#do i literally get to go home/to bed with her? yes

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ SUMMER SIDE ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Short Story Containing 5 Instances Where Salesperson ENA Couldn’t Stop Talking, Plus 1 Instance That Left Her Speechless With You

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Short Story, SFW

★ Word Count: 1357

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

Instance 1: The Dream Where You Died Was Not That Funny, Actually

She wakes you up by screaming.

“BLOOD! THERE WAS BLOOD COMING OUT OF YOUR STUPID HEAD!”

Your eyes creak open like rusted metal, and you’re instantly blinded by morning sun. Or possibly ENA. She’s standing on your bed, stomping in place like she’s summoning thunder, both hands flailing.

“You DIED,” she hisses, stabbing a claw-finger at your chest. “Your little meat balloon body POPPED like a sick novelty party favor and I held your lungs like they were STUFFED ANIMALS! That’s not even the bad part!”

You sit up. “…There’s a worse part than that?”

“YES!” she howls. “I had to give a speech at your funeral!”

“…Oh GØD.”

“I—what’s the word—bombed. I BOMBED! Half the guests were mannequins! The other half were your enemies!”

She drops to her knees on the mattress, wild-eyed and trembling, her salesperson side bright red and twitching.

“I opened with a pun, and I couldn’t stop talking. I even told them about your socks! The mismatched socks!”

You reach for her mitten hand. “It was just a dream—”

“You had frog stickers on your toes!” she wails.

You sigh. “ENA, I’m not dead.”

She immediately gasps like it’s the best news she’s heard all year. “Oh thank goodness, I didn’t finish the eulogy. I thought I was going to have to improvise!”

Instance 2: The Time You Got Lost, and She Tried to Calm You Down (Poorly)

You’re in the Department of Melancholy again, but this time it’s not by choice. You think the elevator took a wrong turn somewhere around The Division of Dry Cleaned Nightmares.

The air is thick with old perfume and long-distance phone calls. You’re shaking, clinging to a broken office chair, and ENA is squatting beside you like a concerned bird. Her hat is crooked.

“Listen to me, listen,” she says quickly. “I’ve calculated your odds of survival, and it’s not… it’s not good.”

“ENA—”

“But,” she barrels forward, “if you do get consumed by the walls, it’ll be very symbolic. A martyr for the Department’s emotional renovation budget.”

“I don’t want to be a martyr, I want to go home!”

“That’s what I’m saying! Look, if you get absorbed into the décor, you become part of the building. You are home.”

You start to sob.

“Oh no,” she groans. “Oh no, I said the wrong thing again. I am literally bad at comfort. Don’t cry, you’ll summon the Complaint Forms!”

Despite everything, you laugh. A horrible, hiccupping noise. She immediately brightens.

“See! You’re laughing! Progress!”

Instance 3: When You Asked Her What She Thought of You

You hadn’t meant it seriously. It was a lazy question. Something tossed out over lukewarm coffee in a Casino break room, after a long mission and too many hallucinated oranges.

“What do you think of me?” you asked, smiling.

She blinked. Both triangles in her eyes swiveled like they were on rotating axes. Her expression twisted into something unreadable.

Then she launched into it.

“Oh, you’re a mosaic of contradictions. A fever dream in a soft shirt. You smile when you’re scared, and you joke when you’re broken. Your laugh sounds like broken glass trying to flirt with jazz.”

“…Thank you?”

“You’re an investment with too many volatile returns. I’m always waiting for the bottom to fall out—except it never does, and it drives me insane. I can’t predict your emotional market trends.”

You blinked at her.

She pressed forward like a runaway train. “You once complimented a brick wall. You talk to vending machines like they’re people. You say you’re fine, but you flinch like you’re not. And I’ve memorized the angle of your hands when you lie.”

You stared at her. She smiled, bloodshot and too big. “Also, you’re very cute when you eat grapes.”

You spit your coffee across the table.

Instance 4: Her Commentary During a Near-Death Scenario

The floor beneath you exploded mid-jump.

ENA grabbed your wrist just in time, hauling you over the collapsing bridge of kaleidoscope glass, both of you screaming all the way down. You hit the ground hard enough to black out for a second.

When you came to, ENA was hovering over you, babbling.

“Oh thank the fiscal gods, your bones are still in you! Are you alive? Semi-alive? Not dead? Don’t say ‘undead’, I don’t have the tax forms for that!”

You groaned.

“Oh, look at you, all ‘wounded chic’. Your bruises match your aesthetic. Do you want to be carried or dragged? Say the word. Either way, I’m filing a workers’ comp claim on your behalf.”

“…Carried.”

“Wonderful choice, sweetheart!” she sang, scooping you up like a goblin in love. “You’re light as emotional baggage!”

She sprinted toward the exit, cradling you against her chest.

“Good news: we almost died. Bad news: the boss fight’s next. Better news: I found a coupon!”

You didn’t know whether to scream or kiss her.

Instance 5: When You Tried to Say ‘I Love You’ First

You were going to say it. You’d practiced in a mirror. You even wrote it on a napkin once like a high schooler with a death wish.

She’d just finished monologuing about economic collapse in the Wishing Pools, her eyes glittering in the sunset sludge. You looked at her, and your heart hiccupped.

So you tried.

“ENA, I—”

“Oh no, you’re going to say something vulnerable, aren’t you?” she interrupted instantly. “Quick, let me distract you with facts! Did you know the moon isn’t real in six out of nine districts? Did you know I have seventeen things I hate about love and seventeen more that I despise slightly less?!”

“ENA—”

“I do like you, though!” she blurted. “Like, tremendously. In the way a virus likes a host. Or a sales rep likes their highest spender. Or a shadow likes its source!”

“ENA—”

“You make me feel unemployed! Emotionally! Like I don’t have a job except thinking about you and eating cosmic leftovers!”

“ENA—”

“I drew a doodle of us once and then cried because it looked too happy!”

You grabbed her by both shoulders. “Let me finish!”

She froze.

“…I love you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

She screamed so loud the wishing pool cracked.

The One Time ENA Didn’t Say Anything At All

It wasn’t dramatic.

There was no blood, no kaleidoscope collapse, no haunted furniture or genies that demanded emotional vulnerability as payment. Just a Tuesday. Or something approximating it.

The two of you were alone on a carousel of broken creatures.

You’d looped the same small path for hours, circling past walls painted like casino receipts, past rooms that pulsed like living things. But this spot was safe. Quiet. You could hear the sound of her breathing if you closed your eyes.

You were sitting beside her on a cracked countertop. She was watching the ceiling like it might sprout wings and fly away.

And you said, without thinking, “You know, I think you’re my favorite place to be.”

It was quiet. She didn’t say anything.

No monologue. No pitch. No metaphor about feelings being financial disasters. Not even a muttered joke about architecture or celestial real estate.

Just…Silence. Her red side blinked once. Her yellow side stared.

Then, slowly, like it was a decision she had to make with her whole body, she leaned her head against your shoulder. Her cheek rested warm and strange against your arm. Her clawed hand crept over yours, threading your fingers together without ceremony.

You turned to her, and for once, she didn’t meet your eyes like they were puzzles or riddles or treasure maps. She just breathed. Softly. You could feel it. The tremble in her frame. The weight of something unsaid. You didn’t need her to say it. You just held her tighter.

And maybe later, she’d start talking again. About the sky, or the market, or your haircut. Maybe she’d compare you to a broken toaster or a business plan gone rogue. Maybe she’d panic again the next time you tried to kiss her.

But for now? Now she was quiet and that said everything.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Oooo I thought I would send this in as a request!! I know you’ve never written for Nick before but here it is:

Can I please request Soft Dark!Nick Fowler x innocent!Y/n where she has been Nick’s loyal assistant (Mace definitely attempted to warn Y/n about Nick’s corruption) for a couple years now at the CIA after the events of The 355 (in this AU, he wasn’t caught at the end, the four woman are still on the run from Nick). He tells Y/n one morning when she brings him his coffee (he definitely says “Thank you, sweetheart”) that he’s “promoting” her, and he has her also be his assistant with his less than legal activities (also he’d be paying her a ridiculous amount of money)… Also he has her work out of an office in his fancy apartment, and has her move into his penthouse apartment that very day (he honestly is just in love with her and wants to keep her close, can’t let her get away like Mace did). Throughout her first day of her promotion, she starts to notice the red flags that show that what Nick is doing isn’t an extension of the CIA, it’s criminal activity, and the people that she is calling to set up meeting with Nick and the people coming in and out of his expensive apartment are very clearly dangerous criminals and corrupt officials, but he tells her not to worry and she trusts him so she lets it go. That is until weeks later she walks into his office (without knocking) to give him paperwork and she literally witnesses him offing someone . He’d definitely sigh that she didn’t knock, but would guide her to sit down before she passed out from shock and call her his good girl when she agrees that what she witnessed cannot leave that room, as he gently rubs his hand on her back to calm her down🥺 He’d get much more obviously affectionate after that day, kisses extend from just the forehead to the corner of her mouth, back hugs, pulling her into his lap any time he can, cuddling and sleeping in the same bed, a protective arm around her waist when they’re out or holding her hand tightly, petting her hair gently, the gifts turn into more expensive things like fancy clothes, fancy dinners, jewelry, giving her everything she could ever want or need, etc. And she relishes in every moment of affection and love he gives her and falls hard for him! (They both love each other sm)

Promotion » Nick Fowler

Pairings: Soft Dark!Nick Fowler x Innocent/Assistant!Female Reader

Summary: Nick gives you a promotion that has you move in with him and working out of his home.

Warnings: Soft Dark, Fluff, language, mentions of murder, brief mention of blood, almost passing out, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the lovely request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You’ve been working for Nick for almost a year. You’re his assistant. Nick took a liking to you the moment he interviewed you. He chose the office right next to his for your office. After what happened with Mace, he wants to keep you close.

“Here’s your coffee, Mr. Fowler.” You say, setting it on his desk.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Nick smiles.

“You’re- You’re welcome.” You stuttered, blushing when he called you sweetheart. “Do you need anything else?” You asked.

“Not right now. I’ll let you know.” He says.

You nodded and walked out of his office. He called out for you when you got to the doorway of his office.

“Wait a second. There is one more thing.” Nick says.

“Yes, Mr. Fowler?” You asked.

“Take a seat.” He says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

You took a second in one of the chairs, curious to know what Nick has to say.

“As you know, you’ve been working for me for almost a year and I love having you as my assistant. You’ve done remarkable work for me. Some without me having to ask.” Nick says.

“I just want to please you and make you proud of my work and what I can do, sir.” You say with a smile.

“That, you do.” He smiles. “With that being said, I’ve decided it’s time to give you a promotion.” He says.

Your lips parted a bit and your eyes widened in surprise.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes.” He smiles.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Fowler!” You exclaimed happily.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles back. “Like I said when we met, call me Nick.” He says flirtatiously.

“Nick.” You say softly.

“Come over to my place tonight for the details of your promotion. We’ll discuss it over dinner tonight.” He says.

“Will do, Mr. Fowler- Nick.” You say, smiling happily.

You were unable to control your excitement for the rest of the work day. You’re beyond excited and curious to know what your promotion is. When it came time to go to Nick’s house for dinner and the details for your promotion, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for Nick to open the door. He smiles when he sees you.

“Come in.” Nick says, stepping aside.

You admired his house as you walked inside.

“You have a lovely house, Nick.” You complimented softly.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He smiles.

There goes the blushing again.

“I got Italian for dinner.” He says, leading you to the dining room.

“I love Italian.” You smiled.

The dining room was set up for two. Besides the food and wine, there was a couple candles and a vase of flowers on the table as well. Nick, being the gentleman he is, pulled a chair out for you.

“Such a gentleman.” You smiled.

“For you, sweetheart, I always am.” He says flirtatiously.

You sat down in the chair and Nick sat down next to you. You two ate dinner as Nick told you about your promotion.

“Your promotion will involve you living here.” Nick tells you.

“May I ask why have to live here for my promotion?” You asked curiously.

“So I can protect you myself.” He replies.

That is part of the reason why he wants you to live with him for your promotion, but he also doesn’t want to let you go. You actually find it sweet that he wants to protect you, even more so in his own home.

“You’re so sweet, Nick.” You smiled.

“What do you say, sweetheart? Do you want the promotion?” He asks, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of wine.

“Yes! I want the promotion!” You answered excitedly.

Nick smiles when you accepted the promotion. Now, that he has you in the comfort of his home, there’s no way he’s letting you go.

———

You’re still Nick’s assistant. You just do a little more work than you used to do. You still do that things you used to do for him. You get him coffee every morning. Even though, you can make coffee in the kitchen, which you do sometimes, you like going out and buying coffee for him. You’ve also been living with him for a few months. You have an in home office in his house too.

Nick has you make calls that have nothing to do with the CIA, but you don’t know that. You made those calls earlier. Currently, you’re printing out important papers Nick needs. You decided to do it when he was in his meeting. As you collected all of the papers you printed from the printer, you looked through them to make sure you have all of them. As you were doing that, you walked in Nick’s office without knocking and witnessed something you shouldn’t have seen. Your eyes went wide and you dropped the papers on the floor when you seen a dead body in a pool of blood on the floor. One of the men who Nick was having a meeting with seen you. Nick turned around and seen you.

“Clean this up.” Nick says to the men.

They nodded and drug the bloody dead man out of Nick’s office. You felt yourself get lightheaded from how much blood was on the floor. Nick noticed that you were about to pass out. He wrapped his arms around you and guided you to the couch and sat you down. He sat down next to you.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” Nick asks softly.

“So- So much blood.” You mumbled, still staring at the pool of blood.

Nick gently cupped your cheeks and turned your head towards him, getting you to look him in his blue eyes.

“Don’t look at the blood. Look at me.” He says.

You continued to gaze in his eyes. You began to feel a little bit better.

“I’ll be right back, ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You say quietly.

Nick left his office momentarily to get you a glass of water and a wet washcloth for your forehead. He came back to office to see you slouched back against the couch with your eyes closed. He set the cup and washcloth down to check on you.

“Sweetheart, wake up.” Nick says softly, softly tapping on your cheek.

“I was just resting.” You say quietly.

Nick gave you the glass of water, which you took a sip of. He gently dabbed the wet washcloth against your flushed face. The coolness of the washcloth felt soothing against your skin and made you feel better.

“How do you feel now?” He asks.

“Better.” You replied.

Nick hates to ruin the moment by bringing up what you saw when you walked in his office earlier, but he wants to make sure you’re not going to tell anyone what you seen just moments ago.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t mention this to anyone, understand?” Nick says softly and sternly.

“I understand, Nick.” You replied.

“Good girl.” He says softly.

Blush crept up on your face when he called you a good girl.

You grew tired a few minutes later. Nick picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bedroom. He gently laid you down on the bed and covered you up with a blanket.

“Nick?” You say sleepily.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Nick asks.

“Please stay with me.” You say.

Nick closed the bedroom door before laying down next to you. He kissed the side of your head and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He whispers.

———

Weeks after witnessing that “incident” in Nick’s office, you completely forgot about it. You also kept your word with Nick. You didn’t tell anyone what you saw.

In those same weeks, you and Nick grew closer to each other. He’s been buying you stuff like flowers, jewelry, and clothes. You absolutely love it. You get butterflies in your stomach anytime he spoils you.

“Where are you taking me, Nick?” You asked curiously.

“Wherever my girl wants to go. Today is about you, sweetheart.” Nick says, kissing your cheek and wrapping an arm around your waist.

You smiled when he said that. You two just started off with window shopping before you decided on what you wanted. You saw a cute dress in a window and you knew you had to get it.

“Nick!” You tapped on his arm. “This dress is so cute, don’t you think?” You asked.

Nick looks at the dress and thought about what you would look like in it. He smiles to himself when he gets an image of you in that dress in his head.

“I’m buying it for you.” Nick says, gently pulling you inside of the store.

After going inside of the store, you saw a cute pair of shoes that will go great with the dress. He bought you the shoes too.

Later that day, you admired the dress and shoes Nick bought you. Nick walked in your bedroom as you’re admiring the dress.

“It’s beautiful.” Nick compliments. “You should wear it on our date tonight.” He suggests.

“What?” You asked, turning your attention to him.

“We’re going on a date to that fancy restaurant I was telling you about last night. We have a reservation at 7pm.” He says.

7pm? That’s in a couple hours. You got ready shortly after Nick told you about the reservation. You did touch ups with your outfit, making sure it looks nice. You looked in the full body mirror in your bedroom, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress. Nick came in your room a moment later after knocking. He was speechless when he seen you in your new dress.

“What do you think?” You asked, giving him a spin.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Nick compliments softly.

Nick walks over to you and kisses you passionately. You were caught off guard, but kissed him back.

“We should get going. We don’t want to be late.” He says.

When you guys got to the restaurant, you couldn’t help but admire how nice it looks in there. Nick reached across the table and gently turned your head towards, wanting your attention on him. You gave him a smile.

“You look so beautiful.” Nick compliments softly.

“Thank you, Nick.” You say softly.

“I have something for you.” He says.

He pulled a velvet box out of his suit jacket pocket and placed it in front of you. You opened it, gasping softly when you seen the most beautiful diamond bracelet in it.

“Nick…” You say speechless.

Nick took it out of the velvet box and put it around your wrist. You admired it with a smile on your face.

“It adds more to your beauty.” He compliments softly.

You blushed when he said that.

You two had a wonderful dinner. Nick said nothing but sweet words to you throughout the night.

“I had a wonderful evening.” You say as you and Nick walked inside his house.

“So did I.” Nick agrees. “Wanna know what would make it even more wonderful?” He asks.

“What would that be?” You asked.

Nick gently cups your cheeks and kisses you passionately. This kiss had even more passion in it compared to the kiss earlier in the evening. You were left breathless.

“I love you.” You say for the first time.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Nick says softly.

You two ended then evening with cuddling. The next morning, you managed to sneak out of bed with Nick noticing and went to the kitchen to make coffee. You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the coffee drip into the coffee pot. You then felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, making you smile.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up.” Nick says, his voice raspy from waking up a moment ago.

“I wanted to make us coffee.” You say, leaning back against the front of his body.

“You always make the best coffee.” He says.

You turned around in his arms to give him a proper morning kiss. His light stubble poked your hands as you cupped his cheeks.

“I love you, Nick.” You say softly, gazing in his blue eyes.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Nick almost whispers.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[ahxiang]

dumb! dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb!!

[meowcitymotherfucker]

Why does every single time I have to tell my mother I feel too sick to go to school take pieces of my soul away and put them in a blender and shit on them

[kimstills]

crazy

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: after one heated and spontaneous night together, aaron can’t seem to get his pretty subordinate (or her pussy) out of his head.

content warnings: smut, 18+, minors do not interact!, pussy!whipped hotch, age gaps, dirty talk, rough unprotected office sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving, mentions of m receiving in the past), choking, hair pulling, ass slapping, groping, some angst if u squint, love confessions and some asshole behavior, hotch is a munch and masturbates in his office.

word count: 6.5k (yea…)

a/n: this may seem a lil out of character for hotch? we all know he’s a professional thru and thru but the point is this is that he’s pussy whipped! also lots of flashbacks in italics whoopsies <3

Aaron was sure he was going crazy.

Or maybe he already was, and he was just starting to feel the effects of his craziness.

Aaron Hotchner, usually poised in a way that unwillingly intimidated others and made them back away from him, was unraveling in a way he had never done so before.

Having a one-night stand with his subordinate, the same subordinate he had been harboring painfully arising feelings for literal years, often led to such a reaction.

He could still recount every single detail from that night, from the moment the tension between you both began building itself up to the moment it actually snapped. It was as if he had everything engraved in his mind; the views he never thought he'd get to see to the things he never thought he would get to feel etched into his brain.

It had all been a blur that night, and a part of Aaron still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you reciprocated his attraction towards you, letting him, not only touch you but also fuck you.

You two had stayed up late in your shared hotel room only to talk, really. After you and the rest of the team had wrapped up a somewhat good case, you only wanted to rant to one another. Aaron knew that you weren’t a ‘whiskey girl,’ or whatever it was that you said, but he had offered you a drink either way.

Neither one of you had even gotten tipsy, so he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. But the connection had always been there, though, one thing finally leading to another and all the unsaid words and stolen glances between you both began to surface.

It was as if everything you both silently felt for another was starting to seep through and everything that hindered you from telling each other no longer mattered.

It had felt so hot, from the way you held him close with your legs wrapped around his waist to the messy yet passionate kisses you shared, your bodies connected beneath.

It was everything Aaron envisioned it to be. But, as magical and heated as it was, he was the one to have ended things before they even had a chance at starting.

The morning after, as soon as you had both untangled your bodies from one another and got dressed to get back home to Quantico, he had done the stupidest thing imaginable.

“We shouldn’t do this again.”

You froze in your spot, half-way through tugging your pants up your legs. You blink at him from where he stood on the other side of the bed, already dressed, “This?”

“Yes.” Aaron says, voice awfully neutral.

You frown, jutting out your bottom lip that same way you did when you were thinking, “May I ask why?”

He takes a deep breath, “I’m your boss,” he gives you a pointed look, as if he had to remind you after fucking you dumb, “and you’re my subordinate. This goes against several workplace regulations and if anyone were to find out we could both lose our jobs.”

You’re quiet for several moments after that, and Aaron uses the silence to his advantage to prepare for any arguments you could be thinking of to use against him. He can’t seem to read you, though, your expression pensive as you stare at the floor.

Then you shrug. “Okay.” You say, simple and nonchalant.

Aaron watches as you continue finishing getting ready and he doesn’t know if he should ask if you were actually okay with it.

He decides that it’s for the best, not getting any pushback or having to argue on why he’s just subconsciously pushing you away after having one of the best nights of his life.

“Okay.” He repeats, giving you a small nod, even though you weren’t looking at him. With one last glance to your surprisingly calm figure, he finishes collecting the rest of his things and heads out of the room.

Even after the team had checked out of their hotel and settled onto the jet, you didn’t spare him a second glance. You hadn’t necessarily moved to ignoring him or silently lashing out, but it was as if everything went back to normal, with no mentions or glances back to that night.

That should be what was driving him crazy; the way he didn’t know if you were only calm because you were planning on going to the higher-ups, to HR, about what had happened. If you were secretly planning on putting him on blast out of anger or betrayal or telling him that he had coerced you to sleep with him and threatened you in case you didn’t.

No. What was driving him crazy was that he couldn’t get you out of his head, even after he broke things off.

Everything was engraved into his mind, from the sight of you on your knees, mouth full of his cock while you stared up at him with tear-pricked eyelashes and basked in his praises. Or the way your nails dug into his skin as he thrusted into you and the way you felt around him, all while he took pleasure in the sweet sounds he emitted from you every second.

He was going mad, and the already established feelings he had for you weren’t helping, either.

Aaron stared at you from inside his office, studied your features from afar whilst you sat on your desk. Your face was set in a neutral expression, flickering your attention from your computer screens to the physical files in front of you, but all he could see was the same face and person morphed into the one that had been withering in pleasure underneath him.

“Hotch…” you whine, a hand wrapped around his bicep as he dipped a finger inside your glistening pussy.

He watched as your back arched off the bed, throwing your head back against the pillows at the feeling of his thick digit inside you, “What, sweetheart?” He asked, the nickname rolling of his tongue easily. “What do you need? Hm?”

Your hips stuttered as he inserted another finger, thrusting them in and out you, “Y-You. I want you. Inside me.” You peered at him through your fluttering lashes, your mascara smudged underneath your eyes from the tears that had slipped out while you were sucking his cock.

“Yeah?” His voice is filled with amusement and bewilderment, one part of him indulging in seeing you this way—all disheveled and needy for him—while the other was still stunned at the whole thing. “Want my cock inside you after you just had it in your mouth?”

You nod meekly at his words, a sweet pout adorning your flushed lips.

Despite the heat and tension that suffocated the room, Aaron’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. The way you were asking for him ever so bashfully after just giving him the best head of his life tugged at his heartstrings and made his cock twitch.

“Please,” you whisper, bucking your hips upwards. A stuttered gasp emits from your lips when you feel the tip of his dick prod at your sopping entrance, “Aaron…”

Aaron lets out a low, throaty groan at the sound of his first name mumbled in desperation, and he thinks back to all the times he’s thought about you like this. How many times he’s dreamed of having you underneath him, encaged by his broad figure and whining for him.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he says promisingly. He lifts himself to his full height on his knees, lining himself up with your entrance and holding onto the meat of your thigh. Another groan utters from the back of his throat, mixed in with your gasps and puffs of breath as he begins to sink inside you.

A knock on his office door forces Aaron to snap out of his train of thought. He looks down at himself, registering the painfully hard boner he was now sporting. Quickly, he scooted further into his desk so that the tent in his pants wouldn’t be visible by whoever was knocking on his door. Clearing his throat, he lets out a somewhat proper ‘come in.’

In walks Garcia, and Aaron doesn’t know if he should be thankful or mortified it was her out of all people.

“Sir?” She asks politely, files in hand and head tilted in an ever so Penelope manner. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

Right. It was barely nine in the morning and Aaron was already sporting a growing tent in his suit pants.

He nods, doing his best to feign being busy, “I’ll be there in five, Garcia.”

He wants to think he comes out as somewhat normal, but panic surges through him briefly when her expression turns into a curious one.

“Are you alright, sir?” She takes a step forward and Aaron has to hold himself back from screaming for her to stay where she is. “You look red and pale at the same time.”

He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively yet good-naturedly, “I’m fine. Jack is coming down with something and I think I might be, too.”

Great. Now he was using his innocent son as a scapegoat for his own horniness and bad decisions. Some father he was.

Garcia nods, looking convinced enough before bidding him a nod shuffling out of his office and closing the door behind her.

Aaron lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. His boner had softened the slightest bit, and he was conflicted in trying to make it go down completely or taking care of it right here and now. But the thought of having to face his team after fucking himself into his fist mortified him. Of seeing you, right after fucking himself into his fist to the thought of you after leaving you hanging coldly.

He opted out of it, though it took more than five minutes to settle himself before heading over to the conference room. Once again, he tried to play it as casual as possible while he walked to his seat with everyone staring expectantly at him, including you.

“Let’s get started.”

The team’s briefings went on as so, everyone presenting their perspective cases and discoveries within them. It was a bit easier to lose focus of what he was thinking earlier when the gory crime scenes showed up on the TV screen each time someone went up, but all focus was lost when it was your turn.

You stood from your seat, taking the control from Penelope’s hands and talking everyone through the case you were currently focusing on.

Aaron held his fist up to his face as he tried to focus on the details of the case instead of you and your entire being. Your hair whipped out and into your face each time you looked from the screen and back to the team. The top part of your dress twisted with each turn and motion you made, the bottom part of it creasing along with it. Was it a new dress?

Didn’t matter. It didn’t compare to the pajama shorts he had slowly, almost tauntingly, pulled down your legs before–

“...makes me think he’s keeping them in a secluded space. He obviously likes the control and the pleasure of having his victims’ screams and cries for help to himself, so I’ve advised police to search condemned and empty areas far away from the city and even on the outskirts of the town.” You finished with a nod and once again Aaron was snapped away from his unholy thoughts.

While everyone else added their own commentary and advice, Aaron realized he had been the only to have not said anything during your presentation, too preoccupied with you once more.

“Adding in the possibility of him keeping them outside of the main town the victims have been found in was a smart move,” He quickly added, trying his best to comment on what he had paid attention to. His breath hitched when you turned to look at him. “Law enforcement might have missed that and can collaborate with police from the next town over. Good job.”

You smiled softly and nodded in appreciation, “Thank you.”

Fuck. How were you so nonchalant about this? Aaron’s mind wandered back to the probability of you getting back at him by going to Strauss about your rendezvous. It was only early morning Monday, the first day back in the office after said events, so it wasn’t a surprise he hadn’t heard anything from her. Yet.

He nodded back in response, though, casting his gaze downwards and collecting his things, “Great. I expect everyone’s reports to be on my desk by tonight, please.”

Everyone stood from their seats, shuffling out of the room with mumbled conversations. Aaron held back, taking his time in looking through his files and stacking them together while you did the same, leaving the two of you alone once everyone else had gone.

He wanted to say something, gather the courage to ask you something. Anything, just to make sure you were alright. If the two of you were still right, in spite of everything.

Only when you finished collecting things did he bring himself to open his mouth, a soft utterance of your name to get your attention.

You stopped in your tracks, a good couple feet away from him and the door. You stared at him, waiting for him to speak with a neutral expression on your face.

Not one of annoyance or irritation. Just expectant.

God, you really were driving him crazy.

You raised a brow when he didn’t say anything, “…Yes?”

He clears his throat again before asking, “Is everything okay?”

You blink and tilt your head, dumbfounded, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Aaron grips at his files, guilt consuming him all over again. “With us,” he clarifies, swallowing harshly. “Is everything okay with us?”

You blink a couple more times, eyes wandering to the side as if you’re trying to catch onto what he’s implying.

It makes his heart churn.

“Oh.” You finally say, meeting his gaze. “Yes. We both agreed, no? To what you said.”

Aaron can’t decipher if the smile you give him is genuine or jeering, and he can’t tell if what you say last is clarifying as his answer or if it’s something underlyingly petty.

Either way it’s something. You’ve given him something and he’ll take it.

He nods finally, “Yes, we did.”

You shrug, smiling a bit wider this time, “All good then.”

He gives another curt nod, stepping to the side so you could exit the room. He moves to follow behind you, but he gets a whiff of your perfume as soon as you brush past him. The scent makes him halt and he has to hold onto one of the back posts of a chair to stabilize himself.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the remnants that linger behind you for a moment.

He truly was going crazy.

The rest of the day goes by the same and hardly any work gets done on Aaron’s end. He’d scribble whatever he needed to write down or fill out then get distracted by the void of you.

It was getting impossible for him to keep working with the relentless problem that was his ongoing boner. He was tucked into his desk all the way yet it hurt whenever he leaned forward or backwards while moving around. Oftentimes he tried to give himself some sort of relief by running a hand over himself, but it didn’t help much, and the dirty thoughts about you certainly didn’t either.

The sounds that filled the room were lewd, your gags and moans from below mixed in with Aaron’s grunts and words of encouragement echoing off the hotel room’s walls. His large hand was entangled in your hair, pushing your head forward to take more of him, as if your jaw wasn’t aching enough already.

Though there wasn’t a way for him to tell, really. You gave no sign or indication that you wanted him to stop, your tongue swiping at the head of his cock each time he dipped your head even more. Saliva pooled from your tongue and leaked from your mouth, dripping into the carpeted floor and entailing a trail from your lips to your chin.

Aaron’s head was thrown back in utter pleasure and astonishment, bewildered that you’d ever be doing this to him. He didn’t want to finish before you, but it was taking everything him to not give in and fuck your face the way he truly desired.

He’d never received head this good, nor had he received it much recently. His legs were spread with you settled in between them contently. “That’s it sweetheart,” he mumbled, brushing fallen strands of hair out of your face lovingly. “Taking me so good, such a good girl.”

His praises only edged you on even further, bobbing your head up and down a couple more times before pulling off of him with a slick ‘pop!’ You rest your head on his thigh in an attempt to catch your breath, a shaky, stuttered sigh heaving from your chest as your hand comes up to continue the rest of your work.

Aaron has to run a hand over his face to try and keep his composure, his nails digging into the skin of his palm albeit their short length. He throws his head back against his chair, a grunt threatening to emit from his throat as he coercively runs his hand over his boner.

At least he wishes he can say it’s coercively, really it’s just a tainted image of you he’s embedded in his own dirty mind.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to give in and reach inside his pants, sparing another careful glance to his now locked office door before springing his painfully hard cock free. A low, pleased grunt spills from his pursed lips as he wraps his hand around himself. He gives his length a good tug, bucking his hips up instantaneously, the same way he did when you first wrapped your mouth around him.

Still, as cautiously and quietly as possible, he begins to stroke at his length, a hand covering his mouth as he continues to dart his eyes from below himself to his door–as if anyone would walk in at any second and catch him jerking himself off in his own government-issued office.

He begins to imagine that his fist is you. That you’re sitting in the space between his legs with your hot mouth licking long stripes up his length and that your hand is toying with his balls the same way you did before. It only makes him pump at his fist even faster, the hand that was covering his mouth shooting down to the armrest of his chair, gripping at the cushioned leather as he began to reach his high.

“Fuck, Hotch, fuck!” Your whines are eccentric, head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your legs wrap around Aaron’s waist, pulling him closer to you as he continues to thrust into your sopping pussy.

Aaron groans loudly, silently thanking that his and yours room was placed further down the hall from everyone else’s. His hands rest at the bottom of your thighs, his large hand gripping the flesh for support as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your pussy grips him like a vice and your nails dig into the skin of his biceps from where you hold him.

His sight is focused on you only, the way your tits bounce with each thrust and the way your mouth is curled into a wide ‘o’ from the pleasure you’re receiving.

“So good for me, baby,” he mumbles, hand coming down to grab at your breast, squeezing possessively before leaning down to crash his lips against yours hungrily.

You whine through the kiss, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging while your other hand scratches at his back. A string of saliva connects at your lips when he pulls away, his head dipping down to kiss and suck at your neck while he grabs your hips to better pistol himself inside you.

A moan echoes through the room again and straight to his ear, your back arching into his chest, “Feels so good, Aaron, so good!”

Aaron’s release sputters everywhere messily and he has to bite at his fist to stop himself from groaning loudly. His come spills onto parts of his leg, his desk, and even onto the floor. He leans back into his chair, trying to contain himself and his heaving chest.

He takes a look at the mess he created–the mess you unknowingly entailed from him. Like clockwork, the paranoia and guilt from doing this begins to seep in and he’s quick to snatch a handful of tissues from the box he kept on the corner of his desk to clean himself up. He tucks himself back into his pants then moves to clean at his desk and his floor.

Clearly, he hadn’t known what he was thinking. Not when it came to calling things off between the two of you before they even happened and certainly not now after he realized the spell he was currently in.

The last hour of the work day comes by agonizingly slowly. After his little session, Aaron finds it a little bit easier to get the rest of his work done (key word: a little bit). The rest of the members all begin to spill into his office to hand in their finished paperwork and files, all of them sparing him brief glances of curiosity and concern–the same way Garcia had done earlier–before bidding him goodnight and leaving.

The only one that hasn’t come to hand in anything was you. He knew you were still here, he could see you sitting at your desk from the view through his blinds, scribbling away casually like you had been doing so the whole day. After you had stalled to follow behind the rest of your co-workers, Aaron had gotten up from his desk and pretended to be walking around his office with a file in hand, lifting his head every few minutes to see if you were ever making your way towards him to turn in your work.

He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. If you were secretly being tortured by the recollections of your hook-up, too, or if you truly didn’t care about him basically dumping you after having sex with you and telling you that it could never happen again due to your perspective titles.

With a defeated sigh, he closes the file he was still pretending to read. His eyes instinctively travel back to where your desk was at and his breath immediately catches in his throat when he sees that you aren’t there. He hears the sound of footsteps approaching closer and closer through the staircase that leads up to his office and you walk in soon after.

You freeze in the doorway when you see that he’s already staring at you. Your eyes flicker to a space behind him then back at him before you take a tentative step back and glance at the clock hung on the wall facing his desk, “Uh, is this a bad time?”

“No!” Aaron takes a step forward when you take another one back. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, no, it’s not. I didn’t know you were still here. Everyone else left almost half an hour ago.”

“Oh,” you glance back behind you to the rest of the bullpen before looking back at him. “I was just finishing up the reports you said you wanted done by the end of today.” You jut your chin toward the stack of files you were carrying in one arm.

“Right.” He clears his throat, motioning to the pile of files the rest of the team had stacked on his desk. “You can just leave them there.”

You nod, giving him a small smile.

He watches as you walk over to his desk, taking in your appearance while you double-check that everything was correct. He swallowed harshly, taking in the way your skirt hugged your lower figure perfectly the same way it did during the morning debriefing. Your hair flows ever so slightly and he takes in a good look at your side profile when you tuck a loose strand behind your ears while you continue to flip through the pages of your file.

You’re breathtakingly gorgeous and Aaron doesn’t know if what suddenly makes him start walking up behind you is from what he’s felt since sleeping with you or if it’s everything he’s felt since way before that.

You halt your movements when you feel his presence directly behind you, gasping when you turn and find how close he was standing.

“Hotch–” you gulp, heat blooming through your cheeks albeit feeling confused. “W-What are you doing?”

Aaron takes in your tone and he can tell that you’re not asking in a disgusted, annoyed way, more so in a flustered way. He lifts a hand to brush the hair that frames your face past your face but doesn’t actually move to do it, keeping it there to see if you push him away. But you don’t. So he brushes it away.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” He mumbles, eyes boring into the side of your face as you stare up at him as best as you can from your practically rigid figure.

You scoff, a sound filled with so much humor yet so little at the same time, “You were the one that said this couldn’t happen again.” You twist your head, trying to turn your body around more with the way he had you pressed against the front of his desk.

“That was a mistake,” he whispers. He dips his head so that his mouth is by your ear, watching you shiver from the proximity.

“A mistake?” You repeat, brows raised. You lull your head to the side but you don’t know if you do it to get away from him or to grant him access to your neck.

Aaron takes it as the latter and hovers his lips over your skin, the same spot where he had left splotches of pink and purple last time.

“Yes,” he confirms, “a mistake.”

You want to ask why he said it then, want to press him for answers but you can’t when his hot breath sends shivers down your spine and arms. Your legs go weak when he brings a hand around you to wrap at your middle, big hand splayed across your stomach to pull you in even closer, if possible.

“H-Hotch,” you clear your throat. “We can’t. You said so yourself.” You roll your shoulders back in a weak effort to push him away, but all he does is hold you tighter.

“I was wrong,” he mutters, pressing a feather-light kiss to the very side of your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of your perfume again and letting out a pleased hum from the back of his throat. “I was so wrong.”

You gasp when he flings an arm out in front of you, proceeding to knock over the multiple things from his desk. Files, pens, and other trinkets fly off the hard wood and land on the floor with a loud crash. Aaron spins you around before you can process the whole mess, turning you around so that you were facing him.

“Aaron-!” Your mind is a whirlwind as he grabs at your hips and easily sets you down on the edge of the desk. His lips crash onto yours messily and you hum, satisfied.

The kiss quickly becomes sloppy and hungry, muffled whines as you two practically devour one another. Your hands wrap around his neck while his own roam your body, curious hands searching for the zipper of your dress and bunching up the fabric in the process. You mewl when he finally finds it and slowly tugs it down. You break apart from the kiss in order to help him, scrambling from side to side so that it comes off from under you.

Aaron lets out a groan at the sight of you as he tosses the dress to the side. You’re wearing a matching set: a lacy white bra that cups your breasts gorgeously and a lacy white thong paired with it. It takes everything in him to not come undone right then and there.

Holding your gaze, Aaron sinks to his knees, shrugging off his suit jacket as he kneels before you.

“Aaron…”

He immediately shushes you, discarding the jacket somewhere next to your dress on his office floor. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Instead of obeying, you knock your knees together bashfully, the fat of your thighs pressing against each other.

Aaron’s eyes darken at your shy defiance. “I said spread your legs.” His hands come out to grab behind your knees and you gasp again when he spreads them apart forcefully, large hands holding them in place.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he utters, gaze locked on your soaked panties. His palms slide down your legs, eyes flickering back up at you as he begins to kiss at your calves. Each peck to your skin leaves a wet trail from your earlier kiss and you whine in anticipation as he makes his way up before coming face to face with your pussy. His fingers hook themselves inside the thin fabric and you immediately get the message, lifting your hips once more so he could slide them down your legs

Aaron swiftly shoves the wet material into his pockets, wasting no time before diving straight in and burying his head in between your thighs.

His tongue swiping at your folds elicits a loud moan from you, your hands shooting out to grab at his head, “Aaron!” You yell out, fingers tangling in his hair to stabilize yourself from the suddenness.

Aaron grunts from below you, the sound sending vibrations up your body and causing you to arch into his touch. He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of tasting you that night in the hotel room, too preoccupied with the pleasure he had received from you. But–dare he say–this was better than head, better than anything else he had ever gotten, tasted or even done. He wasn’t even a minute into devouring you and he had already decided that this was the best pussy he had ever had in his whole life.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this pussy.” He lapped at your juices, mouth hot on your dripping cunt. His hands continued to grip at your thighs, large palms still keeping you in place from where you were writhing in pleasure.

“A-Aaron,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his face. “Please, I need you. Need you so bad.”

Your head was thrown back in utter bliss, hips stuttering with each nibble at your clit. Your fingers tugged his face closer despite the longing you had to feel him inside you, caging his head to keep him there.

Aaron couldn’t help but bask in the sounds he was pulling from you. It was as if his mouth had a mind of his own and all it could focus on was licking up every single one of your juices, the taste nearly intoxicating. He flickered his eyes up to you, taking in the way your chest heaved and your breasts pushed against the cups of your bra, practically spilling out.

Without removing his tongue from your pussy, he reaches behind you and easily undoes the hooks.

You let the straps fall from your shoulders and aid him in tossing it somewhere in the room along with your dress. Desperately, you reach for Aaron’s hands and place them on your breasts, groaning when he rolls each already hard and sensitive nipple in between your fingers.

Your legs begin to shake and you’re quick to wrap them around Aaron’s head, the heels of your feet digging into his muscular back. “Mm, fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you toss your head back as the coil in your belly threatens to snap.

“Yeah?” He teases, angling his head so that he could spit onto your cunt, all before diving right back in and swirling it together with your arousal. “You gonna cum on my mouth, honey?”

You nod, feverishly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Go ahead, pretty,” Aaron ushers, voice deep and rough from his non stop nibbling and sucking. “Come on my mouth, sweetheart.”

A certain bite on your clit immediately has you seeing stars and the office is soon filled with your cries of ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you violently. Your body shakes and stutters as you ride out the high on his face, leaning backwards until your back was resting against his desk.

Aaron doesn’t relent even as you begin to come down from your high, enhancing the way your legs shook from where they were wrapped around him.

“No, n-no more, Aaron, p-please,” you begged, keeping your back on the desk while weakly attempting to push him away.

“Just one more, honey. You can give me one more, can’t you?”

You don’t get the chance to answer, back arching off the desk as his fingers prodded at your entrance briefly before he shoved two inside. A high-pitched moan emitted from your swollen lips and your hips rutted against his face once more as he scissored the thick digits inside your gummy walls.

“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it,” Aaron’s sultry words only encouraged you further, his face wet with your arousal and the release of your first orgasm. “I’m gonna make it up to you, sweetheart. But first you gotta give me another one.”

His thumb came up alongside his mouth to rub rough circles on your already sensitive, swollen clit and you immediately felt that coil snap once more, mixing in with the first orgasm you hadn’t even properly come down from.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron!” You mumbled dumbly, mouth agape and head hanging back from the desk as you rode out your second high on his face, the heavy wood shaking with every motion.

Aaron’s head was buried even further in between your legs, lips trying to catch every single drop that leaked from your hole, pulling out your fingers and cleaning them with a swirl from his tongue. He delivered a sweet kiss to your folds before standing, his knees cracking in response to being kneeled on the ground for so long.

He leans over, bringing a guiding hand to the back of your neck to get you to sit up, “You good, honey?” Aaron asks, brushing away the stray hands of hair that had stuck to your face. “Still with me?”

You hum, nodding weakly, “Need you, Aaron.”

Aaron chuckles at your fucked-out form, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, “I got you, sweetheart. Bend over the desk for me.”

You stand on wobbly legs and do as he says blindly, the need to have him inside you outshining your nearing overstimulation. You feel yourself salivate as the sound of him undoing his belt is heard from behind you and you look back to watch him pull himself out from his boxers.

He hears you gasp when his cock springs out and hits against his stomach, tip an angry red and leaking with precome. He wraps a hand around himself and groans at how painfully hard he was. He quickly lines himself up with your entrance, slapping his length against your dripping folds before easing himself inside little by little.

You whine from in front of him when he bottoms out, the tip of his dick easily hitting your sweet spot the same way it did before in the hotel. This time, though, it feels even better with how wet you already were, his cock glistening when he pulls out before shoving himself back in roughly.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to set a brutal pace, hands on your hips as he begins to pound into you from behind ruthlessly, a stark contrast from the way he had asked you if you were okay.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You have no idea how crazy you’ve driven me since I first fucked this pretty pussy,” Aaron grunted form behind, fingers digging so hard into your hips he was sure there would be an imprint there. “Had to get myself off in my own office, that’s how crazy you had me going.”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your mouth is wide open, small huffs the only noise you can make while a line of saliva drools from your tongue. It’s only when you feel him wrap your hair in his hand and pull your back flush against his chest that you squeal, the angle pushing his cock further inside you.

“You like that, pretty?” He asks deeply, voice hoarse and gravely as he continues to pound into your pussy, the squelching that comes from beneath scandalous. “Like getting this pussy fucked by me, huh?”

You nod dumbly, too fucked out to properly answer him. A harsh slap against your ass makes you cry out, the sting somewhat snapping you back to reality.

“Answer me,” Aaron commands, tugging at your hair and making your back arch even further against him. “Did I fuck you dumb like last time?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, legs shaking even in your standing position. “I l-love it, Aaron. Feels so g-good.”

He chuckles against your ear, the way you could barely register his questions only making him quicken his pace, “You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Gonna give me one more wrapped around me?”

You nod with as much fervor as possible, “Yes, y-yes, can I, Aaron? Want you to c-cum inside me, please.”

“Yeah? Want me to stuff you full of my cum?” He asks. He doesn’t bother to correct you when you don’t answer, instead snaking his hand to your front and down to your pussy.

The feel of him rubbing circles on your clit is the final push you need before you’re clenching around him, body trembling against him as he continues his assault on your swollen bud.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to spill his own release inside you, giving you a couple more shallow thrusts as he comes down from his own high.

You whine when you feel him pull out, a string of your mixed releases following suit on the tip of his cock.

“So good, baby,” he praises, wrapping a hand around your neck gently and pressing soothing kisses on your cheek. “Did so good for me.”

You lean your head against his shoulder as he reaches for some tissues to clean you up, “So I guess we’re definitely doing this again?”

Aaron laughs, a pink adorning his cheeks, “Yes. Yes, we are. In fact, I’m telling everyone to work from home tomorrow so I can take you on a proper date. I’m not risking going crazy again.”

You suppress a giggle, “You went crazy? Over my pussy?”

He sighs, “If only you knew.”

[wonsiwon]

rebirth | s.jy

synopsis | after years of fighting and growing apart, your relationship with jake is hanging by a thread. you’ve tried to fix things, but it’s always been one step forward, two steps back. what you’d didn’t expect was that having a baby could be the thing that gives you a real chance at starting over.

pairing | boyfriend! jake x fem! reader

content warning | smut (mdni) + reconciliation + angst + fluff if you squint + unprotected sex + swearing + pregnancy mention

the car was dead silent. you sat there, seething, arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring out the window as the city blurred by. the same damn argument again. you could feel the heat of anger still crawling through your veins.

jake sat next to you, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his shit. his eyes stayed glued to the road, mouth set in a hard line. he hadn’t said a word in at least ten minutes, and at this point, you weren’t sure if he was waiting for you to cool down or just hoping you’d both drop it.

you hated how this always went down. he’d come home late, every time the same excuses, the same apologies that felt like nothing more than words he was saying because he thought he had to. you didn’t know how many times you had to tell him that actions spoke louder than apologies, but he never seemed to hear it.

the worst part was how long it had been since the two of you had spent any real time together. you couldn’t even remember the last time you were happy together, without ending up arguing.

you hated this. hated feeling like the last thing he cared about. but you weren’t sure if he even realized how deep this ran for you. instead, you were here, heading to his mom’s, like everything was fine, like you weren’t both completely pissed at each other. the silence was killing you both.

this morning, you both had woken up calm, but as soon as jake told you to get ready to see his mom, everything shifted. you weren’t angry about visiting her, you were angry because he was so casual about it, like nothing had happened. like last night’s argument didn’t exist. like you hadn’t gone to bed fuming and he hadn’t fallen asleep with his back turned to you.

you weren’t against seeing his mom, but the way he said it so nonchalantly, as if everything was fine, made your blood boil. it wasn’t fine. nothing was fine.

jake slowed the car, pulling into the driveway. you could see his mom’s car parked out front, the same way it always was when she was home and could hear the muffled sound of dogs barking from the neighborhood.

the car stopped, but neither of you moved. you both just sat there.

jake finally exhaled, dropping his head back against the seat. “are you still mad?”

you ignored him, twisting in your seat to check the back. your brows furrowed, eyes scanning the floor before you turned back to him. “where’s the bag?”

jake blinked at you, clearly not following. “what bag?”

you shut your eyes for a second, already feeling your blood pressure spike. “the pink plastic bag for your mom, sim jaeyun. i told you to grab it before we left.”

jake frowned, shaking his head. “no, you didn’t.”

your fingers dug into your arms. “yes, i fucking did. it was on the counter. i literally told you right before we walked out the door.”

jake leaned back in his seat, rubbing his forehead. “well, i don’t remember that. if you told me, i would’ve grabbed it.”

you let out a short laugh, but it wasn’t amused at all. “are you serious? you never listen! like ever!”

jake let out a slow, pissed-off breath. “jesus christ, it’s a fucking plastic bag.”

you turned to him so fast he actually blinked. “it’s not about the bag, dumbass! it’s about the fact that you don’t fucking listen to me. ever. i ask you to do one simple thing, and somehow, it’s too much.”

jake scoffed, shaking his head. “oh my god. here we fucking go.” he unbuckled his seatbelt like he was about to get out, but your patience was officially gone and you threw open the car door before so hard it bounced a little.

“forget it.”

jake let out a heavy sigh, trying to keep himself from saying something worse. you didn’t wait for a response, you slammed the door shut and started walking toward the house. the cold air hit you, but it wasn’t enough to cool the anger simmering under your skin.

behind you, you heard his door open and shut, his footsteps following, but you didn’t slow down.

“are we seriously doing this right now?” jake’s voice was low, frustrated, but not loud enough for anyone inside to hear.

you didn’t answer. you just kept walking.

“jesus christ.” he muttered under his breath, picking up his pace until he was right beside you. “you’re really gonna act like this over a fucking bag? it’s like i forgot your birthday or something. it was a plastic bag.”

that made you stop. you turned on him so fast he actually took a step back.

“stop saying it’s about the fucking bag, jake,” you snapped, your voice sharp but still quiet enough to not cause a scene. “it’s about the fact that you don’t listen. you never listen. and then you act like i’m crazy for being mad about it.”

jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, trying to stay patient. “i don’t freaking do it on purpose—”

“but you do it.” you cut in. “over and over.”

for a second, he didn’t say anything. just stood there, looking at you, jaw tight. then, he shook his head and scoffed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “whatever. i don’t have the energy for this right now.”

you let out a humorless laugh. “yeah? neither do i.”

you turned and walked up the steps, ringing the doorbell before he could say anything else. jake stayed behind you, silent now, probably trying to pull himself together before facing his mom.

the door swung open, and like muscle memory, you forced a smile. it wasn’t real, not even close, but at this point, you were on autopilot. just going through the motions, pretending everything was fine when it really fucking wasn’t.

jake’s mom beamed, her usual warm energy filling the doorway. “well, look who finally showed up!” she said, hands on her hips. “i was starting to think you two forgot about me.”

you forced a smile, stepping inside. “of course not.” you said as you hugged her briefly.

jake leaned down, wrapping an arm around his mom’s shoulders. “hey, mama,” he said, his voice noticeably softer than it had been with you all day.

his mom squeezed him, pulling back with a smile. “it’s so good to see you, jake. you’re looking well.”

he exhaled. “traffic was bad.”

she waved a hand like she didn’t care. “as long as you’re here now. come on in, i made plenty of food.”

jake’s mom, bless her heart, had already prepared for this visit. the whole house smelled like her cooking, and there was a soft hum of background music coming from somewhere in the kitchen.

jake’s mom, bless her heart, had already prepared for this visit. the whole house smelled like her cooking, and there was a soft hum of background music coming from somewhere in the kitchen.

jake’s mom set down a plate in front of you before taking a seat across the table. “so, how have you been handling everything at home?” she asked, giving you a knowing look.

you glanced at jake for a split second before forcing a small smile. “it’s been fine. same old, you know.”

she hummed, cutting into her food. “jake tells me he’s been working late a lot.”

you let out a small, dry laugh. “yeah, you could say that.”

jake glanced at you, but you ignored him, taking a sip of your drink instead.

his mom sighed, shaking her head. “that boy works too much. i keep telling him he needs to slow down before he burns himself out.”

you set your glass down. “i’ve tried telling him the same thing, but he doesn’t listen to me either.”

his mom nodded, giving jake a pointed look. “i just don’t want you to overdo it, honey. you’re working all the time, and you’re not getting any younger.”

jake exhaled through his nose, already over this conversation. “i’m fine, mom.”

but she wasn’t done. “you know, speaking of…” she said, tilting her head slightly, “when are you two going to give me a grandbaby?”

jake choked on his drink, coughing into his sleeve. you froze for half a second before blinking.

his mom just grinned. “i mean, i’d love to spoil a little one before i’m too old to chase after them.”

jake dragged a hand down his face. “mom—”

“what?” she said, all innocent. “it’s a fair question.”

jake barely reacted at first, just sat there with his hands on his lap, slouched in his seat. but then, as his mom kept talking, he glanced at you. it wasn’t much, just a quick look, like he was expecting you to roll your eyes or shake your head, the same way you did whenever his mom brought up something ridiculous.

but you didn’t.

you just sat there, eyes fixed on your plate, quiet. and something about the way you looked, not pissed, not annoyed. in your eyes there was something different in them, something softer. a little flicker, a kind of sparkle he couldn’t quite place.

had you thought about it before?

that was a stupid question. obviously, you had. but had you thought about it with him?

he barely heard what his mom was saying anymore, his focus entirely on you. his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh.

you must’ve felt him staring because you finally turned your head, locking eyes with him. for a moment, neither of you spoke.

your brow lifted slightly and jake blinked looking away fast. he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “mom, can we just eat?”

his mom laughed, shaking her head. “alright, alright. i’ll let it go.”

but jake wasn’t sure if he could.

dinner went on, conversation moving to his mom’s garden, some neighbor’s drama, a show she was hooked on. you played along, nodding and laughing where you had to, and so did jake, but his mind was stuck on something else.

that look in your eyes.

jake didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

by the time dinner wrapped up, you were in the kitchen with jake’s mom, drying dishes while jake stayed at the table, glued to his phone. he hadn’t said much all night, just scrolling through his phone.

his mom handed you another plate and looked over at him. “that boy’s always on that damn phone,” she muttered as she worked. “works too much, too. tells me it’s all just part of the job, but…”

you glanced at jake. he wasn’t even looking up, still absorbed in whatever was on his phone. “yeah, i know,” you said, kind of offhand.

jake’s mom let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “he needs to make more time for other stuff, you know? for you. for… whatever else.”

you just shrugged, drying another plate. “i’ve tried,” you said, quietly.

but jake, even though he looked like he wasn’t paying attention, actually was. he was listening to every word. he kept his face blank, not moving, but his attention was all on you two.

his mom paused, watching you for a second before asking, “how are you, though? really?”

you shrugged, trying to sound fine. “i’m good.”

“i didn’t make you uncomfortable with the baby talk, did i?” she added, quieter now, as she dried her hands.

you quickly shook your head. “nah. no, it’s fine.”

but there it was, the tiny shift in your eyes, just for a second. you weren’t exactly telling her everything, but she saw it. she noticed. she wasn’t going to push, but she was curious.

“have you thought about it?” she asked after a pause.

you hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the dish plate. “maybe…” you admitted quietly. “just… not sure if now is the right time.” with things so messed up with jake, of course it wasn’t.

the thought had crossed your mind. how could it not? every time you saw kids playing outside, every time you passed by a baby section in a store, every time a friend shared pictures of their little ones, you wondered. what would it be like? would it change things? would it fix things? but the reality hit you just as fast as the thought came.

let’s be real, jake hadn’t touched you in what felt like forever. it wasn’t just the lack of intimacy; it was everything that came with it. the distance, the exhaustion in his voice when he got home late, the way he barely looked at you some days. there was a time when he couldn’t keep his hands off you, when just passing each other in the kitchen would turn into something more.

now? now, it was like you were just existing in the same space, nothing more.

“i don’t think i would even be a good mother.” you forced a small smile, trying to brush it off.

jake heard it, loud and clear. his fingers stopped mid-scroll, and his shoulders tensed slightly.

his mom set down the dish towel, frowning. “why would you say that?”

you let out a small laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “i don’t know. i just…” you shrugged.

“oh, sweetheart, you’d be a great mother.” her hand approached your shoulder and left a small squeeze.

you swallowed, gripping the dish plate a little tighter. you smiled a little, but it wasn’t real. she didn’t see the whole picture. how lonely it felt sometimes. how every conversation about spending more time with jake turned into an argument and never went anywhere.

they just ran in circles until you both got too tired to keep going.

jake didn’t say it enough. heck, he barely said it at all anymore, but he thought about you all the time. how you held things together. the way you handled everything working, running the house, dealing with him, even when you probably shouldn’t have to.

and hearing you say that you didn’t think you’d be a good mom? it hit him hard. he wasn’t sure if you knew, but to him, you were everything. if anyone could do it, could be a great mom, it was you. you could handle it. you could handle anything.

but had he ever told you that? had he ever shown you? all the stuff you did, all the sacrifices, and how much he appreciated it?

no, he hadn’t. he realized that now. he hadn’t been there like he should’ve been. the late nights, the ignoring, all the times you tried to reach out and he pulled away. how could you believe him if he’d never shown it? how could you believe anything he said if he didn’t back it up with actions?

the drive home was dead quiet, like always. you weren’t even looking at him, just staring out the window, arms crossed, fingers tapping against your sleeve, like you couldn’t wait to be anywhere but here.

jake kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly. he wanted to say something, maybe break the silence, but he didn’t even know where to start.

when he pulled into the driveway, you didn’t wait. you unbuckled your seatbelt, got out, and shut the door a little harder than necessary. jake stayed in the car for a second, watching you walk up to the house, before sighing and following.

inside, the only light on was the dim glow from the kitchen. the house felt cold, lifeless, probably because it had been for a while now. you kicked off your shoes, didn’t even glance at him, and headed straight for the bedroom. jake exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before locking the door behind him.

he wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fights or the distance. but either way, it felt like losing.

jake followed you into the room, standing in the doorway as you began to take off your coat, dropping it onto the chair. his gaze followed you for a moment, the silence between you both heavy, almost suffocating. he didn’t want to press, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was low, almost like he was asking himself as much as he was asking you.

you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him, brows furrowing slightly. “about what?” you asked, genuinely confused.

jake pushed off the doorframe, stepping into the room a little more, his gaze not leaving you. “about the kids?”

you sighed, shaking your head as you pulled off your earrings, setting them down on the dresser. “it was just a dumb thought” you muttered, not even looking at him.

jake watched you for a second, his jaw tightening. “didn’t sound dumb to me.”

you let out a small, humorless laugh, finally turning to face him. “yeah? well, it is.” your arms crossed over your chest. “not like it matters anyway.”

his brows furrowed slightly. “why wouldn’t it matter?”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “jake, come on. look at us.” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “we can barely have a conversation without it turning into an argument. you barely even look at me.” your voice was calm, but there was something tired underneath it.

jake stared at you, his fingers twitching at his sides. he wanted to say something, argue, deny it, tell you it wasn’t dumb. he wanted to tell you that he saw you all the time. that even when he came home exhausted, even when he was distracted, even when things were tense between you, he still saw you. he noticed the way you hummed under your breath when you cooked, the way you pulled your sleeves over your hands when you were tired, the way you always waited up for him even when you pretended you weren’t.

but what did any of that matter if he never said it? if he never showed it?

then, you sighed, rubbing at your temple. “jake, i don’t wanna do this right now.”

you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed, facing the wall. you could hear the faint sounds of jake moving around in the other room, pacing once or twice before finally settling down somewhere.

minutes passed.

then an hour.

and still, you couldn’t sleep.

“how would you name them?”

you blinked, staring at the ceiling. for a second, you thought you imagined it. jake’s voice was quiet, coming from your side. you hadn’t even heard him lay next to you.

you turned slightly, just enough to glance at him. his head was already turned looking at you, his expression unreadable.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

he exhaled through his nose, shifting his stance. “if we had kids.” he paused before speaking again. “how would you name them?”

your fingers curled slightly into the blanket. you weren’t sure if he was asking just to ask or if this actually meant something to him.

you swallowed, then looked away. “i don’t know.” jake didn’t push, but he didn’t drop the conversation either. neither did you. “…maybe something classic. nothing too complicated.”

jake nodded slightly, like he was thinking about it. “like what?”

you hesitated, then shrugged. “i always liked names like—” you stopped, suddenly self-conscious.

jake tilted his head slightly. “like what?”

“i don’t know. maybe something that lookalike our names or—” you hesitated again, then shook your head. “it’s stupid.”

jake shook his head once. “hey it’s not stupid.” he was watching you, with something different in his eyes now. something quieter, something softer.

you glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “yeah.”

a beat of silence.

“what about a girl?”

you exhaled, staring up at the ceiling. “why are you asking me this?”

“i don’t know,” he admitted. “i just… want to know.”

the room felt heavier now, but not in the way it usually did after a fight. this wasn’t resentment or frustration hanging in the air, it was something else. something uncertain.

you shifted on the bed, pulling your knees up slightly, resting your arms over them. “it doesn’t matter. it’s not like we—” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “never mind.”

jake didn’t let it go. “not like we what?”

you sighed, looking down at your hands. “not like we’re in the place to even think about that.”

“why not?”

you could feel the weight of his stare, the way he was waiting, pressing for an answer. you swallowed hard. “jake,” you started, your voice almost flat, like you were forcing yourself to say it. “we don’t even kiss anymore.”

“can i kiss you right now then?”

your stomach dropped. you weren’t expecting that, not so direct, not so steady. his voice was low, but there was no hesitation in it. he wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playing around. he was serious.

you blinked at him, feeling suddenly too aware of how close he was. you could see the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee, the way his breathing was just a little heavier than before.

“i’m just going to bed, jake,” you said quickly, your voice tight. you turned away, trying to put space between you, but before you could lie down, his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“come here,” he muttered, pulling you back toward him.

you let out a quiet, startled breath as you shifted, and suddenly, he was closer, closer than he had been in a long time. his grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm, keeping you right in front of him. his face was inches from yours now, his eyes locked onto yours, watching your every move.

your breath hitched. his hand was still around your wrist, his fingers warm against your skin. you could feel how steady he was, how he wasn’t rushing, just holding you there, watching you.

“jake…” you started, but your voice was barely above a whisper. you didn’t even know what you were trying to say.

he didn’t say anything. he just let go of your wrist, his hand trailing down slowly, his fingers barely grazing against your palm before resting on your thigh. his touch was warm, grounding, but not hesitant. he was waiting.

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. his face was so close now, his breath mixing with yours, warm and slow. you could see everything, the way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes flickered down to your mouth for just a second before coming back up.

a shaky exhale slipped past your lips. you weren’t even sure if you meant to do it, but it filled the silence, made it feel more real.

then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he asked again, “can i kiss you?”

you inhaled sharply, but before you could answer, he moved. his hand slid up your thigh, slow enough that it sent a shiver through you, stopping at your waist as he pulled you even closer. you barely had time to react before his lips brushed against yours, just barely, not even a full kiss yet, just a ghost of a touch.

you made a soft sound, something caught between a sigh and a whimper, and that was all it took. jake’s fingers tightened at your waist, and then he kissed you for real, pressing his mouth against yours, warm and firm and just a little desperate.

you gasped softly against him, your fingers twitching before reaching for him, gripping onto his shirt. his lips moved against yours, slow at first, savoring, but there was tension beneath it, something deeper, something that had been left untouched for too long.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

you could hear the way your breaths mixed together, how your heart was pounding so loudly it almost drowned out the quiet creak of the mattress as he shifted pinning you down.

when he pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at you, his lips were parted, his breathing uneven. his forehead nearly touched yours, and he swallowed,

he looked at you like he was memorizing you, like he was seeing something he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch.

“you’d be a good mom..” he said suddenly.

your breath hitched and you stared at him. you weren’t expecting that.

his thumb brushed over your cheek slowly. “i thought about it,” he admitted, sliding up to your jaw, tilting your face slightly. his touch was so gentle it almost hurt. “i think about it more than i should.”

your chest ached. he was looking at you like he was seeing it, like he could picture it so clearly, it hurt.

“i don’t know if i would’ve been a good dad,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “but you? baby, you would’ve been everything.”

your breath caught. it was the first time he’d called you that in a long time. “jake…”

“you take care of people even when they don’t deserve it. even when i don’t deserve it.” he let out a small, breathless chuckle. “i fucked up so bad, didn’t i?” his lips pressed together before he looked at you again.

jake swallowed. his thumb traced a slow, barely-there circle against your skin. you closed your eyes, inhaling shakily.

“can i hold you?” his voice was quiet, careful. “just… for a second?”

you hesitated. but then you nodded.

and jake didn’t waste a second.

he pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough. his hand cradled the back of your head, his breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily. “i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your hair. “i’m so fucking sorry.”

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself sink into him.

jake pulled back slightly, his gaze intense, searching yours. “you think having a baby right now’s gonna make this all go away?” his thumb brushed along your jawline gently. “maybe it won’t fix everything, but it’d damn well give us something real to work toward, something we could both look at and know we’re doing this for something better.”

“we can’t avoid the fact that we need something, baby. we can’t just keep pretending everything’s fine. this…” he let out a breath, his hand dropping to your waist, pulling you closer. “this thing between us, what we’ve been doing. it’s broken, and i know it. but you, baby… i know we can fix this. i want to fix this. and i want you with me while we do it.”

his words hung in the air, the quiet pressure in his tone making it clear that he wasn’t asking. he wasn’t waiting for you to decide for him, either. it was like he already had his mind made up, like this was the path he was going to push for, whether you were ready or not.

“i need you to be on the same page as me, sweetheart,” jake said, his voice dropping lower. “i need you to trust me, like i trust you. no more running, no more acting like we don’t both feel this.” his hands moved down, pulling you even closer, his chest against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

jake’s body shifted against yours, and you felt something hard press against your thigh. the suddenness of it made your heart race, and the space between you seemed to close even more. his breathing was heavier now, his eyes locked onto yours, waiting for any reaction.

jake’s body was shaking, his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. he was right on the edge, every part of him trembling as he held you close.

“fuck..” he groaned, his voice wavering. his breath was hot against your ear, desperate and whiny. “i need this… need you to—shit, baby, don’t stop… please.”

the bed creaked with every movement, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room. jake’s breath was ragged, quick gasps escaping his lips as his body pressed against yours, sweaty and trembling.

his hands slid over your skin, the sweat making everything feel slick. “god, you feel so good..” he whimpered, his voice cracking with the effort to stay in control. “i’m close… so fucking close.”

he kissed you deeply, his lips trembling against yours, and he groaned at the sight of you, perfect, needy, ready to break.

“you’re gonna have my baby..” he whispered, as he buried his face in your neck “i’ll give you everything. just let go, baby. come for me, and i’ll fill you up… i need you to… please.”

the bed creaked once more, the sound louder as he thrust deeper. jake’s voice was trembling as he fought to hold himself back. the sound of his voice, so weak, so strained, made you shiver.

“hey, hey… look at me.” he murmured, gripping your chin to make you look at him. “mine. you know that, right?”

you nodded weakly, barely able to form words as he kept squeezing his dick deep inside of you. you hair was a mess and you could barely snort the strands that were getting in your face

“what do you want?” jake asked, hi grip on you tightened as he thrust deeper, his breath ragged against your ear.

you tried to answer, but the way he pushed deeper stole your words, leaving only a shaky gasp.

“a girl?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “i bet she’d look just—” another thrust, harder this time ”—like you.”

you could only moaned in response, fingers tangling in his hair as he moved against you, completely lost in the moment.

“you want to get married?” he looked down at you. you nodded quickly, the sensation overwhelming as he hit just the right spot. “yeah?” he urged, wanting to hear you say it.

“fuck yes” you breathed, your response coming out desperate and filled with need, lips parting as another moan slipped free.

his teeth scraped against you jaw before he kissed you hard, swallowing every sound you made. his breath hitched as he pulled you closer, his hands shaking slightly with urgency.

“come on, baby… let me feel you.” jake murmured, his voice trembling with a mix of need and desperation. “i need you..” he rasped, his voice almost breaking. “need you to come for me. please, baby… i need to feel you.”

your breath came in shallow gasps, and your body shuddering with the pleasure he was giving you. “jake…” you moaned, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to him.

“fuck—baby—” His voice cracked, his grip on your hips tightening like he was afraid to let go. “I c-can’t—shit, I’m gonna—”

he was so deep, his body stiffening against yours as he let out the neediest whine, his forehead pressing against yours. his skin was burning, damp with sweat, muscles twitching from how hard he was holding back.

the bed rocked with every movement, the headboard knocking against the wall as jake’s body tensed, his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. his hands were shaking, his fingers digging into your skin.

“you f-feel so—shit—so tight, baby, i’m—” he choked on his words, his whole body trembling as he buried himself as deep as he could, letting out a broken whimper.

the second he spilled inside you, he groaned, his body collapsing against yours, completely spent. his breath was hot against your neck, his arms still wrapped tightly around you like he never wanted to let go.

jake was still panting, his chest rising and falling against yours, his body completely hot, damp with sweat.

“shit…” he let out a shaky breath, still buried inside you, his body jerking slightly every time he shifted. he was sensitive, too sensitive, but he wouldn’t pull away. “you feel so good…” he murmured, voice weak, breathless. “so fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

the bed still creaked beneath you, both of your bodies slick with sweat, sticking to the sheets. jake groaned when you shifted even a little, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “d-don’t move..” he whined, voice barely holding together. “i’m too..fuck—too sensitive.”

his head fell against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucked in a deep breath. “you okay?” he mumbled, fingers tracing circles on your hip, still twitching from how hard he came.

when you nodded, his grip loosened just a little, but he still wouldn’t pull away. “i don’t wanna move..” he admitted, voice muffled against your skin. “wanna stay like this… keep you full.”

you traced your fingers along his back, feeling the way his muscles twitched under your touch. “you really meant it?” you whispered. “about the baby?”

jake lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes half-lidded, still dazed. “of course, i meant it.” he murmured. “i want it so bad, baby. wanna see you all round with my kid.” his voice cracked slightly, his hands sliding up your sides, as if he was trying to memorize the way you felt right now. “you’ll be so fucking pretty… carrying my baby.”

your breath hitched, your legs instinctively tightening around him. “jake…”

his lips ghosted over yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “say you want it too..” he pleaded. “tell me you’ll give me a baby.”

you swallowed, heart racing. “i want it..” you admitted softly. “i want everything with you.”

jake let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling where they held you. “fuck..” he whined, pressing his forehead against yours. “i love you so much. i swear, baby, i’ll take care of you.”

you smiled slightly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “you better.”

he chuckled breathlessly, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, desperate kiss. “i will…” he promised. “forever.”

[luvyeni]

XO ( IF ONLY YOU SAY YES ) 𝕼. ( 심재윤 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 심재윤 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. pinning, down bad jake, needy reader, oral ( f ), unprotected sex word count. 2k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synonyms. jake waits for you by your door each night hoping you give him a chance , all you need to do it say yes …

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ i got inspired by a clip of jake from the behind the scenes of the xo music video.

as you walk down the dingy dim hallway of your apartment building to your door ; you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the boy standing in front of your door. “jake what have i told you about standing in front of my damn door?”

he smiled ; that damn smile that you hated , but secretly loved so much. “that you love it and i should do it everyday?” he smirked , you rolled your eyes. “that it’s annoying as fuck and makes you look like a stalker.” he put his hands up to his chest , like he was hurt. “you hurt me princess.” you glared at him. “stop calling me that , you know i hate it.” you could’ve put your pin in and walked into your apartment , but deep down you think you liked the attention. “jake go into your apartment.”

he pouted. “but i want to talk to you.” you scoffed. “i bet you said the exact same thing to the girl you brought over last night , where you then proceeded to put through your mattress?” his face turned red , he scratched the back of his neck, you laughed finally opening the door. “you forgot i can hear you , your bedroom is right next to mine.” you said , now standing half in the hall , half in your apartment. “what if i wanted you to hear? give you a preview of what could be you if you’d stop playing these cat and mouse games.” now smirking. “like i’d ever get inside your bed , don’t know what kind of fluids are on those sheets.”

“i don’t mind coming over to yours.” he was now standing in front of the door. “go home jake.” you said. “it’s late and i have to work , i don’t have time to deal with you.” you said closing the door. “good night yn!” he screamed through the door , you laughed , rubbing your temples.

the next night it was the same thing; walking to your door, the boy waiting for you. “hello the love of my life.” he smiled. “you look tired.” he said, noticing the sinking look in your eyes. “it was a long day today.” you unlocked your door. “you should let me come over and help ease your stress.” he said , you sighed. “jake.” you stared at him , breaking out into a smile , because you just couldn’t help it. “see i got you to smile.” you shook your head. “jake , go home.” you said walking into your apartment. “this isn’t over!” you shook your head , the boy was crazy , but he was cute.

even when he couldn’t be there he still made a way to bother you; coming home one day to a posted note taped to your door in his words. ‘had to work and couldn't be there to see you today, my love. take a nice bath and think of me while you’re in there’ you scoff , taking the letter into your apartment , sitting it on the table.

jake came home after a late night of work; dragging his bag behind him ready to unlock his door when he got distracted by a bright pink note. he picked it up to read it , smiling ear to ear when he realized who it was from. ‘in your dreams sim jaeyun.’ he looked back at your door , smiling as he made his way back into his apartment.

“you’re in a flirtationship with your neighbor.” your friend said over the video call. “girl what the hell is that?” you laughed , you had randomly explained it to her while you both painted your nails. “it’s so obvious you both want to fuck each other , but one of you , aka you is being a pussy.” she said , you scoffed. “you sound just like him.” you said , she shrugged. “he’s a smart man , is he cute?” you thought for a second. “extremely.” you said. “like one of the most attractive men i’ve ever seen.”

“so clearly you’re attracted to him , what’s holding you back?” she said. “i literally hear him fucking different girls almost every night.” you said. “what do they sound like?” you looked at your friend like she was crazy , that’s because she was. “do they sound like they’re enjoying it.” you thought about it for a second , they did genuinely sound like they were enjoying it , you could often hear their screams of pleasure as you covered your ears. “you know what , i can’t lie they do , he seems to be very good at what he does.”

“see now that should make you want to jump him even more.” she said. “you clearly won’t be disappointed if what you hear from your side of the wall is true and he is some sort of sex god.” she said. “think about it , when’s the last time you’ve gotten a really good fuck?” she said. “yeah it’s been a while.” you scoffed. “you didn’t have to say it like that.” she laughed , throwing her hands up. “maybe your neighborhood will be the one who takes you out of this obvious dry spell you're in.”

you thought about what your friend said all night ; and the entire day at work, and she was kind of right. besides , who were you to judge if jake had different girls spend the night? if you were as good looking as him , you definitely would have your fair share of ladies in your apartment. he was a single man , in his 20s. did you want to hook up with jake? you sighed at your desk. you did want to hook up with jake.

after your long day at work; you leaned against the elevator as you rode up to your floor; the door opened , revealing the boy who was on your mind the entire day. “jake.” he smiled. “you must’ve been thinking of me , because here i am , at your service.” he said , letting you step off the elevator. “are you not getting on?” he shook his head. “told i was waiting for you.” you turned to him. “okay fine , i was on my way out , but you’re here now.”

“i know how to get to my door , you don’t have to walk me.” you said , still smiling at the sweet gesture. “but i want to my love.” he responded softly , you both stopped at your door , a note waiting for you. “told you i was on my way out , couldn’t forget to grace you with my presence even if im not here.” he said , smiling as you picked up the letter , reading it — the blood draining from your face as you re-read the words. ‘i can fix that dry spell you’re under’

“how the fuck— you think i can’t hear you; you’re friend is pretty loud when she talks.” he smirked , his arms folded. “my friend is nuts.” you try to say. “is she? or are you just trying to say that so you can deny that what she said is true.” you gulp. “wh-what do you want jake?” you stutter out , trying to get your key to go into the hole , but your hands were too shaky. “i think.” he said , standing behind you , pressing against you , grabbing your hand to keep your hand steady , helping you put the key in the hole. “you already know what i want.” he said, leaning against the wall again. “and now i know you want it too.”

you were at your limit and your hot neighbor was just standing there, basically waiting for you to give him to go , you opened your door , once again half way in and halfway out. “just say yes , so i can finally kiss you.” he said. “ye-yes.” he wasted no time , pulling the door all the way open , grabbing the sides of your face , pulling you into a heated kiss.

he didn’t break the kiss , just guiding you back into your apartment , closing the door behind him; finally pulling away , his forehead pressed against yours. “your room.” he whispered breathlessly; you grabbed his hand , guiding him to your room , he bit down on his lip watching you from behind , he dreamt of this day countless times. “let’s get you out of these clothes.” he said , pushing the door open. “jake.” you whined as he bent down , unbuckled your pencil skirt , pushing it down your legs ; thank the lord you decided on the wear your good underwear to work. “so fucking sexy.” he kissed your thighs. “want these wrapped around my head , now.”

he pushed you down on the edge of the bed; grabbing the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs , pushing your legs apart. you moaned as the air hit your cunt. he cursed under his breath upon seeing how wet your were. “look at that.” he kiss in between your thighs. “poor neglected pussy.” he was dangerously close to your core. “so pretty.” he kissed your folds. “so sweet.” he licked your folds , you moaned , your legs definitely wrapping around his head , nose brushing against your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

jake on the other hand was in heaven; the taste of your sweet cunt on his tongue, he’d often wondered what it would be like to finally taste you. “jake i’m gonna cum.” your hands tangled up in his hair , yanking it. “fuck i’m cumming!” you screamed out as you came , he kept going , until you were pushing his head away. “m’sorry.” he said , finally coming up for air. “got carried away , your pussy is just too sweet.” he smirked , his lips glistening. “i need you to fuck me.” you said , pulling him up. “please.”

how could he say no? stripping himself of his clothing , you took off your shirt , leaving you in your bra , which he took upon himself to reach behind , undoing your bra with one hand. “you-you’re awfully good at that.” you said. “like you’ve done it a hundred times already.” he pushed you back against the bed. “you talk too much.” he said , pinning you down to the bed , pushing your legs apart. “but i get it now.” he said , using his other hand to guide his fully erect cock to your hole. “it’s just because you need to be fucked probably.”

before you could even come back with a snarky rebuttal , he slid right inside of you. “ugh fuck!” he cursed , your mouth dropping open as his cock stretched you open. “ja-jake.” you whined as you felt him fully seethed himself inside of you. “please go faster.” he began to pick up the pace. “faster? deeper?” he said , his cock kissing your cervix over and over. “finally get to feel you wrapped around me.” he groaned. “fuck you’re so tight.” he grunted. “so fucking wet , it’s like you needed this more than i did.” he began to move at a inhumane pace. “jake !” you repeatedly shouted ; you’d be worried about your neighbor if he wasn’t the one plowing into you right now. “fuck jake i’m gonna cum!”

he gave you a few deep thrusts; using his thumb to rub your swollen clit. “cum for me.” he felt his own orgasm approaching. “fucking cum for me.” he let out a deep moan feeling your cunt fluttering around him as you came hard around him. “oh shit.” he pulled out just in time, cumming all on your spent pussy. “fuck.” he said coming down from his own high. “definitely worth waiting outside your door everyday.”

“does this mean you’ll stop hanging outside my door each and every night?” you asked the boy who was laying inside your bed. “like a stalker.” he rolled his eyes. “of course.” he said , you were shocked , he sounded serious. “really.” he nodded. “yeah , there’s no need to.”

“now that i know all i have to do is knock and you’ll let me in”

©️LUVYENI

[nativegirltapes]

. . . somedays angel wants nothing but her big beefy older boyfriend to fuck her ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

warnings: literally just smut, kind of soft dom drew ?, them being sweet at the end <3

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎀 ᡣ𐭩

“nothing, guess i’m just really horny tonight.” you mumbled while on all fours on drew’s bed, wearing nothing but the pink and white lacy lingerie you picked out just hours before. you weren’t sure what had gotten into you but you were soo down bad today; you’d been prancing around drew’s house all day just waiting …. and waiting for him to get home so you could surprise him in your new lingerie set on his bed.

“oh yeah,” drew rubbed your bare ass. the wait making you even hornier and wetter. you felt bad, you knew drew liked to take his time with you, but god you just felt so impatient today. “i know you’re trying to be nice and stuff, but can you just fuck me?” you turned your head to look back at drew. your big soft eyes staring at him, so innocent and perfect, but what you just said proving you were far from innocent.

“damn baby. eager huh?” drew took no time obeying your request, the sound of him unbuckling his belt filling the room. he rubbed your ass some more, giving it a few squeezes, you couldn’t help but moan in response. “i need you drew,”

drew’s fingers rubbed your entrance a few times before aligning himself with your pussy. “yeah? my needy little baby.” drew thrusted himself into you without any warning, small profanities spilled from your mouth. “faster!” you yelled, although you weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it. drew was big, it took you months before you were able to fully take it, and even now you still struggled some days. “you sure?” drew asked. “yes!”

drew picked up his pace, all you could do is mewl and let out an occasional “fuuuck,”. your ass jiggled against his pelvic area, the sight alone had drew going crazy. “soooo tight,” drew groaned, placing his hands on your hips to pull you even deeper onto his cock. “look at this ass. so perfect.” drew knew you loved when he complimented you, it got you going in a way that nothing else could.

“m’gonna come drew!” you shouted. times like this made you glad drew had his own place with no roomates, dorm sex was fun and sneaky, but you loved being able to yell drew��s name. “come all over this cock baby. it’s all yours.” drew replied, slowing down his strokes, the knot in both your stomachs coming undone at the same time.

“you’re so perfect.” drew pulled out, to which you groaned and plopped down on your back, a huge sigh leaving your lips. “you’re so good to me.” you pulled drew down on top of you, the feeling of being skin to skin with him always brought you a different kind of comfort. “well, you deserve it.”

[miniimight]

I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!

hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3

PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)

sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.

his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."

"you got there okay?" you asked.

"mhm."

"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."

"mhm."

"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this time—"

"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."

he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.

your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."

"..." he looked down at his bike.

"ryo, baby?" you hummed.

"hm?"

"you did take the car, right?"

"..."

his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!

"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.

"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thing—"

"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."

"..."

the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.

"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,

"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."

he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(

"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"

"yes... unfortunately."

he nodded. "we'll be home soon."

"in one piece?"

he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."

"hm." you huffed and hung up.

he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.

she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"

"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"

"for mama."

"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.

she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.

"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.

sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?

he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."

she turned up her nose. "stinky."

his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"

she looked at him as if it were obvious.

"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.

the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.

she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.

"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.

that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.

you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.

"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.

"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.

sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."

you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.

he sighed.

after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[baambied]

୨୧ 𝖳𝖶𝖮'𝖲 𝖡𝖤𝖳𝖳𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖮𝖭𝖤

cw. nsfw threesome cursing. strap(reader!rec) clit play abby cums untouched masterbation(abby) abby's lowk a perv reader described to have kinky curly hair

m.list

dom!ellie × sub!reader × inexperienced!abby

ellie wasn't a stupid girl, very smart, very observant, especially when it came to things she liked..so how could she not notice how her best friend abby acted around her beloved girlfriend anytime she'd bring her over their apartment, the stuttering, the red rosy cheeks on abbys freckled face...of course ellie noticed...anyone with a brain would.

but it did confuse ellie, last time she checked, abby was straight..she was literally in a two year relationship with some guy named owen (who was an absolute dick and abby broke up with months ago but still), and it seemed like abby liked him...atleast from ellie point of view...and abby never seemed to have any attraction towards any women.

now what ellie wasn't aware of is how abby was only with owen just so she could get rid of those stupid butterflies that appeared in her stomach when she was around a pretty girl...what ellie didn't know is that anytime ellie would come to the gym with her on their days off abby's eyes couldn't leave ellie form sometimes resulting is abby's underwear getting a little to sticky though she'd never admit that to anyone.

little did ellie know owen couldn't get abby off for shit..she'd have to watch some type of lesbian porn after owen left the apartment just to feel relieved and to stop yearning sensation between her thighs.

and what ellie didn't know is that...abby REALLY wanted to fuck her girlfriend...you..

she remembers the first time she saw- well heard you with ellie at their apartment...not a moment she particularly proud of...

abby walked through the door stumbling over pairs of shoes that weren't hers as she had just got back from work, a scowl on her face as she muttered curses at her ungrateful coworkers..it wasn't a good day all she wanted to do was get her sweaty clothes off and take a warm shower than sleep her ass off.

she stopped for a moment, putting her bag down, her eyes examining the shoes on the entrance floor... Mary Jane's? when the fuck did ellie wear Mary Jane's???

she walked deeper into the apartment, frown evident on her tired face did ellie have someone over?? this thought slightly annoyed abby...ellie could have gave her a heads up.

as abby turned the corner going into the hall where her and ellie's bedroms sat, that's when she heard it.

gasping? no

loud...breathing? yes but no

this lead to abby standing in front of ellie's door, her eyes wide, cheeks a bright red and mouth slightly agaped as her ears took in the live sound of basically porn behind it, she has only heard a girl moan through her phone..not in real life..

she leaned closer, wanting to get a better listen

and oh boy, did she think whoever was moaning- having the time of their life behind this door sounded so fucking pretty...

next thing she knew, she was laying on her bed, faced down on the side of it, hips frantically moving against the corner on the bed as if she was a dog in heat, her teeth gritting as she tried her best to be quiet, low whines escaping once in awhile when she got to sensitive.. hands fisting up her white sheets eagerly..drool on the side of her cheek as her hips buckled faster, the frabic of her underwear along with the bed sheets rubbing against her wet, sticky pulsing pussy kept on by punishment,she could feel herself clenching around nothing as she went faster...she knew what she was doing was weird....probably even perverted...i mean who the fucks gets off to their best friend fucking some girl?

well, abby did - does...

this week long never ending cycle continued, abby coming home from work, stressed out...pent up...and to hear the beautiful breathy noises that escaped ellie's room seemed to make it worse for her but somehow some fucking way she'd always ended up in her bed with a hand down her pants.

she had meant you face to face one day which had only fueled her hunger for you more.

abby was sitting on the couch, leaning in it lazingly while typing in a laptop with a small frown on her face, all this work for one fucking project? not only was her job kicking her ass but her college work was too, and suddenly she heard pattering of bare feet coming from the hallway..the scowl on her face deepend at the thought of ellie coming in the living room to bother her with nonsense.

"ellie, if you're gonna show me another one of those weird colorful worms you drew that you claim looks like jesse, I'm really not in the mood for it" abby's almost annoyed but tired voice called out, slightly rolling her eyes in the process.

"uh..no..just left my waterbottle.."

abby face frowned deeper at the unfamiliar voice, she snapped her head around and looked to the hallway..her eyes widened and mouth slowly open.

when did ellie have a girl over- were you here the entire time?!?

what the fuck?

abby's eyes looked around your figure, your hair nicely styled as if it hadn't been touched since you did it, you wore what it looked like one of ellie's oversized- wait ...no...abby's hoodie that ellie basically stole from her on...you...abby's cheeks flushed at that little detail and her eyes finally land at your legs...bare...the hoodie was big enough to fit you like a dress..

"uhhhhhhhh ah uhhh" abby's awkwardly- stupidly voice came out in response

you gave her a sweet smile and walked over to the couch she was sitting at, abby's eyes widened face pink as she looked at you... her back, suddenly straightening and her mouth open, ready to stutter out a question, but all you reach at is the counter next to the couch , grabbing a light pink water bottle.

"sorry uhh abby is it? ellie told me about you...." you state all smiley as you held your pink water bottle, fingers moving over the metal as you observed abby who looked like the most awkward person ever "well...uh goodnight.." you finished yourself sounding a little awkward as abby hadn't said anything in response, who stepped away and swiftly turned around to the hallway, making your way to ellie's room once more.

abby could hear the door close, followed by the sound of ellie's faint voice asking, "Why'd you take s' long'

abby gulped hardly as her eyes stared glued at the spot you once stood, you were so.....cute...not only did abby find your moans absolutely beautiful to the point she could get off on them alone...she found you beautiful...and wanted nothing more than to get you off.

and now here abby stands once again...infront of ellie's closed door, inside her mouth gently biting off her cheek flesh.. face flushed and painted a dusty pink as her ears ate up the lude sounds that came from behind the door.

all she wanted to do was ask ellie if she was hungry - it was finally friday and abby had planned to order chinese and in her mind she recalls ellie munching on a bag of lays chips eailer complaining about no more chicken in the freezer to make for dinner eailer in the day..now it was about 9pm.

abby felt waves of different emotions taking over her body, embarrassment, nervousness....even slightly excited...but also guilt since she left the food place worker on her phone in the living room- wasn't her fault she planned to quickly ask ellie what she wanted and get back to them to order it...but now abby stood still ..almost frozen...

a shaky breath left her throat as her muscular arm raised up before fastly knocking on the door

"h-hey...ellie do you want....chinese...food" abby's voice increasingly getting lower with each word that escaped her throat...the sounds didn't stop if anything they got louder..for a second abby wondered if the phone operator could also hear from the living room table..abby gulped slowly...she could feel her knees buckling as she raised her voice again "ellie the chinese food is- i meant do you want - fuck!"

now abby was just annoyed, not because of how pent up she was beginning to feel from the sounds escaping from behind the door but also because she was fucking hungry, and she was being kind enough to pay for ellie's meal- who couldn't stop for a second to open the door.

really, how horny could she be? (as if she's one to judge)

without thinking abby's rough hand gripped the door knob and she threw it open, the sounds becoming more clear to her ears in an instant

"ellie! i- ..." abby's words were quickly stopped once she caught the sight infront of her she tried to look away but...god...

ellie and you hadn't seemed to notice abby's figure by the now opened door...you two were pre-occupied...there on ellie's bed with twisted up savage starlight blankets laid you, your face buried head first in a pillow as you hips was perched up in the air, abby could notice the sweat on your skin and your slightly shaky body...behind you ellie's hips snapping rapidly and roughly, her tattooed hand slithered between your thighs.

abby's nostrils now filled with the smell of sex and sweat..she felt like her throat would close up at any moment from the sight infront of her..her knees buckling the tingling feeling in her stomach now landing between her thighs.

abby - to caught up in her own thoughts didn't realize ellie's mouth moving..seemingly saying something to you, her own ears blocking out any sound from the room.

"abby...abby - please- abby!"

slowly as if abby's consciousness came back she heard her name...not someone calling out to her......but someone..saying her name continously almost to themselves..like a prayer...and it just so happen...to be the beautiful moans abby was obsessed with.

wide eyes and blazing cheeks, abby felt like she needed to pass out, lightheaded

why were you moaning her name?

ellie's green eyes stared at abby's figure intently her hip movements slowing down, she observed abby's shocked face with a small smirk on her face..slightly out of breath ellie leaned down to you...fingers brushing your hair out the way to catch your ear.

"look at her, you got her all shy huh?" ellie whispered into your ear but loud enough for abby to hear..you let out a soft moan as your face leaned deeper into ellie's blankets.

your body suddenly flinching as you let out a yelp when you felt ellie's palm roughly meet your ass "turn your fucking head and look at her" ellie roughly states..her words coming out as a demand you couldn't ignore..slowly you turned your head..and abby's eyes meant your face...your worn out face

god you looked a mess

a beautiful mess

your pretty kinky curls all in your face, spit coating your mouth and cheek,pretty pink swollen lips.. rough breathes, escaping your throat as your teary eyes meant her's.

abby's knees buckled at the sight of your face, the pulsating between her legs growing stronger...hunger for food disappearing and replaced with a hunger for something else.

"fucking slut ..right?" ellie's voice snaps abby's gaze towards her...abby taking in ellie's naked figure, her chest her muscular arms on your waist...toned stomach...waist...holy shit..

"huh-" abby choked out

"she has her girlfriend's cock inside her, yet she's moaning out someone else's name.." you moan out loudly at ellie's words, your own hips moving earning another slap on your ass "don't fucking move"

ellie's eyes goes to abby once more who still stared at her...well..stared at her lower region instead.

"just gonna stand there abs..? i know how much you spent your time with your hands down your pants thinking about fucking my own girlfriend" abby's eyes went wide as i sudden panic waved into her, her stuttering words coming out in "i-i dont- i" she knew ellie was right..so embarrassingly right...

"sit on the bed, abby." ellie interrupted the stuttering girl, abby could tell ellie's sentence was a demand..which caused her to breathe deeply, slowly stepping near the bed, hands sweaty and shaky at her sides.

abby didn't know how or why this happened, but what she certainly knew was that the food operator was definitely not on her phone anymore.

abby sat at the edge of the bed, she could feel her hips softly moving in an attempt to gain some sort of friction, and she could feel how shaky her legs had become...it had been probably 13 minutes...you were in a different position now...on top of ellie riding her as if she would disappear any second but yet...the words that came out your mouth had abby's named mixed into them...abby considered this as some sort of punishment for her perverted behavior for the last 2 weeks...how she had to just sit here and watch, abby swore if she laid a finger on her cunt she'd cum right on the spot.

she could feel ellie's eyes on her...ellie who leaned against the bed frame, chest breathing rapidly up and down at your movements on top of her but yet she kept her composer...or atleast tried to..

...her freckled face pink as her half lidded eyes stated at abby...she could tell how this affected abby.....her body language...she can even see abby's hips move against the bed...she looked like a sad puppy who wanted nothing more than to be touched which ellie wasn't giving her...or wasn't allowing to give her either.

and in all honesty, you did feel like a slut....you remembered when you first saw abby the time you left your waterbottle in the living room...your eyes drifting around...her buff arms...thick thighs..you thought she was pretty...and you told ellie that obviously..

and those little words you muttered about her bestfriend somehow led to this..you desperately riding your girlfriends strap while abby watched from behind.

"wanna touch her?" ellie's breathy voice called out to abby who almost looked liked she was entranced by your movements, she almost couldn't register what ellie said to her..her eyes blinking slowly as she looked to ellie, desperation in her eyes just like the desperation was fluid in your body language.

"touch her..she wants it.." ellie's voice mumbles as she looked up at you on top of her, one of her hands running up your sweaty chest gripping your breast as her thumb rubbed against you nipple causing your body to shudder "e-els - plea-"

"no baby..not my name...beg to her....not me"

you hummed as your hips buckled, you needed to be fucked...you just couldn't do it yourself..ellie knew this.

"el- abby..please i- i need it.." your words caused abby's slick cunt to clench around nothing, a soft moan even leaving her throat..almost whining...abby has never felt this turned on before and it was so fucking exhilarating.

slowly abby made her way closer, knees dipping on the bed...her eyes staring at your back as it the sight of it came closer with each movement.

abby sat on her knees in front of your back...her shaky hands - fingers slowly moving to your hips..when you felt her touch you immediately leaned back into her, your head on her shoulder..abby softly gasped as her hands froze...your head turned to her ear...she could hear the shaky breaths escaping your mouth

"ab - abby please.."

"fuck.." abby nervously breathed out, her underwear soaked and sticky as she tried to avoid the feeling.

"stop being a pussy and rub her clit - she's been a good girl" ellie's hand caressed your cheek, going to your lips, her green eyes glancing between you and abby "she deserves to cum.."

abby tried to shake her nerves as her hand from your hip slowly began to reach in between your thighs, she could feel your body tremble..were you nervous too?

lost in thought she missed how ellie buckled her hips up causing a loud moan to release from your throat...for a second abby wished she was the one with the strap to fuck you...she want to see your pretty cunt squeezing around the silicone....she wanted to make you cum so hard like she did when she got herself off from your moans weeks ago.

finally, abby's hand reaches your pulsing clit...sticky and wet as her finger pads rolled against your swollen bud gently, rubbing in tight circles.

you moved your head deeper in between abby's neck, muffling your whines at her touch, your hips buckled as you felt ellie slowly begin to thrust up into you, you were close to coming undone before but just to feel abby's hand between your thighs giving you such pleasure that felt so heavenly...you felt like you could cum in seconds...

ellie's hips grew faster, roughly snapping up... the silicone going in and out of you in a sloppy - wet pace, she could feel your juices running down your legs to her waist...some of it even creating a little puddle combined with sweat "hmm love this pretty wet cunt - doing so good for us baby" ellie's words making you even more needy, the praise going to your pretty little head as you moaned louder.

the sounds you made only made ellie go faster as soft grunts escaped her mouth, her green eyes glued to abby's fingers that circled your clit, sometimes snapping to your chest, she loved having the view of your tits moving with her rapid movements.

"you like her touching you? hm? you like it better don't you..." ellie's words asked breathlessly as she teased you.

"i- please ellie i need-"

your words cut off by a harsh slap on your thigh, you yelped in pleasure at the feeling, thighs shaking, which only caused ellie to smirk.

abby's hips twitched as the pulsating in between her legs got stronger...small whines leaving her pink lips as she moved her fingers against your bud faster , other hand reaching over your stomach holding you..she felt like she would cum in her underwear with the way your moans entered her ears.

the way your body moved due to ellie fucking you, the way she could sometimes feel your lips on the side of her upper neck when you leaned in farther...to be honest abby felt like she could pass out...her mind still had yet to accept the current situation..

now - suddenly all four of abby's fingers pressed down on your cunt, she could hear you gasp at her action.

"p-please, i wan' it - please-" your words coming out in sentences, ellie or abby couldn't quite understand... not that it mattered.

"gonna cum baby? gonna cum on my dick?"

ellie's sentence could barely finish when your sudden loud moan teared through your body, echoing against the walls of her room..abby could feel your pussy pulsating against her fingers..she let out a loud whine and buried her head in your shoulders, her cunt clenching as she could feel her underwear get more soaked within seconds, hips twitching rapidly as she held you tighter, tears even stinging her eyes..feeling all of this sent her brain into a frenzy.

"oh - oh fuck...shit"

ellie could feel your legs twitching against her's, your body falling forward out of abby's grasp, head leaning against ellie's naked chest..body shaking as ellie's hands wrapped around you...one hand softly rubbing and tangling in your hair...mumbling endless amounts of praise in your ears...saying you did so good.

abby slowly sat down on the bed, readjusting her position and laying back, shaky breaths leaving her body..she could still feel her hips twitching from her recent orgasm.

once abby's caught her breath , her mind seemed to finally register what just occured...and all the girl could think was.

what the fuck?

[checkeredflagggs]

White Dog Cafe

pairing: max verstappen x pet cafe!owner

summary: while daniel forgets plans made with max, max has a meet-cute

a/n1: had this idea while playing a solitaire game and had it immediately plotted out 🥰. Sorry it took awhile to actually get it to you though… November started out rough…

Private Messages

white_dog_cafe

liked by user, yourbff, maxverstappen1, user and 97,455 others

white_dog_cafe: officially open for business!

view all comments

user9: can’t wait to visit!

user10: YEEEESSSSS!!!!

user11: omg dream job acquired!

↳white_dog_cafe: if you’re in the area, feel free to stop in and apply! We still have a couple of openings

↳user11: literally running to you now!

yourbff: you got this!! ITS GONNA BE AWESOME!

↳yourusername: thank you babe

user12: Ariana (max verstappen) what are you doing here???

↳user13: the crossover i didn’t know i needed but am getting anyway!

↳user14: right? Like surprise of the century

↳user13: I guess it makes sense? They’re in the same area I guess and we all know max likes his cats…

↳user14: true! But still not something i expected

Bluesky

user1: seriously? Like this could be anyone…

↳user2: apparently we get desperate for information and or gossip this deep into summer break

↳user1: I can’t believe anyone would be this desperate

user3: look at that rain though…

user4: where on earth is he?

↳user5: somewhere in Europe?

↳user6: what?

↳user5: apparently he and Daniel are spending part of the break exploring Europe!

↳user6: Maxiel forever!

user7: I saw him!

↳user8: seriously??? Spill!

↳user7: I was sitting in a local library window seat and so wasn’t the closest to him but he kept checking his phone and texting someone. When the rain started, he ducked into the building next to him

↳user8: i wonder who he was texting

↳user7: I’d guess Daniel if they were together

Private Messages

white_dog_cafe

liked by user, maxverstappen1, yourbff, user, and 223,469 others

tagged: localshelter1, localshelter2

white_dog_cafe: come on down! We’re teaming up with localshelter1 and localshelter2 for an adoption day! All adoption fees will be waived and part of the proceeds from the sales from the cafe itself will go back to the shelters!

view all comments

user15: oh my god…

↳user16: I love everything about this!

↳user17: the pet themed cupcakes…

↳user16: what are the stuffed animals for?

↳white_dog_cafe: we also partnered with a local toy store — each stuff animal has a matching live animal up for adoption! Something small for the little kids to hold onto while their new animals get used to their new homes

↳user16: omg that’s so thoughtful and perfect

user18: leo! Did he actually get adopted?

↳user19: I was there! Yes he did! Some guy came in and Leo made a direct run right to him. The owner laughed and said something like “looks like you’ve been adopted”

↳user18: 😍😍

↳user19: no joke it was like a romcom set up, the smile on this guys face…

localshelter1: a big success today! We currently have no occupants!

↳localshelter2: neither do we! Thanks to white_dog_cafe, for the first time in 5 years we are EMPTY!

↳white_dog_cafe: it was an honor to work with you! Same time next year?

↳localshelter2: you know it!!

user20: that’s great news!

↳user21: it was such a lovely event! I’m glad I got the chance to go!

↳user22: did you adopt?

↳user21: I did! A lovely little orange cat 💜

Bluesky

user23: god his thighs…

↳user24: I know!!

user24: free titties? Just hanging out? For free???

↳user25: bite bite bite

user26: glad to see he’s relaxing!

↳user27: yes!

user28: is that a girl??? In the second photo???

↳user29: ok grandma let’s get you back to bed

↳user30: no no no let’s let her cook

mvupdates

liked by user, user, user, and 822,455 others

mvupdates: are our eyes deceiving us or does max have a new cat? Max was on stream last night and when his camera slipped, it caught a glimpse of a cat! Eagle eye viewers say that it doesn’t match pictures of Jimmy or Sassy

view all comments

user31: that is definitely a grey cat! No jimmy or sassy!

↳user32: max so bored during the off season that he resorts to getting a new cat

↳user33: he’s not the only one tbh…

user34: i swear to god i heard max call the cat leo

↳user35: leo??? Like Charles’ leo?

↳user36: Jesus we need a race again…he’s not gonna name his cat Leo

↳user34: I know what I heard!!

user19: wait a minute??

↳user19: i KNOW that cat

Bluesky

user28: MAX VERSTAPPEN!! I told you all there was a girl by his side!!

↳user29: oh god not again

↳user30: no no no she has a point

user37: oh my god???

↳user38: this was NOT on my bingo card for this year

↳user37: I don’t think it was on anyone’s…

user39: and suddenly the universe screamed out in agony…THAT SHOULD BE ME

↳user40: no but for real??

↳user41: HE WAS AN OPTION???

↳user42: I guess for like 2 minutes…😭😭😭

user43: ok but when did he and k*lly break up?

↳user44: well she hasn’t been seen since Miami this year…

↳user44: and that was a CHILLY 🥶 interaction, I’d guess it happened around then if not before

user46: stargazing on the highway tonight!

↳user48: big mood

↳user49: same! Sleepover party?

↳user46: I’ll bring the drinks

Private Messages

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, user, and 125,222 others

yourusername: Visiting old friends and making new ones!

view all comments

user50: oh my god is that Leo?

↳yourusername: it is! Turns out he’s a little rascal

↳user50: he’s a cutie tho!

↳yourusername: ridiculously cute…and he knows it 😂🙄🥰

↳user50: they always do

user51: are those…are those the verstappen cats? Jimmy and Sassy?

↳user52: who?? What are you talking about?

↳user51: formula 1’s max verstappen! He’s got 2 cats that look exactly like those two cats in the third picture

↳user52: and those cats would be in a post from the owner of a pet cafe???

user19: I’ve connected the dots

↳user53: you’ve connected the dots?? What are you talking about?

↳user19: yourusername is dating max verstappen! He’s been rumored to be in a new relationship and he was definitely the man I saw adopt leo at white_dog_cafe a couple of weeks ago! And look! He’s in the likes!

↳user19: I’ve connected the dots!

↳user53: you’ve connected shit

↳user19: IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS

yourbff: cats are your kryptonite aren’t they

↳yourusername: noooo…

↳yourbff: 🧐🧐🧐

↳yourusername: but they’re so cute!!

↳yourbff: sure you’re not talking about their owner instead??

this comment was deleted

Private Messages

yourusername has posted 2 stories

[such a good passenger! | COTA 😍😍]

user19 replied IS THAT A VERSTAPPEN CAT?!?

maxverstappen1 replied glad to see you’re on your way. Cats doing ok?

↳yourusername yes yes yes we’re all doing fine

↳maxverstappen1 I just want this to go well

↳yourusername it’s gonna be fine

yourbff replied get it girl!!

↳yourusername omg why am I friends with you again

↳yourbff cause I know too many secrets

↳yourusername for real 🙄

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, charles_leclerc, and 923,123 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: COTA you were amazing. Max that was…simply lovely ☺️

view all comments

user19: I KNEW IT!

↳user53: ok grandma let’s get you to bed

↳user19: but I was right!!!

↳user53: literally no one cares anymore

danielricciardo: great entrance for your first race!

↳yourusername: thank you! Of course it was nothing compared to yours in ‘22

↳danielricciardo: well not everyone can be me!

↳user54: oh god i can just tell their friendship is gonna be so good!!

charles_leclerc: so great to meet you and your cat leo ☺️

↳yourusername: it was nice to meet you too!

↳maxverstappen1: Don’t even.

↳yourusername: but Leo is actually max’s!

↳maxverstappen1: liefje

↳charles_leclerc: OH??? 🤭🤭🤭

↳maxverstappen1: I am going to hunt you down in Mexico and run you right off the track

↳charles_leclerc: you’d have to catch me first! 🤗

alex_albon: coming for our brand huh?

↳yourusername: we could never! But maybe a playdate?

↳alex_albon: absolutely!

user55: I can’t believe that one user was right…

↳user19: I TOLD YOU

↳user55: oh god she’s stalking me. Mom help I’m scared

↳user53: I’ve got her

maxverstappen1: it was simply lovely to have you here with me

↳yourusername: awww 🥰🥰🥰

↳yourusername: nowhere else i'd rather be

↳maxverstappen1: cute but definitely a lie

↳yourusername: oh yeah absolutely. I looked it up — there’s a cat cafe with a indoor waterfall like 20 minutes away

↳maxverstappen1: well what are we waiting for?

↳yourusername: just you, you slow poke

↳maxverstappen1: 🙄🙄

[loverslantern]

Chappell Roan at the VMAs was everything. People keep confusing her outfit with Joan of Arc but she was actually Julie D’aubigny, which is so much more impactful. Let me explain.

In simple terms she was very good at fencing and she even did opera singing. But what really connects her to what Chappell did is her love story. Julie was a queer woman, she often dressed in men’s clothing but did not attempt to come off as a man.

At some point she had a relationship with a woman, yes a romantic one. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, the girl was shipped off to a convent to prevent the two from being in contact. And to frame it simply Julie followed after her, snuck in pretending to be apart of the whole thing, created this whole elaborate plan to sneak her lover out which included getting a dead nuns body and placing it in the girls bed followed by burning the building down, therefore faking the girls death.

They ran away together. But, a couple months later the girl went back to her family. Julie’s plan was found out and she was charged as a man on a variety of crimes, she was sentenced to death by burning.

Now let’s put this all together.

1. Chappell was consistently using swords

2. In the performance she looked back and shot a flaming arrow at a building burning it down which goes back to the burning of the convent.

3. The song performed was Good Luck, Babe! And Julie’s lover going back to her family is so Good Luck, Babe! coded. Like literally ur lover followed you to a conversion thing, setting up this whole thing so that you can run away together and love freely and then you go back home to ur family and she dies at the stake. Although not surprising for the time period it’s still so crazy and soooo poetic.

4. Julie d'Aubigny has this whole tragic queer story and Chappells music centers around that sort of thing, and what’s more impactful than a literal gay performer dressing as a gay performer who was killed for being gay?

Do you guys see what I mean??? So, while I love the edits I’m seeing please keep in mind that it is not Joan of Arc. In fact, I think it’s super important that this is corrected considering how real and tragic Julie’s story was.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [6] - Middle of the Night

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Drunk calls can lead to sweet moments.

Word Count: 3500 

CW: Violence, explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, getting drunk, throwing up

Series Masterlist

To be completely honest, getting drunk was not in the plans tonight.

You were supposed to have one drink and go home but in your defense your best friend had tricked you with that two for one deal and now you were on your fifth cocktail, giggling at the story of her latest date.

“Listen, if you like him, I can totally normalize him living with his ex for you,” you told her and she made a face.

“How?”

“The rental market is in shambles.”

She let out a laugh, then shook her head.

“Nope.”

“Capitalism is fucking all of us—”

“We’re not doing that,” she said. “I mean how would you feel if Logan was living with his ex?”

“Logan hasn’t asked me out,” you pointed out. “Which is more reason to believe he doesn’t like me like that.”

“The guy maimed three people for you!”

“It could’ve been a friendly gesture!”

She threw her head back. “You’re not serious.”

You shrugged your shoulders, then downed your drink and motioned for another one.

“Listen,” you said, your mind all fuzzy. “Do I want Logan? Yes. Do I dream about us living happily ever after? Yes. Do I have very detailed fantasies about him breaking my bed? Also yes. But we don’t—”

“I’d just like to remind you that while you don’t have enough money to buy a new bed,” she interfered. “I will buy you a new one if you break it while the hot lumberjack is fucking your brains out.”

“Thank you, you’re a true friend,” you said solemnly as the waitress brought you your cocktail and you thanked her, then turned to Julie. “Jamie wants him to be terrible in bed so that I’ll snap out of this.”

“Doubt it,” she said. “The guy has been around since the mid-1800s, I’d assume he has some experience.”

You tilted your head, then gasped.

“Oh my God!” you said, reaching out to grab her arm over the table, almost knocking over her glass but she caught it before her drink could spill on the table. “What if Jamie is right?”

“I literally just said—”

“No, he was alive in mid-1800s!” you said, making her frown.

“Yeah?”

“What if he is like Edward Cullen and waiting for marriage?”

“That man is a whore!” Julie snapped, flailing her hands. “I’ve heard the way he speaks to you, he’s a slut—there’s no fucking way. He’ll break your bed any day now.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh. “To repeat, he hasn’t made a move.”

“To repeat, I think maiming three guys for you counts as making a move.”

You sucked on the straw of your cocktail, the happy warmth of alcohol buzzing in your head.

“So you think he likes me back?”

“I’m pretty sure he likes you back.”

 You grabbed some popcorn from the bowl on the table.

“Yeah well,” you said. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

You pulled your brows together. “I can’t do that Julie!”

“Why not?” she asked. “Is it the 1800s? Will people call you a harlot in the town square?”

“No!” you said. “No it’s just…”

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“That has nothing to with the situation,” you said and took a huge sip of your cocktail, making her grin.

“Remind me, when was it?”

“It’s been some time.”

“So why aren’t you climbing Logan like a tree?”

“I’m trying!” you whined and she motioned at you.

“Drink your cocktail. The whole thing.”

You nodded and downed your drink, your insides getting even warmer as you put your glass on the table. Julie grinned, and pushed your phone in your direction.

“Now call him.”

“Julie!”

“Just ask him out!” she said. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“He could hang up on me.”

“He’s not gonna hang up on you,” she said. “Listen, that guy has been picking you up from work, calling you princess, saving you from creeps and sniffing your hair...”

“We’re not so sure about the last part.”

“Yes we are,” she said, pointing a finger at you. “Call him. You’ll be too much of a chicken to ask him out when you’re sober, so do it when you’re drunk.”

You let out a whine, then took the phone into your hands, heaving a sigh.

“What if I’m not his type?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “Somebody really needs to fuck you in front of a mirror.”

You scrunched up your face. “Oh I could never do that.”

“You should, it’s fun,” she said and nodded at the phone in your hand. “Call him.”

“But—”

“Do you want to fuck him, yes or no?”

“I want us to live happily ever after!” you said and paused for a second. “And yeah I want to fuck him. A lot. Day and night, multiple positions.”

“Call him.”

You took a deep breath, then nodded to yourself.

“I’ll be back,” you said and stood up from the chair, stumbling as the room spun around you but you grabbed the back of the chair and sat down again. “Shit, I’m too drunk.”

“It’s not that loud here,” she said. “You don’t have to go outside.”

“Okay,” you said and found Logan’s name, then touched it and took the phone to your ear, your heart pacing in your chest. You drummed your fingernails on the table, frowning to yourself, then lowered the phone.

“He’s not answering,” you said and ended the call, then turned to Julie. “Maybe he’s busy or something?”

“Yeah, didn’t you say they went on missions?”

“That’s what I heard,” you said and heaved a sigh. “Oh well. It was worth a shot.”

Julie shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she said and thought for a moment. “We should get shots.”

You gasped, and clapped your hands together.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah let’s get shots!”

                                                   *

Since Julie’s place was closer, you had split the taxi fee and dropped her off first before the taxi took you to your place. As it turned out, the shots were a bad idea because you had to rush to the bathroom to throw up as soon as you stepped foot into your apartment, but after you brushed your teeth and washed your face, you were still not sleepy.

On the contrary, you were pretty energetic.

…And hungry.

Starving, actually.

You hummed to yourself as you opened the fridge, then tilted your head. Nothing in your fridge looked good enough, so you grabbed your phone to order, but then scoffed when you saw the delivery fee.

“Absolutely not,” you murmured and grabbed your jacket to put it on, then grabbed your keys before walking out of the apartment. The buzz of the alcohol was still in your system despite you throwing up, so you hopped down the stairs and stepped out of the apartment.

Walking did help the nausea and your head spinning, and you were just passing by a shop when the fish tank caught your eye, making you stop in your steps.

Fish.

Interesting.

You stared at the shop window, nearly hypnotized by the lively colors and the fish swimming in the huge fish tank behind the glass but snapped out of it when your phone started vibrating in your pocket.

Logan.

“Oh fuck,” you muttered to yourself as you stared at the name flashing on the screen, your breath hitching. “Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

You took a deep breath, and touched the screen, then took the phone to your ears, your heart pacing in your chest.

“Hey!” you said, your voice going a pitch higher. “Um, what’s up?”

“Hi princess,” he said, his deep voice making you bite at your lip. “Didn’t hear you call, sorry about that.”

“No problem,” you said with a giggle. “Jesus, fish are pretty. Did you know they were pretty? I didn’t really pay attention to them but—oh my God. I’m so buying Theo fish.”

“What?”

“No seriously, he wanted it, and these things are tiny and it’s not that hard to take care of fish, is it? I mean it can’t be harder than taking care of orchids, Nik bought some for me and those things are goddamn suicidal, I tell you.”

“…Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy,” you corrected him as you fished your gloss out of your purse to apply it, staring at the window. “Tipsy-ish? This store is open right? Yeah, I see someone inside—”

“Hold on, you’re drunk and outside?” he asked. “Alone?”

“Yeah but it’s fine,” you said. “I stepped outside for some fresh air and I’m gonna get food but I got distracted by this aquarium—I’ll buy two fish and then put one of those fake trees and stuff into the tank—”

“Stay put, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t even know where I am though?” you said, looking around the street. “I’m close to my apartment but like I said, I need to eat something and Theo needs fish—”

“I’ll follow your scent, stay put,” he said and hung up, making you hum, and then put the phone into your pocket and entered the shop to smile at the owner.

“Good evening sir,” you said. “I need one orange and one white fish please. My son will name them Cheeto and Popcorn.”

                                               *

Logan found you as you were leaving the fast food place, holding the paper bag full of French fries tight with the small fish tank tucked in your other arm. You put the paper bag on the lid on the tank as the roar of the motorcycle made you lift your head and you looked over your shoulder.

Jesus Christ, he was too hot.

You could swear there were flying hearts circling your head as he got off the motorcycle and made his way to you, his herculean figure making you sigh before you looked up at his handsome face, your heartbeat getting faster.

“Hi sweetheart.”

You blinked up at him, still hugging the tank to your chest. “Hi. You’re very handsome.”

That made the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile before he tilted his head.

“How much did you drink, again?”

“Um…” you bit inside your cheek, looking up at the dark sky to calculate in your head. “Six cocktails and a couple of shots. The shots were Julie’s idea though.”

“Right.”

“Hold this,” you said, pushing the tank into his arms before grabbing the paper bag to open it. “Ugh, I’m starving! Are you hungry?”

“Nope,” he said, still smiling. “Go ahead.”

You hummed a song to yourself as you dug into the fries, and cleared your throat, trying to focus.

“You didn’t have to drive all the way here,” you said. “My place isn’t far.”

“Mm hm, and you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” you corrected him as you chewed on the fries with him walking beside you. “I swear to God, potatoes are the best vegetable to grace this earth—what were you doing when I called? Am I keeping you from something?”

“Nope,” he said. “I was walking around the halls to make sure everything was alright, I didn’t take my phone with me. How about you? Fun night?”

“So much fun!” you said as you popped a couple of fries into your mouth. “Julie is seeing this guy—well, they slept together, and apparently he’s still living with his ex and it’s like a huge red flag for her, but seriously the rents are insane nowadays so I don’t—Logan, what are your thoughts on premarital sex?”

That made his head whip around and he stared at you while you calmly chewed on the fries, waiting for his answer.

“…Huge fan of it?” he said after a beat and you nodded your head.

“Same here,” you said as you started walking again. “Did you—um, so do you count as Victorian or Georgian? I always mix those two up for some reason.”

He pulled his brows together. “What?”

“I watch a lot of period movies, I think yearning is the most romantic thing in the entire world, that hand scene in Pride and Prejudice changed me as a person,” you said as you reached into the paper bag to pull out more fries. “Um, I have a lot of questions for you and I know you’re this cool and mysterious guy so you can just say yes or no.”

He stifled a laugh. “Sure thing, hit me.”

“Did anyone give you their handkerchief?”

“No.”

You gasped. “No one gave you their handkerchief? What a bunch of assholes!”

“I had other priorities in mind during those times, sweetheart.”

“Yearning is a priority, Logan,” you said wistfully. “Next question, were you ever accidentally engaged?”

“How does one get accidentally engaged?”

“People see you talking to each other without a chaperone.”

“What?” he asked with a grimace. “I don’t—no.”

“No wonder why you like modern times better, now that I think about it,” you murmured as you looked into the bag, then heaved a sigh when you saw only a couple of fries in it. You grabbed them and threw them into your mouth, then scrunched up the paper bag to throw it into the nearest trash can. “Do you like Cheeto and Popcorn?”

Logan pulled his brows together. “Come again?”

“The fish!” you pointed at the small fish tank he was holding in one hand and he looked down at it, then chuckled.

“Right,” he said. “They look nice, sweetheart.”

“Right? Theo will be very happy, and—is there any rules against pets at the school? Because he will want to take them there.”

“We can bend the rules a little for him, it’s fine,” he said, making you smile at him brightly.

“Aw thank you!” you said as you licked your lips, then looked around before turning to Logan. “Logan?”

His eyes held a soft light in them. “Hm?”

“Can I see your claws?”

He frowned slightly but unsheathed his claws. “Why? I don’t see any threats, do you—”

He was cut off when you held onto his arm to lift his hand a little to see the blur reflection of your face on the metal, then dabbed at your lip gloss that had smudged a little with the tip of your finger. You could feel Logan staring at you so you lifted your gaze for a moment.

“What?”

“…You—you know I’ve hurt a lot of people with them, right?”

“And now you’re helping me fix my makeup with them,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Things can be of multiuse.”

He didn’t comment on it as you rubbed your lips together, then dropped his hand to beam at him. “Thanks!”

“No problem,” he managed to say with a small chuckle. “You are something else, you know that?”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” you said happily but before you could thank him again, you noticed two guys staring at him, no doubt because of the claws. You could feel the sudden rush of anger sparking to life as you narrowed your eyes at them.

“What?” you snapped, making them snap out of the haze, exchanging glances. Logan raised his brows, his lips twitching as if he was amused. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” one of them said. “Just claws—”

“Yeah, so?” you asked him as you took a step towards him but Logan put his hand over the back of your neck, gently pulling you back, looking like he was trying his hardest to keep a straight face and not burst into laughter as the guy stepped back. “What, do you wanna fight or something?”

“…No?”

“Then fucking act like it, how about that?”

“Your girl is aggressive, bro.”

“That she is,” Logan said, rubbing his thumb over the back of your neck. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“It’s rude to stare, okay?” you told them over your shoulder as you started walking beside Logan. “No seriously like, didn’t your mom teach you anything? Call her, let’s see what she’ll say about you staring at strangers!”

Logan pursed his lips together to control the chuckle vibrating in his chest before he cleared his throat.

“Unbelievable,” you grumbled. “No seriously, even Theo knows not to stare at people and he still believes in Santa! That’s no excuse, what the fuck was that? You should’ve let me kick his ass!”

“I think you scared them off enough.”

“Good!”

“Do you always look for fights when you’re drunk?”

“I’m tipsy and I have zero tolerance for disrespect, Logan,” you pointed out. “I mean honestly, who raised these boys?”

Logan bit back a smile, then nodded in the direction of your building.

“Come on,” he said and you pulled out your keys, but then dropped them with a gasp. Logan picked them up, then opened the building’s door for you.

“It’s kind of like a handkerchief situation when you think about it,” you said happily as you climbed the stairs. If you weren’t so drunk, you would’ve noticed earlier that he was in fact in your building but it only dawned on you when you stopped in front of your apartment, then held your breath.

“Logan?” you asked, your heart beating faster at the possibility. “Would you like to come in?”

“I’ll just make sure you actually go to bed and not wander off to the street completely drunk,” he told you and you pouted your lips as he opened your door for you.

Stepping into your apartment, you yawned and looked over your shoulder as he closed the door behind him, then held up the fish tank.

“Where do you want to put it?”

“The kitchen is fine,” you said, pointing at the kitchen and he made his way to the kitchen while you swayed on your steps, making your way to your bedroom to fling yourself on the bed, kicking off your shoes. You heard the sound of water running before the footsteps came closer and you sat up in the bed, tucking your legs under you. Logan entered your bedroom, his hazel gaze focusing on you for a moment before he shook his head slightly and handed you the huge glass of water.

“Drink it.”

“Oh I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink it,” he repeated and you heaved a sigh, then took a sip of it before lowering the glass to your lap.

“I’m pretty sure those cocktails will knock you out but off the chance that you wake up still drunk, I need you to promise me—” Logan started but a tiny lint on the skirt of your dress caught your attention, making you distracted. You pulled at it with a frown but felt Logan tilt your chin up so that you could look up at him.

“Eyes on me princess, look at me.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through you as your eyes met his, pleasant goosebumps rising on your arms as you blinked up at him in adoration.

“Your voice is very deep,” you murmured and he smiled slightly.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“Don’t wander off to the street if you wake up in the middle of the night,” he said. “I need to get back to the institute but—”

“Or you could stay?” you asked, your voice soft in the quiet, dimly lit room and a shadow moved behind his hazel gaze, making your heart skip a beat. You knew he knew what you meant, and hope filled your system, making you feel nearly lightheaded at the possibility of him feeling half of the fire running through your veins.

You could swear there was some sort of invisible lighting crackling between you, making your breath catch in your throat as he traced your bottom lip with his thumb, making your eyes flutter close for a second before you looked up at him again.

“Logan…”

“That is not happening when you’re drunk, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and you pulled your brows together.

“It could.”

“It won’t.”

 You bit inside your cheek, blinking up at him and he frowned as if trying to pull himself together. His knuckles brushed over your cheekbone softly before he withdrew his hand, then leaned down to press his lips to the top of your head, making you heave a sigh.

“Call me when you wake up tomorrow,” he said before he pulled back, then walked out of the room.

You heard the front door open, then close and you let out a whine, then let yourself fall back on the bed, pressing your fingertips on your lips. A giggle you couldn’t stop climbed up your throat and you lowered your hand, then took off your dress to throw it to somewhere in the room before grabbing the covers to pull them over your head, a huge smile curling your lips as you closed your eyes, sleep pulling you into its warmth.

7 - Heat Wave

[humanjarvis]

serenade

synopsis: when top music critic sylus qin gives your new album a scathing review, you plan a performance to make him pay. 

tags: celebrity au, porn with plot, enemies to lovers (reader hates him, sylus is generally a bastard but just doing his job), mirror sex, p in v, light choking, moderate biting, size difference, dramatic reader, reader does some light internet stalking, brief angst only bc sylus’s review was mean, he does something nice at the end to make up for it, inspired by dandelion by ariana grande pairing: music critic!sylus x pop star!fem reader word count: 7.2k

a/n: writing this was a traumatic experience i literally decided i was going to finish and upload today 12 hours ago because i cannot have this in my drafts any longer

I. THE RATING

 “A fucking 4.7?!” you screech, hurling your phone across the bed in horror.

It must be a mistake. A typo, or maybe your eyesight has gotten worse since your last checkup. Paparazzi cameras can do that, your optometrist had told you once. Yes. You’re sure that’s the case.

Taking a moment to breathe—hyperventilate, more like—you snatch the device back up and double-check with wild eyes.

And sure enough, in big bold letters: Four. Point. Seven.

There was no way. No fucking way that that hard-ass snobby bastard Sylus Qin had given your new album—the record you’d poured your heart and soul into—a 4.7/10 rating.

You refresh and refresh, but the numbers stay the same. 4.7, followed by heartless jabs that carve into your chest like daggers. Failed. Uninspired. Noise. 

You must have died last night, somehow. You must be dead right now. And for some reason unbeknownst to you—you’ll have to talk it out with God if you ever get the chance—you had woken up in Hell. 

Life as you knew it was over. The little ghouls who hounded you online were going to throw you to the wolves. Your agent would be lucky to book you at a high school bake sale. The reporters—if you even counted as a celebrity anymore—would never let this go. And there was only one man to blame. 

Sylus Qin. 

The name alone struck fear into the hearts of the entire pop industry. Not even the living legends with decades-long careers were safe. 

The man himself was an enigma, with little known of him other than his unnaturally deep voice and moderately vampiric appearance. But the reputation that preceded him was that of the most renowned music critic alive. 

No one knew how he got his start—maybe he’d just spawned onto Earth one day, slashing dreams and breaking hearts. Or maybe his mother had played him the classics while she carried him, murmuring to her belly about what true music was, and he’d been ranting about artistic integrity and sonic evolution since before he could walk. 

No matter what his story was, the facts were that your peers lived in terror of a bad Sylus Qin review—or any Sylus Qin review, really. He’d ruined so many careers, it was like he had a yearly quota. 

And the prick had just given what you’d thought was your magnum opus the industry equivalent of a public hanging.

As frustrated tears well in your eyes, you take a look around the house you’d only just managed to buy—the cozy Gothic fireplace, the customized in-home studio, and the quaint little garden. It was all still so new to you. And just like that, you’d have to give it up soon. 

You were wholly, utterly, and hopelessly fucked. 

***

Death. You’d imagined it’d be…more peaceful. Less emotional devastation, more belated introspection. 

But as you shift under the weighted blanket you’d rolled yourself up in, the sudden movement disturbing the heap of tear-stained tissues on top of you, you realize how much you hate being wrong. 

Your life had officially been over for almost 22 hours. And in those hours, you’d stared at the wall, ignored 36 text messages, opened and immediately closed your socials countless times, and sobbed into your satin pillowcase. 

As you roll away from the sliver of sunlight slipping through your curtains with a pained hiss, you hear the heavy footsteps climbing up your marble staircase. 

Oh well, you shrug inwardly. Not like it can get any worse. If it’s an intruder, they can have at it. Put me out of my misery. 

But as a familiar pattern of knocks precedes the door swinging open, allowing more light than you’d seen in the last day to flood the room, you realize that this may be a fate worse than brutal murder. 

“You can’t answer your phone anymore or something?” the tenor voice of Devon, your beloved, overbearing manager cuts through the room. 

“Go away,” you mumble, the sound muffled by the heavy blanket covering your mouth. 

You hear an incredulous snort. “Go awa—Girl, get up,” he snaps, walking up to tug the blanket off of you. As he heaves it to the foot of the bed, the army of tissues scatters across the room like huge snowflakes of failure, and your jostled body ends up sprawled in an almost-perfect diagonal from the impact. 

“I’ve been calling you all morning! And not only do you not pick up, but you block my number? You had me rushing over here to do a wellness check like you died or something.” 

“Oh. Well,” you begin nonchalantly. “In case you haven’t heard, I did. Yesterday. And I’m finding it to be quite pleasant, actually,” you lie through your teeth and purse your lips, “so I’d like to continue being dead, please. Alone.” 

“Yeah. Right,” he responds, mouth wedged open in a clearly annoyed grimace. “Okay, we do not have time for this, girl. You got a fan engagement livestream scheduled for this evening. You’ve never canceled a stream, not even when you lost your voice from that virus that one time. You really gonna let that man break your streak?” 

At the mere reference to his existence, your face shrivels and you curl into a defensive ball. “Oh, what’s the point?” you wail, shoving your face into the mattress. “There will probably only be 4.7 viewers. And then the tabloids will be filled with news about how I’m talentless and unpopular.” 

Devon closes his eyes, pinches the mahogany skin of his prominent nose, and releases a slow, controlled exhale. 

“Okay,” he starts, visibly switching tactics. “If your own fans—you know, the people who made you famous—can’t get you out of bed, maybe this will.” He takes a deep breath, as if bracing for impact, before continuing. “I have it on good authority that Sylus Qin is doing a TV interview. Tonight.”

And in the middle of an agonized writhe, you freeze in place. 

“He never does interviews,” you say lowly, voice suddenly hard enough to cut diamond. “He’s never done an interview, D. Stop bullshitting.” 

“Dead serious,” he replies, shoving his too-bright phone in your still sideways face. And sure enough, mysterious critic act be damned, Sylus Qin’s name is in bright bold letters on the hottest talk show in the country’s latest social post. 

Failing to suppress the anxious pang in your chest, you swallow thickly. “It’s…real. You weren’t….he’s actually going to…right after…he…” The world starts spinning as you trail off, and when the dry heaves start up on their own, you wonder if it’s possible to die twice. 

“Chill! Girl, chill,” Devon yells, firmly sitting you up on the bed. “My contact in production said he’s not talking about his work. He’ll be there to announce something, so he shouldn’t mention you unless they ask.” 

“Unless they ask,” you cry, slapping your palms to your face. 

“Which they won’t,” he adds in unsuccessful reassurance. “I just figured it might wake you up a bit. You’ve never seen him before, right? Maybe some exposure therapy will help.” 

Chewing your bottom lip hard enough to leave marks, you consider your options. You could either kick your manager out and wallow in bed until you get a foreclosure notice, or get up, grit your teeth through the livestream, and rush back to your bedroom afterwards to hate-watch Sylus on national television and pray he doesn’t speak your name. 

Your conscience and the voice in your head confer, and it seems like your anxiety has beaten your depression this time. Second option it is. 

II. THE INTERVIEW

After an excruciating hour of smiling blankly, avoiding talking about your album, and pretending not to see cruel comments, the stream is over. 

It was time to stare Death in the face. 

With 8 minutes to spare, you run up the stairs from the streaming setup in your studio and catapult into your walk-in closet, ripping your intricate work clothes off and diving into the comfiest loungewear you can find. If you were going to do this, you were going to do it comfortably. 

3 minutes. You dim the lights and flip the TV on, having already set it to the right channel in a bout of paranoia hours ago. Your house is empty except for you, but you trot over to shut the door just in case. A potential humiliation ritual was a private affair. 

And with 30 seconds to go, you unmute the TV and slowly climb onto your bed, sitting cross-legged and letting out the kind of breath you’d spent hundreds on mastering in pilates. 

The cheery, inauthentic talk show theme fills your ears, and you lift your eyelids open in resolve. 

A corny host intro. A brief band performance. And then, a tall white-haired man is strolling across your screen. 

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the illustrious Sylus Qin! 

Your heart stops. 

“Thank you, it’s my pleasure to be here,” a baritone purr rings out. Unnaturally deep voice, huh. They’d been right about one thing.

And then he sits on the smooth leather couch, turning his body to face the camera. 

Sylus Qin is…young. Not some wrinkled up curmudgeon out to terrorize the youth in his bitter old age. By the looks of it, he hasn’t even reached his 40s yet. 

Another observation. Sylus Qin is big. To be tall is one thing—not that special in a world of models doubling as singers—but this guy nearly swallows the sofa with his huge, obviously muscled frame. You wonder how he finds the time to work out between ruining lives. 

And as you take in his chiseled appearance—certainly vampiric, you think—you realize with unprecedented dread: Sylus Qin is handsome. 

“Mr. Qin,” the host begins, “we know this opportunity is extremely rare, so let me just say—it is our absolute honor to have you here during such a busy time for you.” 

It’s an ambiguous reference, probably not even to his most recent work, but you flinch backwards anyway. 

“Not a problem at all,” he drawls smoothly. “And just ‘Sylus’ is fine. I heard you all like to…have fun on this show.” He finishes the reply with a conspiratorial smirk, and you can all but see the women in the audience swoon at his despicable charm. “Like you said, this is a rare moment. You’re here to ask, and I’m here to answer. So, ask away.” 

“Perfect,” the host starts. “So, Mr—ahem—Sylus, you’ve built your reputation through exclusive music correspondence for a variety of publications…” 

***

As the minutes tick by and your hatred turns to intrigue, you start to really study the man in front of you. Learn his unique cadence, contemplate the angle of his aristocratic nose. Take in the way his ruby eyes glint when he talks about music, the way he sounds older than the age listed on his Wikipedia. And his IMDb. And his famousbirthdays.com. You’d triple-checked. 

You note the way he smirks at difficult questions, as if welcoming the challenge and begging for something harder. The way he crosses and uncrosses his thick, long legs as he weaves his answers into an impromptu PR masterclass. The way he panders to the audience so subtly you’d think it natural—if not for the way his large palms open when he looks their way, as if luring them into his trap from the stage. 

Fuck, he’s hot. And you can’t even try to pretend otherwise. 

Until a particularly sore subject snaps you out of your ogling and draws you back into the conversation.

“Now, Sylus, you may be a critic, but you’ve received some criticism yourself lately for your ‘harsh and grating’ reviews, especially in the pop sphere. Some go as far as to claim you’re even biased against pop artists. What do you say to that?”

And Sylus Qin chuckles. The bastard chuckles. As if he actually finds it funny. 

“I give albums and their creators the reviews they earn,” he says evenly. “I didn’t get to where I am today by handing out participation trophies.” 

He’s doubling down. You can’t believe he’s doubling down. 

“I’ve heard that some recent articles of mine have…ruffled some feathers. There’s never a shortage of angry fans in my inbox,” he shrugs. “But it’s my job to speak up when projects are…uninspired. You all get better music that way,” he quips, spreading his palms once more. 

Uninspired. Uninspired. The word that’s flashed in your head nonstop for the past 36 hours. A failed ascent to the top of pop stardom reveals itself as little more than uninspired noise. 

That was the exact quote he’d left in his scathing review of your album—you remembered. Because you’d read it—cried to it—over. And over. And over. And he’d just alluded to it with a smirk on his face, the crowd eating straight from his outstretched hands, in front of the entire country. 

Ugly, uncontrollable shame heats your face as the all too familiar tears sting your eyes once more. As you search for the remote through blurry vision, your blood burns hotter than lava, and you curse yourself for letting your guard down. For seeing any redeeming qualities—even if only physical—in a man with his reputation. With his lack of empathy. 

When your fingers close around the controller and you stumble off the bed, more than ready to click the TV off and return to the glorious rot-until-you-get-kicked-out plan, you freeze as Sylus speaks again. 

“That said,” he continues, “I encourage any artists who’ve been offended by my commentary to come chat about it in person. That’s my reason for coming here, after all—to announce that I’ll be attending the annual Spirit Awards this year.” 

Thumb hovering over the “off” button, you blink your tears away in disbelief. The Spirit Awards. You know that show. You know that show well. Because as thanks for your viral performance at last year’s event, you’d been invited to sing in the main performance slot. 

You were going to headline. And Sylus Qin would be your audience. 

As the interview ends and his figure fades to black with the next commercial, a sudden realization talks you down from the ledge. 

This was your chance. To give the best damn show you’d ever put on, to reclaim the work whose meaning had been stolen from you. To sink his reputation, and to save yours. 

Maybe it’s a good thing he looks the way he does, you think, a slow smile spreading across your increasingly mischievous face.

Because for the first time in almost two days, you’re confident. Confident that you’ll not only get him to change his mind, but that you’ll get him. Period. 

Sylus Qin, we’ll see about that fucking 4.7 when I’m done with you.

III. THE PLAN

Bleary eyes. A full night of sleep lost. And three 12-ounce iced coffees delivered straight to your door. 

But after eight and a half hours, Operation: Silence Sylus was a go. 

After the interview, you’d set up a makeshift situation room in your studio. You’d hauled all your devices—phone, laptop, monitor, smart watch, you name it—into the space for backup. Anything that could find information, you needed. You’d have even dragged your smart microwave in here if you could figure out the wires. 

But, all things considered, the setup had been the easy part. Because what came after was an informal case study on the most elusive man in history. 

You’d started simple: his social media. 

There was more to work with than you’d expected, but nothing too crazy. He had 2.6 million followers—a fraction of yours, you’d smirked, but still good for someone whose work is out of the spotlight.

His photos had no discernible aesthetic, as if he posted them straight from his camera roll. And his upload patterns…the lack of marketing was so severe it sent a shiver down your spine. The man posted a few times a year, if that, and the captions he did include were vague and simple. He’s lying about his age, you’d decided, because this guy is old as fuck. 

But Sylus’s dire need for a social media manager was far from the most interesting thing you’d noticed. No, in all your 264 weeks’ worth of research—you’d scrolled until the app wouldn’t let you refresh anymore—not a single other person was featured on his feed. Like, there’d been more motorcycle pictures than humans on there. You’d have chalked it up to the narcissism typical of men like him, but he hardly even posted his own face. 

And as shameful as it was to stalk the man who’d publicly humiliated you’s Instagram to see if he had a girlfriend, it was absolutely necessary. If the answer was yes, it’d put the whole plan in jeopardy! You were simply doing your job as a diligent creative, covering all your bases in advance. How would you seduce him into changing his mind about you if he had a fucking girlfriend? Or worse? 

That would be your next stop, then, you’d nodded resolutely. His dating history. 

But no matter how many articles you read; how many variations of Sylus Qin girlfriend, sylus Qin single, Sylus qin married, sylus qin Boyfriend you’d put in the search bar; how many viruses you’d probably gotten on your laptop from clicking through trashy tabloid sites; there was nothing. No photos, no reported sightings, hardly even a rumor. You’d typed in Sylus Qin asexual as a last resort, but that came back empty, too. 

You’d sat in disbelief for a second, wondering how he could be so…clean. Even with his…glowing personality, his looks and success more than made up for any quirks. In this town, people should have been throwing themselves at him left and right, bogeyman allegations be damned. 

But there was no mistaking it. As far as romance was concerned, the man was a blank slate. 

Good thing you were coming for him with a big feather pen, ready to brand your name into his skin.

***

After analyzing his public image and making sure no…obstacles would block your path, it was time for a personality study. And where better to start than his full catalogue of reviews? His portfolio was practically front and center on his publication’s website—all 114 articles offered to you on a silver platter. 

Almost immediately, you’d taken a nervous breath and hastily clicked past the most recent page. The abject horror of the 4.7 was still too fresh on your mind, and you’d be damned if tonight ended with a traumatic episode. So you’d landed on the second most recent page, starting with reviews from a couple months ago. And you’d read. 

104 irritatingly confident articles. You’d read his praise, his disappointment, his bewilderment, his disgust. His beautifully packaged this-person-should-be-sent-to-prison-for-making-this-es. No matter how much you disagreed with some—most—of his takes, he was an incredible writer. 

He tolerated jazz the most, it seemed. The smooth melodies, the warm embrace of the trumpet, trombone, and sax. It was so incredibly old. But it suited him. 

“The riveting blend of brass and reed solos marks the triumphant rebirth of a fallen genre,” he’d complimented a band earlier this year. Looking at his preferences, it was no wonder why your synth-heavy pop beats seemed to have personally offended him. 

But for all the things Sylus thought he knew about you, he was missing a few key items:

You were desperate. To win back the public, to win his approval, to win him. 

You were planning a deluxe album with six new songs. And one of those songs said please fuck me disguised under a sensual trumpet solo. 

You were desperate enough to release said album and perform said song a month early, solely to prove a point. 

And with one screaming match of a phone call to Devon at 6 a.m., it’d been done. 

You hadn’t coordinated with your dancers yet. Or told your label. Or informed the Spirit Awards producers that you’d be changing your set. But in your sleep-deprived, caffeine-jittered mind, it was all but confirmed. Your next performance would be dedicated to Sylus Qin. 

There was only one more piece to put into place. With newfound conviction, you’d reopened his Instagram and clicked “Direct Message” before you could talk yourself out of it. And while you’d have liked to send him a colorful list of expletives, you maintained your professionalism. 

Hi! I heard you’re going to the Spirits next Sunday. Hope you’re in the crowd for my performance—would love to chat after :) 

The passive aggressive smiley face of doom. Sent and delivered. 

His fate was sealed, but he didn’t know it yet.  

Between excited bounces of your leg, you’d taken a final pass at his portfolio, and your eyes found your name before you could stop them. 

“Deeming the music passable is more of a compliment than any listener should be willing to give. A failed ascent to the top of pop stardom reveals itself as little more than uninspired noise.”

Failed. Uninspired. Noise. There they were again, the insults seared into the back of your mind. 

A reminder of your shame, but a motivator for you to make him eat his words. 

IV. THE PREP

You’d always loved awards shows.

The buzz of energy backstage, the rushed glimpses of peers and legends, the flamboyant accessories and vibrant strips of fabric strewn across the floor. The kind of chaos you’d learned to thrive in. 

After making the rounds of greetings and introductions, you take a break outside your dressing room in the main hall. Your stage outfit was already on and hidden under a frilly robe; you always liked to arrive early in case of any mishaps. (Lesson learned from the time you’d been fashionably late and had to go onstage in an unfashionable loose corset. That had slipped down mid-song.)

Chatting with your head dancer, you laugh at a video she shows you on her phone before spotting something in the corner of your eye: a flash of white hair. 

Your body goes rigid.

But the lightning-quick twitch in your eye is forcing you to turn around, and your breath hitches as soon as you do. 

Sylus Qin is here. 

Just as he said he’d be, you suppose, but it’s no less surreal seeing the object of your warring emotions in the flesh. 

Somehow, he’s taller than he looks on camera. Bigger, too. How someone whose job involved hunching over a laptop writing hate mail every day could be built like a professional athlete, you’d never know. 

Black slacks are snug around his strong legs, and he’s paired them with a silken, wine-red shirt that you’re sure would match the color of his eyes if he’d just turn arou—

It’s like he heard you. Felt you. 

Because before you can even finish your thought, Sylus Qin’s bewitching ruby eyes are on you. 

When your jaw drops slightly, his lips curl. And as that lazy, taunting, I’m-better-than-you smirk spreads across his gorgeous face, it reignites the feelings that got you here. The hatred and humiliation and unyielding spite.

So with flames in your eyes, you pat the dancer on the back and give her a cheerful platitude before storming—no, sauntering, you should saunter—over. 

When he bends his neck to accommodate your comparatively small stature, Sylus Qin watches you like you’re his favorite reality show. 

“Sylus!” you squeal, pulling him into a side hug. One thing you’d learned in the industry: overfamiliarity was the best form of offense. “It’s so nice to see you here! I’m glad you could make it.” 

You expect him to falter. To push away from you in a decidedly rude yet necessarily humanizing show of uncertainty. For that condescending smirk to waver in confusion, only a little. 

But to your surprise, he simply wraps a very muscled arm around you and returns your embrace. He’d been trained well, you lament with an inward groan. 

“It’s great to be here,” he says smoothly, and the way he rumbles your name makes you want to forego the performance entirely and beg him to take you here and now. “Especially since someone was nice enough to invite me to watch their performance. I get the opposite, usually—people typically fake illness when I watch them in person—so I just had to see this for myself,” he drawls. 

At some point, he’d laid his warm hand on your robe-clad shoulder, rubbing up and down in time with his slow words. But like that wasn’t enough, you’d almost been too wrapped up in his heady scent to notice. In his teasing embrace, the smell of spice, leather, and a hint of pomegranate envelop you, and you have to school your expression to look like you aren’t huffing it in. 

As you stare up at him blinking dumbly, you notice his smirk widen, and somewhere in the back of your head you remember that conversations are two-sided. 

“Y-yes,” you try to assert, cursing the way your voice shakes with need. “It’s right up your alley. I think—I know you’ll like it.” 

“You know, hm?” he quirks a brow, circling his thumb against your arm. 

“I know. It’s a new song, much more to your liking. Think of it as…a tribute. To your glowing review of me,” you reply coldly, untangling yourself from his hold despite your body’s protests. If you had any chance tonight, you had to level the playing field. Which meant Sylus Qin could not touch you anymore. 

“Mm,” he hums, eyes lingering on the spot you’d detached yourself from before flicking up to your face. “I reviewed your album, sweetie. Not you. Even so, nothing I said was untrue,” he shrugs as you bristle with rage. “But…if your performance is to my taste, as you claim, then you’ll know my review soon after. Before the end of the night, I’d say.”

His words are intentionally vague, as if he’s goading you into asking what he means. But under the heat of his gaze, you’re too prideful and angry and turned on to ask for clarification. 

“Then I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” you challenge him with a saccharine smile. 

He nods plainly, as if merely entertaining the idea of you ever impressing him. “I guess we will.” 

That twitch in your eye? It’s back with a vengeance. 

Before it can overtake your whole face, you spin on your heel and sashay away from him, pretending not to care if he watches you leave or not. 

Refusing to stop before you’re out of his sight, you disappear into your dressing room and slump into the nearest chair. As the stylists flock over to put the last touches on your hair and makeup, you try not to chew your nails off and ruin your fresh manicure. Damn him, you think for the 300th time in a week. 

***

In the center of the room, a monitor broadcasts the show’s live feed. The early portions go by in a blink—time flies when you have pre-seduction attempt anxiety, you guess—and before you know it, it’s 10 minutes to showtime. 

As soon as you’re clear to set up on stage, you make a beeline for the curtain and pull it back ever so slightly, looking for Sylus in the crowd. And just to your luck, there he is, sitting pretty in the second fucking row. Great if you don’t mess up, catastrophic if you do. 

Just as his all-knowing eyes shift toward the stage, as if he somehow felt your gaze from afar, you inch back into the inky shadows of the curtain. 

Two minutes to go. Clenching your hands into fists, you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe. 

It was time to channel the outrage, embarrassment, and devastatingly irritating lust into the performance of your life. 

V. THE SHOW

The soft swells of a trumpet float through the hushed arena.

The player, first chair in a local jazz ensemble, sways gently to the beat, his dark skin glowing in the warm stage lights. 

In time with the soulful melody, dozens of dancers fan out around the bar set, fiddling with prop bottles of fake booze. Your hours of research had pointed you in one direction: a speakeasy theme. 

Perfect for a jazz intro, and seductive enough to get your point across without getting you banned from live television. 

The outfit under your robe was a modern take on the 1920s: a bejeweled crimson flapper dress, sharp black stilettos, and a thick raven’s feather nestled in your hair. 

Just like you’d practiced, you stumble onto the set, miming drunken confusion as you trip into a male dancer’s arms. You shoot him a flirtatious smile when he steadies you, only for your attention to be captured by the trumpet still crooning in the background.

Enraptured by the player, you glide across the stage to lean against him, standing back-to-back with your hands on your heart. The tassels on your dress flow in time with the sultry swirls of your hips. 

A few more beats, and the intricate solo dwindles into the main riff that marks the true beginning of your set, to the audible gasps of the crowd. Look, you liked jazz as much as anyone—well, maybe not someone—but this was still your song. Your stage. And you were here to wake it up! As good as the player was, you had hypothetical sex to sing about. 

So the trumpet fades out, replaced by a poppy trap beat. Between each drum hit, your female dancers crowd you, tearing off the edges of your dress until you’re left in a shimmering red bodysuit. 

Strutting across the stage, you work through the lyrics of the first verse, eyeing the audience as you sing for someone special to come and take what he wants from you. 

The way you prowl from edge to edge is suggestive, inviting. The screams of the fans drown out the sound in your earpiece, but the winks you give them are only for show. You’d decided a week ago that you’d be a bad idol tonight. You’d make up for it later—a giveaway, follow spree, or something—but tonight, your focus was reserved for one man. 

As you ease into the chorus, your muscles glint under the twinkling lights, flexing in time with fluid spreads of your arms and gentle footwork. A siren song is what you’re singing, rhythmic pleas for a partner to make good on his promise falling from your lips. 

The next verse brings a slowdown in the melody that you meet with sensual rolls of your hips. Twisting your frame, you slide a purposeful hand down to rest just above your pelvis, tangling the other in your hair. 

The beat picks back up as you lead a line of men down the steps and into the audience, playfully evading their touches. It’s a calculated game of cat and mouse—one you’d hoped would pique the interest of the man you’d done this for. And as you parade right behind his row, boldly ghosting a hand over his shoulder in the dim crowd lighting, the tension in his muscles tells you you’d been right.

You can’t see his face, but the thought of him suffering right now is so satisfying, you have to fight to keep the vindictive smile off your face. Revitalized, you flounce back onstage right as the bridge melts into the final chorus—your favorite part of the show. 

Because while you’d been working the crowd, the crew had lined up seven shiny motorcycles at the front of the stage. Six were for your dancers, of course, but the seventh? That one was special. You’d gone through hell to get that bike on time—the same luxury model that was plastered all over Sylus Qin’s Instagram. The seventh bike was yours.

Taking your place in the center, you swing a leg over the seat and lower your hips gracefully, snapping back into the final moves of the choreography. 

With a daring raise of your eyebrow, you glance at his massive frame in the second row. He’s relaxed now, body no longer rigid with surprise. A bit too relaxed, you think, with the way his legs are spread apart, thumb swiping lazily across his smirking mouth. His gaze locks onto the familiar brand etched into the side of the bike before traveling up to yours, and the half a second of eye contact sends a shudder down your spine. 

Between hazy, hopefully covert blinks, you hum out the last note of the song to thunderous applause. When you release your ending pose, waving to the sea of cheering faces, your eyes find his seat once more.

But Sylus Qin is gone.

VI. THE AFTERMATH

The moment you step backstage, a flood of congratulations greets you. 

Dancers, friends, and strangers huddle all around you, whooping with joy at your undeniable triumph.

But between the friendly pats on your shoulders, sweaty hugs, and heaving breaths, you wonder if tonight can be called a success at all. 

Hours and hours of mourning your young career. Of research that, in any other circumstance, probably would have gotten you on a watchlist. Of hard work, of pivoting, of betting your entire future on the hope that he’d break. And he’d just…left. 

You were never one to stop a celebration early, but the burning pangs of defeat are too much to bear. With a tight smile and a flick of your card into the nearest hand—drinks are on you tonight—you trudge back to the solace of your dressing room. 

And the scent of leather and spice hits you a second too late. 

Because in all his wicked glory, Sylus Qin is in your empty dressing room, lounging in your chair like he owns the place. 

Your initial reaction—a startled jump and a choked squeak—has his eyes sparkling in satisfaction, and you stalk up to the mirror with a scowl before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Feigning nonchalance, you remove your accessories one by one, starting with the feather in your hair. As you place it gently on the marble counter, a firm chest presses against your back, and you see his frame nearly swallow yours in the glass before you. 

“If I were a bolder man, I’d think you were trying to send me a message just now,” he purrs into your ear. 

Glancing at his reflection, you shrug noncommittally. “Did you like it?”

You receive a soft hum in response. 

As you continue your act with trembling hands, Sylus cages you against the hard edge of the counter, admiring the remaining pieces of your costume with light, teasing touches. 

Once you make no effort to stop him, a large hand rises to close loosely around your throat. When his thumb brushes your bottom lip, you bite it hard enough to sting, and his deep chuckle worsens the throbbing between your legs. 

“I’m enough of a man to admit when I’m wrong. I underestimated you, it seems.” The low admission sends blood rushing through your ears, and you lean into him with a quiet gasp. “You have me right where you want me now, right? Then tell me—how did you come up with your little stunt?”

Tense seconds tick by as you debate your options. How humiliating it’d be to come clean in his arms. But then again, humiliated had been your main emotion as of late. With a deep exhale and slight tuck of your head, you begin your confession.

“I just wanted you to change your mind,” you whisper, watching as he unravels the satin ribbons on your bodysuit. 

 “I was so proud of that album, Sylus. Took me months to feel good enough to release it. And then I wake up to see the most respected voice in music calling it worthless.” 

Your voice wobbles at the mention of his review, and his fingers freeze on the lowest ribbon. 

“I thought my career was over. That’s what you do, right?” you ask, eyes flashing up at him. “Ruin people like me.”

Checking your teary gaze in the mirror, he has the decency to press a kiss to the skin between your neck and shoulder. 

“My manager had to do a wellness check,” you add with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I could barely get out of bed. But then he told me…I’d have a chance to see you that night. And I guess the anxiety of impending doom was enough of a motivator. So I got up, and I watched.” 

As your voice steadies, it grants him permission to undo the final ribbon. It loosens with a firm tug, and the slackened fabric sags around your body, waiting to be removed entirely. 

“I really did want to change your mind. To prove myself to you. But then I saw that stupid fucking interview…saw you for the first time, and I…”

“You what, sweetie?” he murmurs into your neck, spurring you on with a gentle kiss. 

“I wanted you, too.”

As he sucks in a breath, you take the moment to step out of your costume, tossing it to the floor below. You’re nearly bare before him, now, save for the thin tights and thong still blocking you from his sight. 

“That’s what all this was for,” you reveal, gesturing to the fallen fabric. “I wanted your attention—all of it—in any way I could get it. So you were right. I wanted to end up right here, with you.” 

For several seconds, his labored sighs are the only sounds in the room. You, unfortunately, are too afraid to breathe. But before long, warm hands grasp your hips, pulling you flush against his hardened lower half.

Catching your ear between sharp teeth, he floods your senses with a smooth whisper. “It seems you got what you wanted, then. Why don’t I tell you what I thought?”

And the second the “please” escapes your lips, he tears the thin layers left on your hips clean off your body. 

He uses your shock to his advantage, taking the chance to free his swollen cock and glide it across your slit, teasing your clenching hole with the pulsing length. When he’s coated in your wetness, he surges into you with a firm thrust, groaning at the squeeze of your fluttering walls. 

Allowing you a moment to adjust to the stretch, he gropes the fat of your hip before continuing. 

“You obviously did your research,” he rumbles, pumping in and out of you at a steady tempo. “Speakeasies were the home of jazz, for a time.” 

As the curve of his tip hits deep inside you, you wish you’d gotten a look at him. You’d expected him to be big, if the rest of his body was any indication, but the sheer fullness in your core feels like it should be illegal. 

“And the arrangement…paying homage with a modern twist. It was admirable. Bold,” he grits out, hissing as your cunt tightens at the compliment. 

Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you meet his thrusts with a high-pitched whine, asking for more—more pressure, more praise, more of all he could give. 

With a patronizing tsk, Sylus grips your jaw in one hand, pulling your face close to his. “How many ratings of mine did you read to pull this off? I wouldn't think you knew what real instruments were, based on that album.”

The barb snaps you out of docility, and you try to twist away from him with a sneer and grumble. But Sylus only pulls you back into his quickening strokes, a fond, terrorizing chuckle enveloping you. 

“Don’t run, sweetie. I’m flattered, really. Like I was when you got on that bike—my bike—and I wanted to pull you down from that stage,” he breathes, circling two fingers around your throbbing clit. “Because I knew in that moment, you were mine.”

As his claim rings through the air, he pinches your sensitive flesh and ups his pace, kissing your cervix with brutal strokes as the lewd slaps of skin on skin echo around you. Shaky breaths and soft whimpers leave your mouth, and you rut back into him as much as his firm grip on your hips allows.

“This was all for me, hm? For my attention, you said? Now you have it,” he murmurs huskily, and a sharp scratch of teeth against the pulse in your throat has you spilling over the edge with a desperate moan. 

Somewhere in the haze of your orgasm, he pulls out with a groan of his own, leaving you empty and shivering until you feel his warm release coat the curve of your back.

With the last of his strength, he turns your face to his and captures your lips in a heated kiss, your tongues tangling unhurriedly. You’re forced to pull away first, already more than drained of your stamina for the night. When you slump forward in exhaustion, he falls into you, folding you over the counter with his heavy weight. 

You groan at the impact but welcome the soothing pressure, and for a while, your heaving exhales mingle in the quiet of the room. 

Once his breathing evens out, his low drawl—raspier than usual—eclipses the silence. “So,” he begins, and you can tell he’s smirking above you without even seeing his face. “How would you rate my performance tonight?”

Too tired to scoff, you settle for a mocking hum. “Hmm…an 8. I’d say a 9, but you just lost a point for that line,” you smile softly. “The pacing was good, but the feeling was lacking. It felt a little…uninspired.”

VII. THE EPILOGUE

You can’t feel your limbs the next morning. 

You can’t feel your limbs, but your phone is ringing—has been for a few minutes now, you think groggily. 

With a pained grunt, you roll over and over in bed until the screen is within reach and put the call on speaker. 

“Check your texts!” Devon yells excitedly, damn near blasting your ears off. 

“What? What are you talking about?” you grumble. “And you know not to wake me up until at least 4 p.m. after a show.”

“Sure, girl, fire me if you want. Just check your texts!” he repeats, voice climbing to a near screech.

“Fine, just give me a—”

Your jaw drops. It has no choice but to drop.

Because sitting in your inbox, right there at the top, is an updated link to Sylus Qin’s review of your album.

And right there, where that dreaded 4.7 had stared you down, is a giant, boldface 8.

[wheres-mylove]

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly. 

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore. 

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised. 

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom. 

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

[famyuri]

Feeling lonely one day, you decide to make an account on a hookup app. You scroll through accounts, mildly amused at the pickings, until you stumble across one. The woman's profile doesn't feature her face, but the picture shows a woman wearing a dress — and a necklace — that you recognize immediately. Even the style of photo is familiar. It's not mystique the photographer was going for — she literally doesn't know how to keep her face in frame. It's your mother, wearing a dress she only wears when going on a date, and a necklace you bought her for Christmas.

You think about your mother having a hookup account for days. You think back and forth to yourself, should you message it and see what she says? Should you... try to meet up with her? Wouldn't it be funny? You imagine the look on her face and her flustered voice when she shows up to hook up with someone and it's you. One night, after partying with some friends, and getting cross faded enough to make some bad decisions, you do it. You match with her and send her a quick "Hey~ heard you're looking for a young girl to have fun with."

She answers a few hours later, just as sleep is about to take you. "Hi... you're into older women?" She replies. "Oh yeah. I can't get enough of cougars." You respond. You two have a bit of a friendly back and forth for a while, playfully flirting among some small talk to break the ice. Without giving away too much information, you talk about yourself. Everything she tells you, however, is something you already know.

When the time comes for her to ask for a photo of you, you quickly pull down your shirt and squeeze your tits together, taking a low angle shot with your plump lips the only part of your face shown, parted in an attempt to look sexy despite barely being able to see straight.

"You're so cute. I almost feel bad for what i want to do to you" she says. "When can we meet up?" Nerves are not an issue. Courage is not an issue. Self control is and right now it isn't in the room with you. "Is tonight too late?" There's a pause, with the *is typing* message on the screen. Finally, it reads "Unfortunately, yes. But... can we meet tomorrow? I want you."

You decide to borrow one of your friend's clothes, since you figure she knows your outfits and tastes by now. Well, most of your tastes anyway. If you dress like your friend, she might not catch on until it's too late. You do your makeup differently, going through efforts you normally wouldn't. You tie your hair differently. Capping it off with a face mask, you head to the meeting spot.

She approaches you, double checking it's you from the hookup app. You push your voice lower than normal to obfuscate, easily done since your throat is dry from last night. After the meet up is confirmed, you head to a hotel with her. The moment you two get into the room reserved for the night, she all but tears off your face mask and grabs your face in her hands before making out with you aggressively, sliding her tongue down your throat and trying to pull off your clothes. You go along with it, surprised at how strong she is compared to what you know of her at home.

She pushes you onto the bed and all but tears your pants off of your legs, your panties almost becoming a casualty of her hunger as she gets to work eating you out. It's rough and inelegant, she clearly doesn't have that much experience muff diving. That's okay; you put your hands in her hair and guide her head until her nose is rubbing against your clit, her tongue thrashing eagerly in and out of your dripping wet hole. When she comes up for air she puts two slim, smooth fingers inside, fingerfucking you so well you can't help but moan for her. What she lacks in oral skill she more than makes up for in her dexterity — her fingers reach deeper, more turn-on spots inside you than your own do and your body becomes a quaking less for her.

As you come, you drop your guard and say "Fuck...! Yes, Mommy!" At the top of your lungs, only for her to answer not with the name you gave her in the text conversation, but with your own, actual name. You stare at her in shock as she straddles your thigh, pressing your clits together and scissoring with you. "When did you...?" You moan and throw your head back, barely able to finish your sentence.

"You think I wouldn't recognize my own daughter's tits? The ones I made?" She laughs, a laugh more mean than you're used to but fuck if it doesn't make you almost come again right then and there. "The same tits I've been fucking myself thinking about for years? I've held back for so long around you, and you just offer yourself to me. Of course I'm gonna eat you right up. You asked for it." That pushes you over, and you cum, shuddering and shaking as you do.

The rest of the day is a blur of being used by your mother, hazy recollections of you moaning and mewling for her to make you cum again and again and again. She doesn't let you rest for a moment, and watching her cum only makes you want to do more to please her. To be a good girl and earn her cum and to be able to taste more of the sweet nectar from her pussy. She makes you taste your own, sometimes mixing the two. She makes you call her Mommy like you're a child all over again. It's only when it's time to check out that she reluctantly puts her clothes back on, or at least the minimum to be considered decent.

"We're continuing this when we get home, little girl." She says with a wink, dragging you out of the hotel room.