,” you squeak, hurriedly standing up from the couch. You point at him while your other hand clutches your laptop. “I will go to the bedroom now, and you will stay here. Don’t even think about moving an inch.”

Your words were only making you sound more suspicious, but you didn’t care. It would be worth it in the end.

-`♡´-

Two weeks had passed since you and Derek had exposed Spencer’s dirty, little secret. Two weeks in which you had spent all your free time learning ASL. You had been nervous all morning while getting ready for work, trying to resist the urge to sign something to him. But you wanted to do it in the bullpen; you needed to see him get flustered in a crowd. 

Your fingers had been nervously tapping on your desk, eyeing Spencer at his desk opposite yours. You were waiting on Derek, who you had promised could be there for the “big moment”. 

“Where are we going?” Penelope’s voice sounded through the bullpen as Derek grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the desks. You throw your hands up in frustration, it wasn’t the plan to make it that big of a show. “Are you kidding me?” You mouth toward Derek.

“Now,” he mouths back as he stays at a safe distance against the far wall.

Here we go.

A single kick to Spencer’s shin was enough to grab his attention. “Ouch! What did you do that for?”

Biting down on your lip to hide your smile, you began moving your fingers, a little exaggeratedly, to make sure he understood. 

Look what new skill I learned.

Spencer beams, smiling brightly as the realization dawns upon him. “Hey! Since when did you know ASL?”

You don’t give him an answer right away, not wanting to get out of your flow, so you continue signing the variety of sentences you’ve learned, each one even dirtier than the last.

You knew you were doing a good job when a few snorts came from your right at certain words, Derek understanding what you were saying. Looking at Spencer confirmed it — his eyes stood wide open, red blotches of heat forming on his neck as his lips moved in a struggle to find the words.

Stop it. Right now. He eventually signed.

You grin, pride washing over you as you can understand him. This new method of communication truly opens up worlds.

But I mean it. You sign back.

He hides the small smile that forms on his face, tugging away a piece of hair before finding the courage to respond back to you.

What else would you like to do, then?

Penelope nudged Derek, looking puzzled. “What are they doing? Are they…? Oh my god, they’re trying to get in each other’s pants? Right in front of us?!”

Derek threw his head back laughing. “That’s right. They’re not so innocent anymore, huh?”

“But dirty talk is our thing!” Penelope protested.

Derek shakes his head. “I hate to break it to you, baby girl, but they’re outdoing us.”

[checkeredflagggs]

Baby Lion

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: baby shower shenanigans with rich financially irresponsible F1 idiots drivers

a/n: I needed to do something funny 🤷🏻‍♀️

Masterlist | Taglist

Rookies Masterlist

Private Messages, the Grid (Unserious) [February]

Private Messages, Max and the Duckies Rookies [February]

y/n

liked by victoriaverstappen, sophiekumpen, maxverstappen1, and 1,824,349 others

tagged: sophiekumpen, victoriaverstappen

y/n: so many thanks to Sophie and Victoria for the amazing baby shower! Can’t wait to get the party started

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user1: What a party!

↳user2: it’s so aesthetic!

↳user1: Exactly! A Pinterest board dream

annehathaway: Looking forward to it! liked by y/n

oscarpiastri: Lily and I are on our way!

↳y/n: excellent! Shoot us a text or just come in when you get here — we probably won’t be able to hear you knock

↳lilyzneimer: Thank you again for the invite!

↳y/n: well since we’ve nearly taken custody of Oscar away from Charles — we really need to get know you!

↳charles_leclerc: stop stealing my kids!

↳nicolepiastri: is there something I need to know?

↳y/n: we can do shared custody Nicole? liked by nicolepiastri

↳hattiepiastri: or you could just take him?

↳oscarpiastri: 😑😑

user3: love love love the jungle theme 🦁🦒🐘

serenawilliams: Sorry we can’t be there but enjoy our gifts!

user4: ok but who all is going??

↳user5: Right? I need a full attendance list

↳user6: I’m guessing most if not all of the current grid?

↳user5: I mean obviously but who else?? Max and y/n are weirdly connected to a lot of different people

↳user6: you do have a point…

taylorswift: Can’t wait to see you again!

↳killatrav: do we get a trophy for winning the most baby shower games?

↳y/n: We’re so glad you could come! And Trav — absolutely

alex_albon: The theme is on point and I approve

↳y/n: not the albon approval I want tbh

↳alex_albon: 🙄

↳albon_pets: 🐾 paw prints of approval from us!

↳y/n: score!

caitlinclark22: Thanks again for the invite, sorry I couldn’t make it liked by y/n

user7: ok but I NEED to know if the rookies are there…

↳maxverstappen1: they invaded air max after Shanghai, then my apartment when we got to Monaco and they haven’t left

↳y/n: stop being mean to our sons!

↳olliebearman: yeah! You invited us!

↳jackdoohan: Don’t lie — you love doing arts and crafts with us

↳isackhadjar: You have to, you’ve stolen all the red beads

↳maxverstappen1: no one needs red anyway

↳y/n: well…

↳maxverstappen1: no

sophiekumpen: Oh, it was no problem sweetheart! Anything for my newest grand baby

↳victoriaverstappen: Yes! It was very fun to put it together and not have it thrown for you!

↳alexandrasaintmleux: It looks absolutely lovely! We can’t wait to get there to enjoy it in person

francisca.cgomes: Oh it’s so cute! (And I can’t wait for some of the games…)

↳landonorris: A chance to show off for my godchild? Sign me up!

↳y/n: what?

↳user8: Oh that’s not a good what… liked by y/n

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 2,821,628 others

y/n: now onto the games! We’ve got the Chug Bottle, Diaper Baby, Guess the Belly, Guess the Baby Food, Don’t Say Baby, and an Adopt an Animal Station!

view all comments

user9: oh my god Netflix needs to be there…

user10: I need details. I need receipts. I need videos.

maxverstappen1: All of this is going to be great blackmail material…

↳landonorris: Blackmail? No no no. This is gonna be video evidence of how great at games I am

↳y/n: I cannot begin to say how much over you were at Guess the Belly…

↳user11: ok but how much over was he?

↳y/n: based on his guess, I’m birthing a whale…

↳user11: oh my god 🤣🤣🤣

↳landonorris: I WASNT THAG BAD

↳y/n: Lando your ribbon was like 20 feet long!

oscarpiastri: Proud Winner of Don’t Say Baby 🏆

↳user12: that’s our Australian!

↳danielricciardo: rude!

↳jachdoohan: so rude!

↳user12: ok but he won?

↳danielricciardo: still rude

user13: I love the names but what even are those games???

↳y/n: chug the bottle is exactly like it sounds — we gave everyone champagne and whoever finished their bottle first won (Raikkonen won)

↳user13: I love that??

↳y/n: Diaper Baby had teams try to wrap a member into a toilet paper diaper (Trav’s team won this one)

↳user14: unexpected result…

↳y/n: the Guess the Belly had everyone cut a ribbon to the length they thought my belly was wide (Max, predictably, won)

↳user13: this was what Lando thought he won??? liked by y/n, maxverstappen1

↳y/n: Guess the Baby Food is again just like it sounds — they grabbed an unlabeled jar and had to guess the flavor (Yuki and Elton were shocking good at this one)

↳y/n: Don’t Say Baby had people trying to NOT say baby and if you heard someone else say it, you got to steal the clothespin for yourself. (Oscar was like a ninja and won by a landslide)

↳y/n: and the Adoption station was to adopt an animal, with a travel journal/camera, so the animal could go on adventures with the adopter and eventually baby lion will get those animals back with lots of fond memories

user14: ok i literally love all of these but the adoption center??? 😍😍😍

↳user15: that’s such a cute idea and for them to also have a journal and camera so there’s a story/timeline of their travels…

↳user15: and like we know/can guess Taylor and Sabrina and other singers were there…imagine the travel journal of those guys…

user16: ok but who ALL was there??? Cause we now have proof Kimi R was there…

↳user17: this is gonna be my white whale I just know it…

↳user18: oh that’s such a big mood! Need to know everything. Everyone there. All the gossip.

y/n

liked by taylorswift, zendaya, oscarpiastri, and 2,823,910 others

y/n: Everyone was so so generous today (and maybe a bit financially irresponsible — baby lion is a BABY who is gonna GROW why did you buy them so many shoes…) We ended up with a whole zoo of stuffed animals and somehow (ignoring my desperate pleas) enough electric cars for them all to drive see more…

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user20: that is the most extra baby crib I have ever seen in MY LIFE

↳user21: That it is. I think baby lion is destined to either be blessed by fairies or cursed by the fae with that crib…

↳user20: THATS SO TRUE OMG

georgerussel63: Well we had to get the child started with the right team!

↳maxverstappen1: and it’s not that one! All of it will be donated to charity (far far away from me)

↳user22: oh to be on max’s level of haterism…

↳kimi.antonelli: all of it 🥺🥺🥺

↳y/n: not yours sweetie! Baby lion will definitely be rocking your number occasionally!

↳kimi.antonelli: yayayaya!

oscarpiastri: Mum said that stuffed animals and diapers would be very welcome?

↳y/n: And they are! I just didn’t think we’d be opening our own stuffy zoo

↳alex_albon: But the custom Albon pet line is the cutest right?

↳y/n: No that would be the custom Lion family with scent beads and realistic purring capabilities

↳alex_albon: foiled again…

landonorris: No picture of the rad McLaren merch and car I got you?

↳maxverstappen1: sorry it’s already been disposed of.

↳y/n: he was too fast for me — I opened it then it was already thrown away…

↳user23: I’m loving the fact that they’re talking about all the gifts because the fomo I would have otherwise…

user24: who on earth bought a diamond encrusted pacifier???

↳user25: FINALLY! That’s my biggest question too…

y/n

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 3,122,392 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, sebastionvettel, kimimatiasraikkonen

y/n: and a very special thank you to you guys for all the Ferrari love! Forza Ferrari Sempre!

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charles_leclerc: Of course! We have to show Bébéte the real team to root for! liked by y/n

↳user26: Loving the wife and the mistress working together liked by y/n, charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: we’re not keeping all of that

↳y/n: yes we are!

↳maxverstappen1: Redbull!

↳y/n: Ferrari!

↳maxverstappen1: Redbull!

↳y/n: you don’t even like Redbull that much anymore!

This comment has been deleted

pierregasly: Really? Jack and I got you so much Alpine stuff and we don’t get our own post?

↳y/n: Forza Ferrari Sempre!

↳jackdoohan: really?

↳y/n: oh don’t worry Jack! Baby Lion WILL be wearing the Doohan #7!!

↳jackdoohan: really? liked by y/n

↳pierregasly: really 😑

lewishamilton: It was a pleasure 🖤

↳y/n: So many thanks for all the clothing — lord knows I’ll need all the help I can get…

↳maxverstappen1: hey!

↳lewishamilton: 😂

user27: Are you telling me that y/n and max have Ferrari wonderkids Sebastian and Kimi giving them special Ferrari merch???

↳user28: I don’t know if I’d call Seb a Ferrari kid…

↳y/n: and yet we have so much Vettal merch in Ferrari red… liked by sebastianvettel

kimimatiasraikkonen: 👍🏻

↳y/n: 👍🏻👍🏻

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 2,827,193 others

y/n: my heart has never been so full. thank you everyone who came out today and thank you to everyone else who sent well wishes!

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[moonstruckme]

Hello hello!! In love w you and all your writing 🙈 such a fan!! For a request, was thinking it would be so so cute to see cuddles where Sirius decides to comfort r in his animagus form (perhaps because r is sick or just had a surgery? seen so many cute vids where dogs can tell their human is not well and comforts them 😢) could be with just Sirius or wolfstar or poly etc etc! Thank you!!

Thank you for requesting angel!!

cw: hospital, brief non-sexual nudity

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“What’s your plan if a nurse comes in?” you ask in a murmur. 

Padfoot only looks at you with his big, black dog eyes. Guileless. You draw your pinkie up the line of his snout and between his brows. 

“Someone’s going to come eventually. I won’t let them take you to the pound or anything, but there’ll be a lot of questions for me. Why is it that you always have to make trouble?” 

He bumps his nose up into your palm. You could almost swear he’s raising one of his furry brows. 

You aren’t really expecting a reply. Secretly you’re happy he’s here, having somehow managed to sneak in before the hospital visiting hours and lying so calmly beside you in the small bed, getting incriminating pawprints and black dog fur on the white sheets. It’s a comfort. You hadn’t liked spending the night away from your own bed; you’d missed your boyfriends to the point of embarrassment, and Padfoot makes for a very cuddly companion after your long night. 

“Do you think that maybe if I hide you under the covers,” you tease, petting his head, “they won’t notice?” 

You fear you may have to put your half-formed plan into action when the door to your room unlatches. You look up, something that feels frighteningly like nervous laughter brewing in your chest, but it’s only Remus. He opens the door slowly, quiet in case you’re asleep, but his eyes widen when he sees who’s sharing your bed. 

“Sirius!” he hisses, hastily shutting the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you, you twat.” 

You look down at your boyfriend’s canine form in dismay. “You didn’t tell him you were coming?” 

“He did not.” Remus’ expression is exasperated. “He said that he wanted to come see you, but I told him we had to wait until visiting hours.” 

Beside you, Padfoot snuffles moodily.

“Yes, well.” Remus pulls up the chair that’s along the wall for visitors, dragging it closer to your bed. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do when someone asks how you got here, seeing as only I signed in, but that’s your problem.” 

You bite down on a smile. Padfoot seems unconcerned by your boyfriend’s threats; you understand why. Though Remus talks stern, you both know he’ll step in with a lie if anyone actually does question how Sirius got into your room. 

Remus sees your poor attempts at concealing your amusement and tsks, his own lips curving. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” 

“I’m okay,” you answer honestly. You don’t feel your best, but you certainly don’t feel like someone who needs to be in a hospital. “Ready to go home.” 

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” he says. “They’ll likely just want to make sure you’re still recovering well before letting you go.” 

Remus is sitting close enough to reach you. His hand has begun rubbing your side soothingly; from your thigh, over the hill of your hip, to your waist and back again. It’s a fond, absentminded kind of touching. Petting you as you’re petting Padfoot. 

“How was your night?” he asks. 

You shrug feebly. “Okay.” You feel a humiliating need for his attention, and though your dignity puts up a fight the truth yanks its way out of you. “Lonely.” 

Padfoot makes a low whining noise, pushing his snout against your hand. Remus’ pitying expression suggests they’re in agreement for the first time today. 

“It was fine,” you say in a soft voice. Appease Padfoot by scratching under his chin. 

Remus’ thumb strokes over your hip. “Did you get much sleep?” 

“Some.” 

“Yeah?” 

You’re quiet, shrugging again. 

He gives you a soft look. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look rather tired.” 

Padfoot’s head whips around so fast, you nearly jump out of the bed in alarm. 

“I said not to take it the wrong way,” Remus defends himself. 

Padfoot makes a grunt-like warning noise. Not quite a bark, but almost. 

Remus looks at you beseechingly. “Sweetheart, you know what I mean. You look lovely, of course you do, it’s only—” 

“Yeah.” You put him out of his misery, stroking Padfoot pacifyingly as you suppress a smile. “No, I know, I didn’t get much sleep. It’s just never really quiet here. And nurses kept coming in.” 

Remus breathes out, a mixture of relief and sympathy. “Maybe you’ll be able to have a nap when we get home,” he suggests. 

The mere prospect makes your chest ache with longing. “That sounds really nice.” 

“You didn’t have much problem napping here yesterday, though I suppose there may have still been some medicine in you then. That, and you had more of the bed to yourself.” He cuts a meaningful look to the dog currently lying beside you. 

Padfoot’s head tilts in innocent confusion.

“Yes, you. Visiting hours have started, you can sit in a chair like everyone else now.” 

It seems almost like the dog rolls his eyes, but then he’s transforming. Padfoot is a big dog, but Sirius is bigger still, nearly falling off the bed but for the hand Remus sets on his back to keep him from it. Remus looks appalled. 

“Fuck’s sake, Sirius, I meant you could change back in the loo or something! Do you even have any clothes?” 

“Oh, simmer down.” Sirius’ voice is smooth, untroubled. “I think she rather likes having a bed companion, don’t you, darling?” 

A blazing heat has risen to your cheeks at your boyfriend’s sudden nudity. “I haven’t minded sharing.” 

He grins. “I thought you might enjoy the company. And it was a long night for us without you, too, you know.” The kiss he places on your lips is sweet. 

“Sirius.” Remus is beginning to look rather distressed, one eye on the door. 

“I appreciate you coming to see me,” you tell Sirius, “but I think you need to get dressed now.” 

“Hear that? She appreciates me.” He looks over his shoulder at Remus, who appears unamused. Sirius rolls out of your bed. “Alright, fine, I stowed some clothes here last night. Here it is, see?” He pulls a small shopping bag from beneath your bed, standing to kiss Remus before patting him on the cheek. “Mind the door for me, would you, handsome? I’ll just be a moment.”

[keferon]

I’ll be honest, I do kind of want to know now what you have planned for Starscream with the kind of worldbuilding you’re describing for death loop au

(*watches curiously*)

OKAY OKAY I M A G I N E . EARTHSPARK UNIVERSE

Blurr: I heard you had absolute blast with the final boss fight~ Congrats on your new hero role, Primus knows you’re so annoying when you backstab everyone all the time

Starscream: …………..

Blurr: You…..usually more enthusiastic about being on a good side...Star?

Starscream: ………..you remember the girl I was talking about earlier? Hashtag.

Blurr: One of the Terrans? Yeah. You want help filling adoption papers hmmmmm?~~~

Starscream: I think I might’ve killed her..

Blurr: What do you mean???

Starscream: I wasn’t supposed to do all this stuff! The whole thing with those kids and.. I saw Megatron living his best life with Ghost and humans and those Terrans and I thought that MAYBE. For ONCE. For once I could try to make a difference you know. To have something to myself besides being a fucking heartless traitor!

Blurr: ….….you went against the rules…Star you know how it always ends.

Starscream: She believed me. She made an actual fucking effort to understand me instead of blindly trusting Megatron as everyone always did! But of course I can’t just have that can I??

Blurr: …

Starscream: I see the signs already. The way she keeps mentioning things she wants to do with me in the future. And other Cons keep joking that she is the only person who is crazy enough to care about me. This universe is going to take her away to justify my stupid villain arc!

Blurr: But she isn’t dead yet right??

Starscream: ……..I need to make sure it stays that way. I’ll regain control over Decepticons. Do something about that Embersone or. I don’t fucking know. This world needs another stupid villain to defeat

Blurr: Can you at least give her some explanation? She will think you betrayed her. And everyone.

Starscream: She’d be safer just hating me. Protagonists who make friends with villains are always end up in some ugly mess.

The season two of Earthspark happens and no one understands what is going on. Starscream suddenly becomes a villain and Terrans have to fight him. He..isn’t really trying that hard. Just doing the bare minimum to pass as his usual evil self. Megatron gets to live his happy life being loved by Terrans and somewhat respected by the Autobots. Hashtag thinks Starscream was nothing but a stupid liar after all.

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 2, Part 2

Masterpost (Thank you jaythefae for reading over this so that I could post it! This migraine has me writing a lot of swapped words.)

Okay, okay fuck. That wasn’t what Wally was going for at all!

It was a tower! Like Titan’s tower and the lightning bolt was supposed to be him. He was trying to tell them who he was, not spell doom. Who made a tower doom?

Wally put his fingers to his lips and paced. Or paced as much as he could. If he went too far from Danny (and boy had it taken a long time to even learn Danny’s name) he would… disintegrate, for lack of a better word. And wow did Wally want a better word because he did not like disintegrating. People shouldn’t disintegrate!

“Okay, okay, I can work with this! I did go through a major—” Wally leaned in to try and hear the conversation. Danny was clear enough, but anything Mina (or not Danny) said was like listening to the words through wind storm.

“…upheaval and destruction. Change, basically,” Mina said.

He wished she’d shout.

“And… change is doom?” Danny said. He sounded as dubious as Wally felt about that.

Mina shrugged. “People don’t — change. Like — so they get grum— and then— and tada! Change bad.”

“Well, I mean. Of course they went through a change, they’re dead,” Danny said.

Wally winced so hard he bumped into and through Danny’s shoulder. Danny shuddered at the touch.

“Or if not dead, trapped somewhere,” Danny added with a glance towards where Wally was standing.

It was a good sign that Danny was starting consider that Wally wasn’t a ghost. Wally really, really didn’t think that he was dead, after all. But how to get across that he was trapped in the Speed Force? He didn’t think there would be a card for that.

Wally zipped over to Mina’s side, took the cards, and shuffled through them. He really wished that he knew what these damn things meant. A small part of his brain said that messing with the cards like this was messing up the meaning, but fortune telling wasn’t real. (At least not normal human fortune telling.) Once he had finished stacking the spread set with cards he hoped would be useful, he put the cards back and returned to Danny’s side.

The world blurred and crackled around him.

This was using too much energy that he didn’t have. Something had to come from it.

Please.

This had to help.

-

“Well, that wasn’t any help.”

“Don’t say that Danny,” Mina said, but even she was frowning slightly down at her cards as if they were a puppy that had piddled on the floor.

“Do you want to go grab some food? I’m craving one of those avocado, tofu, and facon sandwiches from that place you love.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds excellent,” Mina said, perking up. She stood from the table and started back towards the kitchen. “But before you go, I want to give you some of a special tea. It will help you settle into a sort of zone so that maybe you can have a better chance of connecting with your spirit without you being hurt.”

“Mina Aleshire, are you giving me drugs?” Danny gasped dramatically as he wandered after her, Hubris held limply in his arms.

She paused in opening the cabinet, as if really having to consider the question. “Well, nothing illegal?”

“Mina!”

“It’s an herbal blend!” she argued. “Just, maybe don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do for a few hours after taking it. You know, just in case.”

Danny sighed. “The worst part is that I’m really considering taking this mystery herb blend.”

“It’s better than having seizures,” she pointed out as she handed him a little satchel.

“It’s better than having seizures,” he agreed and took it.

-

The tea smelled like rain and honeysuckle. Danny cradled the mug he was using more carefully than the thick, chipped ceramic warranted. The warmth seeped into his palms and bones. He breathed the pungent smell in and then let out the breath slowly.

He didn’t know if this would work.

It was almost certainly a bad idea, what with him being not entirely human, but it was at least an idea. Danny had never seen one of Mina’s readings go so badly. It went so badly that Danny felt certain that the ‘ghost’ had been interfering. The problem was, is that Danny didn’t know if the sabotage was on purpose or from ignorance.

He wanted to believe that it was ignorance. That the ghost had been trying to tell them something, but in doing so had messed up the reading. But Danny always wanted to believe the best in people.

It had gotten him burned too often.

It might get him burned again if the ghost was really out to hurt him. Mina couldn’t give him the clearest answer on what the tea was going to do, but Danny was pretty sure that it was going to make his spirit less attached to his body for a bit so that he could commune with the things not of this realm. A less attached spirit meant one that was easier to sever.

But he was already half dead, so what did it matter?

Or so he told himself.

Before he could run around the logic again, Danny tipped the mug back and took a long, slow sip. It was spicier than he expected, but in a good way. He drained half the cup steadily as he slowly settled into the mound of pillows that made up his bed. It really wasn’t half bad, for magical drug tea.

“I think I can smell that from here. Which, dude, is saying a lot because I’m stuck in the Speed Force.”

Danny hummed. “What’s the Speed Force?”

“What’s the—can… can you hear me? Can you actually hear me? Did the weird tea do something?!?” the words came in such a rush that they were hard to follow. It didn’t help that they sounded like they were coming from a badly tuned ham radio.

“Slower. You have to be slower. I can barely understand you. You’re static. You’re always static to me,” Danny said.

“Sorry. I’m sorry! I’m sorry I am and that I hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t mean to. But you’re the only one that I can hear and see! I need your help!” The words sped up and up again until they were a blur—a roar—a scream—

The mug hit the mattress and bounced onto the floor with a crack as Danny clutched at his head to try to block the sound out.

The talking stopped.

His head continued to ring.

Danny curled up into the pillows with a whimper.

It was a minute or days later when Danny felt fingers running through his hair. They were wonderfully warm.

“—always hurting you. You keep trying for me though, don’t you?”

“Wanta help,” Danny mumbled.

The fingers stilled then picked back up their path. “I need the help too, which is… I’m supposed to be the hereo here, you know?”

“You’re dead,” Danny said.

“Ugh, no! Come on, you were finally moving away from that idea, Danny! I’m not dead! I’m trapped in the Speed Force.”

Danny finally found the strength to roll himself over. Bright blue eyes set among fiery hair and a beautiful scattering of freckles blinked down at him. Danny reached up an unsteady hand to brush over one of the freckled cheeks.

“Speed Force?”

“What gives me my powers. Something went wrong and I’m trapped. You seem to be the only one that can hear or see me and it’s hurting you.”

“Yeah, seizures suck,” Danny said. The world around them was just a swirl of color. Like when a ride at a carnival was spinning so fast that nothing was real anymore. “I don’t think I’m going to be okay when I wake up.”

They laughed, but it was a bitter, choked off sound. “No, Danny, I don’t think you’re going to be okay either.”

“Oh. How can I help you?”

They shook their head, red hair flew about. “You should focus on yourself.”

“Already hurt,” Danny pointed out. “Make it worth it. How can I help you?”

Their blue eyes searched his and then closed as they gave an almost keening whine. Man, they really were worried about him, weren’t they?

“If you can remember, go to Titan’s Tower,” they said finally. “Ask for Nightwing and… and tell him that I said that he's a real dick, okay?”

Danny blinked.

The world spun and spun and spun.

“What?”

“He’ll know what I mean,” they insisted. “He’ll know it’s from me. Tell the Titans that I’m with you and I’m trapped in the Speed Force and I need them to get me out.”

There was an alarm screaming now. Was it time to get up?

“And take care of yourself a little, okay?”

People were shouting.

“Okay.”

The world went dark.

[the-she-in-shenanigans]

I have an addendum, but it’s very niche.

My company shuttles people with disabilities and mobility issues, so we are a service that is really, really necessary and sometimes life supporting to our community.

Without my coworkers and myself, these people would be left stranded. The community as a whole would suffer.

Additionally, my boss is quite literally the only supervisor I’ve ever had that goes out of her way to help me work. I’m on the autism spectrum-I don’t employ easily. This supervisor (and the company itself) has been supporting me when I need it without question.

For example-I work one week on/one off (this itself is an accommodation) and the next week I’m scheduled to work, my parents are going on vacation. Last time they left me alone, I went to a really bad place. Knowing this, I asked my boss if I could go on charters instead of my usual route because one destination and one passenger will be much easier for me to deal with versus multiple people, multiple destinations (if it were my usual crew that I get every day it would be different but I usually have people in between that aren’t usually on my bus and it makes my brain angry).

Without any question, guilt or complaint, it was done.

I often pick up shifts wherever I can-I really love my job and I am pretty good at it too! I rarely pass up an available shift, but if I do, it’s no big deal. I don’t get penalized for passing up shifts on my off time.

With these tidbits in mind I propose:

• Do what you can to reciprocate the kindnesses you are shown to your employer (if applicable)

• Listen to your body (including your brain) and make sure you heed their warning signs

• Do what you can for your community through your job if applicable (malicious compliance can be considered-I recall hearing a strike from bus drivers happened where they kept operating the buses, but refused to collect fare)

you've heard of "quiet quitting," now I'd like to introduce you to the next level, The French Work Ethic:

Do exactly what you're paid for and nothing more

Absolutely refuse to be available to contact when you're off the clock

Never prioritize work over your own health, wellbeing, or family because that would be insane, it's just a job.

Have a little glass of wine

Take as long as you feel like for lunch

Deeply understand that work doesn't matter

Make sure your boss your boss knows they're always your second priority ❤️

[gf2bellamy]

i would love a spencer x bau reader that notices his headaches from season six and maybe goes into the bathroom after him and is trying to examine him or whatever and seaver goes to the bathroom and finds them and is flustered like oh damn i didn’t know you were.. and they are like NO as reader has a leg between spencers leaning onto him as he sits on the sink lol and seaver exists quickly and asks hotch if it’s okay to have interpersonal relationships and they all laugh after seeing spence and reader exit the bathroom yelling nothing happened (flustered babies)

misleading — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of migraines and headaches , reader being concerned about spencer, but the rest is fluff a/n: hii !! this is such a good idea i hope you like this <3

You pushed the bathroom door open, the quiet creak barely cutting through the sound of running water. Inside, Spencer stood hunched over the sink, cupping his hands to gather water before splashing it onto his face. He exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the counter.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, he straightened slightly but didn’t turn around right away.

Instead, he reached for the tissues, dabbing his face before finally turning to lean against the counter. His tired eyes met yours. 

“Hey,” he murmured, voice softer than usual, as if he didn’t have the energy to put more strength behind it. 

“Hi,” you responded just as gently, stepping closer. Your gaze traced over his features, noting the sharp definition of his cheekbones, more pronounced than usual. His normally unruly curls were an absolute mess—one stray strand falling onto his forehead, a telltale sign that he had been running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

Your brows knit together, concern evident in your expression as you searched his face for some kind of answer. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, voice laced with worry. 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His lips parted slightly as if he was about to speak, but then he hesitated, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter tighter. 

Finally, with a quiet sigh, he relented. “Just a headache,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly—only to immediately wince at the motion.

His eyes squeezed shut for a brief second, brows furrowing as a sharp pang of pain flickered across his features. A quiet breath slipped from his lips as his hands lifted instinctively to cradle his face, fingers pressing lightly against his temples.

You took a step closer. Then another.

Until you were standing between his legs. Gently, you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his wrists, slowly easing his hands away from his face. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and for a brief moment, Spencer tensed—slightly surprised at the contact. 

But he didn’t pull away. 

Your fingertips brushed against his jaw as you cupped his face, thumbs ghosting over his cheekbones. His tired eyes fluttered open, hazel irises slightly glassy under the light. His body leaned into your touch.

“Have you seen a doctor?” you asked softly.

He exhaled through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet chuckle. “I am a doctor,” he murmured, though there was no teasing behind his words—just weariness. 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go. “You know what I mean, Spencer.” 

He hesitated, glancing down for a second before finally shaking his head, much more carefully this time. “It’s just a migraine. It’ll pass.” 

Your lips pressed into a thin line, unconvinced. “You’ve been squinting at everything all day, Spence. If it’s bad enough to bother you this much, you should at least lie down.” 

He blinked at you, and for a moment, it was as if he was memorizing the way your concern softened your features, the way your touch was impossibly gentle against his skin. 

“…You don’t have to worry about me,” he mumbled, though even he didn’t sound convinced by his own words. 

You let out a quiet huff, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone in an absent-minded motion. “Too late for that.” 

That’s when the door suddenly pushed open. 

Both of you froze. 

Standing in the doorway was Seaver, her eyes darting between you and Spencer, widening slightly at the sight before her. You, standing between his legs, hands gently cradling his face. Him, leaning into your touch, his expression soft in a way that wasn’t often seen. 

Seaver blinked. “Oh—sorry,” she stammered, her voice almost nervous as she took a step back and immediately pulled the door shut behind her. 

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

Slowly, his gaze flickered to yours, and that’s when the realization hit.

Meanwhile, in the conference room, Seaver had rejoined the rest of the team, her expression slightly dazed. Emily, who had been casually flipping through a case file, noticed the look immediately. 

“What’s up?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly in curiosity. 

Seaver hesitated, glancing between Emily and Hotch, before finally blurting out, “Are… relationships within the team allowed?” 

That certainly got everyone’s attention. 

Rossi and Derek, who had just walked into the room mid-conversation, both raised their eyebrows. A beat of silence followed before Morgan smirked, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, that depends,” he said, clearly amused. “Why? You got something to tell us, Seaver?” 

Seaver shook her head quickly, but then gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “No, it’s just—” She hesitated. “In the bathroom, they were just—” 

She didn’t even get the chance to finish her sentence. 

Because at that moment, the door burst open and you and Spencer rushed into the room, slightly breathless. 

“It’s not what it looked like!” you both blurted out at the same time. 

There was a beat of silence. 

And then—laughter. 

Emily clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Morgan outright cackled, clapping Rossi on the back as if this was the best thing he had seen all day. Even Hotch’s lips twitched in what could almost be considered a smile. 

“Seriously,” you tried again, looking at the team with wide eyes. “It wasn’t—” 

Morgan just shook his head, still grinning. “No need to explain,” he said, winking at Spencer. “We totally believe you.” 

Spencer let out a small, defeated sigh, and you could practically feel the embarrassment radiating off of him. 

Seaver, still looking slightly flustered, glanced toward Emily. “So…?” 

Emily chuckled, tilting her head. “To answer your question, Seaver—technically, no rules are being broken.” 

You and Spencer exchanged a look before sighing in unison. 

[premiumbitch]

୨ৎ LEONORA'S INEVITABLE VOID STATE CHALLENGE !

If you follow this challenge exactly as written, you will enter the void state. There is no “trying,” no “hoping,” no “waiting for signs.” You are not here to chase. You are here to arrive.

This is your final stop. The void is yours. It always has been. Now act like it.

(I originally created this challenge for myself but I decided to share it because I thought it would be helpful!)

𐙚 STEP 1: Set the Date, Seal the Fate

Decide when you are entering the void state. Not “maybe.” Not “if I feel ready.”

Decide.

Pick the day. If you want, pick the time. The moment you set it, it is final. It is law. It is reality.

Once it’s chosen, you do not question it. You do not move it. You do not “prepare.” There is nothing to prepare for. You are not climbing a mountain. You are not chasing something outside of yourself.

This is the day you remember who you are.

𐙚 STEP 2: Enter the Mindset of the Void

From this moment forward, you think, speak, and act as if you are a master of the void (because you are.)

Not in a forced way. Not in a desperate way. In the way that someone breathes without thinking. In the way that you know gravity exists.

This is not an “affirmation game.” This is certainty.

You are the version of you that shifts into the void effortlessly. You wake up knowing the void state is done. You move through your day with the quiet, unshakable confidence of someone who already has it.

No techniques. No stress. No searching for proof.

Would a master at the void worry about “what if it doesn’t happen”? No. Would they spend hours trying? No. Would they doubt? Never.

Because the void is as natural to them as blinking.

And now, it is as natural to you.

𐙚 STEP 3: Dissolve the Old You

The version of you that doubted? That hesitated? That overanalyzed?

That person does not exist anymore.

When a thought of doubt arises—when your mind tries to slip into old habits—you do not fight it. You do not argue with it. You do not “fix” it.

You step past it.

That thought does not belong to you anymore. That is the past. That is a version of you that no longer exists.

You are the void. You have always been the void.

Now you remember.

𐙚 STEP 4: Step Into the Infinite

When your chosen day arrives, there is nothing left to do but simply allow it. walk through the door.

You can lie down, close your eyes, and just exist. Let yourself sink into that deep knowing that the void is already yours. No complicated methods. No overthinking. Just letting go.

If any doubts come up, ignore them like background noise. They don’t belong to you anymore. THEY ARE NOT YOURS.

Your only job? To do nothing but rest in the certainty that you are the void.

Not as a desperate seeker. Not as someone “trying.”

As someone returning home.

Because of course, you did it.

Because of course, it worked.

Because it was never a question.

Because it was always inevitable.

Now go. Take what is already yours.

[alohajix]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒂𝒑𝒆

Description: she said she wasn’t nervous. She said she'd never done this before. But then he walked in—and made her forget every lie she told herself. The Casting Tape — you only need to watch it once to come back for more.

Warnings: this one-shot includes explicit sexual content, including fingering, oral sex (M/F), face-fucking, rough grinding, dirty talk, praise kink, light choking, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), and graphic language. Readers +18.

Words count: ~ 7K.

I understand you guys really enjoyed “First Time for Everything”. So here’s a new one-shot I've been working on for a while, featuring pornstar!harry once again.

please enjoyyy💕

*****

I almost didn’t walk through the door. It looked too normal from the outside—just a nondescript black building sandwiched between a vape shop and a custom auto wrap place. No sign. No logo. Just a metal door and a tiny keypad. I stood there for a full minute, staring at my reflection in the door’s narrow glass panel, wondering what the hell I was doing. My fingers fidgeted with the zipper on my hoodie as I debated bailing. But then I remembered rent. And how many hours I’d spent reading that post.

“Paid casting opportunity. Professional, safe, filmed. No pressure to continue. Just be yourself.”

So I buzzed in. A soft click, and I stepped inside. The air was cool, sterile, quiet. A short hallway led to a room that looked more like a YouTube set than anything porn-related—white walls, gray backdrop, soft box lights aimed at a plain black leather couch. A camera was already set up on a tripod, its little red light blinking lazily like it was waiting. There was no one else in the room, just a low table with a water bottle and a clipboard. I approached it like it might bite.

“Hey there,” a voice called from behind me—low, male, casual. “You can grab a seat. We’ll start in a second.”

I turned to find a guy with a headset leaning against the doorframe, sipping coffee. He looked more like someone who worked in tech support than adult film, and he barely glanced at me. That helped a little. I gave him a tight smile and sat down on the couch, tucking one leg under the other. The camera stared back at me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my denim skirt.

“You go by your real name or a stage name?” the voice asked.

I hesitated. “Stage name.”

He chuckled. “Smart. What should we call you?”

“…Lola.” I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t even know anyone named Lola.

“Cute,” he said. “Alright, Lola. We’re just gonna ask you a few questions. Keep your eyes on the camera, speak clearly, be yourself.”

I nodded once. The camera light turned solid red.

“Tell us how old you are and why you’re here.”

My voice came out a little too fast. “Twenty-two. I—uh—I heard about this through a friend of a friend. Thought it might be… interesting.”

“And have you done anything like this before?”

I forced a smile. “Not professionally.”

He chuckled again, friendly but disinterested. “Good answer. So—this is a soft casting. No pressure to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We just want to see how you come across on camera. If it feels natural, maybe we’ll try a short chemistry test.”

My stomach flipped. “Chemistry test?”

“With a partner,” he clarified. “Clothed or not. Touching or not. Totally up to you.”

I swallowed hard. “And who’s the partner?”

“Hey, man,” the guy said suddenly, glancing over my shoulder. “You mind stepping in for a quick test?”

I didn’t hear footsteps. I felt them. Slow. Heavy. Purposeful. And then I heard his voice.

“Yeah. I’ve got time.” I turned. And immediately forgot how to breathe.

He walked in wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tucked under a gray beanie, tattooed arms on full display. Calm. Comfortable. Like he belonged here. And when his eyes met mine—green, curious, knowing—I had to look away before I gave something away.

I knew who he was. Everyone who’s ever dipped into amateur porn knew who he was. He wasn’t just a pornstar—he was the pornstar. The one known for making people cry in the best way possible. The one who ruined girls for normal guys. The one I may or may not have watched the night I sent my application in.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice like silk. “I’m Harry.” Of course he was.

I tried to remember how to smile. “Hi.”

He looked me over—slowly, respectfully, but definitely. His gaze dragged from my hoodie to my bare thighs, then up to my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“You okay to keep going?” he asked. “Or just here to talk?” His tone was soft. Patient.

I bit my lip. I should’ve said no. I should’ve kept it simple. But the way he was looking at me… “Let’s try,” I said quietly.

His mouth curled into a half-smile. “We’ll go slow.”

He sat beside me on the couch, leaving just enough space between us that it felt intentional. His thigh brushed mine every time I shifted, and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose—but I hoped it was.

The camera was still rolling. “You nervous?” he asked, his voice low and almost amused.

“A little,” I admitted. “You’re not exactly a nobody.”

He smiled at that—soft, slow, like he was letting the compliment soak into his skin.

“Well, I’ve done a few of these,” he said, tilting his body slightly toward me. “So if you want to stop at any point, you say the word. We good on that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Safe word or something?”

“We can use red. If you want to pause, say yellow. But honestly? Just talk to me. I listen.”

God, that shouldn’t have made my stomach twist—but it did. His hand landed gently on my knee. Just a touch. Nothing dirty. But the weight of it made my heart skip.

“Can I touch you a little more?” he asked.

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

He slid his hand up my thigh, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around the bare skin just beneath the hem of my skirt. His pinky brushed the side of my underwear. He didn’t move further. He just… held me.

“See? You’re already shaking a little,” he said, voice soft like a secret.

“I’m not,” I lied.

His thumb moved lazily across my thigh. “You are. That’s okay, though. Nervous is normal. But you look good nervous.”

I smirked despite myself. “Is that your line?”

“No,” he said, leaning in just a little. “That’s the truth.”

His other hand reached up, fingers playing with the zipper of my hoodie. He didn’t pull it down right away—he just watched my face.

“Can I?”

I nodded again. “Yeah.”

He tugged the zipper down, slow as hell. I didn’t wear a bra on purpose—I’d told myself it was about being comfortable, but I’d also known what kind of job this was. I’d wanted to feel like I was ready for it, even if I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. He pushed the hoodie off my shoulders, revealing my thin tank top underneath—white, ribbed, tight. My nipples were already hard beneath the fabric.

His eyes dropped for half a second. “Fuck.”

“What?” I teased.

“You’re hot.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Didn’t expect that.”

I grinned. “You didn’t look me up before this?”

He leaned closer, lips near my ear. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Fuck. That got to me. I shifted in my seat, squeezing my thighs together, and his hand didn’t miss it.

“You get turned on easily, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Only when someone says shit like that.”

He chuckled, and it vibrated straight through me. “Alright then. Let’s see how much you can take before we even get your clothes off.”

He turned to face me fully, his hand now resting between my thighs, thumb pressing lightly at the crease where leg met hip. I was still covered, but it felt dangerously intimate.

“Look at me,” he said. I did.

His hand moved to my waist, sliding under the hem of my shirt. His palm was warm on my bare skin, fingertips grazing my ribcage, tracing just under the curve of my breast. His thumb brushed upward, catching the edge of my nipple through the fabric—and I gasped, barely holding still.

“Sensitive?” he asked, eyes still locked on mine. I nodded, biting my lip.

He pinched lightly—just enough to make me jerk—and then soothed the spot with his palm.

“You’re already breathing like you’ve been at this for an hour.”

“Maybe I just like the way you touch,” I whispered.

He grinned again. “Yeah?”

His other hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he leaned in. “I’m gonna kiss you now. Okay?”

I nodded. “Please.” And then he kissed me. Slow. Firm. One hand holding my jaw just right while the other teased under my shirt. His lips moved against mine like he had all the time in the world. He tasted like mint and something just a little bit sweet—god, it was unfair how good he was at this.

My mouth opened for him on instinct, tongue brushing his as he deepened the kiss. I whimpered before I meant to, and he smiled against my lips.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He pulled me onto his lap. I didn’t even realize I’d moved until I felt his thighs beneath mine, the stretch of my skirt riding up, the thick press of him already hard beneath me.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked, hand splayed on my lower back.

“Yes.”

“You wanna keep your clothes on for now?”

I nodded again. “Let me stay like this.”

He gave a slow, approving nod. “Smart girl.”

I started to grind—tentatively, testing—and he held me tighter.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands stayed on my waist, guiding me. My panties were soaked through already, and he hadn’t even touched me properly. His cock pressed up against my center through both layers, and the friction was delicious.

“Feel what you’re doing to me?” he whispered. I nodded. “Good. Don’t stop.” I didn’t.

I rocked against him slowly, rhythmically, trying to match the pace of his hands, trying not to let my moans get too loud. But the fabric was slick, and I was clenching around nothing, desperate for more. He leaned up to kiss me again, slower this time, while grinding back into me with little thrusts of his hips.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Using me to get yourself off. All clothed. So dirty, baby.”

God, baby—the way it rolled off his tongue nearly made me come.

“I wanna see you fall apart,” he said against my lips. “But not yet. Gotta take my time with you.”

I whimpered, hands clutching his shoulders. “Why?”

“‘Cause I want it to be unforgettable.”

I didn’t mean to drop to my knees. It just happened. One second, I was straddling him, moaning into his mouth, and the next, I was slipping down between his legs, hands trailing over his thighs like they belonged there. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t say a word—just leaned back on the couch and watched me with that slow-burning smirk, his chest rising and falling like he already knew what I was going to do next.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice husky.

I nodded as I settled between his thighs, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. “You’ve been hard since I got here.”

His brow ticked up. “And you think that means you get to do something about it?”

I looked up at him, tilted my head innocently. “I know I do.”

He grinned. “Cocky.”

“I learned from the best,” I said, tugging his sweats down just enough to free him. And fuck.

I’d seen it before—on screens, in videos—but nothing prepared me for the way it looked up close. Thick, long, already leaking at the tip. Veins along the shaft. His entire body was unfair, but this? This was just cruel.

I wrapped my hand around him slowly.

“You gonna stare at it all day, or you gonna do something?” he teased.

I licked a long stripe from the base to the tip, just to shut him up. His breath caught.

“Mouth open,” he murmured. I obeyed, letting my tongue hang out as I stroked him slowly. He was heavy in my hand, warm and twitching, and when I finally took him into my mouth, I moaned like it was for me, not him.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, his head tipping back. “You’re better than half the girls I’ve filmed with.”

I pulled back just enough to say, “That supposed to make me feel special?”

He looked down at me with a grin. “It should.” Then he shifted his hips forward a little, his hand slipping into my hair. “Hold still,” he said. “Let me fuck your mouth a little.”

I whimpered, nodding as he gathered my hair in his fist and guided me back down. His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, testing. He pushed past my lips and onto my tongue, letting me feel every inch. I hollowed my cheeks around him, drool already sliding down my chin. The angle made my throat ache—but I didn’t care. He watched every second.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Look at me. Eyes up. Fuck—just like that.” I moaned around him, and he groaned in return, gripping my hair tighter. “You like this?” he asked. “Being used a little?”

I blinked up at him, spit trailing from my lip to the base of his cock. “Yes.”

“How filthy are you, baby?”

I swallowed him deeper before answering. “Wanna choke on it.”

He smirked, that filthy edge sharpening in his eyes. “Greedy girl.”

He held my jaw and started to fuck into my mouth harder, sloppier. My mascara was running—I could feel it—and my knees were going numb, but I didn’t care. Not when he was groaning and panting above me, thumb wiping spit from the corner of my mouth.

“Open wider,” he growled. “Let me all the way in.”

I did. He pushed in until the tip hit the back of my throat, and I gagged—but he didn’t stop. He stayed there for a second, watching the tears spill down my cheeks before pulling back with a wet, obscene pop.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” I blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked, lips puffy and slick. “You want me to come in your mouth?” he asked.

“No.” He raised a brow. “I want more than that.” He stared at me for a beat. Then he reached down, grabbed my arm, and pulled me gently to my feet.

“Take your clothes off.”

I hesitated, chest heaving. “All of them?”

“All of them,” he said softly. “Want to see what kind of mess I’ve made.”

I peeled off my hoodie first, even though it had already been unzipped. My tank top followed, sticky with sweat. Then my skirt. Then my panties—soaked, clinging to my thighs. His eyes drank me in.

“You’re soaked.”

“You made me like this.”

He stood up—slow, deliberate—and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my neck, then lower, until he was kneeling in front of me.

“You ever squirt before?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed hard. “No.”

He smirked. “Might today.” Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue across my inner thigh.

He didn’t go for my pussy right away. Instead, he kissed every inch around it—my thighs, the crease of my hip, the patch of skin just above my mound. His hands wrapped around my legs, holding me steady as he took his time. The anticipation had my stomach fluttering, my cunt clenching around nothing, desperate to be touched.

“Please,” I whispered, shifting.

He looked up at me from between my legs, his lips shiny with spit. “Yeah?”

I nodded, breath shaky. “I—I need—”

He slid one finger up my slit, slow as hell. “You need this?” he asked, teasing my clit with the lightest touch. “Or my mouth?”

“Both.”

He grinned. “Good answer.” Then he dove in.

His mouth latched around my clit like he’d missed it, like he owned it. His tongue flicked and sucked, alternating between slow pressure and fast strokes that made my legs tremble. I cried out, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other tangled in his hair. He moaned against me when I tugged, and I felt it vibrate through my whole body.

“F-fuck,” I gasped. “Harry—”

“You taste so sweet,” he muttered between licks. “Could stay here all day.”

He pushed two fingers into me while his tongue kept working, curling them just right. My back arched off the couch, a moan ripping from my throat so loud I was sure the mic picked it up.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”

I was already on the edge, too fast, too intense—and he knew it.

“You close?” he asked, sliding his fingers faster, deeper, hitting every nerve ending I had.

I nodded, gasping. “Yes—yes—fuck, don’t stop—” He stopped. Pulled back. Fingers still inside me, but barely moving. I whimpered. “Why—”

“Cause I want you to come on my cock, not my tongue.”

“Fucking mean,” I whispered.

He smirked. “You like it.” I hated how right he was.

He stood and kicked off his sweats fully this time, leaving him completely naked—tall, lean, toned. Tattoos stretched across his chest, down his arms. His cock was heavy and thick, standing up proudly, still slick from my mouth. He grabbed a condom from the table behind him—but I stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Don’t,” I said softly. His eyes locked on mine.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m clean. On the pill. I want to feel all of you.”

His jaw clenched. “Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me.”

He climbed back onto the couch, pulling me into his lap again. This time, we were both naked. Skin against skin. He lined himself up with one hand, the other gripping my waist.

“Take it slow,” he murmured. I did. I sank down on him inch by inch, gasping at the stretch, the burn, the way he filled me up so deep I thought I might break.

He kept eye contact the whole time. “Look at you,” he said. “Taking it so well.”

I whimpered when I bottomed out, thighs shaking.

“So fucking tight,” he growled. “You weren’t made for this, were you?”

I moaned. “Maybe I was made for you.” That broke something in him.

His hands gripped my hips, and he started to move—slow thrusts upward that hit just right. I rocked against him, chasing friction, rolling my hips as he fucked up into me.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

“Harry.”

“Louder.”

“Harry.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good,” I gasped. “You’re so deep—fuck—it’s so good.” His hand came up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding.

“You’re gonna come like this?” he asked. “Like a needy little slut in my lap?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes—please, I need it—I need to come—”

“Then come.”

I shattered. The orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through me in pulses that left me crying out his name, clinging to him, hips still rocking even as I trembled. He held me through it, whispered praise into my ear.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “So fucking good for me.” But he wasn’t done. He flipped me over onto the couch, face-down, ass up. “Not finished with you yet,” he growled.

He slid back into me easily, grabbing my hips and fucking into me hard now—rough, deep, animalistic. My cheek pressed against the cushion, mouth open as he pounded into me.

“You want it rough?” he panted. “You want to feel how hard you made me?”

“Y-yes—fuck—yes—”

He slapped my ass, hard. “Say you love it.”

“I fucking love it.”

“Say who’s fucking you.”

“Harry—Harry’s fucking me—please don’t stop—”

He leaned over me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other holding my throat as he fucked me from behind. Skin slapping, breath ragged, everything filthy and perfect.

“Gonna come on you,” he groaned. “Wanna see you dripping.”

“Yes,” I begged. “Do it—please—come on me—”

He pulled out just in time, stroking himself fast before spilling hot all over my lower back and ass, groaning through gritted teeth. I lay there, trembling, dripping, wrecked. Breathing like I’d run a marathon.

He exhaled a long breath, letting it hang in the quiet between us. The only sound now was the soft hum of the camera still rolling. The red light blinked steadily, like it had witnessed every filthy, raw second of what just happened. Harry sat back, eyes scanning over me like he wasn’t sure if he was done yet—or just trying to memorize how I looked. Wrecked. Flushed. My hair a mess. My thighs still trembling.

“Stay there a sec,” he said, voice a little rougher than before.

I blinked up at him, cheek still pressed to the couch cushion, and nodded. He disappeared for a moment and came back with a warm towel. He didn’t rush—just knelt beside me, gently wiping me clean, taking his time like he actually cared. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just good at playing the part. But something about the way his fingers grazed my skin, soft and unhurried, made my chest ache.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, gaze flicking up to mine.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… that was a lot.”

A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “Good lot or bad lot?”

“Really good.”

He handed me the towel and stood up to grab water bottles. When he tossed one to me, I caught it with shaky hands.

“You looked like you’ve done that before,” he said, sitting down beside me again—close, but not touching.

“I haven’t,” I replied, twisting the cap off. “Not like that.”

He raised a brow. “You sure?”

I smiled. “Trust me. I’d remember if someone ever made me feel like that before.” He went quiet, watching me sip.

“You ever actually plan on watching the footage?” I looked at him. At the blinking red light still recording.

“I kind of want to,” I admitted.

He nodded slowly. “I’ll show you mine… if you come back and film another one.” I stared at him, half smiling, half stunned.

“You saying that to everyone who comes through here?”

“Nope.” He leaned in just slightly, voice lower. “Just the ones who moan my name like they mean it.”

I laughed, flushed, and shook my head. “You’re dangerous.”

He smirked. “Only on camera.” I didn’t believe that for a second. But I wanted to find out.

[gregheiferly]

LOVEY-DOVEY

first comes love

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. established relationship, hurt to comfort, angst, fluff, leon’s mental problems, future smut, ddlg

note. the first of hopefully 3 chapters?!! i have lost the ability to write im ngl,,, i promised this fic over a year ago and never got it out but i forced myself thru it bc it’s been sitting around like unfinished for a year LMFAO so it’s clunky.. doesn’t make sense… and also i do want to make clear this isn’t supposed to be a baby and marriage = happy marriage sort of fic i just see that ending for this couple in particular.. anyway ignore typos,, ignore any mistakes and pretend it makes sense. feedback / rbs always appreciated!

i would also appreciate if you read this post about plagiarism by a user on both tumblr and ao3

lovey dovey

“I used to hear Hola! and jump—Oh, gosh, I’m not racist or anything, I voted—“ Ashley adjusts her monogrammed scarf, looking at him with her new face. It’s the same, but different. Tighter, brighter, when her eyes widen her brows don’t raise and when she pouts her chin doesn’t dimple. 

“Ashley.” Leon interrupts to get her back on track before it gets any worse. 

D.C. does its best to dampen his mood, torrential rain soaking him to the bone, but you’re wearing these tiny winter booties that make his day a little better. 

“I just bet, I mean I know Leon never tells you anything about Spain, or anything at all.” She waves her hands in a flourish, not a hair out of place. “I signed an NDA, I don’t know how long they last, but I’m sure it must be over by now, I don’t really believe in them to be honest–What is a piece of paper going to do? I mean, it’s not like the piece of paper knows who I’m telling.” 

“She’s too little to know,” Leon says out of instinct. He takes the role of Daddy very seriously these days. 

“Leon.“ You frown at him, it’s so cute he’ll think about it for hours. 

“Sorry.” Is all he can come up with. 

“Anyways, I wanted to ask about plans,” Ashley says, the exchange going unheard by her. 

(If she’s not talking she doesn’t really seem to care about the conversation at hand.)

“Plans?” Leon doesn’t follow, and neither do you.

“Oh, you know.” She dabs at the corner of her lip with a handkerchief that matches her scarf, her lipstick leaves a pink smear on the edge of her cup. It’s heart-shaped. Fucking Cupid over here. “Haven’t you ever thought about babies, Leon? You’re pretty old now.” 

That’s not her card to play. Shouldn’t he be asking her about babies? She’s only getting older, not many eggs left in her basket. But, y’know, that’s not very PC, and Leon really isn’t that bad. He’d like nothing more than for her to move at her own pace - it was hard enough seeing Sherry grow up, passing her off to a guy nearly ten years younger than her—And Leon is in no place to talk about age gaps, but guys are immature and stupid, he would know.

“Ashley,” he interrupts once more, though he has nothing to say at all. Marriage. Babies. Jesus Christ, you are the baby. He’s got jackets older than you. 

“We haven’t thought about it—I mean, I ask him about it sometimes, but nothing serious,” you tell her honestly, the corners of your mouth drooping downwards in a frown.

You are one unhappy little girl and he is in for one hell of a ride back home. 

“I never make plans that far ahead,” he says, rehearsed, before your soured mood runs off the edges of your face and into the rest of the room. Distemper in a dogfighting ring. 

“Hm.” You make a noise beside him, knee bumping his under the table. It’s a touchy subject. An untouchable subject, actually, because he refuses to sit down and talk about it, he shuts it down immediately. You can’t make babies with a baby, that’s just plain wrong. 

(But you can fuck said baby every which way. You can spit in the baby’s mouth and spank her raw. That’s perfectly normal.) 

“The next time I see you, Leon, it better be at your wedding,” Ashley warns him, a burnt orange blazer draped over her slender shoulders as she primps herself up enough to face a camera or two. “I’m happy to help with, well, with everything, I have a lot of time and money to waste so don’t think you’re bothering me. Oh and another thing—Leon?”

“Yeah?” He shifts from foot to foot, the arm circling your waist drops to his side limply. 

“You can call me anytime, you know that, right?” She stares at him, right through him with her big brown eyes. “And you know I can see when you’ve read my texts, right?” 

Leon nods stiffly, he stands there like a fucking scarecrow when she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I know,” he mumbles into perfumed hair. 

When you ask him, “Why didn’t you hug her back?”

He tells you, “I didn’t want to make you jealous.”

“I don’t get jealous.” That’s right. You’re a very self-assured little girl with your head screwed on right, he can’t go around telling such obvious lies. 

“Dunno, just felt weird,” Leon admits, plucking the fuzz off your sweater to keep his hands busy, “haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“That’s your fault.” You walk ahead and he knows you’re pissed. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

The air crackles with tension, heavy enough to shift the layout of Leon’s home a little to the left—Or maybe you really have gone and done that without telling him, taking over his world with parts of your own - it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. That’s got to be some form of gaslighting. He can’t even see the TV from this angle. 

“Baby?” Leon calls out.

You poke your head out of the kitchen. 

“Did you move my chair to the left or am I losing it?” He shifts in his seat, moves from left to right, leans back to try and understand what has gone on. 

“You’re losing it, I moved it to the right.” You wipe your wet hands on your skirt, it borders on frumpy, makes your hips look even wider. He pretends that he hasn’t ever thought about knocking you up. 

“Why, baby?” You’re testing his patience, being short with him, huffing and puffing and sticking your nose in the air.

“Because it looks better, but I can’t do it when you’re home ‘cause you never get up.” Carefully, you edge towards him, skirting around the room until you find yourself in daddy’s lap. 

The weight is grounding, his hands find your hips in no time, fingers dimpling the fat as he squeezes down to ease whatever is going on inside of him. “You can’t stay mad at me, baby.”

“Yes I can.” 

“Who’s gonna take care of you then, hm?” Leon asks, sliding his cold hands under shirt to grope your heavy tits. He pretends that he hasn’t thought about running his fingers over your lace bra to find milky wet patches. That he hasn’t thought about you, glassy-eyed and in desperate need of daddy’s help, pushing your leaky tits against his chest and begging him, pleading with him to take on the role of dairy farmer for the day.  

“I can take care of myself.” You shrug. So cold, so cute. “But you, daddy.” You kiss his nose. “Without me, you can’t even remember to take your meds.” 

That’s right. You did well without him. You didn’t need a daddy until you found the right daddy. You wanted a daddy so dearly, but you can take care of yourself just fine. You can pour your own juice and you can tie your laces and fix your hair just fine, it’s just better when daddy does it for you. 

“True,” Leon mumbles, he kneads your breasts contemplatively,  “but it’s good to ask daddy for things, I don’t want you getting hurt doing it on your own.” 

“I have bandaids.” Comes your rebuttal. 

“Baby, you’re being mean.” Leon’s voice verges on a whine. 

“I’m not being mean, Leon.” You let yourself melt into him, fat tits spilling through the gaps in his fingers. His hands are small and there’s too much of you to contain. “Why don’t you want to marry me?” 

That’s a loaded question. One he can’t quite answer because there’s no real answer and he doesn’t really want to answer it.

“You’re too good for me.” 

“Oh my goood,” you groan, rolling your eyes so hard you age backwards, and it really makes you look like a teenager—A little girl—It makes him feel like your father. Not your daddy, but your father. And hell, he’s old enough to play the part. 

“What?” 

“It turns me off when you say shit like that, like ohhh I’m such a old loser, I can’t even get it up, baby, why are you even with me?” You do your best Leon impression, it almost makes him smile. “You literally want everyone to feel bad for you all the time, and you know what, Leon?”

“What?” Leon says again. He’s feeling parched. Lightheaded. Sick. Psychotic. Bad. Just fucking bad. Everything gets so bad when you’re not smiling at him.

“I can’t feel bad for you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—You don’t tell anyone what’s going on so nobody feels bad for you.” You stand up, his hands are left cold and empty. “Only you feel bad for yourself, you literally sit around all day drinking and feeling shitty about sitting around and drinking—You don’t even want to do anything anymore, you didn’t even want to see Ashley today! She loves you so much, she’s your friend and you can’t even text her back because, because… Well, I don’t even know!”

“Baby—“

“You don’t go to therapy and you forget to take your meds, and, and I have to remind you all the time and—“ You take a breath, your lips moving soundlessly as you count to ten. “I don’t mind doing that for you, I like taking care of you and I like when you take care of me—It makes me happy that you let me y’know do that…” You gesture to a stray pacifier on the coffee table. “And I love you, Leon, but it’s just like you never want to fix anything, you just want to stay like this and I don’t want that, Leon—“

“Babe–“

”I told you that I wanted to get married, I told you that it would be a problem for me if you didn’t want kids, Leon—I don’t want to be with you if you don’t want that with me, I told you that before we got serious and you said yes and now—“ You throw your hands in the air, cutting yourself off with a half-aborted sob and splitting his heart right down the middle.

“It’s not like that, baby,” Leon starts gently, pushing up out of his armchair so he can hold you like you need to be held, “I didn’t… It’s not you, you know that don’t you? You’re perfect, you’re a good girl, it’s just…”

“What?” You press your face into his chest, searching for comfort as you run your hands over his back. “It’s what?”

“It’s me.” 

“Oh my god, Leon.” Your voice breaks, and you look up at him. For a minute it’s like you’re in soft-focus, like you’re a love letter gone yellow with time, sepia-stained and unspeakably tender and—and the reel is burning away because you’re too beautiful to last forever. You’re the most fragile little package, stamped to handle with care and he’s tossed you onto someone's lawn and you’re going to be plucked away by a porch pirate and—God, he’s such a fuck-up. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

Might be cliche, but it’s true. It’s him, not you. It’s always him. It’s why he’s been alone for so long. It’s not work, it’s not what happened in Spain or Talk Oaks, not even Raccoon City—Not mom, not dad, not Ada or Jack or Ashley or the fucking President, it’s not some grand, tragic circumstance—It’s just him. 

“If I marry you…” Leon’s mouth dries up while he flicks through a mental Rolodex of excuses. 

I drink too much. I’m depressed and probably bipolar. I’m infertile. You’re a baby, I can’t have babies with a baby. You’re too young. I’m too old. Especially for kids. I look like I could be your dad. I’m suicidal and needy and if we have kids what if you like them more than me? I work a lot. What if I put our kids in danger? What if I put you in danger? What if I’m a shit dad? What if you stop liking me after we tie the knot? You’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you and you want to marry an old man? You should leave me for someone younger. Please don’t leave me. 

All of it is true, although none of it is an honest answer to your question—The answer is quite simple really—Leon won’t marry you because he refuses to be happy. 

“If I marry you,” he says again, eyes flickering from your eyes to your pout, “what will Sherry think?” 

Your hands are in tight fists by your sides, bottom

lip trembling as you struggle to remain impassive—And he knows you like the back of his hand, like the veins in his dick—That wrinkled nose could only mean one thing. You’re not about to cry, you’re mad at him. 

“Leon.” Your jaw tightens, grinding your teeth into a fine powder. “You know Sherry isn’t thinking about you, right?”

“How could you say that?” He asks, somewhere between hurt and confused. 

“I’m just… Like, fuck, Leon!” You angle your face away from him, cycling through every stage of grief as you gather your thoughts. “It’s not about what Sherry wants or what she’s thinking or whatever, it’s about what I want and what you want.” 

“But—“

“She isn't a part of our relationship, Leon, nobody is.” You tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling and squeezing your eyes shut. Praying or doing a breathing exercise. “Like… Like you don’t like Jake and she still married him because he makes her happy, Leon—Why don’t you want to be happy with me, Leon?”

“I am happy,” he lies. 

“Don’t lie to me, Leon—Do I not make you happy, is that what it is?” You look at him helplessly and he stands there with nothing to say. 

“You do make me happy,” Leon insists softly, you’re the only thing that makes him happy. Light of his life, apple of his eye, the centre of his whole entire world.

“I just don’t get it anymore, Leon.” 

Oh, god.

“I don’t… I made it clear that I wanted something serious, I want to marry you and I want to have kids with you—I don’t get why you would lead on me like that.” You cross your arms over your chest, bracing for his answer. “Has all of this been for nothing?”

To be entirely frank - Leon is being selfish. 

He’d rather keep you in limbo than let you move on with someone else. He doesn’t want to think about you in bed with someone else, calling someone else daddy, letting them touch you and take care of you—It makes him dizzy, he’s getting jealous of a guy he made up in his fucking head. You’re the only good thing in his piece of shit life and he has no intention of letting you go—He really should, and he probably would if you asked him a year ago, before the D word but now—

Leon feels out of place. 

If he’s not your daddy, then who is he? 

“You’re just… You’re just freaking out ‘cause Ashley put it in your head,” Leon retorts childishly, “we don’t need a baby to be happy.” You’re the only baby he needs to be happy. 

“Are you kidding, Leon?” Your nose is running and you wipe at your face with balled up fists. “Don’t make this about Ashley, you know that isn’t the problem—I really can’t believe you, if you're not serious about me then why are you still with me?”

Truthfully, he didn’t mean for all of this to go so far - then your toothbrush joined his, your Sylvanians found a nice spot on his mantle next to the potpourri, the whole daddy thing happened—

And all of that means that this is not a midlife crisis or a fling or a distraction. 

It means that you’re his girlfriend, the woman he loves.

“I am serious about you.” 

We just want different things, would be the right way to put it. It’s not entirely true, but Leon doesn’t know how to tell you that peace is unrecognisable to him. He doesn’t know what it feels like, it scares him, the finality of marriage and kids and all of these childish dreams he had so long ago—It’s scary, and it takes a lot and Leon could shoulder the whole fucking world if he had to and the whole fucking world is a lot. He’s done it before. Jesus Christ, he’s fought creatures that go beyond the scope of human understanding, but all of it comes to an end. Fights end. Missions get completed. Damsels are saved and monsters are slain and Leon gets home okay as he can be. 

But this… Marriage. There’s no way out—Like, there’s divorce, obviously, but something about marriage is permanent. He can’t shoot a gun and get out of a marital dispute, and he can’t outrun a missed birthday because ultimately he has to come home to you.

Coming home to you sounds good. It is good. It’s the reason he bothers coming home after work instead of bumming around in bars like he used to. But, but, but it’s about trust and working together and while nothing will really change you’ll legally own him and he’ll legally be yours and that’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young to take on and technically you’re already doing all of these responsible things for him and—Marriage is just different, okay?

“I don’t think you are, Leon.” You blink at him slowly, sadly. 

“I am,” Leon insists because he is serious about this. About you. He loves you and he knows that, but he’s fine with what you have now. Girlfriend-Boyfriend. Daddy and baby. “I am, baby, but don’t you think that we're moving into this too fast?”

“It’s been two years, Leon.” Another slow, sad blink, you look off to the side. “I told you I was dating to marry, Leon, I told you what I wanted, I want kids with you—And I’m sorry but you’re not getting any younger, if you’re just wasting my time—“

Something sharp and ugly takes hold of his chest. ”You just think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a baby, that's all you want from me.” That isn’t what Leon wanted to say, but the room is getting too small and that struck a fucking nerve. 

“Excuse me?” 

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A rotten sole-crushed peach, that's all he is, it’s true. And he doesn’t deserve you, but he doubles down selfishly. “You think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a kid,” he repeats, “that’s why you’re freaking out about this now.” Leon’s so very talented at fucking things up. Paperwork, his liver, his entire fucking life. 

“No… That’s not—Are you kidding me? Is that all you got from this, Leon?” You’re looking at him with these accusatory eyes and you’re not calling him daddy or tugging at the back of his shirt for attention. “How could you say that about me? Is that what you think of me?”

Leon would like to say no and he’d like to apologise, instead he fumes silently, teeth clenched so tightly they’ve started to ache. “C’mon, use your big girl words and tell me the truth.” He’s not very tall, but he’s taller than you - he looks down his nose at you. 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Leon.” The shift in his behaviour is new, you’re used to his self-loathing, his laziness and reluctance and his general unlikeability, but this—Leon has never been mad at you, and he doesn’t want to be mad at you and he’s more mad at himself than he is you—But still, like, he looks mad at you and he can see the way you’re trembling, puffing out your chest and standing your ground to appear so much bigger than you are. It breaks his heart, he’s the worst daddy ever. The most dick-headed jerk of a boyfriend and you’re still here. Fighting for him, well, with him, you’re here and you’re fighting with him, that’s still something. 

“Why not?” Leon tilts his head to the side, his face softening in faux confusion. “You like it so much, don’t you?”

God, maybe he’s not so normal after all, and you haven’t fixed him, and bad thoughts always come back, and if he was normal he wouldn’t be wanting to jump off every balcony and walk into every main road and disappear into bodies of water.

Leon isn’t normal. Big surprise.

He’s just starting to realise that it doesn’t matter how many people love him, it doesn’t matter how many medals he’s awarded, it doesn’t matter that he’s a treasure to some degree, an old gun worth keeping—None of it matters, Leon realises, none of it will ever fucking matter because he is who he is. 

Leon is going to lead a miserable dogshit life because he can and he will and it doesn’t matter how many good or bad things happen to him, it doesn’t matter who he falls asleep next to - he’ll still feel shitty in the morning. 

(At the end of the day, he’s a Kennedy, and no Kennedy has ever been particularly lucky.) 

“I’m trying to be serious, Leon, and you’re acting like a child!” Your bottom lip quivers, and you’re probably wondering where your daddy has gone. “I can’t… I can’t believe you’re talking to me like that right now.” 

Neither can Leon. 

Guilt coils in his gut like a snake, constricting and hissing in the back of his head that he should know better, he’s so much older, he’s your daddy, and he’s meant to take care of you. That’s what daddies are for.  

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to force you into this, Leon, I don’t want to make you marry me if you don’t want me—“ He does want you. He wants you so bad. “—I don’t want to force you to have kids with me if you’re not ready, I just wish you had told me before I moved in with you—“ The hurt that crosses your face strikes him right in the heart, teardrops beading your gossamer lashes. 

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, quietly, earnestly, not daring to take a step closer because he doesn’t deserve to feel you or smell you or touch you, “I want to be with you, I love you.” 

“I don’t know anymore, Leon.” You look to him helplessly, blinking up at him with these big doleful eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, equally as helpless, “I don’t know.” 

He’s your daddy, he’s meant to know, but he doesn’t, so he just stands there like an idiot. 

“I’m sad,” you tell him honestly, “I’m going to go upstairs now.”

Leon goes to follow you.

“Don't follow me.”

Leon goes back to standing there like a fucking idiot. 

[hannieoftheyear]

Warning Signal [J.WW]

Two targets you need to figure out, alongside the one person you most despise, and zero mistakes allowed.

In a treacherous turn of events, your most recent mission gets tangled with Wonwoo's, the last person you'd want to partner up with.

As the lives of your targets get more and more intertwined, and your plan gets more complicated, memories of the past and feelings you thought you could put aside threaten to ruin the mission.

pairing: criminal!wonwoo x criminal!fem reader

word count: 26,2k

genre: criminal au, heist au, exes to partners in crime to lovers, violence, angst, smut.

MINORS DON'T INTERACT! YOU'LL BE BLOCKED

content warnings: (read all of them pls, the list is long for a reason): unethical characters, graphic descriptions of violence, vague descriptions of what their "job" is, wonwoo's a menace, betrayal, jealousy, pet names, shitty family dynamics, criminal acts, stalking, spying, manipulation, invasion of privacy (planting microphones, mention of hacking home security cameras), use of fake names, fake identities, stealing, poisoning (not deadly), puke, both wonwoo and mc start fires, use of guns, multiple fight scenes, injuries, blood, murder (implied and explicit), death (not the main characters), happy ending | explicit smut, teasing, manhandling, marking, fingering (f rec.), unprotected penetration (they're stupid, you shouldn't be!), creampie, multiple orgasms.

gentle reminder: this is a fictional work, it doesn't represent how any of the real people mentioned are like in real life

note: i really can't believe i wrote this much off of a 5 minute dream i had a year ago

dividers used

hope you like this, and don't forget to leave your thoughts!

The woman a few tables from yours sighs loudly. She’s been waiting at this almost empty cafe for over half an hour, but the person she’s expecting shows no signs of life. Her lipstick-stained coffee mug sits empty while she stares at the phone in her hand, annoyed more than anything else. Her curly auburn hair tied in an elegant bun is now a little disheveled compared to when she walked in. She’s dressed way too nicely for this run-down cafe, with high-heels that could trigger your fear of heights and a floor-length scarlet dress, matching her glam makeup that was definitely done by a professional makeup artist. The looks she receives from the cafe staff evidence how out of place she is. 

The waiter comes up to her table to get her the check, but she ushers him away as her ringtone echoes across the room. You barely hear the words leaving her lips, but her tired expression and desperate-like body language gives it away. 

She rolls her eyes, mad at the person on the other side of the line, and throws a couple of bills on the table, grabbing her big purse tightly as she walks away in a rush. You do the same, in a less showy way, thanking the staff as you step out the door. The sky marvels in a dark shade of azure, the sun setting behind the tall buildings. The wave of people makes it hard to focus, but you see the red hair a few meters ahead and follow it. 

People bump into you as you rush past them, and a few shouts are directed your way, but pedestrian education is not a priority right now. The woman steps into a mall without looking back, blocks away from the original meet up place. It’s a gallery-like mall, with very few shops open and even fewer people doing the shopping. Two out of three ceiling lights don’t work, and the AC hums a little too loudly in the hallway, contributing to the eerie atmosphere. 

You maintain your distance, close enough to track her movements but far enough so she won’t notice a presence shadowing her. She doesn’t look lost nor appalled, like she knows exactly where the person over the phone told her to go, like it’s not her first time going in there. 

When she finally steps into a tattoo shop, your feet direct you to the one just in front, an antique store that’s so empty, it doesn’t even have a cashier on the clock at the moment. The lights are just dim enough so that you’re well hidden from the outside, contrary to the tattoo place, with blinding white led lights that allow you to see every detail of what’s happening inside. The man that opened the glass door for her checks the hallway before closing the door and putting up the closed sign. 

From where you stand, behind some old clocks and piles of yellow-paged books, you have a perfect view of the woman’s interaction with the sketchy man. She opens her purse, which she was protecting vigorously at the café, and shows him what’s in it with a smirk. But before he has the chance to sneak his hand in, she hides the bag behind her back and tells him something you can’t quite decipher, but it definitely annoys him. 

“Found what you were looking for?” 

A voice right behind you triggers your fight response, but the sight of the man behind you causes nothing more than disgust. 

“Not with your help, that’s for sure.” 

Your eyes roll almost on instinct as you keep surveilling the interaction on the other side of the hallway, trying your best to ignore the annoying presence that’s now by your side. 

“I know you don’t need any help.” 

It’s unclear whether he means it or not. 

“It sure doesn’t look like it.” Your eyes don’t leave your target for a second more, you need more information on this man she’s meeting, but the human of the same specimen behind you is getting on your nerves simply by existing around your personal space. “What are you doing here?” 

“Doing my job, what else would I be doing?” 

That’s funny. 

“So now your job is to keep tabs on me and make sure I don’t screw up?” 

“Listen, this might not be easy for you to understand, but not everything I do revolves around you.” 

“Really? Then why is it that you followed me here? Enlighten me.” 

“Your first mistake is thinking I followed you. I’ve been here for over half an hour.” Your mouth agapes for a second before you realize that you just showed him how surprised you were. “You didn’t see me when you came in? Either I got better or you got worse, don’t know which one I prefer.” The smirk translates clearly through his words. 

“I was too focused and didn’t inspect the room, blah blah, I don’t need a lecture, especially not from you.” 

You take your second phone and start snapping pictures of the meet up after checking the flash isn’t on. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I’m doing my job, Wonwoo, Isn’t it obvious?” 

You’re usually cautious when saying someone’s name on the job, but you’re tired, enough time dealing with the bullshit he left behind to put up with him any longer. 

“No, I’m doing this job.” 

“The fuck does that mean?” 

You finally turn to him, annoyed, angry, drained. You haven’t seen him in months, and you weren’t planning on ever seeing him again. Not since the damn day he almost got you killed. And this is your very first interaction? Him taking over your assignment? Like hell you’re gonna let him. 

“I’m in charge of Elias over there.” 

His eyes point to the same tattoo shop, and you don’t even have to look back before the neurons in your brain click. You could be relaxed that he’s not after the same person as you, but that just means your jobs are, once again, intertwined. 

“I’m in charge of Cecilia over there.” He understands immediately. 

You don’t tell him the real reason you're after Cecilia, and he doesn’t tell you anything about Elias either. 

“Well, this is sure gonna be fun.” 

“This is not gonna be anything.” 

Thinking of working with him again puts a bad taste in your mouth, alerting you that it wouldn’t turn out to be a good choice. 

“I have all the info on the man you need, you have all the info on the woman I need, c'mon, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

“You don’t have anything I can’t get on my own.” 

The white light suddenly turns off, leaving only the few working hallway light bulbs to see into the mall, and both of you turn your heads to the side. The man and the woman split up, heading opposite ways, walking as fast as they could, away from each other, from the mall and from you. 

In a rush of getting away from the antique shop, and a new need to do this job better, your feet set to keep following the redhead on her way back, but a hand grabs your wrist as soon as you step foot out the door. 

“C’mon baby, don’t get mad at me.” Baby? You haven’t heard that from him in a while. 

The cold wall hits your back as Wonwoo puts his hand on the side you almost use to escape. He's too close. But why? The familiar cologne he’s obsessed with is already reaching all your surroundings, and he’s all you can see. 

“I know I should’ve asked you before but,” this interaction is getting more and more confusing, and you can only stare at him, puzzled and angry, “Don’t you think that cute elephant statue would look good in our home?” 

You almost chuckle before you realize he’s doing a bit. He noticed something's off and is putting up an act to cover for the both of you. His arms hide your faces just perfectly from any prying eyes. 

“You can’t just spend ten thousand dollars without telling me!” His face doesn’t change, but a glimmer of satisfaction flashes through his eyes. “What about the money we’re saving for the baby?” 

“I already told you! My podcast is about to take off and I’ll be a millionaire in no time! You have to trust me!” A cackle fights to get out, but you quickly overcome it. 

“You’ve been saying that for over two years! You have three listeners! And one of them is your mom!” 

“She told me she’ll get her knitting friends to listen too, we’re going to be popular with the ladies!” 

Wonwoo shifts away from you slightly, that way you’re able to see into the hallway and check if it’s empty already. 

“They’re gone.” 

Your hand pushes his chest away and he stumbles back with a chuckle. You don’t want to stay and hear what he has to say, and your legs are already walking in the woman’s direction. It’s not in your plans to ever get involved again with Wonwoo, and there’s nothing he could possibly have gathered about that man that you can’t also find out. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” 

“The bit is over Wonwoo, go home.” 

“Let’s just work together, one last time.” His voice reaches closer and closer from behind you, until you stop walking and force yourself to face him. 

“Not only do I not need your help, I especially don’t want it.” 

You couldn’t trust him even if you got offered a million dollars, if you were in a desert and he was the only person with a glass of water. That thrill he used to feel when you worked together, that he’s dying to get back, you’re making sure he doesn’t come close to feeling again. It’s unbelievable that he's even offering it so nonchalantly, like all of this wasn’t his fault to begin with. 

“Look, I’m not asking you to forgive me, just–” He appears to have regretted what he was about to say, and you don’t wait for him to gather his thoughts. 

“Just what? Understand it? We’re way past that don’t you think?” 

From all the times he tried to apologize before you cut him off completely, this must be the most outrageous one. How could you possibly understand getting betrayed by the one person you trusted the most, who you once thought was the love of your life. 

“We’re good together,” your brain glitches with astonishment before he corrects himself, “We always worked better when we did these jobs together, you know that.” 

“You have some serious nerve, after last time, the least I should do is rat you out right this second.” 

“You wouldn’t do that, it’s not your style.” His brow quirks, like he must think he's being funny 

“To fuck over my partners? No, that’s yours.” 

He's trying to charm his way into your life again, like the past few months could disappear at the flash of a smile, and you'll be damned if you let him.  

“Let’s just… see it as a mere trade of information, nothing more.” Neither his voice nor his expression suggests that he’s trying to deceive you, and you hate that you're even considering his offer so quickly. 

If the years of knowing him help you for anything, it’s to realize that under the layers of teasing, he’s desperate for your help. There’s a large probability of him already encountering you over the time passed, but he chose now to get close to you again, to ask for your help, in his own way. 

“And I wouldn’t have to see your face ever again after?” 

His smirk grows, knowing what your question means. “That would be your loss, but sure. One last job and we’d be done.” 

“Are you being serious?” 

It’s hard to trust him, no matter how much he insists it’s his only goal. But it’s true that whatever knowledge he collected on that dude would save you a lot of time and resources, and you have to do this job well to prove yourself again. 

“Dead serious. I promise.” 

A year before.

  The waitress, with purple bags under her eyes and bleach blonde hair tied up in a bun on the edge of falling undone, sighed on the way to tell the same client, for the fourth time in two hours, that it was prohibited to smoke inside the establishment. You saw that man doing countless other illegal things while sitting in that same dark booth the entire night, but the bar drew the line at smoking indoors. 

He huffed at her, but ultimately put the cigarette out against the wood table. There were less and less people the more the time passed, and soon enough, it was going to be too suspicious for you to still be there. You couldn’t be the only customer left in the bar when he left, but the person he was still waiting for was the key to all this, and you couldn’t leave without that information. 

An ‘80s country song started playing on the radio, and the man started tapping his fingers against the table, following the rhythm of the classic. It was almost serene, the way he relaxed at the sound of the familiar tune, but the night started to feel more and more like a waste of time. Whatever the deal was with the person who wasn’t showing up, it was clearly not happening. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” A familiar figure sat in front of you at the secluded booth you kidnapped for the whole night. But the smile that appeared on your face at him quickly dissipated. 

“You shouldn’t be here, it’s too empty.” Besides the staff, you and the old man, there were only three people inside the dusty bar at that time, all alone, too drunk and on the brink of leaving. It was almost impossible to not stand out in that crowd. 

“Don’t worry, I called in a few favors.” Just as Wonwoo finished his sentence, a group of at least ten men, talking loudly and in the mood to celebrate something, walked into the tiny bar, disrupting the serenity but providing you with much needed cover. 

“You’re so... resourceful.” Your words mixed with a giggle as the atmosphere changed from calm and musty to a playful bachelor-esque party inside the bar. “How did you know I was here?” 

“I always know where you are, baby.” A chill climbed up your spine at his teasing smile. “And also, I was waiting for a guy to show up here, he’s supposed to be meeting someone.” 

The loud laugh that escaped you almost beat the drunk shouting of the bachelors in volume. It was easy to connect the dots, and it also wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. 

“You know something I don’t?” Wonwoo’s eyes didn’t stray away from the smile on your lips. 

You just giggled as your eyes darted towards the sketchy old man, who was back to smoking seeing that the staff’s attention was focused on the new customers. You could feel Wonwoo’s gaze stay on you for a second before following yours, and the realization hit him quickly, the years of working together serving their purpose. 

“Yours?” The amusement in his voice made you nod eagerly, sipping on the mocktail that had been sitting untouched on the table for over an hour. “It’s been a while.” 

This job, the thing that you do for a living, got lonely every now and then. Doing everything on your own, not being able to share it with the people closest to you, can take a toll on anyone, no matter how detached they're able to get. So, when you got a chance to work with the one you love, you were for sure gonna take it. 

“I know, it’s gonna be fun.”  

Hidden in the back seat of the car, guarded by the polarized windows, your breath is controlled and eyes are focused as you see into the first-floor window of the house across the street. There stands Cecilia, being very expressive while talking to a person standing just by the sheer curtain, making it impossible for you to see them. 

She’s walking back and forth around the room, switching between listening attentively to the other person and giving feedback. Behind her, there’s a large desk filled with incomplete paperwork and empty water bottles, but the particular clean envelope you’ve been observing for days catches your attention. It looks so out of place there. 

Cecilia's face lights up as she receives a call and answers it staring happily at the person in front of her. The call ends quickly after, not a lot of talking done, but she looks satisfied with what she heard. 

As she grabs the envelope to read the message inside, the other person stands close to her, his face still not visible from your point of view. Taking in account all you have gathered, his height and deep black hair with a fresh undercut, plus what Wonwoo sent you over these past few days, that man most probably is Elias. 

Adjusting your position just slightly, you try to get a better look at the envelope that’s now in the hands of your target. You take your phone out, camera settings at the highest possible quality and flash turned off, so you can later analyze every detail. Only a few pictures save on your gallery before they turn the lights off and step out that room into the inside of the house you can’t see. 

You can’t help feeling like you’re not the only one outside on the street, but after a quick look around the empty road and sidewalk, nothing seems out of place. The parked cars were all there way before you got here, and not a soul walks on either side. But that warning signal on the back of your mind doesn’t turn off. And it turns out you’re right, because a knock on the window makes you jump. 

Wonwoo stands just outside the passenger seat, hands inside his pockets and an insufferable smug expression. 

“How the fuck did you find me? This isn’t even my car.” 

“I still know all your tactics babe, now would you let me in? We need to talk.” You know it’s not safe for him to stand out there for too long, where anyone could notice him, so you open the door to the back seats of the car and reluctantly let Wonwoo in. “Wait, you didn’t see me? You really don’t know how to look out, don’t you?” You’re sure you can see the inside of your skull from how hard you roll your eyes. He’s so fucking smug about everything, you’d punch him. 

“Why did you come here? You could’ve been seen.” If Wonwoo knew where you were, you can only assume he’s been surveilling Elias all day too, and came to Cecilia’s house just after him. 

“I wanted to have a little meeting, and they aren’t watching right now.” Great. He’s not going to leave the car anytime soon. 

“Fine, what did you want to talk about?” With him, sometimes it's better to accept defeat and do whatever he wants so it ends faster. 

“What is it that she has that you’re after?” You haven’t had that conversation, and it's surprising that he’s even bringing it up. 

“We aren’t allowed to discuss that and you know it.” You aren’t looking at him, choosing to keep your eyes on the house in case anything happens. There aren’t really rules when it comes to two separate jobs getting involved with one another, but you’ve learned the hard way that it makes things messy. 

“There are a lot of things we're doing that we aren’t supposed to.” 

“It’s not relevant to the plan.” 

“C’mon, why don't you wanna tell me?” You know he’s pouting, because he’s not getting what he wants and to try to convince you, but that doesn’t work anymore. 

“Why do you wanna know so badly? Is there something in it for you?” 

“We're working together and I’m just curious.” 

“Well, like I said, it’s not relevant, and it’s nothing I haven’t done before.” 

“You’ve done a lot of things, that doesn’t narrow it down much.” 

“Just drop it will you? You don't see me asking about yours.” For the first time in your life, he actually shuts up when you ask him to. 

Finally in silence again, you can watch the house in peace as Wonwoo gets more bored by the second. Cecilia and Elias have been doing god knows what on the back of the house for a while now, but the security cameras she has set up are easily hackable, and if anything happens, you have that last resort. 

“How have you been?” Wonwoo doesn’t last and disrupts the silent atmosphere in a matter of minutes. 

His lazy try to get on your good side again doesn’t go ignored. But sometimes, you wish he’d do something different, prove that you can actually trust him, not engaging in meaningless talking to make you unconsciously open up. 

“I’m busy, Wonwoo.” 

“Nothing’s happening.” 

“Well then, I don’t want to talk to you.” Working alongside Wonwoo is barely something manageable, you’re not about to engage in whatever “friendly” conversation he wishes for. 

“Are you seeing someone? Is that why you don’t want to talk to me?” He can’t be serious. 

“Sure, that’s why. Not because you fucking ruined my life.” You try to be cold, you try to be dry and not let him get to you, but his nerve is astonishing. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? I did it becaus–” 

“And how many times do I have to say that I don’t care? You chose to set me up, you chose to betray me. You can’t expect me to be all smiley and nice and talk to you like you’re my friend.” 

“I just want to know how you’re doing, it’s good that you’re working again.” You’d kick him out of your car if it wasn’t for the unwanted attention you’d receive. 

“You don’t deserve to know anything about my life, not anymore.” 

“I know I don't.” A glimpse of something similar to regret flashes through his factions, but there’s no time to question it. 

A loud sound and two voices draw your attention back to the house, and you both instinctively crouch on your seat. Cecilia and Elias get into his car and drive away fast, not looking back. But you’re not in a rush to follow them, as the most important information at the moment is currently in your gallery. The pictures you took of the envelope aren’t the best, but if you zoom just a little, you could make out the words. 

“Should we follow them?” 

“I think I know where they’re going.” He doesn’t respond, but rather looks at you in silence expecting you to tell him everything without asking. You don’t forget to roll your eyes before answering, “Like I told you yesterday, she got this envelope in the mail a few days ago, and has been keeping it safe until your guy got here this morning.” 

You show him that you managed to take pictures of it, knowing he’s thinking to himself that they’re blurry as hell. But before he could take a real look, you snatch your phone away. 

“So? What does it say?” Wonwoo’s deep voice goes through one ear and out the other. You’re trying to enhance the picture and he only wants to bother you, making a whole show while moving around on the back seat to sit closer to you. 

“It’s an invitation to some kind of event, it might be where they’re doing the exchange. Do you think the boss can–” 

“Get us an invitation? Yeah, I'm on it.” He’s already grabbing his phone to make the call before you finish talking. 

The warning signal reappears at the back of your mind at the interaction. Is Wonwoo calmly going to let the boss know you’re working together again? Does your boss already know? But there’s no way he'd be okay with that. Suddenly, very little makes sense, and the paranoia invades your every thought. But Wonwoo gets his call picked up, and he can't notice you going crazy.  

“Invitations,” you make sure to highlight the ‘s’ at the end as you show him the finally enhanced photo, “looks like a week-long fancy thing, hope you have clothes that don’t look like they haven’t been washed in over a week.” 

“I fixed my washing machine.” He covers the phone’s microphone to whisper and then continues explaining the details to the event. Something stings deep down. A remainder of how things used to be between you. When you could trust him. When you loved him. When you thought he loved you too. 

“That’s good.” No snarky response this time. Only a bigger need for the interaction, and the job, to be over so you can go back to your Wonwoo-less life. 

The key turned with a click sound, almost impossible to hear with all the noise that was coming from inside the apartment. Thudding sounds, like a machine stumping on the ground and against the walls, and a string of curses filled your ears as you took the first steps inside. The wired hanger on your hand, heavy with fancy clothes for that night, dropped flat on the couch when you saw the door to the laundry room was open, noises and curses getting louder and louder the closer you got to it. The floor leading to the room was shiny, covered in what seemed to be soapy dirty water. 

“Fuck! This fucking machine!” 

Wonwoo was kneeling on the floor, pants completely wet and hands scooping foam out of the washing machine as the dryer shook furiously to the rhythm of his curses. A few wet clothing items were scattered around the dirty floor, while the rest hid under all the bubbles Wonwoo fought to get out, even if it seemed that every time he took a scoop out, the mountain of dirty foam only got bigger. 

He didn’t hear you come in, helplessly focused on cleaning up as best he could, and getting more and more frustrated in the process. He scrunched his nose in confusion at something, his glasses slipped further down his nose, and his instinct told him to fix them with his foam-covered hand, resulting in a cute boop of bubbles on the tip of his nose. 

Your giggle shot his head to look your way, with a pout that almost made you hate the metal artifact causing him trouble. His body relaxed immediately at the sight of you, and he sat down on the floor, completely giving up his task. 

“What happened here?” Your words came out mixed with tiny giggles, increasing his pout by 100%. Kneeling on the floor by his side, the dirty water cooled your legs uncomfortably. 

“I think I need a new washer.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, laying you down on his lap so you wouldn’t be able to escape when his hand approached your face and left a matching blob of foam on your nose. “Or maybe, you can finally let me move into your apartment and then I won't have any problems.” 

“Acting like you weren’t the one who told me ‘We can’t baby, it’s too dangerous’ when I asked!” Your impression of his low voice triggered a smile across Wonwoo’s face, and an irresistible urge to lower his head and connect his lips with yours. 

“You’re right, but I was also right.” You didn’t care that he brushed your hair back with his wet fingers, caught up in the look in his eyes as he said those words, warm yet hurt, with thoughts racing through them that couldn’t be vocalized. He was right, you both knew your relationship would never be normal, yet still chose to move forward with it, hoping that your love for each other would be enough. 

“Do you have anything clean for tonight?” Ignoring that one aspect of your relationship became the number one rule for you, not ready for what thinking too much about it could result in. 

“There’s the black shirt I wore yesterday.” His eyes didn’t leave your face, scanning it as if trying to remember every little detail. 

“Babe,” your head tilted against his thigh with judgement, “you fixed your car yesterday.” 

“So? The oil is basically the same color as the shirt, you can’t even see it.” He laughed, knowing it wasn’t true. 

“Let’s just hope it’s dark inside so no pretentious douchebag from that side of town can notice.” He chuckled at your little rant, and the sound almost made you forget what you were saying. 

“I love how mad you get at rich people.” Forgetting the time crunch and the state of the room you were in, Wonwoo flipped you onto the wet floor, his lips quickly taking over yours as he slotted between your legs. 

The easiness in which he had you melting for him, not caring about your uncomfortable wet back against the cold floor, was your one and only weakness. There were no problems when your limbs were tangled with his, when his chest flushed against yours and your breathings synchronized. 

But the outside world didn’t care about your little bubble, and when a new wave of foam rushed out of the washing machine, you were forced to stop whatever the kiss was growing into. Getting up in between laughs and unplugging the machine, the need to shower outgrew the pounding of your heart. 

“I’m going to take a shower and get dressed, you should do the same or we’ll be late.” Your wrist got taken when you started walking away, and Wonwoo twirled you back until you were in his arms again. 

“I’m happy to join you if that’s what you’re saying.” Your head fell back with a smile, but before you could reply, his hands tightened on your waist, “It’s to save time!” You both knew it wasn’t true, but you were unable to say no to him, and he was unable to keep his hands off of you for too long. 

Doesn’t matter how many you infiltrate, the events that rich people attend only to show off their money will always amaze you. 

You've studied the way these people dress, talk, walk, act, everything. And you manage to blend in seamlessly, stepping out of the limousine in your mahogany floor-length dress, the driver’s hand waiting to take yours and help you out, and one of the hotel's staff getting your bag out the trunk. Rich people don’t carry bags, don’t drive their own car, and they especially don’t waste the opportunity to wear their most expensive luxury clothing to any event they’re invited to. 

There’s little to no media coverage, not even one camera pointing at the people getting off the cars, weird judging the size of the event and the long list of attendees you were sent earlier, but at least it saves you the effort of disguising and keeping a low profile. 

The act starts as soon as both of your feet are on the ground and your rented limousine drives away. Paying no attention to your surroundings, walking as nonchalantly as you can, you follow the obnoxious red carpet laid on the way to the hotel’s entrance. These arrangements can get so corny sometimes. 

Inside the reception, at least fifty people are scattered around the entire floor, either sitting on the many expensive looking couches and matching chairs, or walking to their rooms with their personal luggage boy behind them. Not one face surprises you, no one you knew was in the invitation list, and you did background checks on anyone that sounded suspicious. Everyone’s just another millionaire stranger that doesn’t know they’re a piece in your game. 

The long reception desk has no line, and the workers behind it seem already bored of everything going on. You take the chance to go up to them and get your room key. 

“Good evening mam, how may I help you?” The blonde girl straightens her posture when she sees you walk up to her. 

“Hi!” Looking straight into her eyes, she visibly relaxes at your loosened-up demeanor, contrasting to every previous person she’s helped during the day. “Could I just get my room keys? I can’t stand this any longer, I need to go and take a nap.” 

No one here is being kind nor nice to them, and that’s the key to getting the staff's trust. Stand out, talk to them like they’re people, and most importantly, don’t portray that obnoxious rich person's personality. 

“Of course! Could I get your last name?” 

“Roberts, Marissa Roberts, with two ‘s’.” Your fake ID is in your hand, ready for the girl to take, but she ignores it, going straight to look you up in the system. 

While she goes to look for your room card through the endless pile of rooms that haven’t checked in yet, a strong presence stands beside you, speaking to the other receptionist. His voice manages to reach your ears even with all the murmur around you. 

You don’t want to look at him, turning your head and acknowledging his presence now is too risky. But when the redheaded receptionist goes back to find his room card, leaving you alone at the desk, he’s the one that faces you, giving you no choice but to follow his lead. 

“Nice day, huh?” You can’t ignore him, it’ll be weirder if you don’t reply. 

“It’s cloudy with a 90% chance of rain.” Trying your best to sound as dry and not interested as possible, you eye him for a split of a second before the receptionist brings back his key. What’s taking so long with yours? 

“You staying for the whole charity week?” You know the act he’s trying to put up. Planting the idea that he’s interested in you so it won’t be suspicious when you talk during the different events taking place over the week. 

“Yeah,” luckily, you’re interrupted by the blonde receptionist finally bringing your room key, and by an impatient man standing behind Wonwoo, huffing when he doesn’t immediately move, keeping the newly formed line from moving. 

“I’ll be seeing you then.” He’s then off with a wink and enchanted sighs from both of the girls behind the desk. 

You used to be like them, easily swooned by his natural charm. His deep, teasing voice could make even the meanest and coldest soul fall to their knees. You used to love hearing it, be it in small talk over coffee as you got to know each other, cleverly planning a robbery you were hired to do together, with his arm around your shoulders as he softly talked to drift you to sleep, or whispering dirty nothings in your ear with his body pressed against yours. Now, there was nothing. Even hatred was starting to fade away, leaving nothing but indifference. You don’t care if he’s happy or sad, alive or dead, you only care about finishing the job and moving on with your life. 

As you’re being handed your card, the nostalgia for something that can no longer exist rubs off your body, and you see the opportunity to continue the act. 

“What room is he staying in?” You try to sound as playful as possible, pretending you were just playing hard to get. Because you’re aware that, not only the receptionists, but also the boy carrying your bag just behind you and probably a few people down the line, heard the whole interaction. 

“We can’t disclose the guests’ information.” She seems more friendly now, but it’s better not to push your luck for now. 

“Right, sorry yeah, I totally get it. Guess I’ll have to find him tonight.” She chuckles as you walk away, heading for the elevator to go up to the 6th floor. 

The room was carefully chosen, on the same floor, same hallway as Cecilia's, but not the one right in front of hers, so you can keep tabs on her without being too obvious. Room 606, just above 506, where Wonwoo's staying, same floor and hallway as his target, just like you. 

There’s one hour left before the welcoming toast, the first event of many to come, and where everything begins. The countdown of days until the final night, the charity auction that could potentially change your life. 

The hotel’s dining hall is arranged with hundreds of tables, with matching scarlet chairs and big beautiful centerpieces. A theater-like stage catches your attention, with the curtains pulled down as if you were here for a show. But your amazement for the grandness of the place is cut short due to the realization that no one else coming in is giving the room a second look. They’re not surprised, they’re used to these kinds of things, and you have to become one of them. 

With short and slow steps, you analyze the room you’ll be spending plenty of time in, remembering any possible hiding spots and ways out, blind spots, and if possible, your target’s favorite tables to hang out at. 

In the look for her auburn hair, you see her figure sitting at one of the tables right on the center of the hall, talking with a short-haired woman. Her black bob so perfect that one would think she just cut it before coming down. It seems to be a fairly nice conversation, not a lot of smiling, but there’s not one second where they’re in silence. You’ll do some digging on her once you’re back in your room. 

Cecilia has her back turned on the table right by her side, where Elias is sitting, listening to a few old men in dark blue suits. They’re pretending to not know each other, but why? He looks bored, nodding when one of the men looks at him for confirmation, and checking his watch way too often. Either he’s wishing for the conversation to be over, or he’s waiting for something. 

Like clockwork, a younger guy, just as tall as Elias but with honey blond hair and thick black rim glasses, approaches his table and asks if he can talk to him privately. More relaxed, Elias apologizes profusely and walks away with the new guy. You don’t see him, but you know Wonwoo is trailing behind them. You’ll ask him about that later, but for now, it’s time for you to do your part. 

The one and only rule you’re given when doing these jobs is simple: you can’t engage with your target. You can’t talk to them, maybe a polite nod or a ‘thank you’ if absolutely necessary, according to the interaction, but in no way you can have a conversation with them. You’re given the liberty of planning, you can ask for help if needed, but you must remain a stranger to your target. It seems fairly easy, but there are cases like these, where there’s so much noise not even sitting at a table less than two feet away is close enough for you to hear the conversation. Sometimes using a little loophole is inevitable. 

A quick glance at Cecilia’s table provides you with what you need. Her slightly open purse is hanging loosely by her arm, and any time someone passes by and bumps into it, she doesn’t even feel it. As she stands up to go ask for another drink, her fourth one of the night, your opportunity arises. 

You get up, grabbing a random empty champagne glass from your table, and start walking with very little balance. Your steps almost intertwine with Cecilia’s, and when you almost trip, you pretend to grab onto her arm and slip a tiny microphone inside her purse. The device looks and works exactly like an airpod, but it’ll send hourly recordings straight to your second phone for 24 hours. 

Cecilia barely pays attention to you, and you apologize right after getting up, but she doesn’t even look at you, just continues with her walk and shares a weird look with her friend. No one around you really notices the interaction, and even if they did, they’ll forget by tomorrow. 

As you look up from the floor, the first thing you see is Wonwoo, and he raises his eyebrows teasingly when your gazes connect. Your first instinctive reaction is to roll your eyes. You hate to be observed, and even if this is a tactic you’ve done a few times with his knowledge, it feels almost taunting to see him so composed after not having to break the rules to listen to his target. 

The bar by the door calls your name, and now that you have a way of spying on Cecilia’s conversations from afar, you let yourself have one singular drink. But the time of peace you thought you could have is interrupted. 

“Can I have one of what she’s having?” Wonwoo’s voice sounds dangerously close to you, and when you look to your side, your suspicions are correct, as he’s sitting on the barstool to your right. 

You always wondered how he managed to do this job. The key thing is always to blend in, be forgettable, not draw attention, and he does none of those things. Wonwoo is tall and broad and the suits he wears always fit him just right, quickly making him receive lust-filled stares and dreamy sighs, and he walks around leaving a trail of people in awe because of his looks. Tonight is no exception. The woman sitting at the other end of the bar is eyeing him like he’s a piece of candy, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, focusing on you until you make eye contact. 

“Cheers.” He lifts the drink the bartender just gave him, not even sparing her one glance, and she walks away to serve other people, disappointed after not getting his attention. You give him a light nod and lift your drink as well in acknowledgment. “So, what brings you here?” 

“Aren’t we all here for the same reason?” You speak softly, with a light smirk meant to tease him. He knows you’re forced to follow his lead, but if this is the act he wants to put out, you’re not going to make it that easy. 

“I was hoping you’d say for me.” Wonwoo's words actually surprise you, his sultry tone making your stomach turn against your will, like it has countless times before because of him. 

“I don’t even know your name.” You chuckle lightly and sip on your drink, to check on your surroundings but also to avoid Wonwoo’s eyes. 

“Ryan, Ryan Cohen, pleasure to meet you.” Wonwoo grabs your hand and kisses the top of it. 

Surrounded by people who must believe your act, and the combination of alcohol and an empty stomach in your system blurs the lines just a tiny bit. Nothing is letting you react the way you thought it would to him pulling off something like this. The lines are there for a reason, and the act it’s still just that, an act. You won’t forget what he did to you. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ryan,” from the corner of your eye, you see Cecilia leaving the hall with a man you haven’t seen before, and that new problem rapidly escalates to the top of your priorities, “but unfortunately, I’m calling a night for today. I have important business to do tomorrow.” 

“Wait, I didn’t get your name!” He really nails the put together yet slightly desperate persona. 

“I’ll see you around.” You only smirk before turning around and disappearing from his sight. 

You’re finally able to breathe correctly when you leave the dinner hall. The heavy atmosphere was starting to make you hallucinate things. For a split of a second, you forgot the real reason you were there, and that can’t happen. 

To go upstairs, you wait until the elevator where Cecilia and mystery man hopped on closes its doors, and then you go and press the button to go up. It wouldn’t be weird if it was just a hookup, as it's a normal thing to happen at these kinds of cocktail events, but you still should check it out. 

The bouncer at the door crossed his arms with a deadly poker face, shaking his head after Wonwoo’s third plea to let him come in. 

You knew his obviously dirty clothes weren’t gonna do it. The people in line, all wearing luxury clothing to present themselves as something worthy, looked at him up and down multiple times, judging him and commenting about his horrendous outfit with their friends. Even a few pity looks were thrown your way. People at those types of clubs cared too much about looks, about wearing the perfect expensive outfit for their night out. You looked the part, choosing your bougiest outfit and searching for all the make-up trends at that time, almost as if expecting to be on the VIP list. 

Your view was blocked by the security’s broad tall back. Barely inside the club, the loud music was making the walls tremble and the neon lights even reached the street below Wonwoo’s feet.  

With your best glittery eyes, you placed your hand on the bouncer’s heavy shoulder, making him turn back slightly. Two whispers after, and a promise to come back with more girl friends, he let Wonwoo in with a huff and a warning. 

“What did you say to him?” 

Every step forward you took turned the volume of the music up, and Wonwoo had to crouch to whisper in your ear. His arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him in the crowded club. It felt too intimate for a public place, but that was usual for him. 

“Nothing you wanna know.” You giggled as you saw the man you had been following, sitting on a burgundy couch all the way on the back of the club, smoking alone, waiting for Wonwoo's guy. 

“I’ll make sure he knows you’re taken, so he doesn’t make any moves on you.” Wonwoo’s hands held the sides of your waist, turning you to the side and bringing your bodies closer. The blue, pink and green lights dancing at the rhythm of the music reflected on his beautiful face, with a serious yet teasing expression as his eyes lightly glared at the back, letting you know he also saw your guy. “Should we dance?” 

“Of course! We’re in a club!” There wasn’t much to do besides waiting. You wouldn’t be able to hear what they were saying anyway. The most important task was seeing how they interacted with each other, and Wonwoo’s guy seemed to be always late. What harm could be done by having a little fun? 

Your hand took his, walking further inside the room enveloped in a newly effervescent tension, looking for the best place to dance and surveil the men on the wine-colored couches. The drunk people surrounding you moved in slow motion, different bodies pressed against one another and dancing with no rhythm, giving you much needed cover. From where you were standing, the faint smell of the cigarette of your target could reach you every few minutes, mixing with the smell of sweat and expensive drinks. 

Wonwoo found your waist again, pressing your back against his chest and swaying your bodies from left to right. His lips grazed the side of your ear, letting his breath tickle the side of your face teasingly, and his hands traveled around your body with little shame, blending into the sea of horny couples and sticky bodies making out. 

Covered by the darkness of the place, and with the excuse of fitting in, his hips were grinding against your ass, breathing heavily to the random song the dj was playing. Wonwoo’s target walked in, wide eyes as he tensely looked for anything out of place. He seemed paranoid, playing with his hands as he sat in front of the old man. You went unnoticed, as Wonwoo began leaving wet kisses on the side of your neck, and any eyes going over the crowd would just ignore you, like you were just another drunk couple. 

The bargaining appeared fairly pacific, a back and forth between the two men, so out in the open it wasn't going to turn violent. And when Wonwoo’s hands pushed your hips harder against his, you couldn’t stop your head from falling back onto his shoulders and letting him do anything he wanted. It was easy to get lost in the feeling of him, your bodies pressed together as you surveilled essentially nothing. 

A ripple burst through the packed dance floor. A man pushing groups of people away and not budging in the slightest bumped against Wonwoo, knocking one of his arms off your body. The tall man didn’t look back, and Wonwoo was fuming. 

“Just let it go, assholes like that are everywhere.” 

You knew Wonwoo didn’t take those things lightly, so as soon as you saw him even thinking of going after the guy, you grabbed his wrist and turned him back your way. 

“I wasn't gonna do anything!” Your head tilted to the side, not convinced. “Fine, I was just going to calmly teach him how to say ‘excuse me’.” 

“Sure you were.” 

His chest relaxed under your palms as you stood on your tiptoes to give him a peck. But the softness of his lips glued you to them longer than you initially expected, and his hands on your back melted into you, keeping you close to him. 

“I’m gonna head to the toilet for a sec, don’t go after that security guy.” Your eyes were still closed, chasing his lips as he talked. 

“I won’t if you don’t punch that guy.” It was hard letting his hand go as he walked into the sea of people and away from you. But in that moment, maybe it was best to separate before you got too sucked into your bubble. 

The bargaining between the two men stayed boring, endless talking about whatever the topics changed into. You sat on the bar, sipping on a cold glass of water, waiting for anything even remotely interesting to happen. From the corner of your eye, the guy that bumped into you caught your attention as he came out of the bathroom, and emergency sirens immediately started blasting at the back of your mind. There was no waiting line, so maybe he didn’t come across Wonwoo, you thought. 

But the next exchange you witnessed left you more uncertain than anything else. A bald man you had never seen before walked out of the restroom, Wonwoo following behind him with a noticeable frown. The strange man appeared to be in a rush to get away from him, but Wonwoo grabbed the man’s wrist harshly and turned him to look at him again. Wonwoo’s lips moved fast, saying too much in very little time, and the bad lighting made it harder for you to even try to understand what he was saying. The mystery man gulped hard and nodded with wide eyes, almost like he feared Wonwoo. 

Something seemed out of place, but the little voice inside your head told you not to question Wonwoo about it. You forced your eyes away from the interaction to see that both of your targets were getting ready to leave, and you waited until Wonwoo came back while your mind raced, thinking of every possibility of what that could’ve been about. Maybe he would tell you when he sat by your side, maybe it was nothing and you were being paranoid. But a sweet kiss on your cheek was all you got, and an arm naturally wrapping around your waist as you left the bar together, like nothing happened. 

A final quick glance inside the club made your stomach drop to the floor as you could’ve sworn you saw, blurred by the frenetic neon lights and the people dancing, the bald man sitting right beside your target, whispering something to him.

Spending an entire night surveilling audio footage from Cecilia’s hook-up wasn’t how you originally planned to spend your first night in the hotel. 

In the past days, you’ve learned how frequently she brought different men home, and you should’ve known that this event wasn’t gonna stop her. Good for her, sure, but there is at least 3 hours of unusable footage from your microphone that you have to delete. 

Tiredness begins to take over you, barely concentrating on skipping past the recordings to hear if anything strange happened in Cecilia's room, and your eyes beg to be closed. But you can’t rest, not until you know for sure she’s asleep. 

The first hourly footage that doesn’t contain any sex noises is delivered to your phone at 4 am, and it’s nothing but calm silence. But your sigh of relief is cut short when a call resonates through the audio, disrupting the quiet room and making you hold your breath. Panic sets in, freezing your entire body as you wait for any other sound, because if no one answers, it means either there’s no one in the room, or worse, something happened to her. 

It doesn’t stop, the ringing, as the person calling refuses to give up. The familiar ringtone echoes on your headphones, like it’s too close to the microphone, blocking any other noise from being heard, almost disabling your other senses too. But a simple look around the room lets you realize it’s your phone ringing, and above it all, it’s Wonwoo calling. 

“Why are you awake? What do you want?” He manages to find ways to annoy you even before the sun rises. 

“I need to tell you something, open the door.” 

His serious tone takes you by surprise and makes you jump off your seat. There’s silence on your side on the line while you walk as quietly as possible to your door. A hard but somehow not loud knock on your room door answers your pending question, and leaves you no choice but to let Wonwoo in. 

“What the hell?” You end the call as you reluctantly open the door. 

“I sent you a thousand messages,” Wonwoo stomps inside your room, passing you by with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“You shouldn’t be here. Did you check the hallway at least?” You peak your head out the door, the calm hallway welcoming you in complete silence, before closing it with care so it doesn’t draw any attention. 

“You have to stop ignoring me.” Wonwoo walks over to where your laptop still shows the recordings and shuts it close. 

“You’re such a baby, Oh my god. I was doing something and wasn’t checking my phone, it wasn't about you.” His whole body’s tense, his eyes ignoring you and his eyebrows frowning with what could be frustration, fear or even disappointment. “Well? Are you going to tell me whatever you wanted to tell me? Or are you just going to keep strolling around the room like a maniac?” Your arms cross as you sit back on the bed. 

Wonwoo huffs, still stomping back and forth like that would help him clear his head, anxious, thinking hard and gathering his many thoughts. 

“There’s something wrong with my guy.” He settles on those words, vague but still alarmed. 

“Why? Is it about that new guy earlier?” Wonwoo nods, confirming your assumption that he followed them earlier when he and Elias walked away from the table to talk alone. 

It’s like he can’t keep still, his hands slightly shaking covering his mouth and making his non-stop ranting come out muffled. Every second it passes, you grow more and more concerned at his state. The only one other time you saw him getting so paranoid about a mission, he turned out to be right, so you’re not about to dismiss him because of your own feelings towards him. 

“Ok, calm down, talk to me.” Your hand takes hold of his in one of his laps around the room, and you force him to sit down by your side. It’s dangerous, his body so close to yours, emanating an all too familiar heat, but if that’s what it takes to calm him down and make him concentrate, then you’re gonna take the risk. 

“I need to speak with him.” His gaze is trained on the floor, and his right leg shakes anxiously against yours. 

“Elias?” He shakes his head at your whisper, “The other guy?” And at that he nods. 

“You can’t do that, you know it. It’s too much of a risk.” For him to want to break the one rule he’s insistent about, it can’t be something simple he can’t figure out. Your worries rise with every second he spends in silence. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I… don’t know.” Wonwoo grabs his head and crouches until his forehead touches his knees. “When I heard both of them talk earlier, it sounded like they were speaking in some kind of code. I swear nothing they said made sense.” 

“Maybe they’ve known each other for a long time.” 

“That’s the thing, I have no idea who that other guy is.” He lifts his head from the top of his legs, but still refuses to look at you. “As soon as the cocktail night finished, I went up to my room to try to find anything about him, but there’s nothing. I couldn’t find anything.” 

That definitely sounds wrong. Someone that close to a target should always be easy to investigate, and knowing Wonwoo does intricate background checks on everyone, it’s not good. But you can’t let him see you panic, he needs you to be the voice of reason.  

“You can figure it out, it could mean nothing.” 

“I can do it if I speak with him.” Wonwoo’s not listening to you, too desperate to think clearly, and it just makes you more worried. 

“Think about it first, please, don’t do anything stupid.” You place your hand softly on his knee, going against every rule you’ve set for yourself, only thinking of calming Wonwoo down. 

The silence is deafening. If you listen closely, you might even be able to hear every thought racing through Wonwoo’s brain. His teeth claw on his bottom lip, tinted with blood red as he rips more skin off, and you don’t know what else to say to calm him down. False positivity would force him to push you away again, and now that you two are in this together, that can’t happen. 

“You can.” He simply says as his leg finally stops shaking. “You can talk to him.” 

To say that you’re frozen in place would be an understatement. A part of you, one hidden at the very back of your mind, naturally wants to help him, like you always did without question. But the rational part of your brain, the one that hasn’t been the same since everything happened, screams at you to leave him to figure it out on his own. 

“I– I don’t kn–” 

“Please,” His hand grabbing yours makes you unable to continue talking, “I know you don’t trust me, and I know I don’t deserve it, but, fuck, please, trust me on this.” 

“Wonwoo, I– I shouldn’t.” Words are becoming more and more difficult to think about as his worried eyes begin piercing through you. It’s hard to tell him no, even if your whole body is yelling at you to do so. 

“Look, I’m trying here, I– I’m not hiding it from you or trying to solve it on my own when you’re involved too, please.” You knew this closeness was dangerous for you, your hands between his as his face pleads for you, and your heart pounds against your chest asking you to consider it. 

“Do you even know what you need from him?” His body visibly relaxes at your question, knowing you too well. 

“Anything. Even his favorite color could help.” His gaze softens, a look in his eyes that you were never able to resist. After all that’s happened, his effect on you is still untouched, alive and well even after you tried to bury it deep inside you. 

“It’s too risky Wonwoo, I don’t know if I can.” You’ve already said yes at this point. You know it. He knows it. It’s pointless to still deny it out loud. “We’ve never done this before.” 

“I can do something for you too, anything to keep you from owing me.” His voice sounds sure. Too sure. 

“You sound like you already have a plan.” You slip your hand out of his embrace with force, crossing your arms again. “You came here for this.” 

“What?” There’s genuine confusion on his face. 

“And to think I almost believed you, fuck, I’m so stupid.” That last part was a mumble more to yourself than for him to hear. “I can’t believe I almost fell for it.” 

“Wait, no, I–” 

“I’m not gonna let you use me again.” You interrupt whatever excuse he was about to give you. “You came here, pretending to be stressed and panicking, making me worry about you, all to manipulate me into doing your dirty work! Unbelievable.” 

“Hold on, that’s not why I came.” You’ve stood up some time in between your accusation, and he follows you, grabbing you by the shoulders to force you to look at him. “I promise.” 

“Then why? Why would you offer to do something for me too?” It makes no sense in your head. “You just sound like you already had a plan thought out, like you knew what you came for.” 

“I just remembered the girl Cecilia was talking to earlier and thought maybe you needed information on her.” You frown, not convinced, and he notices, reading you perfectly. “I didn’t come here with that purpose, I swear.” 

“So, you just came here because…” 

“You’ve always helped me clear my mind.” He replies calmly, not a hint of anything close to a lie in his tone. 

You hate it. You hate him. It’s too easy for him to make you lower the walls you’ve been trying so hard to put up. He always finds the right words to say, the thing you need to hear. You should’ve known it was going to happen. One singular moment alone with him and you’re done for. Pathetic. 

“Stop lying.” Your voice comes out weak, defeated. All the emotions you spent so much time trying to bury, fighting to be the cold person you used to be before him, all of them springing out of their hiding simultaneously, weakening you in his eyes.  

“I’m not.” His voice so low makes you aware of the closeness of his body again. His rough hands haven’t let go of your arms, keeping you still in front of him. Your gaze points down at his chest, ignoring his obvious intentions to make you look him in the eyes. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.” 

“I can’t trust you.” There’s so much hurt in the way words come out of you. Hurt that both of you know has nothing to do with what he’s asking, or with this mission. Hurt that Wonwoo knows it's because of him, and he’ll spend years and years trying to mend, if you let him. 

“I don’t want to hide anything from you.” As he steps back, his arms away from your quivering body, air can finally escape from your lungs. “Ask me anything.” 

From all the questions you’ve harbored over time, the many whys that kept you up every night, the hows that made your skin crawl and never allowed you to be at peace, you’re incapable of asking him the most important one. Reliving that night is out of the question, and when the real issue lies within the current mission, your mouth takes the lead and asks without your brain’s permission. 

“Does the boss know we’re working together?” 

That day in front of Cecilia’s house has been at the back of your mind for days. The way he so casually asked for two invitations like it was of no importance reappearing every time you allowed yourself to follow his lead. 

“Yes.” Wonwoo answers quickly. But you’re not surprised at that fact. 

“And he’s okay with it? I know he doesn’t like me much.” 

It doesn’t make sense that he would allow it, let alone send you to an event where you’re gonna interact way more than on a normal mission. 

“He wasn’t, but I explained to him that it was important to me.” 

Important to him. At that, every previous question evaporates from your mind, creating more current ones. Did he know you were after Cecilia? There’s no way he could. Did he tell him after your encounter at the mall? 

“Why is it important to you?” 

“Because...” Wonwoo hesitates, thinking carefully about the wording for his confession, “I’m not doing this anymore. After this mission, I’m going away for good. I don’t want this life anymore, I’m done.” 

Speechless. That’s the only way to describe the state Wonwoo has left you in once again. But only a part of it seems to get stuck in your mind. 

“Where will you go?” 

You always knew he didn’t like that life. He got stuck in it by accident, with no way out. Sure, he took it seriously, he followed the rules and always did his job right. But he hated it. Hated to steal things for the rich, to be a pawn in someone else’s game. Hated having to always be in hiding, not being able to live a fulfilling life with you. 

A heavy weight sits on your heart, a feeling resurfacing from deep within you, but not unknown. Purposely avoiding him is different from knowing you’ll never see him again. A part of you will always miss him, miss the comfort you felt being with him. 

“I don’t know, just away from here.” He doesn’t sound hurt, but his voice is low, like his words hold another meaning. Here. Away from the city, away from the life he despised, away from the memories of you. 

“You told him you wanted to work with me?” The mental question escapes your lips without your consent, outing your inner thoughts. 

“I didn’t know we’d bump into each other, but once we found out, I called him.” 

“So, what’s the catch? There’s no way he’d take that risk without asking something from you too.” 

Wonwoo sighs, maybe sad, maybe disappointed, maybe ready to be over with the conversation. “I just need to do this right, then I’m done.” 

“That’s it?” It’s hard to believe that a man that hires people like you to do his dirty work and steal expensive stuff for his sketchy clients can let go of his best employee that easily. 

“It’s a hard job, and if I can’t do it, he’ll never allow me to leave.” At one point, Wonwoo stopped looking at you, and you’re afraid you’ve pressed too far. 

“If I know something about you, is that no job is hard for you.” You almost chuckle at the idea of him fumbling a job, even a joke about his betrayal tingles at the tip of your tongue, but the familiarity of your words hits you hard, knocking the easy atmosphere out of you.  

His hand sneaks into one of his pockets, and your fight instinct kicks in again, not ready to face whatever he could possibly show you. But all that comes out in his hand is another phone, one you’ve never seen before, different from the one he used to call you earlier. 

“Here.” Your reflexes work faster than your brain when Wonwoo throws the cellphone to you. “Every detail you want to know, with all my research about them, is in there. You can look through it, see it for yourself.” 

“You want me to go over your entire mission? Are you sure?” 

This is not like the details you’ve been sharing prior to this event, that was only what the other needed. This is different. This is the whole investigation, the entire plan to find his objective and reach his goal. This kind of information is explicitly forbidden to share with anyone, but he’s putting it at risk to gain your trust back. 

“I need your help, please. I can’t do this if you don’t trust what I’m saying.” 

It takes a minute of silence for you to consider what to do next. 

“Then,” from where you stand, your computer is right behind you, light enough for you to grab with one hand, “look through mine. It’s the only folder saved.” 

It’s a silent agreement, implicating that you do want to work with him one last time, to help him get out. You try to ignore the sting in your heart, ignore that you still care, and focus on the missions to take your mind off of it. 

“I can’t ask you that.” He takes your laptop in his hands, but doesn’t open it, even after you signal him to do so. 

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” Wonwoo sits on your bed, still reluctant to open the computer. “You were right, I barely have info on the woman she was with, only her name and a few other things. We can help each other, but only if we know exactly what we're doing.” 

Wonwoo only nods with a tight smile, understanding even what you don’t voice out.

The candle flame danced at the center of the table, illuminating Wonwoo’s face in the poorly-lighted but expensive restaurant while you waited for the food you ordered. The gold-colored light created a romantic layer that contrasted with the purpose you had set for the dinner experience. 

Wonwoo thought you were here to simply observe your targets’ last meeting before the buying, in addition to having a nice meal, but you had made your personal mission to find out what business he had done the other night at the club. That tall man with a frightened expression haunted your every dream, always turning into nightmares with different outcomes. And not even waking up helped your distress, as you’d open your eyes to find yourself tangled between the arms of the protagonist of said nightmares. 

Wonwoo wasn’t acting weird per se, but that only made your worries worse. There was a chance that you were wrong, that your mind was playing games with you. And you wanted to believe it with your whole heart, no matter how small it was. But the paranoia never seemed to end, and it got worse with each day that passed that Wonwoo acted like nothing happened, living his life normally with you, hugging and kissing you like he wasn’t hiding anything. 

As he sat in front of you, telling you about his day, his back faced where both of your targets were ordering. The waiter spoke comfortably with the old man, you knew he was a regular at that restaurant, and the younger guy trembled slightly, as if afraid of the man sitting in front of him. Wonwoo didn’t seem to care to see the interaction, and didn’t ask you questions about it either, assuming you would’ve told him if something happened. Your eyes were stationed on the two men, but your mind was elsewhere, scheming a way to get information out of your boyfriend without being suspicious. 

“Babe?” His questioning voice almost took you out of character. 

“Sorry, I thought I saw someone.” He smiled, taking no notice of the rollercoaster of thoughts that was going through your mind. “What were you saying?” 

“Who? One of his guys?” His face showed a glimpse of worry, and you debated whether he didn’t want to show emotion in the public place, or if he faked his worry so as to not let you doubt him. 

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like not trusting him. It was eating you from the inside, overthinking about his every move, his every action. You didn’t want to do it. But something at the back of your mind was non stop shouting that something was wrong, giving you no chance but to listen to it. 

“It was…” Wonwoo's eyes followed the way your lips moved with the words, innocently anticipating your answer. “I just thought I saw that guy from the other night.” 

You had him where you wanted him. Eyes wide, hands gripping the sides of the table as he contemplated the options. 

“Which one? It was a crowded night babe.” Wonwoo tried to sound nonchalant. In his eyes, you had no reason to doubt him. 

“That guy that bumped into us, remember?” You pretended to think about that night, like you didn’t go over it in your head countless times, hand on your chin and eyes up to the ceiling as a tiny smile appeared on your face, “you wanna know something funny? I saw him getting out of the bathroom just before you did! I remember fearing you’d done something to him in there.” 

Trap set, you hoped to make him react in any way, but he remained with a poker face, not daring to explain the situation, but not telling you the truth either. 

“Oh, it’s good I didn’t see him then.” Wonwoo chuckled as the waiter finally brought your food and set it on the table, digging into his full plate while your trust shattered in a million pieces. “What an asshole!” 

“Yeah.” 

What more could you have said? Wonwoo was clearly avoiding the subject, eating like a mad man and purposely not looking you in the eyes, and the mission was about to end anyway. The stolen painting your target was selling to Wonwoo’s was already on the way to the abandoned building he always used for his deals, and you intended to steal it before they even arranged their last meeting to finalize the buying and deliver it. 

Maybe that guy was a part of Wonwoo’s mission that he didn’t tell you about, and maybe after you both finished your jobs he’d go back to normal, and you could trust him again. Maybe this time your instinct was wrong. Maybe.

  After the tenth bored nod, the seventh ‘oh wow’ and the fourth ‘that’s crazy’, you’re beginning to understand why all these rich people tend to get piss drunk to get through these kinds of events. Every conversation is identical, the topics, the reactions, the answers, the counter-arguments, nothing ever changes.  

It’s been two days since that night with Wonwoo, where you agreed to get close to each other’s targets’ friends and essentially broke every implicit rule of the job. Two nights since you’ve opened up to each other for one last time. Two nights since you, once again, went against the exact thing you declared you were never going to do again. And a day before the auction where you planned to carry out the robbery. 

Being honest about your missions gave you the amount of reassurance you needed to work with Wonwoo again. What he failed to do last time, not letting you in and not letting you help him, Wonwoo was making sure he didn’t make the same mistakes. And it feels better to work this way. Trusting him, at least with a mission as important as the one he has, is easier now. 

Easier than fake laughing for the tenth time in twenty minutes for sure. 

Elias’ friend sits right across the table, equally as bored as you and showing false interest in the conversation the old men hold. But he stays around them every night regardless, listening to the white-haired men complain about their spouses and showing off their yearly earnings. 

They don’t ask him any questions, and he doesn’t offer anything to the conversation either. You’ve noticed he has some kind of nervous tick, where every two or three minutes he’ll sigh and sit back, brush his blond hair to the side with his hand, look around the room and then go back to pretending to pay attention. Weirdly, his eyes never stray your way, even if you’re directly in front of him and watching his every move. 

The opportunity to personally approach him arises when he opens his mouth for the first time in the night to excuse himself to the bar. Not a glance is spared his way as the table keeps talking, and a few seconds later you do the same. The rich men care more about you leaving than Elias’ friend, but you take three steps away from the table and they're back to their discussion about stock pricing. 

Wonwoo, a few tables back, glances your way and nods just barely, only for you to catch. Due to your previous agreement establishing that the targets remain off limits, he hasn’t approached Sophie, Cecilia’s friend, yet, since the two women are seemingly inseparable. 

The blond man chooses to sit on a barstool on the least illuminated corner of the empty bar, far away from the door. Elias should be in his mid-twenties, according to Wonwoo’s information, so you can only assume his friend is close to that age too, but he looks a lot younger in your eyes, and he orders a vodka cola with a side of fries, further fortifying that impression. 

“What do you recommend?” You ask him as you sit down on the stool next to his, taking him by surprise. 

“Me?” His tone wavers between shocked and bothered that someone’s speaking to him, but you don’t really care which one it really is. 

“Yes, you.” You giggle lightly, placing your chin on the palm of your hand to seem charmed by him. “Do you have any drink recommendations?” 

“Oh I-, I don’t drink often, I wouldn’t know.” He stutters and avoids your eyes. 

“I’ll have what he’s having.” You tell the tired bartender, even if you despise vodka with a passion. “So, what’s a handsome man like doing here all alone?” 

“Those people can get very tiring,” he answers with a serious tone, but a faint blush appears on his ears at your bluntness, “you heard how they are.” 

“Oh, so you noticed me there?” Your flirty persona disappears for a second in slight shock, as you haven’t caught his eyes on you once during the past nights. 

“Of course I did.” Even after his admission, his eyes continue staring as his already half empty glass. “You’re hard to miss.” 

“I don’t know if I want to take that as a compliment, but I will.” Quite the opposite, your intention is to be invisible. “I’m not used to receiving much attention.” You chew on the plastic straw the bartender gives you with your drink, making dreamy eyes at Elias’ friend. 

“Well, you caught mine.” As shy as he may appear, he’s being rather forward with his statements now. 

“What I haven’t caught is your name.” If he’s truly interested in you, then your plan begins, and you intend to acquire as much information as possible. “I’m Marissa.” 

“I’m Lucas.” Amused, he replies as he stretches his hand to shake yours. 

“So, Lucas, what do you do? What brings you to this boring, old rich people event.” A little of your real personality is always good to show when you’re pretending to be someone else. Even if they don’t realize, people have something close to a sixth sense when it comes to strangers, and if you seem to be even a little bit stiff and made up, they’ll unconsciously realize something’s not right with you. 

Lucas chuckles at your undisguised disgust, “I work for one of those rich old men, but he doesn’t like coming here, so it’s my job to make face and buy him whatever artifact he wants on a whim.” 

Hopefully, the microphone you previously set inside your bra hasn’t moved and is recording everything Lucas’ saying in case you forget any details. Wonwoo would never let you live if you forget even the tiniest thing. 

“That sounds awful.” You decide on a short empathetic response, hoping he’ll keep talking without you asking many questions. 

“And what brings you here? You don’t seem to like these kinds of spaces much.” He doesn’t take his eyes off yours as he understands your silence the opposite way. 

“My parents like to come here, but they’re out of town. They asked me to buy one of the paintings for their new home.” You repeat the personal story you created the previous night with Wonwoo. 

“I see. So, neither of us are particularly thrilled to be here.” 

“It’s more fun now that I finally found someone interesting to talk to.” You sip from the vile glass of distilled alcohol, batting your eyelashes in an attempt to lower his guard down. 

“You don’t know anyone here?” He questions, intrigued by you. 

“No, but maybe that’s a good thing.” You pretend to look around, eyes finding Wonwoo in a flirty exchange with Sophie. “What about you? Besides those men back at the table.” 

“Actually, my sister’s here as well, but I haven’t seen her tonight. She always scurries away when the chance comes.” He looks around the room to catch a glimpse of her, but it’s pointless. “And now that she dyed her hair, I can never find her.” 

Like a lightbulb just lit up over your head, the terrible realization of who you’re talking to hits you painfully. “I totally get her.” You snicker back and take another sip of the now more tempting drink. 

You want, no, you need to ask more about his family, find out what you don’t already know, but you throw that thought away the second it comes. It’ll be too obvious, and you can’t afford for him to ask those same questions back. 

“So, what are you taking back for the boss?” Is the question you settle for. 

“He wanted the-” Lucas begins answering, but before can tell you that key information, Elias appears by your side, grabbing him by the arm and muttering something close to ‘we have to talk’. 

Lucas sends you an apologetic smile as he leaves the bartender a tip under the drink he didn't touch. You barely hear him saying goodbye to you, as Elias forces him to follow his lead and leave you behind. 

You’re left perplexed on your seat, jaw on the floor and eyes scattering trying to find if Wonwoo had the chance to see what just happened. At least Elias didn’t even spare you a glance, and you had no time to even think of saying a word to him. 

How could you have missed it? You researched her entire life, since the day she was born up until the day you first started shadowing her. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about this job makes any sense. 

Across the room, still at the same table, Cecilia’s friend has moved her chair closer to Wonwoo’s and is tracing lines down his arm as she talks to him. Of course, he can’t avoid that every woman he interacts with throws herself at him. At least it works. 

His eyes find yours just in time, and you tilt your head towards the door. You don’t expect him to follow you. That’s not why you told him you were leaving. But as the elevator doors begin to close, his right foot appears in their way and they open back up again, revealing his tall figure and worried face. 

“Did something happen?” He stands too close to your side, his hand not even bothering to click the button to his floor. 

“Got some disturbing information before He showed up and took the boy away from me.” The four walls surrounding you suffocate you. “You didn’t need to come after me.” 

“I was about to leave myself when I saw you.” Wonwoo straightens his posture, eyes on the doors opening on your floor. “I got everything I needed.”  

“Sure thing.” You sound unconvinced, and it’s no wonder he realizes it too. “Well, text me what you got later.” 

“You looked cozy with him.” His voice trails behind you. “A little young for you.” 

You scoff, back still directed at him as you try to get your damn door to open. “Good night, Wonwoo.” 

“I bet he was drinking something only teenagers like. Maybe vodka? Judging by the face you made when you took the first sip.” He doesn’t relent, and for some reason, your door opens but you stay there. 

“Were you actually doing your job? Or were you too busy inspecting my conversation?” Your body turns to face him, too easily annoyed by him even if you know that’s what he wants. 

“Just watching from afar in case you needed help.” You know he’s staying put as a silent beg for you to spill your information. 

“Well, I didn’t.” You don’t even get to step half a foot inside your room before he’s closing the door in your face, leaving you stranded on the hallway, trapped between the wall and his body. 

“C’mon, don’t make me force it out of you. Tell me what you got.” His tone is stern, clearly done with your avoiding technique.  

“Fine! Fine, but you can’t panic.” You say, but the one panicking is you as your eyes scan the hallway back and forth, again and again. 

“I can be calm, only if you tell me what the fuck happened.” He definitely saw what happened with Elias. 

“They’re siblings.” The beat of silence is louder than your thoughts. “The boy is Cecilia's brother.” Your final whisper draws the color out of Wonwoo’s face. 

“You’re kidding me. You have to be fucking kidding me.” You’re lucky most people are still at the event downstairs, because if not, Wonwoo’s shouts would’ve never gone by unnoticed. 

“You have to calm down.” You try to get closer to him, but he starts pacing around the hall, just like the other night in your room. “Let’s just get inside.” 

“What did he say?” Wonwoo’s not listening to you. “Tell me exactly what he said.” 

“He told me he was here filling in for his boss, and I asked if he knew anyone here.” He won’t calm down until the pieces start making sense in his mind, so you fill him in, in the lowest tone possible. “He said his sister always comes to these things, but that she keeps leaving before the night's over.” Every bit of information you utter just gets him madder. “And that she recently dyed her hair.” 

“How did you not know this before?” He doesn’t doubt you, but the mission. 

“I don’t know!” You’re more focused on hearing any minimal sound on your floor. If anyone finds the two of you in this state, you’re fucked. “There weren’t any papers that said she had other family. You saw everything I had.” 

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” Wonwoo wonders out loud, but the both of you know it’s too specific for it to be a coincidence. You don’t answer him, your doubtful look being enough. 

“You’re sure she has what I need.” A nod is all you give him. “And I can’t just get it from her and be done.” You know he’s thinking out loud to himself, but you still shake your head. 

The USB has to be in Elias’ hands when Wonwoo’s time to steal it comes. They can’t know something’s missing before you get what you need. 

“Fuck. Okay." With that, Wonwoo finally stops pacing around. “This is too messy, and if something’s wrong, I don’t want to be here when shit happens. Tomorrow, we do our jobs and we're out of here.” 

Wonwoo stands still before you, waiting for something more than just a securing nod from you. 

“Yeah. We’ll be extra careful.” Is all you can say. 

His last words echo in your mind. ‘And we're out of here.’ After tonight, you probably won’t see him again. Ever. You’ve been living without him for months, learning what it’s like to wake up with his side of the bed cold. Some days, you still wake up thinking you’ll find him fast asleep on the couch, his dirty clothes scattered on the floor because he came home late and didn’t want to wake you up. You’ve been trying to live with that hurt, but at least, you knew he was still out there. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The words blurt out of you without your brain’s consent, and Wonwoo stops in his tracks, barely a few steps away from you. 

He turns around, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out why you’re still there. “If by ‘okay’ you mean that I’ll go back to my room and not be able to sleep, then yes, I’m okay.” 

“I don’t want you to get unnecessarily worried.” As you keep talking, he slowly begins taking steps closer to you. “You just focus on what you have to do, I’ll deal with them.” 

Wonwoo smirks. He smirks so cockily you regret it instantly. He stands in front of you, too close, but you can’t back away, not when he traps you against the wall again. 

“Careful honey, you’re starting to sound like you’re worried about me.” You don’t know how he does it. How he turns a stressful situation into a moment to tease you in an instant. 

“I’m just trying to help you. Don’t get your hopes up, Wonwoo.” You should be trying to get out of his trap, but you don’t. 

The ping of the elevator echoes through the hall, alerting the both of you, but you stay put. His broad back covers you perfectly from every angle, and whoever will walk past you would simply mistake you for another pair of strangers in a steamy situation. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Pointy steps get closer to round the corner where you’re both obviously too close for it to be something else. Wonwoo pretends to whisper on the side of your face. Breathy nonsense as his lips graze your ear, one arm on your side caging you in even more. You don’t breathe, as if the air between your bodies just became toxic. 

You’ve been in similar situations countless times, and it always ended the same. Your brain knows this is different, that it’s just a tactic to go unnoticed. But your body doesn’t. Your stomach tingles with something you know too well, the back of your neck filled with goosebumps following your tummy’s lead. 

As the unknown person walks past you, quickening their pace as they realize what you two seem to be doing, you finally relax. 

“Fuck, Wonwoo, get away from me.” His chest doesn’t budge at your push. “You’re so fucking annoying. Fine, I’ll stop worrying about your job.” 

“Sure, you try that.” The corner of his mouth is still lifted. If only there was a way to wipe it off his face. “See you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” He walks away with his hands inside his pockets, and your body finally responds to the signals from your brain and opens the door. 

Your fingers trace the edge of your ear where his lips touched, hearing his footsteps get further away, but not turning to look at him. That would mean he won.

You should’ve known something was wrong. The second you arrived at the location with Wonwoo, following his target into the abandoned building where yours kept the stolen art pieces, it should’ve been obvious. 

The plan was simple. Park an unmarked truck just outside, grab the pieces while your subject’s sentinel’s terrorized Wonwoo’s target –the usual technique to make the clients scared they’re not receiving what they paid for, and then drive away as fast as you could to deliver them to your boss. A plan similar to tons of previous one’s you’ve done together. 

Everything was carefully planned over the few weeks you spent surveilling the targets. Even if your trust on Wonwoo was faltering, you’d never let your worries come in the way of yours and his safety. He had to trust you’d know in which room of the thousands in the empty building they could’ve been keeping the stolen art, and you had to trust him to deal with any security you might encounter on the way. 

When there wasn’t any sign of life on the blocks around the building, you should’ve known. 

When it was too easy to get inside and climb the stairs to find the rooms, you should’ve known. 

When the way down with the heavy paintings was too clear of any people, you should’ve known. 

When Wonwoo closed the back of the truck and got in with no suspicions, you should’ve known. 

The walk from the back of the truck to the passenger seat was so close, you didn’t think to look around in case anyone was there. Why would you? You hadn’t encountered anyone up until that point, and it was nearly over, there was almost no chance. 

The metal blade pushing against your throat the second you began walking away from the truck was that 0,0001% chance. 

“Back away now.”  A low, unfamiliar voice ordered you. You couldn’t talk, couldn’t scream for help. You only had your other senses to rely on. 

You walked back slowly, forcing the man to walk back with you, pressing your back against his torso. He felt strong, taller than you, the knife against the vein on your neck was recently sharpened. But if the job had taught you something, it was to never give up, even if the chances seemed slim. Your attacker may have taken you by surprise, he may have been bigger and more muscular than you, but in that moment, to his demise, your need to punch men was skyrocketing. 

Elbowing him straight on the nose, his arms let go of you in shock, screaming in pain as he stumbled back. You didn’t have time to focus on the drops of blood you felt dripping down your neck. 

His bald head stood out over his blood covered face and the suit he was wearing for some reason. Of course you remembered him. With the way you saw him every night when you tried to sleep, he was basically burned to the back of your eyes. You could recognize him from miles away. The man Wonwoo had talked to behind your back that night in the club. 

In the second it took him to stop bitching about his nose and look up, you began stomping his way, your fist in the air ready to give him another bruise to remember you by. 

The crack sound reached your ears before you felt the pain shooting up your arm. The guy’s head flew to the side at your punch, breaking at least one of your fingers in the process. A bearable pain compared to what the situation meant. 

Your eyes fell on the knife laying on the ground just steps away from you at the same time as him. And he was faster. You felt the pain on the back of your left leg before you realized what was happening. He slashed your calf with the dirty blade, and was getting up to finish the job. But you were never a runner. 

With quick reflexes, you successfully avoided the first few punches he threw your way, managing to tire him out to get in a few punches to his ribs. Somehow, the pain coming from your every limb was overshadowed by the anger you felt. In that moment, that man could have shot you, and you would’ve still found it in you to keep fighting. Because no one was coming to rescue you. That fact became more evident after the scream of pain you let out at your broken hand. In that moment, something you should’ve stood by your whole life sank in. You only had yourself. 

A ringtone came from somewhere on the floor around where you were standing, and the bald man’s eyes widened in the search for it. He stood on guard, searching for the phone but ready if you wanted to throw another punch. But before you had time to look for it yourself and smash it on his shiny head, an engine starting caught your full attention. 

From behind you, the truck where you knew for a fact Wonwoo was sitting in rumbled as the key tried to start it. There it was, the confirmation of everything you’d been trying to convince yourself it wasn’t possible. The sound of your heart breaking might’ve been even louder than the engine as the driver changed gears. 

Your eyes connected with Wonwoo’s on the passenger seat, as your target drove them away at light speed. It was a millisecond, where his eyes took notice of your beaten-up state, the dirt building up on your face and dry drops of blood on your arms, not physically defeated, but disappointed. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw your aggressor cowardly running away, his phone in one hand and his other hand holding the side of his torso you made sure would hurt for at least weeks. But you were petrified in place, unmoving as the truck disappeared into the horizon. 

The man you always imagined fighting by your side, who you thought would have your back even on the toughest times and who allegedly saw a future with you, who now set you up for a trap, watching from the sidelines as you got injured fighting for your life, driving off with your alleged target. 

And with them, the little hope you had left.

Your hand cramps over the door handle. It’s been wrapped around it for minutes, waiting for your brain’s signal to turn it to the side and step out of your room. But the nervousness building up inside your stomach is becoming more unbearable by the second, rendering you incapable of continuing with your day. It’s a new type of feeling, one you never thought you’d feel on the job. Nervous? About stealing some random piece of jewelry from a rich woman? If Wonwoo could see you, you’re sure he’d have his fair share of laughs. 

Many things could go wrong. Details tend to scramble on the job, and getting creative with new ideas the second something happens is a key part of it. But the probability of a few mishaps happening never left you immobile like this before. The little chance, however small, that either your job or Wonwoo’s carries something deeper within rushes a cold wave through your veins. 

No job ever is truly easy, of course there are bumps on the road for everything, but when the future of someone you care for depends on it, it holds a different kind of weight. There never was this much at stake, at least to your knowledge.  

You weren’t supposed to get this involved. Even the details Wonwoo shared before you got essentially locked up in the fancy hotel seemed too much for you. And now, it’s a given that as soon as either of your targets realize their missing item, you’ll both be in trouble. The relationship between your targets made you hoard even more responsibility than before. You couldn’t make a single mistake without taking Wonwoo down with you. 

It’s a noise on the hallway that takes you out of the trance, a door slamming shut that sounds too precise to be a coincidence, but once you finally leave your room, it’s impossible for it to have been anything more than that. The empty corridor sends chills down your spine, a slight bad feeling you’ve been fighting to get rid of all morning. 

The way down the elevator becomes a movie theater to visualize the entire plan. Every room, every move, every possible alternative, every single detail runs laps around your brain as you try not to look stressed to the few people going down with you to the final event. 

The automatic doors open, and the packed bottom floor welcomes you full of murmur and the fanciest gowns and suits you’ve seen yet. Stabilizing your breath, avoiding looking around the room too much, you walk out, weary of the people around you and going straight to an empty place to sit after grabbing your sign for the auction. 

Sitting on a row at the back and right at the edge of the chair arrangement makes everything easier. You won’t bother anyone by standing up, drawing the minimum attention possible, and you can surveil from behind everyone, just in case. 

As the lights dim on the crowd, and the presenter steps on the stage to begin his speech to introduce each piece getting auctioned tonight, the time to wait has come. 

Cecilia sits close to the very first row, with her friend, whose name you learned is Sophie, sitting to her right as expected. The most difficult part will be getting close to Cecilia without her personal sidekick in the way. The only time you saw her alone all these past days, was when she flirted with different men. 

Surely, she'll go to the restroom alone right? But what's the only way she could leave her purse unattended for you to quickly snatch, grab what you need, and return without her noticing. The answer, you've thought about all week. But you can’t move forward with anything until you get Wonwoo's text saying he's finished.  

You haven’t laid eyes on him yet, which means he definitely saw you. 

Both of you agreed that telling each other your plans to get the theft done was a bad idea. You have to take every precaution possible, and the less people know your plan, no one in this case, the better. 

Piece by piece gets auctioned quickly, the staff wasting as little time as possible. Nothing really draws your attention, most of the works are contemporary art, which is not really your favorite, but Marissa on the other hand, she came here for one of the paintings. 

It’s dark so the people can concentrate on the auction properly, but there’s enough light for you to recognize Elias standing up and leaving the dance-hall turned stage. Wherever he’s going, you’re sure Wonwoo’s trailing after him. When Cecilia stands up a minute later and goes after him, you’re certain their exchange is happening. 

You wait patiently for Wonwoo’s text, seeing ugly painting after painting pass, but none of them are decent enough for you to spend money you don’t have on it. The numbers people shout for these art pieces is ridiculous, not because they aren’t pretty, art is subjective after all, but because these people are spending so much money on things that’ll just collect dust in their second mansion they only visit once a year. Rich people and their money. 

Like a sign from the universe, Cecilia materializes at the giant door once again, returning to her seat just as your second phone vibrates inside your dress’ pocket. 

Ryan: The flan has been eaten. 

A cackle almost slips out of you before you get a hold of yourself. 

You: Smooth?  Ryan: Could’ve been better, maybe with a little more caramel. 

You don’t understand what that’s code for, but at least he’s done. It’s your turn now, before any of them realize Elias doesn't have the USB in his possession anymore. 

After winning the bid for the least bad looking painting there, you take your chance to sneak off, standing up and crouching as you walk over to the bar. It's the perfect cover: going to do all the paperwork and transfers after winning a bid. Given the odd chance that someone noticed you, it won’t be weird if you disappear for long. 

“Hey! Can I ask you something?” You approach the bartender, the same one who’s been working all those previous nights. 

“What can I help you with?” If your tactics worked, this part should be easy. 

“Do you happen to know that woman’s usual drink order?” As discreetly as possible, you point to Cecilia. “I was talking with her earlier, and she said I could sit with her during the auction, but I don’t want to show up empty handed.” 

The bartender giggles lightly, nodding at your request before turning back and making the drink. With her back blocking your line of sight, it’s impossible to see exactly what the cocktail is, but hopefully it’s not the most expensive one. 

Applause erupts in the crowd behind you. Just like clockwork. 

“Here’s the drink, mam.” She sets the pinkest cocktail you’ve ever seen in front of you. “It’d be $40.” She smiles so politely you manage not to choke on your spit at the ridiculous price. At this point, she could be scamming you and you wouldn't care. 

After rummaging through your bag to find $50 and a tiny pill you threw in there, you hand the bill out to her with a smile and the empty feeling of your wallet. At least you’ll get a lot more money back after the job’s finished. 

While the bartender’s focused on fetching your change, you drop the quickly dissolving pill on Cecilia’s drink. Just something for her stomach to be a little upset and trigger a trip to the restroom. 

“You know what? Keep the change, sweetie.” The old people's nickname slips out of you, but you’re walking away before even registering her reaction. 

With the overpriced, and probably way too sweet drink, in your hand, you approach a now standing Cecilia as she talks with a group of older women. A few feet away from them, you spot the man she hooked up the first night there. 

“Sorry to interrupt ladies,” you sneak in between their bodies, getting a few weird looks, and lightly touch Cecilia’s arm to get her attention, “but that man over there told me to get you this drink.” You point to him after giggling, and leave the group right after she takes it. 

Would what you did be considered rule breaking? It was absolutely necessary! In reality, no one’s going to remember you after tonight. They never think about strangers for over a few minutes, except probably to talk shit behind their back.

It's not long before your little secret starts taking effect, so you don’t waste any more time, head to the restroom and lock yourself inside the middle stall. One would think bathrooms at these kinds of things would be fancy, spacious and luscious, but out of the five stalls, the two closer to the entrance are “on repair”, there’s no toilet paper in any of them, and it smells like those toilets behind the locked doors haven’t been cleaned in weeks. Luckily, you don’t have to submit yourself to wait there much longer. 

Minutes after you escape the crowded hall, the echo of a pair of stilettos rushing on the hallway towards the bathroom pierces through the tension you built up alone. 

The door slams open, and the known body stumbles against one of the available stalls, falling limp on the ground as her purse falls next to her. It’s open all the way, ready to be raided by you. 

As Cecilia starts puking nonstop, it’s easy to ignore the smell and sneak your hand under the tall opening under the stall wall. You’re in a time crunch, and another echo of someone, definitely Cecilia’s friend, sprinting to the bathroom pumps up the adrenaline as you look as fast as you can. 

The heavy gold chain is easy to feel with your fingertips, sitting at the bottom of Cecilia’s bag. You don’t question why she threw such a significant necklace into her purse like that, not even nicely kept in a box, as she also did that with the USB she traded with Elias. At least she made the job easier. 

As stealthily as possible, you retrieve the emerald gem along with the chain. No wonder the necklace is being so obsessively looked for. Apart from the price the clients are willing to pay for it, its beauty could create rows of people lining up just to catch a glimpse of it, the green stone matches perfectly with the gold.

You shove your hand away from inside the bag and hide as best as possible in your stall, just as Sophie runs inside the toilet to help her friend. But they can’t know someone else is there with them, because they’ll instantly know when you took the necklace once they find out.

Stepping on top of the toilet seat, trying to make no noise even if they probably won’t be able to concentrate on anything other than Cecilia, you breathe shallowly, waiting for them to leave once and for all.

If it wasn’t for the little time you gave her to put food in her stomach, you’d be standing there, over a dirty toilet, for at least an hour, but Cecilia’s a woman that doesn’t want to miss out on any party. It takes her less than two minutes to recover and clean herself up looking in the mirror over the sink, and they’re both out of the restroom in a flash, as if they were never there.

After waiting until you hear no noise in the hallway, you know you have to get away from there before anyone catches up to the plan and realizes where exactly the necklace was taken. There’s a little more time to get away from the hotel, after you and Wonwoo get your things.

Wonwoo.

Should you update him? Tell him everything went okay?

He is technically done. He got what he needed and let you know, there was nothing more he had to do. And Wonwoo never liked staying on the job more time than necessary, so he probably left already.

Since the elevator’s too risky, climbing six floors up the stairs is your best option. A little exercise never killed anyone.

It’s a hard task, but you manage and finally reach the floor in which your room’s patiently waiting to be packed away. Your lungs struggle to let air inside, and as you enter your hallway, the figure standing against your door takes the little air you managed to inhale all the way out again.

Wonwoo’s resting his back against the door to your room, with his phone in his hand, probably playing a stupid game. A storm of different thoughts rain over your head, unsure on how to feel at the sight of him. Annoyance? Relief? Sadness?

“What are you still doing here? I thought you would’ve left by now.” Your voice snaps his head your way, and he quickly slips the phone into his pocket to give you his full attention.

“I wanted to wait until you were done.” He hesitates to raise his voice, but interrupts you before you reply. “Just in case.”

You walk almost robotically as you get closer to him, not knowing what to do, how to act. Is he here to say his final goodbye? Do you even want him to?

“Well, It went well.”A sigh of relief leaves his lips, and as he looks down, ready to leave you alone like you asked so many times, it dawns on you. “You can tell your uncle that you're done. And to go fuck himself.”

Your joke relaxes the both of you, laughing lightly at your stupid, but very real, declaration full of resentment. Wonwoo knows you mean it. You never hid your dislike for his family, like they never hid their hatred towards you.

“Believe me, I have much more to say than that.”

The tension in Wonwoo’s face visibly goes away as you both laugh again, a little louder this time. Neither of you aims to get away from the other, atmosphere unexpectedly comfortable.

When he locks eyes with you, smiles still there but fading as the moment passes and a new one emerges, you don’t avert your gaze. When he takes a step in your direction, you don’t back away. And when he cups the side of your face and lowers his until your lips touch, you let him.

The familiar feeling of his lips against yours envelops you all around. For a second, blood runs warmer through your veins, the weight on your shoulders flies away, and you’re somewhere where nothing else matters other than him and you.

But before his hands creep up your body and compel you to make a bad decision, you pull back.

Your top lip’s still tingling when Wonwoo apologizes. “I shouldn't have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you?” It doesn’t come out as irritated as you thought you wanted it to. Your lowered guard must be playing games with your mind.

“I… just wanted to. For one last time.” His quiet voice and shoulders hanging low contrast with his eyes, looking at you like he doesn't regret it one bit.

“W-well, you can't do that.” No matter how nice he’s able to make you feel, what he did is unforgettable. Even if it’s your body’s instinct to react to his touch. “I didn’t forgive you.”

Wonwoo stays silent, his stare leaving your eyes and concentrating on the floor below. Your remainder drew the line between you two again, the one that shouldn’t have gotten blurred in the first place.

As your hand wraps around the door handle slowly, hesitant like so many hours before, the air behind you tenses, and Wonwoo speaks up before you even have the chance of leaving him there.

“I didn’t want to do it.”

His tone full of regret makes you stop in your tracks. He’s not talking about the kiss, but rather that damned day, But you’re tired of hearing those words.

“You told me that. Several times.” How can he think that’ll fix the damage? “But it doesn’t change anything. You still did it.” Anger bleeds through your cold tone, reliving the thousands of times you had the same conversation.

“If you knew why I had to do it, you’d get it.” He sighs with his reply, but his frustration makes no sense to you. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?” In the past, the only times you were mad enough to demand an explanation, he always avoided telling you why. Why he tricked you and left you to fight alone. “Nothing’s gonna change if you leave me out of the loop.”

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes several times as he tries to figure out what to say. Can’t he just tell you the truth? After tonight, you’ll never see him again. He’ll leave for good to find a better life. He’ll leave you behind, alone with that uncertainty forever haunting you. From your point of view, it’s the best time to enlighten you about that night.

“It was to protect you.” His hesitation makes it hard to believe him.

“I didn’t feel very protected.” You don't know why you're still hearing him out. You should be on your way home, memories of him wiped clean and money getting sent to your account.

“I can't just-”

“You can't what? You made a deal behind my back and betrayed me!” Admittedly, you're getting angrier than you should. You should've risen above it by now, but he's making it too hard.

“Can we get inside to talk?” Wonwoo's wide eyes scan the hallway carefully, like he's just becoming aware that you're still in public.

Do you need an explanation that badly that you're willing to be inside an enclosed room with him again? Your uncontrollable feelings haven't been trustworthy lately, but if you want closure, it may be the only way.

With a sigh and the wall around your heart falling apart, you walk into your room with Wonwoo following behind you.

“Talk.” The dry atmosphere is suffocating, a need for everything to be over growing with every second Wonwoo stays silent. “And fast, because I don't have much patience left with you.”

“I don’t blame you for hating me.” He starts, and any thought you had vanishes into thin air. “I even hate myself for it, but I don’t regret it.”

“How can you say that?” Hearing those words come out of his mouth shouldn’t feel like a punch in the gut, and you hate it. You shouldn’t have allowed him in. “Whoa, just, why don’t you just leave? I gotta pack and leave this godforsaken place.”

Wonwoo grabs your arm and prevents you from turning your back on him.

“They knew you were after Albert.” Albert, the stolen paintings man you were following at the time.

You freeze in place, but you’re unable to react while the words float around your head trying to make sense. 

“That’s impossible.” You don’t sound nearly as dismissive as you should.

“They knew someone was going to steal from him, it was a set up for whoever it was.” There’s nothing in Wonwoo’s revelation that points to it being a lie, and it throws off everything you believed about that day. “They were going to torture the truth out of you. Find out who you work for.”

“But how?” You’re always careful, always follow the rules, always make sure to blend in the background. Never, in all the years you’ve been doing this, were you discovered. If they knew, someone must’ve snitched on your boss’ client.

“I don’t know, but the boss forced me to make a deal with him and pretend to help him out.” By the way Wonwoo pronounces ‘boss’, you know his uncle pulled the family card.

He lets you think in silence, waiting for whatever you choose to do with the new information.

On one hand, you don’t doubt he’s telling the truth about the deal. On the other hand, you can’t think of the reasoning behind why Wonwoo refused to tell you this the thousands of times he had the chance to. Or why he didn’t talk to you at the time to plan something together.

“Did he tell you not to help me?” How could his family only come up with a plan where you were the one who ended up with the short end of the stick? They made you believe it was your fault, didn’t call you for months after your recovery. It doesn’t make any sense.

“He said it could risk our entire family.” Ouch.

It’s no surprise that his family doesn’t consider you part of them. They never did. And you didn’t expect them to. But hearing the sentiment come out of Wonwoo’s mouth stings.

“I fought them until the last day.” Wonwoo continues, sensing that you need more details about his stance. “They made sure I had no other choice.”

You know what that means. Of course they threatened him. It was always blood over anything else until he refused to fulfill their whims, then, it stopped mattering that Wonwoo was blood too. You’ve seen it happen first hand, just not with you on the receiving end.

“I hate your fucking family.” You settle on saying. Nothing he’s never heard before, but something to imply you understand him, in a way. After all, regardless of the time you spent apart, you were by his side through most of the horrible things he had to do for them.

Wonwoo exhales deeply, a barely there smile at your acknowledgement.

“I’m glad you can finally get out.” You continue, letting your care for him show through your words.

“Me too.” His body relaxes, suddenly much closer to you than before. “I’m gonna miss you.”

The warmth radiating from him envelops you, so familiar and intimate, and your body instantly lightens despite the rush you’re both supposed to be in. And as he tilts his head down to look into your eyes, gaze soft after his seemingly small but heartfelt confession, you can’t avoid the ache in your heart anymore.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” You realize out loud, the hurt in your voice opening a cascade of repressed feelings, clouding your eyes with tears.

When Wonwoo’s arms wrap around you at the sight of your crumbling form, you don’t stop him as he holds you close to his chest. Feeling his heartbeat against your ear, overpowering the sudden change of air in your room, you decide to let go. You don’t cry, but instead let yourself be comforted by him, by his steady breath and strong arms tight around you.

You’ve been surviving without him, trying to mend the hole in your heart and with no way to get closure, with your memories of him stained by the sight of his face watching you from the truck as it drove away. But surviving isn’t living.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo’s words reverberate down his chest. “For everything.”

Even if both of you know an apology won’t fix the rift he caused in your relationship, you let yourself live in that moment. Not survive, but live the moment with him in your arms.

His chest rising and falling against your ear fades everything around you, leaving only you and him alone in the world. Maybe you're waiting for him to let go, or maybe you know he's waiting for you and you refuse to say goodbye, but neither of you dare to let go of the other, enjoying the comfort you once knew so well. How many times have you woken up in a cold sweat, wishing he was laying behind you on the bed, ready to hug you back to sleep, and now you have it.

As if he could hear your doubt, Wonwoo lets go of his grip, setting you free from his tight embrace, but you stay there, standing in front of him without any other thought. The poor lighting from the bedside lamp you always forget to turn off does no justice to Wonwoo’s features as he looks at you up and down.

It's unclear who crosses the line into the other's personal space first. And this time, when his plush lips mold against yours, you don’t control yourself, you don’t put a stop to his movements.

The ghost of his touch you’ve been failing to escape from, back with more passion, glueing you together.

Naturally as ever, Wonwoo wraps his arms around you once again, now to help you on your tiptoes to be even closer. A sigh escapes you as your chests press against one another, and your hands cup his jaw to kiss him harder.

His tongue traces the outline of your lower lip, and the months you spent deprived of him open the way for you to give into him. You let his tongue roll over yours as he deepens the kiss the way it has you melting against him. A whimper draws out of you, and his hunger for you physically arises.

You don’t waste any time, sneaking your hands under the fancy clothes that fit him too well, feeling the tense of his muscles directly. With the pad of his fingers, he starts slipping down the string of your dress down your shoulders, leaving a fiery trail under his touch.

Between the mess of clothes flying away and the tangled limbs looking to feel the other’s bare skin, the world outside the four walls surrounding you stops mattering as you stumble back and fall on the bed. Wonwoo’s hips fit where your legs meet, seeking for your touch everywhere he can.

The weight of his bare chest on yours causes a chain reaction inside you. He's always had a toned body to drool for, but being under him again, feeling all the new muscle he gained while away from you, it’s not long before he has you softly moaning into his mouth, grinding his hips against yours with something more than just lust.

“Are we really doing this?” He gasps, detaching his mouth from you to look at your reaction.

You shouldn’t. It's wrong from every angle possible. Crying on your ex's shoulder and then making out with him? That was the first strike. Having sex with your ex? Wrong again. Having sex when you should be escaping after stealing two valuable and expensive pieces of jewelry and information? So, very wrong. But doing something right has rarely been a part of your life.

You could get sentimental, say that right in that moment, every molecule in your body was screaming asking for him to make you his. But what ultimately comes out of you is, “don’t talk, or I’ll regret it.”

Wonwoo doesn't seem fazed by your retaliation and just nods, making you chase his mouth as he starts leaving kisses up your jaw. His warm breath against your neck mixed with his barely clothed groin stroking your core slowly has you swallowing hard, waiting for his next move. Why hasn't he taken off his underwear yet?

“You never complained about my talking before.” His voice, ten times lower than before, takes your ear by surprise.

“We're in a rush, Wonwoo.” His name comes out half a moan as his hands travel down to where your centers meet.

Your reactions widen the smirk you're just now realizing is plastered on his face, lowering his head down while his eyes tease yours from above your stomach.

“This one's new.” He notes, hooking his fingers on the strings of your panties as he starts slipping them off you, leaving you now completely bare and at his mercy.

“Had people to impress.” You lie, hoping to rile him up enough that he stops teasing you.

Before you have the chance to react, the tear of the fabric reaches your ears. He ripped them off. “Now no one else will ever see them.”

“Fuck!” Getting more turned on by his jealousy just escalated to the top of the list of things that shouldn’t be happening.

The big bed in the center of your room has more than enough space for you both, but Wonwoo shows off his strength by dragging you to the edge, sinking to his knees on the soft carpet on the floor to face your center properly.

With his hands groping their way up your thighs, his eyes savoring the view of your wet core, and your speeding heartbeat with anticipation, you're instantly under his spell, gasping at every touch he decides to give.

Playing with you has always been a favorite of his. Quickie or not, he always found the time to have you whimpering and begging for him.

Feeling his fingers softly tracing your lower lips, spreading the arousal he caused all around your most sensitive zone, not holding back on touching you where you most need him, but not applying enough pressure. He’s driving you crazy.

“You're so wet baby.” He's so entranced you realize he's not looking for an answer. “And it's all for me.”

In one of his endless rounds on your too needy core, you stop his fingers right at the center. You claw at his hands, and his hazy stare, mesmerized by his work with your wetness, finds its way to yours, eyes dark with lust, urging him to do something once and for all.

“I’m enjoying my time down here.” His eyes get lost again, but the teasing smirk growing on his face tells you everything.

“We don’t have time,” but oh how you wish you did, “Wonwoo, don’t p–”

Your inner walls spread apart as he plunges two fingers into you, successfully shutting you up. Your insides welcome him, wrapping around his familiar digits seeking for more, sucking him further inside until his knuckles get covered in the wetness messily spread in your lips.

Wonwoo knows when to curl his fingers to make you scream. When to twist, turn and retract his hand to have you whimpering for more. And your body gives him every reaction he needs to fuel his ego.

“See how needy you are for me?” He groans as he rises from the ground, towering over you, not forgetting to thrust his hand into you so deliberately hard you can’t even mumble a response. “No one could make you feel this good.”

“N-no,” his eyes darken at your broken response, “you’re the only one.”

And it’s true. No matter how many times you tried, no one ever touched you like Wonwoo did. No one cared about finding and stroking each spot you loved and focused on your pleasure. Hell, not even you understand how Wonwoo so easily finds his way inside you.

“I can’t believe I spent so much time away from you.” You rake your nails down his back, lowering his torso down until he’s pressed against you again, his fingers hitting hard inside you as he moans in your ear, loving how your walls tighten around him. “I’m gonna make you mine again.”

“I already am.” You’re saying everything that comes to mind, your filter long gone by now. “Wonwoo, I’m cl-”

The sentence gets cut short, a desperate moan echoing across the room as Wonwoo gets his other hand to work, playing with your clit as your walls quiver against his menacing fingers.

“Relax, baby.” His length pokes against your inner thigh, rock hard and ready for you to play with, but your brain can’t take another order. “I know.”

Everything combines and combusts at the flick of his finger against your clit. And he doesn’t stop. His hands thrusts hard inside you, your trembling legs and spasming walls losing control as he extends your orgasm to his liking.

“Fuck, baby.” He stops moving his hand, letting you ride out your orgasm as he marvels at the sight. You shouldn’t blush at his words, especially when he can feel your walls clamp and know the effect he has on you. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.”

You don’t give any of you time to figure out anything, sneaking your hand between your bodies and getting hold of his hard length trying to peek out of his boxers. Wonwoo graces you with a sweet groan, hips twitching against your hand, showing you how much he needs you too.

When he slides his hands off your warmth, you don’t waste any time and rush to get his damn underwear off. After thinking you’ll never get to have him again, you can’t wait to, for one last time.

He catches on to your eagerness, taking both your thighs in his hands to drag you even closer to the edge of the bed, spreading them apart so your entrance’s finally close to his erection. The shock at the remainder of his size is almost embarrassing, proudly standing against his abs. You’re staring in awe, and Wonwoo loves it.

He stands proudly before you, letting you eye him up and down, all while allowing his eyes to wander on your body too. “Good to know you still like what you see.”

“Shut up.” You chuckle as you wiggle down the last centimeter to line up with his length, your desire for him stronger than your need to preserve your ego.

It’s dirty, the way Wonwoo drags his fingers through your lips to collect your arousal before pumping himself. You know he notices the new wave of arousal at his touch, but he doesn’t tease.

As he leans down, his tip entering you slowly, neither of you care about the long groans you let out. He looks for your eyes as he caresses the side of your face, holding his body weight with his other shoulder planted by your side.

Your walls welcome him in as he splits you in half slowly, letting you feel every vein dragging along your walls. He bottoms out almost softly, grazing your deepest parts before snapping his hips back.

But he doesn't let the feeling of emptiness take over you, starting a pace of slow grinds and quickly sliding out that has your eyes rolling back, your nails digging in the flesh of his shoulders.

You want to squeeze your eyes shut, let the feeling of him filling you up take over you, but you can’t take your eyes off him. With his face so close, soft features analysing yours contrasting with the way your hips snap together, you’re compelled to watch only him.

Every thrust pushes him deeper and deeper, as if he was trying to mark you as his forever. Your legs barely wrap around his waist, going limp as you feel your orgasm approaching fast, quivering with every snap of his hips.

“Fuck, baby, you're trapping me.” You can feel how his pounding grows stronger with every passing second, your walls clamping hard around his giving him a hard task.

Still sensitive from his fingers, your body feels on fire. Wonwoo’s hands roam freely anywhere they want, fondling your tits and pinching your nipples until you scream, or holding your hips tight when he hits that spot inside you that has you shaking. Every touch of his feels raw on your skin, as if even the barest scratch of his nails can have you seeing stars.

“You were made for me.” Somehow, you manage to register his mumble as his hands travel down your body, holding onto your thighs for dear life as he accelerates his pace.

Marking your thighs with the shape of his hands has always been a favorite of his, and you don’t care that you’ll feel his grasp on you for the next few days.

The bed squeaks under you, the force of Wonwoo’s thrusts and your body bouncing on top of it making it shift, but the downstairs guests are not a priority for either of you.

Wonwoo’s hand lets go of one of your legs, falling limp to the side, as he begins circling his digits around your swollen clit. Your throat itches as you scream at his touch, shock and pleasure merging into one and dismantling any wish you had to be quiet, if there even was one.

Without warning, electricity flows from his body to yours, your second orgasm shattering in a million moans and curses Wonwoo fucks you through. Every limb on your body trembles as his pistoning girth stutters its pace inside you at your tightening walls.

His pulsing cock alerts you of his nearing orgasm, but he regains composure after you lost control, thrusting inside you with force again and chasing his own high as you quiver around him.

You’re drunk on him. His touch, his scent, his sounds are all you care about. Everywhere, everything is him. His cock reaches so deep inside you even your breathing’s being choked up with each pound.

Wonwoo holds himself up caging you in between his arms, his body failing as ropes of white coat your walls. The sweet chant of his groans so close to your ears does nothing to calm you down, your insides squeezing every last drop of his cum.

But even if he's done himself, he's not done with you.

After he slides out of you, with so much care you wouldn't think he was just splitting you in half a minute ago, you use all your remaining strength to keep your legs open for him. You know he loves to see his seed seeping out of you, like a work of art finally finished.

You stay there, his mesmerized eyes on your dripping core while you regulate your breathing to normal.

“Wonwoo…” Your half moan manages to draw his attention, and the look you give him is enough for him to stand up and fetch something to clean you up.

He's always been so gentle with you, cleaning up his mess and wrapping his arms around you after.

“I'm never going to forget you.” He whispers to your ear, with your back pressed against his heaving chest. Your naked bodies stick to each other like magnets, incapable of coming apart.

You know you should get up and leave the hotel as soon as possible, but leaving means also letting go of him. His arms cage you in between them as if he didn't want to leave either.

“Let's stay here a minute.” You mumble, half asleep as his warmth envelops you once again.

 

His family didn’t approve of his relationship with you. They never did. But Wonwoo didn't care about their opinions. Hell, he didn't even care about the “family business” everyone was so passionate about.

Wonwoo fought his entire adolescence to be left out of that life, for his uncle to let him live his life away from the constant danger. A highschool kid had no business joining armed robberies or stalking people to collect data. But he had no other place to go, and they provided food and shelter but made sure to let him know it wasn’t for free, even for family.

“Blood over anything else.” They'd say when he refused to join in on a job when they were “training” him. He couldn't argue with anyone, so he started looking for their approval. Maybe that way, they'd let him have more freedom.

When he met you, the new ninja one of his aunts managed to recruit, he was instantly under your spell. You helped him find his own ways to do the jobs, allowed him to set his own rules. And that just made him grow colder and colder with his family, until all he cared about was you. You helped him find the little freedom the job allowed to exist. The one his family tried so hard to bury.

When Wonwoo saw his uncle’s name on the caller ID the night he knew you were staking out your next target, a chill ran down his spine. It couldn’t mean anything good.

“If they don’t know who it is, then I can help her! Why would I take that man’s side? Just let me tell her!” He screamed to the phone, but the man on the other side wasn’t listening.

The plan was already sealed, and they just needed a pawn to carry it out. And who was more perfect than Wonwoo? Making him pay because of his resentment to his family, making you hate him so you'd leave him alone for once. It was all they always wanted.

Excuse after excuse was thrown his way. Reason after reason why the plan was the way it was and why he had to be the one to do it. Something about the importance of family, or whatever they said.

But he didn't care that those men were trying to find out his uncle's identity, it didn't even matter if they found out about his own identity. What finally made him care was you. If he didn't obey, you'd fall into the trap, and you'd be dead. Because of his family. Because of him.

So, he agreed. Knowing he'd never be able to tell you the truth. Knowing you'd hate him for the rest of his life. But at least, he could protect you.

That's why, that first night, he showed up at the empty bar with a distraction, so no one would realize you were the one stalking the underground art dealer.

That's why he made sure you'd fit right in at the fancy bar, contrasting with his dirty out of place clothes. He had to make the deal that night, but you couldn't look like you were together. He had to make sure you looked like a girl he swooned right there, another drunk person who happened to be there on the wrong night.

On your last date night, Wonwoo knew something was off. He realized you caught on to something. Because of yourself you did. Wonwoo couldn't lie to your face even if millions of dollars were promised to him.

But what could've he done? The deal was up and running, there was no backing down. He had to go on with it with the excuse that it was to save you.

And he did save you. From death at least.

Wonwoo's heart broke that day, in the passenger seat of that filthy truck, with your target rambling on about his deals and his gratefulness to him, all while his right hand tried to kick your ass. Stupid men didn't know everything was part of a plan.

The sight of your eyes as you watched him drive away got burned in the back of his eyelids like a curse. Forever haunting him.

With his family off his back, he tried reaching out to you. He found you again and again, and begged for your forgiveness like a stray dog, but you wouldn't hear him. And after weeks of trying, he really understood.

You were done with him. The one that showed him hope left. Because of him.

Your body jolts awake, hazy mind as your surroundings harshly begin to make sense. You have no idea when you fell asleep, or how much time passed since, but you can’t concentrate on finding out with all the noise. 

So much noise. 

Your ringtone. Your second phone’s ringtone. Wonwoo’s ringtone. The hotel’s phone. Everything’s ringing at the same time. 

Wonwoo’s body shifts next to yours, stirring in the bed until his arm wraps around your bare waist, holding you closer to him like it’s his second nature. It takes a second longer for your body to react to everything going on. 

“Wonwoo, something’s happening. Answer your phone.” You grab his hands closed tight around you in an intent to shake both your bodies and wake him up. A low hum is what you get as an answer. 

It pains you to drag yourself out of the warm bed, away from Wonwoo’s firm grip you so longed for. But it’s impossible to enjoy the recent developments if the incessant buzzing next to your ear doesn’t stop. 

Not much time could’ve passed since you two fell asleep, as the dark night sky is still in its full glory. It wasn’t the best decision to let each other’s warmths drift you to sleep right after you’ve finished a job.

As soon as you locate your phone and click the screen to accept the call, one of your boss’ bodyguards yells in your ear.

“You have to get out of there! Now!” The next mumbles that come out of his mouth, you barely register as your eyes connect with Wonwoo’s, his phone in his hand, probably hearing an identical order.

Every call disconnects after both of you tell your respective caller that you’re on your way. The messy room and your naked bodies tell otherwise.

For a second, you’re both frozen in place, listening closely for any suspicious sounds alerting you of any incoming danger. The silence is relieving for a second before you’re rushing to find your not fancy clothes scattered around the room.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, takes his time putting on every single clothing item.

By the time you’ve got dressed and grabbed your essentials so you can fly out of there, he’s barely put on his fancy pants he wore for the event and is buttoning up his shirt one by one.

“What are you waiting for? You have to go!” You can't comprehend why he's wasting the little time he has to finally escape and live his life as he always wanted, to… stare at you?

“Come with me.” He finally opens his mouth, hands dropping to his sides as he rounds the bed to stand in front of you.

“What?” Your question comes out as an incredulous chuckle.

“Run away with me! I'm being serious.” He takes your hands between his, like a promise, and leaves you speechless.

“I– Wh– You're crazy, Wonwoo, I can't.” You force yourself to take a step away from him, the only way you can think clearly.

“This is our chance! Don't you see it?” He screams in your face, smiling like a mad man.

“We got caught and you think that your family, who already hates me enough, is going to let me go?” You reason, but Wonwoo's now more focused on pacing around the room to try to make sense of everything.

“Exactly.” He clearly stopped listening to you at some point. “We got caught, which means my deal’s off. And I'm not going back.”

“If you still have the USB, wouldn’t he consider it?” As soon as you end your question, you know it’s pointless. Your boss is not exactly known for having mercy.

Wonwoo simply stares at you, eyes slightly closed and head tilted, another sign that it doesn’t work like that.

“Okay, I get it, don’t look at me like that.” You avoid his teasing eyes, trying to focus on grabbing your most important things and escape for once. “You’re still crazy.”

“Come with me,” stands in front of you and holds the sides of your face between his hands, “we’ll be out of the country before they can find us.”

The warmness in his gaze melts you right along with it. But what he’s asking is a much more meaningful commitment than just leaving the hotel with him. It’s a petition about how you’ll spend the rest of your life.

Maybe a fleeting life, never settling in a place before having to escape again, wouldn’t be so bad, if it’s with him. It was his family that got in between you two, and with them out of the equation, he’s still him, and you’re still you.

“Okay.” Your faces are so close he even hears your whisper.

A big smile grows on his face, beating the confusion as it drifts away, realizing that you just agreed with him. “Really?”

“Yes! I’ll go with you.” Wonwoo takes the chance to kiss you again, but as much as you don’t want him to let go, there’s a more pressing issue. “But we need to go right now.”

In the second it takes you to open your eyes after he disconnects your lips, you find him nodding as he collects the few things he still had scattered on the floor. Taking a look around, you realize there’s not enough time to clean up and pretend you were never there. You could grab your computer and phone, leaving no trace of the investigation you did on your target, but to whoever you’re running from, anything you leave behind will serve as clues.

“Do you have a lighter?” Wonwoo asks as he walks to the door, as if he read your mind.

“Yes… are you saying what I think you are?” It’s something you’ve done before. And the best way to get rid of unwanted evidence.

“Give me a few minutes to grab my stuff from my room, then we’ll light them both on fire.” He probably thought of that plan as soon as he answered the call. “Let’s meet downstairs.”

“Be careful, please.” If you blow your room up in flames before he’s out of his, he’ll be in trouble. “And quick.”

“I love it when you worry about me." The door’s barely open behind him, but there’s a lot more noise than when you two woke up. “Whatever happens, you just escape. I’ll find you.”

With that, Wonwoo runs out of the room, heading for the stairs at light speed. Your lips dry out as the seconds pass, fearing what could happen during the next few minutes, but you can’t be dramatic, there’s no time.

Behind you, the mess of your room awaits to be turned to ash. The bottles of alcohol inside the mini fridge you never touched call your name, ready to be burst against the carpeted floor and enlightened. But before doing anything, you need to decide what you can live without.

Your bags full of clothes are meaningless. Besides a black sweatshirt you quickly throw over your shoulders to cover yourself downstairs, no piece of fabric is worth risking your life. Changing into more comfortable clothes is out of the question, as you’ll draw more attention by not looking like everyone else at the event.

Outside the door, the beginning of a commotion makes itself known. It’s not on your floor, yet, but in any second it will be. Wonwoo comes to mind, a floor below you, closer to the sound of at least 10 men ready to hunt you down. The best thing you can do for him is create a distraction.

The one thing you realistically need is your primary phone, so you secure it in a small bag along with the emerald necklace. Any other device would just slow you down.

The fridge’s full of different types of alcohol, so you pop open every bottle there is and dump the liquid on the carpet, the bed, the curtains, and especially on the computer you’re forced to leave behind. It reeks so much of booze you feel dizzy until your nostrils get used to the smell.

As you stumble back and slam your door open for the last time, the faint screams of people downstairs alerts you that your warning was much more deep than your brain decided to understand.

Are you getting out of there because you wasted time sleeping with Wonwoo instead of escaping and your targets found out they were robbed? If that was the case, then you must’ve done a terrible job at hiding yourself from them. But that’s nearly impossible. Too many coincidences you have no time to think of.

You find the small lighter in your bag and flick the switch to see the orange flame erupt before your eyes. Good, it works, you’re not dead yet.

Throwing the ignitor across the room and down to the wet floor is easy. Running away from it with the heat coming right behind you isn't. The room explodes in flames just when you reach the stairs, suspiciously empty taking in account the mess you can hear from downstairs.

Step after step down, the floor below yours is too clear of smoke for your liking. Did Wonwoo not get the chance to do it? You don’t worry about that for long, but the answer might be worse.

Whines of pain echo through the hallway as you take the last steps down to Wonwoo’s floor. At least four different voices reach your ears hiding behind the wall. It’s like a vintage radio show, punch sounds repeatedly get through over the fire alarm and the screaming on the floors below. You could merge with all the people running away, pass as another scared guest, clueless as to what was happening.

Only your heart can’t allow you to leave without seeing what was happening to Wonwoo. His groans of pain are nowhere near as many as the other guys attacking him, but it’s a matter of time before they overwhelm him.

A peek over the wall confirms all you’ve been listening to. Wonwoo’s  room door was left open, but there’s no fire coming out of it. One guy’s already on the floor, unconscious against the wall with blood coming out of his lower lip. The other two have your backs facing you, taking turns attacking Wonwoo, but miserably failing.

You can’t take your eyes off the fight, one guy trying to recover from Wonwoo’s punches while the other swings and fails to land his fist on Wonwoo’s ribs. Like a scene out of a movie, he beats the two men until they’re laying on the floor, screaming in pain, incapable of getting up. But it is never as easy as it seems.

A new wave of three men make their way from the other hallway, tasked to finish what the first guys started. Wonwoo, not taken by surprise, with his bruised knuckles and bleeding eyebrow, is already ready for another fight.

When the new men realize the lifeless state of their fellow hired butchers, they stomp towards Wonwoo, who’s throwing the lighter into his room.

While one of them runs to check on the body closer to your hide spot, the other two begin throwing punches at Wonwoo, these ones managing to hit him more times, but not without receiving more in retaliation. Thud punches and broken bones are all you can hear, but you’ve hidden again, in case the man closer to you realizes Wownwoo had company all this time.

It’s the explosion that startles you out of the staircase.

The grey smoke covers the farthest part of the hallway, covering the two hitmen he was fighting, both injured on the floor, holding onto different parts of their bodies either the explosion or Wonwoo broke.

Your eyes connect with Wonwoo’s, and he manages to tilt his chin forward, the only way he can plead for you to escape, just before the last man stands up and faces him. Everything happens too fast.

You’re about to turn around and keep going down the stairs just like Wonwoo told you to do when you hear it. A gunshot. 

Then, a second freezes in time. Your head turns just when the body falls dead on the ground, revealing Wonwoo just behind him with a splatter of blood staining his face, and the gun in his hand still pointed ahead, blowing smoke. Your eyes connect again, a realization of what he did and you witnessed.

But time's not frozen, and one of the guys that was hiding behind the grey smoke follows Wonwoo's stare and sprints your way, just at the same time as the other one appears behind Wonwoo and wraps his arm around his neck.

You’re trained for this, to be thinking on your feet in case something unforeseen happens. The red fire extinguisher stands out on the side of the stairs you just went down from. Pretending to run up to escape from the man running your way, you snatch the extinguisher out of its place and blow the white smoke right in his face, disorienting him enough to swing the heavy metal right onto his hairless skull.

Before any more men appear out of nowhere, you jump over the railing and run downstairs, hoping Wonwoo’s strong enough to pull through the deadly mix of smoke.

Pushing through the big crowd formed on the bottom floor, you feel more in danger surrounded by all the guests and their judging eyes waiting to figure out if you're the one causing the mess to rat you out. Even if everyone is panicking, talking to each other trying to find out what happened and no one’s really looking at you. In all the chaos, no one looks at other people's dirty and messy clothes to analyze if they fit in.

Almost five whole minutes pass until the entrance door appears in your sight, surrounded by news anchors and their big cameras shooting to catch everything they can. Everyone closer to the door is either more preoccupied with being on live TV, or ready to run off the event and to a safe place.

Trying your best to avoid the cameras, hiding your face behind the hood of your sweatshirt and using men’s big bodies to cover the rest of you, the hotel front door gets closer and closer with each step. From the corner of your eye, a few feet to your right, you recognize at least four men that work for Wonwoo’s family, looking around trying to recognize faces in the crowd, so you run off in the opposite direction.

A black fence you didn’t perceive that first night at the hotel obstructs your view of the street, but a glimpse of a black hoodie similar to yours catches your attention running around the corner. You can’t hesitate, with the cameras going around and the surveillance team looking for you, escaping right that second is the only option.

You follow the figure without another thought, walking as fast as you can but trying not to get noticed, and see him getting inside a car you’ve never seen before and start the engine. From where you’re hiding, you can’t be seen from inside the car. But the car never drives off, like it’s waiting for someone.

“I thought you’d never come.” Wonwoo says as you pull the handle to open the passenger door.

With the engine running, Wonwoo changes the manual gear and drives the car away from the poorly lighted alleyway. 

“They were coming after me too, I had no other choice.” Your smile reveals your little lie, and he returns it as he interlocks your fingers together. “How did you know I was going to see you?”

From a distance, you can hear the fire siren arriving at the hotel, but you’re far enough that worrying about it is useless. All the mess, the robbery, the people chasing after you, it’s all gone. Already blocks away, the city lights and clear streets are like a breath of fresh air, the first minute of your new beginning with him. You’re both free. Finally.

“I told you I’d find you.”

note: i can't believe this is finally done!! thank you so so so much for reading, and to all the people who've been waiting since i posted the teaser months aho, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

don't be shy and leave your thoughts! come yap in my inbox!

[chrissssssmut]

Liz and Rei threesome nuru massage smut?

RELIEVING TENSION

Liz & Rei x Male Reader

AN: Last fic for this week! Need to prioritize my health so I'll be resting for now! UIIIAUIIAAIAAU💕

The exhaustion had been creeping up for weeks. Work had drained you, your body aching in ways that no amount of sleep could fix. You needed something—something different. Something that would help you loosen up completely.

That’s what led you here, standing at the entrance of an upscale but discreet massage parlor tucked away in the quieter streets of the city. The sign outside read, "Ethereal Touch", its soft golden glow inviting and warm. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open, greeted by the gentle chime of a bell.

The receptionist, a striking young woman with long dark hair and sharp eyes, greeted you with a knowing smile. "Welcome to Ethereal Touch. Are you looking for a specific massage, or would you like to browse our packages?" Her name tag read Rei.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I’d like to see the packages."

Rei handed you a laminated menu, her neatly manicured fingers brushing against yours briefly. Your eyes scanned over the options—standard oil massages, deep tissue treatments, aromatherapy… but then, something caught your eye. "Nuru Experience - Ultimate Relaxation (Two Masseuses)".

Your gaze lingered on the description. Heated, fragrance-free gel, full body contact, synchronized deep relaxation…

"That one." You pointed, your voice steadier than you expected.

Rei smirked, as if she had expected your choice all along. "Good choice. Liz and I will be taking care of you tonight."

A soft chime rang as another door opened. A blonde-haired woman stepped forward, her features delicate yet captivating. Her skin glowed under the warm lighting, and her smile was gentle but unreadable. "You must be my next client," she mused, tilting her head slightly. "Follow me."

Your heart picked up as you followed Liz and Rei down the dimly lit hallway, the scent of lavender and warm oils hanging in the air. The room they led you to was sleek yet cozy—candlelight flickering softly, a large cushioned mat replacing the usual massage table in the center.

Liz turned to you, a teasing glint in her eyes. "You know how this works, right?"

You swallowed. "Not exactly."

Rei chuckled, stepping closer, her fingers grazing the hem of your shirt. "Don't worry. We'll take good care of you. Just relax and let us do all the work."

Liz gestured toward a small changing area in the corner. "You can undress there. There's a robe if you'd like to cover up before we begin."

You nodded, stepping into the area and taking a deep breath. The anticipation was building as you undressed, neatly folding your clothes before slipping into the robe. When you stepped back out, Rei and Liz were waiting, Liz holding a bottle of the warm, glistening Nuru gel in her hands.

"Lie down on the mat," Liz instructed, her voice soothing yet firm.

As you settled onto the cushioned mat, Rei knelt beside you, her hands trailing lightly over your shoulders. "You seem tense," she mused, her voice carrying a playful lilt. "We’ll have to fix that."

Liz knelt on your other side, her hands already warming the gel between her fingers. "We’ll start slow. Just let us take care of you."

The massage started off normal—well, as normal as it could be with two stunning women gliding their slick, warm hands over your body. Their movements were slow, deliberate, working out every knot in your muscles with practiced ease.

But then… things shifted.

"Turn over for us," Liz murmured, her voice soft yet commanding.

You hesitated for a second, but Rei gave you a playful tap on your shoulder. "Don’t be shy. We still have a lot of tension to work out."

Rolling onto your back, you tried to focus on the feeling of their hands, the heat of their bodies so close to yours. Liz’s fingers pressed into your shoulders, kneading firmly before slowly trailing downward. Too slow. Too intentional.

Rei’s touch mirrored hers, moving along your sides, the slickness of the gel making every motion smooth, effortless. And then—Liz’s hands ghosted over your thighs, her nails dragging lightly against sensitive skin. Your breath hitched.

Rei chuckled, voice laced with amusement. "Sensitive, are we?"

Liz smirked, her fingertips grazing higher, dangerously close. "Looks like we found another area that needs some… special attention."

Your body betrayed you before you could even react, heat pooling low in your stomach as your cock twitched to life. Liz and Rei exchanged glances, their smiles growing as they leaned in closer.

"Don’t worry," Liz purred. "We’ll take care of everything."

For a brief moment, your mind raced. Was this still part of the package? Were they really offering… this?

Almost as if they could read your thoughts, Rei giggled, her breath warm against your skin. "Of course it is," she whispered. "This is the best package we offer."

Liz leaned in closer, her fingers teasing along your length, barely touching—just enough to make you throb with anticipation. "You did pick the ultimate relaxation experience," she added, her voice dripping with amusement. "We’re just making sure you get what you paid for."

A shaky breath left your lips as Liz finally wrapped her hand around your cock, her movements slow, deliberate—like she wanted to savor every reaction. Meanwhile, Rei shifted, her presence growing closer until her lips hovered just above yours, her eyes dark with something unreadable.

"You’re so tense," she murmured. "Let me help with that."

And then, before you could even process it, her lips met yours—soft, warm, and undeniably intoxicating.

The sensation was overwhelming—two gorgeous women, their bodies pressed against you, their hands and lips exploring every inch of your skin. It caught you completely off guard.

You wanted to say something, maybe protest, maybe question how this was even happening—but the words never came. Your breath hitched, your body betraying you as Liz maintained her slow, torturous rhythm, her fingers working you with a practiced touch.

Rei finally pulled away from the kiss, her lips glistening as she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "You're lucky, you know," she whispered, voice dripping with something dangerously sweet. "We don’t usually go this far with clients..."

She paused, letting her fingers trace lazily down your chest before smirking. "But since you’re extra attractive, we figured you deserved the best special treatment."

Liz let out a soft chuckle, her grip tightening just slightly. "Hope you can handle it."

Within seconds, Liz rose to her feet, her eyes locked onto yours with something almost predatory. Your breath caught as she hooked her fingers around the waistband of her underwear, sliding them down her thighs before stepping out of them completely.

She didn’t hesitate. With the nuru gel making everything impossibly slick, she straddled you, positioning herself just right before slowly sinking down onto your throbbing cock. The sensation was instant—hot, wet, and so smooth that it almost didn’t feel real. A deep, shaky groan slipped from your lips as she took you in inch by inch, her nails lightly grazing your chest.

Rei, still close, still whispering, smirked at your reaction. "You like that?" she murmured, her fingers teasing along your jaw before tilting your head back slightly. "You like being inside of Liz?"

Her voice was intoxicating, a perfect contrast to the slow, deliberate movements Liz was making above you. Every roll of her hips, every squeeze around you, every whispered word from Rei sent a fresh wave of heat through your body.

Liz let out a soft moan, her hands bracing against your chest as she moved. "He loves it," she teased, breathless. "Look at him."

Rei giggled, pressing her lips close to your ear. "Don’t hold back. We want to hear everything."

Liz’s hands found their way to your chest, her fingers digging in slightly as she picked up her pace. She bounced on your length, her movements fast and effortless, the slick warmth of the nuru gel making every thrust impossibly smooth.

The sensation was overwhelming—each downward motion sending a wave of pleasure through your body, the lewd sound of skin against skin filling the dimly lit room. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan, but it slipped out anyway, raw and breathless.

Rei smirked at the sound, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across your jaw before tilting your chin towards her. "You’re really enjoying this, huh?" she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. "Feels too good to stay quiet?"

Liz let out a soft, breathy moan of her own, her nails pressing into your chest as she rode you harder. "You’re stretching me so well," she panted, her rhythm never faltering. "I can feel you twitching… are you about to lose it?"

Rei chuckled, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Don’t fight it," she whispered. "Give Liz everything."

After a while, Liz’s movements slowed, her breath heavy as she lifted herself off of you, leaving you throbbing and desperate for more. A wicked smile played on her lips as she met your gaze.

"I think it’s Rei’s turn now," she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before you could even process it, Rei was already moving. She stood up, her hands gripping her hips as she slid her panties to the side, revealing herself to you. Without hesitation, she positioned herself over your aching cock, her breath shaky with anticipation.

And then, in one slow, careful motion, she sank down onto you.

A sharp gasp left both of you at the same time. Rei’s body clenched around you, impossibly tight, the heat and slickness making you dizzy.

"Holy shit," Rei choked out, her hands flying to your chest to steady herself. "You’re… fucking huge."

Her walls fluttered around you as she adjusted, her brows furrowing as she bit her lip, overwhelmed by the stretch. "Shit, shit—fuck," she cursed under her breath, her nails digging into your skin. "How the hell am I supposed to handle this?"

Liz, watching with amusement, leaned down and pressed a teasing kiss to Rei’s neck. "You’ll get used to it," she whispered, her hands sliding over Rei’s waist. "Just take it slow… or don’t."

Rei let out a shaky moan, her fingers tightening against your chest as she tested a small movement, her body shuddering at the feeling.

"You better not hold back on me," she panted, locking eyes with you. "I want all of it."

Rei’s movements were different from Liz’s. Both of them were fast, but Rei’s body gripped you tighter—almost unbearably so. Every time she lifted her hips and slammed back down, her walls clenched around your aching cock, making you feel every inch of her.

"F-Fuck," Rei stammered, her voice breaking as she struggled to adjust. "You're stretching me so much—I can feel everything."

Her nails dragged down your chest, her thighs trembling as she quickened her pace. Unlike Liz’s smooth, fluid motions, Rei’s were desperate, erratic—like she was chasing something she’d never felt before. And the way her tight pussy clenched around you only made it harder for you to hold back.

Liz, still beside you, watched with a smirk, running her fingers through Rei’s disheveled hair. "Look at you," she cooed. "You’re already so fucked out."

Rei let out a strangled moan, her body shivering as she sank down to take you even deeper. "I don’t care," she panted, tossing her head back. "It feels too fucking good—I don’t wanna stop."

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if you even cared about the massage anymore. The whole reason you came here had completely slipped from your mind—because right now, nothing else mattered except the way these two gorgeous women were completely falling apart on you.

Rei was relentless, her hips rolling in a desperate rhythm, her tight walls gripping you like she never wanted to let go. Every thrust had her moaning louder, her words growing filthier with every breath.

"Fuck—you're so deep—shit, I can feel you in my stomach," she whined, her head tilting back as another string of curses tumbled from her lips. "I—hah—I'm so fucking full."

Liz chuckled beside you, clearly enjoying the sight of Rei losing herself. Then, as Rei continued to ride you, Liz leaned down, her lips grazing your ear.

"Want to feel our mouths next?" she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "I promise we’re just as good with our tongues."

Your pulse quickened. The moment the words left her lips, you already knew the answer.

"Fuck yes," you groaned.

Liz grinned, exchanging a look with Rei, who bit her lip before finally slowing her movements. Your body ached from the loss of heat, but as they both slid down to the mat, their hands trailing over your skin, you knew the next part would be even better.

Rei’s movements started to slow, her breath ragged, her thighs trembling from the intensity of it all. With one final, shaky gasp, she lifted herself off of you, leaving your cock slick and throbbing, desperate for more.

But before you could even register the loss, both Liz and Rei were already on you.

Two warm mouths. Two eager tongues.

You groaned as they licked up and down your aching length, their soft lips trailing along every inch of you. Liz took the base, her fingers wrapping around you as she kissed and sucked along the shaft, while Rei flicked her tongue over the tip, teasing you with slow, deliberate circles.

"Fuck," you exhaled, your head falling back as pleasure shot through you.

Rei looked up at you, her tongue dragging along a vein before smirking. "You were stretching me so good just now," she purred, her voice sultry. "I wanna see if you taste just as good."

Liz hummed against your skin, her lips pressing wet kisses along your cock before taking you into her mouth, her tongue swirling expertly. After a moment, she pulled back just enough to breathe, "Don’t hold back. We want to feel you throbbing on our tongues."

Rei giggled, pressing her tongue flat against your shaft. "Let us make you lose control."

Their mouths were just as heavenly as their pussies—warm, wet, and utterly relentless. Liz and Rei worked in perfect sync, their tongues gliding along your length, leaving trails of slick saliva as they took turns sucking and teasing.

Soft lips pressed kisses along your shaft, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they wanted to savor every inch of you. Rei’s tongue flicked over the tip while Liz wrapped her lips around the base, her fingers stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach. The combination was intoxicating.

A deep, shameless moan escaped your lips, your body shuddering under their touch. The moment they heard it, their eyes darkened with hunger.

Rei pulled back for a second, her lips shiny with spit, a smirk playing on her face. "You sound so good when you moan like that," she teased, before pressing her tongue flat against your cock and dragging it up slowly.

Liz giggled, glancing up at you as she let a string of saliva drip onto your shaft, her hand spreading it along your length. "We can make you even louder," she murmured, voice thick with desire.

And just like that, they both went back to devouring you—hungrier, messier, more desperate to pull every last sound from your lips.

Your mind was hazy, completely fucked out, barely able to process anything beyond the wet, sinful heat of their mouths working your length. Every lick, every kiss, every slow stroke of their tongues sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you.

Then Liz decided to take things even further.

Without hesitation, she slid her lips down, taking you deeper—deeper—until her nose brushed against your pelvis. She swallowed your entire cock effortlessly, her throat tightening around you in a way that made you groan loud and raw.

Rei, eyes wide with awe, pulled back and let out a breathy laugh. "Holy shit, Liz… how did you do that?"

Liz smirked as she finally pulled off you with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting her lips to your cock. "Talent," she teased, wiping her mouth before shooting Rei a playful look. "Wanna give it a try?"

Rei, never one to back down from a challenge, licked her lips and nodded. She positioned herself, took a deep breath, and slowly started to sink down. At first, she did well, inching further and further… but the moment she reached a certain point, her throat tightened, and—

"Ghk!" She gagged, immediately pulling off with teary eyes, coughing as she wiped her lips. "Shit—how do you even—"

Liz giggled, rubbing Rei’s back. "Don’t worry, baby. It takes practice." She turned to you, stroking your spit-soaked length. "Guess we’ll just have to keep practicing on him."

Rei caught her breath, then grinned. "I’m not giving up just yet."

And with that, she went right back down.

Their mouths never slowed, never relented—both of them completely focused on you, devouring you with their lips and tongues. The pleasure was overwhelming, and as much as you tried to hold on, you could feel it building deep inside you.

Liz seemed to notice first. With a knowing smirk, she wrapped her hand around your slick, throbbing length and started stroking you faster, her grip firm and relentless. "You’re close, aren’t you?" she murmured, watching the way your body tensed beneath them. "Come on, let us have it."

Meanwhile, Rei kept her mouth wrapped around your tip, her tongue swirling slow, teasing circles over the sensitive head. Her eyes flickered up, locking onto yours, dark with lust. "Give it to us," she whispered between strokes, her breath hot against your skin. "I wanna taste how good we made you feel."

That was it. That was all it took.

Your climax hit like a tidal wave, your moan ripping through the air as pleasure overtook you. Your release shot out, splattering across Rei’s flushed face and dripping over Liz’s eager hands. Rei gasped at the warmth hitting her skin, her lips parting as she licked some off the corner of her mouth with a satisfied hum.

Liz, still gripping you, stroked you a few more times, coaxing out every last drop. She brought her hand up, watching the way your release dripped between her fingers before smirking. "God, that was a lot," she teased, glancing at Rei. "He must’ve really loved this."

The session left you completely breathless, your body loose and tension-free in a way you had never experienced before. Every muscle in you, once tight and aching, now felt melted into relaxation, your mind hazy from the overwhelming pleasure.

Liz leaned down, her soft, warm breath fanning against your ear as she whispered, "Feeling better?" Her voice was laced with satisfaction, her fingers tracing gentle patterns across your chest, as if she was savoring the aftermath just as much as you were.

You tried to answer, but all you could manage was a slow, exhausted nod. A lazy smirk tugged at Liz’s lips. "Thought so," she murmured before pressing one last teasing kiss to your jaw.

Rei, still just as playful even after everything, propped herself up on her elbow, watching you with amusement. "I don’t think he can even move right now," she teased, trailing a single finger down your stomach. "We really did a number on you, huh?"

You exhaled a shaky breath, finally finding your voice. "Yeah… you could say that."

Liz chuckled while Rei stretched, giving you one final sultry glance before slowly standing up. "Well, whenever you need another ‘massage,’ you know where to find us."

After finally gathering the strength to move, you cleaned up, got dressed, and made your way back to the front. Rei was already behind the desk, her usual air of professionalism now mixed with the lingering heat of what just happened. As you approached, she tapped the counter lightly, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"Hope to see you again soon, handsome." she mused, tilting her head.

Liz, leaning casually against the doorway behind her, added, "Next time, we’ll have even more fun."

You swallowed, your body still buzzing from everything they had put you through. As you stepped out into the cool night air, the crisp breeze hitting your flushed skin, one thought settled firmly in your mind.

You would definitely be coming back.

[mocchiixxx]

Seventeen's Ways of Saying 'I Do' Series # | 02: The Contractual Marriage of Yoon Jeonghan

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Mischief

Yoon Jeonghan x Reader

Summary: You teasingly tell Jeonghan that you like his last name and ask if you can have it. Instead of getting flustered, he immediately turns the joke against you, acting like you just signed a binding contract—complete with wedding plans, an imaginary guest list, and a suspiciously well-thought-out future.

You and Jeonghan are sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, watching some random variety show. He has his head resting on your shoulder, lazily playing with your fingers as his eyes flicker between you and the screen.

Feeling mischievous, you decide to mess with him.

"I like your last name. Can I have it?"

For a moment, there’s silence. No dramatic reaction, no sudden movement.

Then, very slowly, Jeonghan lifts his head and looks at you with narrowed eyes.

"Are you saying… you want to marry me?"

You snort. "Wow, you jumped to that conclusion fast."

He smirks, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, you did just request my last name. That’s legally binding, you know. No take-backs."

You roll your eyes. "Oh yeah? And what if I say I was just joking?"

Jeonghan gasps, placing a hand over his chest as if you just shattered his heart. "Are you saying you’re abandoning our future family?!"

"Our what now—?"

"We were going to have a beautiful life together, Y/N!" He dramatically flops against the couch, shaking his head. "I already planned our wedding! Seungcheol was going to officiate, Joshua was in charge of music, and Mingyu— well, we weren’t going to let Mingyu touch anything important, but still!"

You burst out laughing. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with my fiancée, yes."

"Oh my God, Jeonghan."

He grins, sitting back up and leaning in close. "Come on, say it again."

"Say what?"

"That you like my last name. That you want it."

You raise an eyebrow. "Why? Will you actually propose if I do?"

He hums, pretending to think. "Mmm… I guess you’ll just have to say it and find out."

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head with a laugh. "I swear, you always find a way to turn things around on me."

Jeonghan only grins wider, poking your cheek. "That’s what husbands do, sweetheart."

Bonus:

That night, you receive a text from Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: Hey, don’t make any plans next Saturday. You: Why? Jeonghan: We need to go cake tasting for our wedding. You: JEONGHAN?! Jeonghan: You said you wanted my last name. I’m just being efficient.

A/N: Uh-oh??!! I'm telling you, he might actually do this in real life, like, hello?? he's already at the age to marry and he'll grab the chance if he wanted to settle down now. He might ended up to be prettier than the bride in the actual wedding though 🤭

[bewaryofpity]

fluff #12 Quinn (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

thank you for requesting ! 🩶

12. “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.“ “What about today?”

.

It wasn’t even midnight yet, but all you could do was giggle and smile at the sweet nothings Quinn was telling you, and everything around you felt smaller, softer, slower. It might’ve had something to do with the one too many drinks from the celebratory dinner with his family, or maybe it was just Quinn, but your slight tipsy states made every sensation a little warmer, a little dreamier. 

You walked side by side, hands tucked in his pockets while you clung to his arm, letting your head rest against his shoulder for a moment as you exhaled. The NHL Awards had gone as well as they could —he’d handled the press, the attention, the expectations with the same steady grace he always did. And now that it was just the two of you, there was no pressure to be perfect, simply reveling in each other's presence.

“You did so good tonight,” you murmured.

Quinn huffed out a laugh. “I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” you insisted, squeezing his arm. “You were confident, respectful, and you made your team and your family proud. You made me proud.”

“You always say stuff like that,” he said, shaking his head with a small, shy smile on his lips while he glanced down at you, soft eyes searching for yours.

“Because it’s true,” you countered. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know? You’re such a good captain, Quinny. You take care of everyone, you never act like you’re above anyone else, and you hold yourself to a ridiculous standard even when no one’s watching. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

His steps slowed slightly, like he wanted to savor your words, to let them sink in. And you kept going, probably encouraged by the haze of alcohol in your bloodstream, praising and praising him about things he never even realized about himself. 

“And you’re a great player, but you’re an even better person. I know I joke about you being an old man sometimes, but I love how responsible you are. I love that I never have to wonder if you’ll do the right thing. And—” You stopped yourself as you suddenly felt like you were spilling too much too fast.

“Hm? And what?” he prompted, voice gentle. 

“I think… If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”

He stopped in his tracks so suddenly that you nearly stumbled. Your fingers tightened around his arm to steady yourself, and when you looked up, his eyes were wide, lips parted in a quiet surprise that matched yours. You had thought about your future with Quinn, picturing you and him with your own little family, you just didn’t expect your drunk self to expose you like this.

“What about tonight?”

Your breath caught. And suddenly, you weren’t tipsy anymore. You were just entirely, overwhelmingly in love. A giddy laugh bubbled up in your chest and you shook your head, gripping his hand. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious.”

You stared at him, searching for any hesitation, any sign that he wasn’t completely, absolutely sure. But there was none, just the steady, quiet certainty that had always been so him. Before you could think too hard about it, before logic could catch up with the wild, reckless love pounding in your chest, you grinned and tugged him forward. “Well, we better start walking then.”

His brow furrowed. “Walking where?”

You bit your lip, eyes twinkling as you nodded down the street. “Little White Chapel.”