#he's twenty seven now!!! insane.

[iristial]

Happy birthday to my son, my goofball, my sun and moon and stars, my guy. May 1st is an important national holiday (to me) 😤

rider system album aruto hiden (zero one) | zero-one 01̶hers

[popponn]

mysme is doing wonders for my mental health i miss you so much my defender of justice 707 my love my star my planet the light of my life the bfest bf to ever bf the earth

[spencerreidenjoyer]

addicted to you | spencer reid x reader

Spencer isn’t inclined to be affectionate with you. He’s a socially awkward germaphobe, and you’re perfectly fine with it. However, being three months into your relationship, you can’t help but want more. Once Spencer gets a taste, he wants more too. A lot more.

part 1 | part 2 - insatiable

wc: 6.1k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: established relationship, first times, virgin!spencer, early seasons spencer, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering praise kink, morning wood, morning sex, sex in unconventional places (like, not in public but not the bed lol), cunnilingus, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

a/n: no excuse for this insane fic but i was strangely inspired by a post i saw on twitter that i wanted to put a lighthearted (and horny) spin on. i definitely felt crazy writing this and i feel crazy posting this now so i sure hope you enjoy this insanity! (p.s you can also find this fic on ao3!)

You don’t mind that Spencer isn’t touchy. You understand, with Spencer being a germaphobe and a little socially awkward, that he isn’t inclined to kisses on the cheek or holding your hand. You’ve only been dating for three months, and he’s already getting better at doing these things, which makes your heart sing. 

Spencer is sweet, willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy. He used to shy away from your touch, but he’s gotten more comfortable with you. He lets you hold his hand when you’re out on a date, or he’ll kiss you chastely out in public. He lets you drape yourself over him when you’re sitting on the couch together watching a show, his arm around your waist to pull you in close. 

While you can understand Spencer’s hesitance towards public displays of affection, due to his awkwardness and anxieties about germs, you’re surprised he hasn’t initiated anything more in the privacy of his apartment (or yours). You’re starting to itch for it, something more, your attraction to Spencer Reid simply too overwhelming for it to simply be sweet and innocent anymore. Your body craves him desperately, because he’s so lovely and so fucking handsome. You’ve caught yourself staring at his hands more than once.

Tonight, you decide you’ll get what you want. You’re going to fuck Spencer Reid.

With your head buried in his shoulder during movie night, your hand runs down his body, getting dangerously close to his crotch – he jumps up off the couch, almost comedic, and stares at you like your touch had burned him. He looks positively freaked out. 

“Spencer,” you say, very confused that he’s not into this. What kind of man doesn’t like his girlfriend initiating sex? Hell, what kind of man doesn’t like sex? 

“I just–” Spencer pauses, like he’s struggling to find the words. “I can’t. Not right now, I–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You assure him. “We don’t have to. Ever, if that’s what you want.”

His eyes widen again. “No! I want to, just– It’s difficult, right now.”

You cock your head slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer frowns slightly, seeming to know that talking about it is the most rational thing to do, but it’s not like that makes him want to do it. “Well, I– I’ve never done it before.”

Your mouth falls open, just a little, and you look up at him. While you don’t mean to judge, it certainly isn’t surprising. Spencer was fourteen when he was starting university, and his general awkward demeanour and extreme nerdiness would likely rule out any sexual encounters for him during his time in college. Spencer’s line of work would clearly make it difficult for him to maintain a relationship – you definitely lucked out with getting to date him – and he’s too much of a softie for one night stands. So, Spencer Reid being a virgin at twenty-seven definitely checks out.

“That’s okay,” you say softly. “It’s totally normal.”

Spencer’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, you know it took me a while to get used to being affectionate with you, so I think–”

“Being intimate with someone else is going to be a hurdle you’ll need time to cross, too?” 

Spencer looks up at you, eyes wet, looking at you like you’ve read him like an open book. He whispers, “Yeah.”

“That’s okay,” you repeat, even though you’re trying to come to terms with the fact that you’re not going to fuck Spencer Reid tonight. “I’ll– We’ll take it slow, if you want to try.”

“Yes, please.” He has a small smile on his lips as he looks up at you. “I– We could try doing something tonight, too. I just– I wasn’t expecting it earlier. I’m sorry for pushing you off like that.”

You shake your head, reassuring him that you aren’t offended by it by any means. Then, you ask, “You’re sure you want to try? Tonight?”

Spencer nods, as he reaches for your hand. He holds it gently, resting it on his thigh. “Yeah. I haven’t– It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, but I want to, with you.”

You lean in to kiss his cheek gently. “I’m glad you trust me.”

His eyes are soft and syrupy when he meets your gaze. “Of course I trust you.”

You squeeze Spencer’s thigh before pressing your lips to his, the familiarity of kissing Spencer making you both ease up a little more. Your kiss is gentle, sweet, just like every other kiss you've shared, but you let your hand slide up his thigh as you kiss him, and you can feel Spencer tensing up under your touch. You squeeze his thigh to reassure him, and you feel Spencer wriggle underneath where you're leaning your body weight on him to loosen up. 

Your hand skirts over his crotch, a hardness under your palm that makes you feel somewhat proud of yourself. Spencer’s breathing is heavy as he keeps kissing you, and keeps letting you touch him. You think he’s so cute. You just want to make him feel good. 

You push the waistband of his sweats down, tugging him out of his pants. His cock is the same shade of red as his cheeks, his shyness turning you on extremely. 

He doesn’t look down at himself, where you’re holding him – instead, his eyes are intently focused on your face. You don’t push him about it, instead leaning forward to kiss him as you start to stroke his cock. 

This time, it feels desperate. Spencer kisses you with more fervour, like a fire’s been lit within him, the pleasure running through his veins almost like liquid courage as he kisses you deeply. You’re more than happy to be doing this, letting Spencer lick into your mouth while you jerk him off. You appreciate the weight of him in your hand, imagining him inside of you – but perhaps you’re getting ahead of yourself. 

“You can touch me, Spence,” you say, in between Spencer kissing you fervently. His hands have been cupping your face, but otherwise he seems awkward with them. You pull back slightly, and while it’s adorable that he’s still holding your face sweetly, you drag his hands down to your chest, in the oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from Spencer’s drawer. “Like this.”

Spencer’s large hands cup your breasts through the shirt perfectly. He squeezes tentatively. You bite your lip as his palms brush over your nipples, as he manhandles you just a little. It’s more force than you’re used to from Spencer, kneading and squeezing and feeling you, and that makes your head spin. 

Daringly, Spencer’s hands slip under your shirt, as he leans back in to kiss you. You feel his calloused hands on your skin as he feels you up, making you shudder. His touch isn’t demanding nor pushy, simply exploratory as he feels your soft skin under his fingertips. 

Your arousal is pumping through your system, Spencer’s gentle submissiveness like a drug you can’t kick. The more you touch him, the more he reacts; touching you more, whimpering and gasping against your lips, into your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you coo in his ear, your hand speeding up on Spencer’s hardness. He’s leaking pathetically, wet in your palm, and he squirms underneath you. 

“I’m– It’s too–” Spencer cuts himself off with a helpless whine, like he can’t control himself. His hands grip your waist tight. “Please–”

“Mm,” you hum sympathetically, while you thoroughly enjoy seeing Spencer like this. “Wanna cum like this, baby?”

Spencer’s breathing hard. He can’t get the words out, but he shakes his head. You slow your strokes, to an excruciating pressure on his length. “No? Then tell me, Spence.”

“Inside you,” He gasps, eyes squeezed shut. 

You absolutely should not let Spencer fuck you for the first time on his couch, but he’s desperate and your resolve is steadily crumbling. “You– You’re sure?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, his eyes pleading with you helplessly.

So, you pull your hand back and push your shorts off instead. Your panties come off in one fell swoop, and you sit back onto the couch with your legs spread. Spencer’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted as he looks at you, takes the sight of you in. 

Then he’s like a baby deer, standing up and fumbling to get his sweatpants off. You can’t help but giggle at his awkward movements, in his excitement and eagerness to get to touch you, to get to fuck you. He’s quick to get between your legs, his hardness nudging at your entrance already. 

“Mm, not yet, Spence,” you hum. You reach for his hand, taking his wrist as you guide his fingers to your clit. “You know what to do, right?”

He turns his wrist so his fingers – God, his fingers – are poised almost elegantly above your clit. He presses down and starts to circle his fingers against you. You gasp.

“Thought you didn’t– oh– Didn’t have much experience,” you gasp. You hold onto Spencer’s forearm tight, throwing your head back as Spencer pleasures you.

Spencer huffs out a laugh. “I might not be experienced, but I’m not a prude– I remember the… stuff I’ve seen. Eidetic memory and all.”

“Stuff,” you laugh. “I’m sure the porn you’ve watched must’ve helped, darling.”

He slips his fingers into your wetness with an unsurprising ease, considering how turned on you are by him. He hits spots inside you you’ve never thought were possible to reach, but they make electricity zip up your spine. You moan as he crooks his fingers into you, rocking them in and out with a wet squelch.

Spencer grins at you. “You were saying?”

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” you huff, your tone teetering between awfully turned on and mildly annoyed. 

“You like it,” Spencer says, assured of himself, and you smile, because you really do.

“My love,” you moan, as Spencer presses his fingers into you, back out. “You should try fucking me now.”

Spencer’s fingers are still inside of you, and his eyes are wide as he looks up at you. “You think so?”

You smile at him. “If you think you’re up for it.”

You mourn the loss of Spencer’s fingers, but as he’s mumbling to himself and lining his cock up with your entrance, you can only coo at how adorable you find all of this. And how turned on you are, but that’s more than obvious to the both of you by now. 

He looks to you, like he’s looking for reassurance. You nod. Even in the silence, he’s gotten the confidence to push his cock into you, the thickness of his tip breaching your hole. You gasp as you stretch around him, your cunt making space for him as he slides in, excruciatingly slow. “Spencer–”

Spencer lets out a whine as your tight heat engulfs him, his length swallowed up by you as he sinks deeper into you. “Oh, my God–”

“Just like that, baby,” you moan, your leg hooking around Spencer’s leg to coax him forward, closer to you. “Fuck.”

“Do I– When should I–” Spencer gasps, unable to form a coherent sentence with the pleasure swimming through his bloodstream. 

“You can start moving when you don’t feel like you’re going to blow your load if you breathe the wrong way,” you joke, but Spencer does seriously look like he’s going to finish any second. “Hey. Deep breaths, baby.”

Spencer’s brows are furrowed and his eyes are squeezed shut as he breathes in hard, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He’d told you to do that when he’d helped you through a panic attack one time, and while you feel bad that he feels so nervous about all this, it’s extremely amusing to you right now. 

“Look at me,” you say, trying your best not to laugh. “You’re doing great, love.”

Spencer pulls his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes looking to you for validation. 

“So good for me, darling,” you coo, your hand on his hip, while your thumb draws little circles into his skin. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer shudders, voice high-pitched and a little breathy. “I– You feel really good.”

“Yeah? It’ll feel even better when you start moving, sweetheart,” you hum. “You think you can do that for me? Slow, out then back in.”

Spencer whimpers, nodding, and he takes another deep breath in. His hands on your waist, he pulls out halfway before pressing back into you, and he moans so loudly your ears ring. “So– So tight, you–”

“That’s good, yeah? Feels good?” you coo. “Come on, baby. More.”

Spencer rests one of his arms on the back of the couch, holding himself steady and getting him that much closer to you. He starts to thrust in and out, starting off slow as he finds a rhythm. 

His thrusts are erratic, but you’re so wildly turned on and it still feels amazing, because it’s Spencer. 

Spencer is frantic, desperate, bracing himself against the couch as he fucks into you. Maybe pounding into you is a better phrase to use, because he’s fucking you like a madman, till the couch is squeaking under both your weight. You cry out, feeling Spencer drilling into you – and it feels so good.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whines. “You– It’s so good, oh–”

“Yeah, baby?” You rock your hips along with him, burying Spencer deeper into you. You clench so each thrust is a little tighter, and each time Spencer fucks into you, he moans a little louder. 

Amidst Spencer’s whines and pretty noises, you watch his face morph with pleasure, feeling assured that he’s enjoying this as much as you are. In fact, he’s probably enjoying this more. As you’re lost in your train of thought, admiring Spencer’s gorgeous face, you’re startled when you feel Spencer’s load inside of you, hot and slick. His hips flush against your ass, Spencer shudders as he rides out his orgasm, body trembling from the force of his pleasure.

“Oh, Spence,” you giggle, a little dizzy from how turned on you are, from watching Spencer lose himself just like that. You reach up to cup his face, your thumb gentle on his cheek. “Was that good?”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbles, seemingly brought back to reality. He pulls back, taking the sight of you in. “I’m– I’m good, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” you say. “You’re so cute. It’s so hot.”

“I mean, you are too, but– But you haven’t–”

“You wanna make it up to me, then?” You smile, gentle and warm and Spencer nods like he’s eager to please you. 

You kiss him while he pulls out, replacing the thickness of his cock with two fingers, which fit into you easily. Like before, Spencer presses his fingers into you, slick and wet and squelchy. Spencer curls them and fingerfucks you like a pro, like he’s done this a hundred times. With his face pressed into your shoulder and your arms slung around his neck, Spencer fucks you on his fingers until your toes are curling and you’re screaming his name. You cry out as you orgasm, shaking as Spencer fucks you through it. 

You’re almost embarrassed when you finally come back to your senses, no longer reeling from the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer is kissing your jawline sweetly, his clean hand stroking your hair.

“Hey,” Spencer says softly, somehow knowing you needed to hear him. He parrots you from earlier, “Was– Was that good?”

“So good, my love,” you murmur into his shoulder. Then, after a quiet moment, “I thought you needed some time to get comfortable with being intimate.” 

Spencer pauses for a moment, like he’s pondering it, before he says, “I know. But for you, I think I’d do anything.”

That’s all Spencer manages to get out before you kiss him again. It’s tender and sweet, the intensity behind your kiss no longer lustful but full of adoration and love. You feel like you could sob right now, but you manage to hold it back.

Spencer gets into the shower with you, which you’re surprised by, but his hands are soft on your body as he cleans you up. You shampoo his hair for him, even though he has to lean forward a little so you can reach. 

You end up falling asleep in Spencer’s bed, curled up in his arms. 

You don’t dream at night, but when you wake up with a hardness poking against your thigh and Spencer’s gentle snoring in your ear, you think you might be. 

In your dreariness, you reach behind you, the angular sharpness of Spencer’s hip bone under your palm. He’s warm, cuddled up against you, and the tickling of his breath on your neck tells you that this isn’t a dream. 

“Spence,” you whisper, shaking him slightly. You watch as he blinks himself awake, drowsy as he comes to focus on your face. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Spencer says, his voice rough with disuse. “What’s up?”

“You are,” you smile, a little too pleased, as your hand snakes down toward his crotch. 

He squeaks at the contact, your soft hand on his hardness, “Um, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” you laugh. “Had a good dream?”

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “About you, yeah.”

“Wanna tell me about it?” you goad, wiggling your eyebrows. 

Spencer’s cheeks somehow get even redder than they already were, but he shakes his head. “I want– I want to have sex, though.”

Your eyes widen. “Now?”

“Do you have the time for it?” He asks, sheepish. “I– I want to fuck you again.”

Your cheeks flush at Spencer’s sudden crudeness. You think about what Spencer could’ve possibly dreamt up, wonder how Spencer could possibly be confident enough to tell you straight up that he wants to fuck you. That phrase probably hadn’t been in Spencer’s lexicon until about twelve hours ago – while Spencer was smart – a literal genius – his innocence was completely understandable. 

“We have time,” you exhale, looking back into his eyes after looking at the clock. “I only have to be at the office in a couple of hours.”

“Good,” Spencer says, leaning in to kiss down your neck. His hands are frisky already, slipping underneath your shirt. Spencer splays his hands over your stomach, before reaching up to cup your breasts in his hands. 

“You like touching me like this, don’t you, baby?” you chuckle breathlessly, already feeling weak in the knees from the way Spencer holds you. “Mm, I’m surprised.”

“Why is that?” His words are slightly muffled against your skin, too busy kissing you to make himself sound coherent. His hands are rough against the softness of your skin, and you moan from the way he’s handling you.

“Yesterday you couldn’t even tell me you wanted to fuck,” you croon, thoroughly pleased. “And now you’re touching me like you know what you’re doing. It’s so hot.”

“I– I just can’t get enough of you,” Spencer admits, his earnest words turning you on extremely.

“Now you’re just horny,” you laugh, feeling Spencer’s hand slide over your underwear.

“Mm, you’re so wet right now too,” Spencer murmurs in your ear, his warm breath and raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine. Where’d he learn to talk like that? You squeeze your thighs together, but that doesn’t stop Spencer from feeling the wetness between your legs, soaking through your panties. 

“All for you, baby,” you gasp, as Spencer’s fingers slip past the band of your underwear, deftly stroking your clit. “Spencer–”

“Can I fuck you? Please?” He pleads, breathy, his hips already rutting forward against your ass. 

His eagerness makes your head spin, his sudden confidence in the realm of sex surprising – maybe it’s cockiness, but you still find that stupidly attractive – but it is certainly welcomed. 

“Yes, Spence, please,” you shudder, the word yes leaving your lips enough for Spencer to pull your underwear down, over the swell of your ass. He fumbles with his own boxers for a moment, but soon you feel his hard, leaking tip pressed to your butt. He rocks his hips back and forth, desperately seeking whatever friction he can get. 

Lost in his own pleasure, Spencer is quick to slide his cock between your legs, the wetness from your cunt making it easy for him to rut into the tight, slick space. Like this, his length rubs up against you, the head of his cock nudging at your clit with every thrust of his hips. It feels primal, Spencer so far gone that he isn’t even fucking you proper, content with the slick, tight space between your thighs and your pussy. You wonder if you need to tell him, but Spencer’s groan in your ear is shaky as his tip catches on your hole.

His arms wrapped around you, both of you moan as Spencer finally sinks his cock into you. He slides in too easily, so easily you almost think he’d hadn’t meant to do it. Maybe he hadn’t, but you’d gotten there in the end, where you both need to be; Spencer buried inside of you.

It’s so different from yesterday, the angle when he presses into you from behind so exhilarating, so good. He’s just as desperate as last night, but there’s a sort of reckless confidence in his movements. His hands slide under your shirt to grab at your tits again, rocking his hips while he practically gropes you. It’s so hot your head spins. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Spencer!” You cry out, your voice ripping its way out of your throat. Pleasure surges through you like electricity, Spencer’s thick cock hitting all the right spots from this angle. His eager desperation turns you on to no end, as you let him take you from behind. While you weren’t expecting lazy, morning sex at all, the intensity and desperation he fucks you with right now makes you think you could get used to this.

Spencer’s whine has your head spinning. His hips don’t slow, more rhythmic than yesterday but still as needy. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You coo breathlessly. You’re so fucking turned on, and every time Spencer drives his hips into you you can hear how wet you really are. “You’re doing so good for me, Spence, fucking me so good.”

“You like it? Is it good?” Spencer gasps, always so eager to please you.

“So good,” you moan. You’re still sore from last night, but the pleasure Spencer is giving you right now overrides all of that. You would love for him to wake you up like this every day. “I’m close, baby.”

“Oh,” Spencer says, like he’s surprised you’re already getting off on this, on him– “What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep going, Spence,” you gasp. “Keep fucking me just like this.”

Spencer’s hum is breathy, high-pitched. Somehow, his grip on you gets tighter, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The force he fucks you with is so wildly arousing. You’re so enamoured, and so turned on.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and steady as it bubbles up inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the dirty, rough way Spencer fucks you, and then you feel his soft lips on your neck again. He isn’t properly kissing you – more like slobbering all over your neck, but you cry out as he does so, thighs pressing together as you reach your orgasm. You’re shaking through it, clenching around Spencer as you come, and Spencer’s gasping as your tight pussy pushes Spencer over the edge too. You feel his come inside of you, cock twitching as his load spurts hot and heavy into your cunt. You sob, feeling Spencer slow his thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

“Holy shit,” you say, your voice coming out ragged and hoarse. You feel like a different woman, being fucked ruthlessly by your boyfriend in his bed for the first time. You can’t get enough. 

“I love you,” Spencer says quietly, earnest. It makes you shudder. 

“You’re crazy,” you laugh, taken aback at how Spencer’s returned to his gentle, soft self. “I love you too, you madman.”

“I can’t resist you,” he murmurs in your ear, the vibrations of his raspy morning voice almost soothing.

You turn around to face him, Spencer still holding you in his arms. He smiles warmly at you, and you lean in to kiss him. “You’re so cute.”

“Wanna go again?” he asks, somewhat timid. 

Your eyes widen. You try to hide your grin, but it doesn’t work. “Someone’s desperate, huh?”

Spencer flushes a gorgeous red. “Maybe a little?”

“I have to get ready for work,” you sigh, actually a little bummed that you can't spend all day fucking Spencer. “Maybe tonight?”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles. “Want me to drive you back to yours?”

You grin. “You’re the best!”

Work is relatively uneventful, numbers and Excel spreadsheets; and all you can think about is Spencer’s rapid change in demeanour over the last twelve hours, his innocence torn away by you, leaving behind a horny, insatiable man. You’re kind of proud of yourself for that. 

So, you can’t blame yourself for being excited to get back to Spencer’s. Lately, you’ve been staying over more, your apartment simply a place to house your wardrobe. Maybe you’ll talk to Spencer about living together.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, pleased when Spencer kisses you as he greets you at the door. 

Even with all the probable germs on you from being out all day, Spencer’s surprisingly clingy, hands on your waist as he stumbles in behind you, as you set the takeout you’d brought over on his dining table. Spencer leans in behind you, kissing your cheek then down your neck.

“Hey, what’s with you, baby?” you chuckle, very much enjoying the way Spencer’s hands slide down your waist to your hips, grabbing the meat of your thighs through your dress pants.

“Missed you,” Spencer answers simply, but even you can tell there’s something in his voice that implies he’s looking for something more. 

“I’m sorry I had to leave you alone the whole day, my love. I’m sure you must’ve found something to busy yourself with, though?” You hum, teasing. You have a good idea of where this is going.

Spencer’s quiet for a moment, so you turn to look at him. His lips are pressed into a thin line, looking almost nervous, and his cheeks are flushed red. Spencer finally presses his body close to yours, and you feel it–

“Spence,” you grin, “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“Thought about it– Thought about you all day,” Spencer mumbles. “You promised.”

“What did I promise, baby?” you egg him on, eager to hear him say it, even though you definitely know what he’s going to ask. 

“That we would do it again tonight,” he answers, but you shoot him a look. “You said we would have sex again tonight.”

“Twice in one day? I don’t know, baby,” you pretend to sound disinterested.

Spencer looks at you with wide eyes. Respectful as ever, he clears his throat. “Please? If you’re tired we don’t have to, but I really want to. Only if you want to, though. This involves both of us, I don’t want to impose–”

You giggle, reaching to hold his hands. “God, you’re perfect.”

“What–?” Spencer barely gets the word out before you’re kissing him. He’s happy to do so, holding your face gently, matching your energy perfectly. You feel his cock pressing against you. 

“I turned you into a sex fiend,” you laugh, between kissing him, “And you’re still thinking about making sure I’m into it too.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, like he can’t comprehend how he could be into it if you weren’t too. “And I- I’m not a sex fiend, I just–”

Smiling, you whisper sultrily, “I think you should take me right here, baby.”

“Oh–” You cut Spencer off with another kiss, and he squeaks as you reach for his half-hard cock through his sweatpants. You’re positively delighted that Spencer’s like this, for you.

Spencer kisses you deeply, leaning forward until the small of your back hits the edge of the table. His hands coming up to your ass, he lifts you up, getting you to lay back on the table. You gasp, as Spencer kisses down the column of your neck, his hands making quick work of the buttons of your dress shirt. His lips are soft against your skin, at the swell of your breasts. Your shirt gets pushed off your shoulders. You feel him unhook your bra with a surprising ease, tossed aside, and then his hands are grabbing your tits like they were made for him. His thumbs brush over your nipples, a little forceful as he kneads at you, and your head is spinning. 

“Spencer,” you moan, as he kisses down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants to reveal your soaked-through underwear. He smiles up at you, his messy mop of hair a lovely sight. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s big brown eyes dart down to where you’re soaked, then back up at you.

Your eyes widen. “Yes. If you want to.”

Spencer grins. “Of course I want to.”

His fingers are gentle on your hips as he pulls your panties off, wasting no time in spreading your legs so he can get between them. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, feeling kind of self-conscious over how eager he is to be doing this. Knelt between your thighs, he lifts one of your legs and swings them over his shoulder. You can feel his stubble on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his nose nudging against your clit. His tongue comes up, wet and hot, as he tastes you for the first time. “Spencer–”

He presses his face impossibly closer, more urgent in eating you out. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, his jaw flexing as his tongue works on you, and you’re trembling already. Spencer’s extremely good with his mouth, and you’re surprised at how good he’s making you feel, considering he likely hasn’t done this before. The sounds of his mouth are wet and squelchy and so obscene, and you would feel almost embarrassed, were it not for how into this Spencer seems to be too, 

With your hands in his hair, you cry out when Spencer’s tongue circles your swollen clit, jolts of pleasure sent through your body. You can’t think straight when Spencer’s face is buried between your legs, eating you out like he was made for this. All you can think about is how gifted Spencer is with his tongue, and how you wish you could do this all night. 

“Please, love,” you moan, “Need you to fuck me.”

Spencer hums in approval, the vibrations between your legs making you jump. He makes a little wet slurping noise before he comes back up, and you feel your cunt throb when he looks up at you with his lovely, wide brown eyes, and his chin wet and messy with your slick. Spencer wipes his face with the back of his hand, and you’re so turned on you might just explode.

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly. “I think this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I love you.”

“What is? Having sex on my dinner table?” Spencer quips, as he sets your legs down and stands back up. He has a cocky grin plastered on his face. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “First time for everything, right?”

Spencer nods, smiling, before he leans forward to kiss you sweetly. You watch as he pulls his sweatpants down, his cock bobbing up, red and angry and rock hard. You feel yourself salivating at the sight, but decide that he needs to fuck you right now.

“Spencer,” you mewl, feeling breathless as you watch him wrap a hand around himself, stroking his length. Concentration is written all over his face and it makes you want to kiss him. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” Spencer says, pressing his cock forward until he’s lined up with your entrance. It’s so tantalising, the way the blunt head of his cock threatens to slip into you. You’re so wet and so loose for him, and you need him inside of you now.

You gasp when he finally pushes in, his thick cock splitting you in half as he slides into you. The pressure is so perfect, the slow draw of his hips as he takes care not to rush, wanting to take care of you. Even with all this still being new for Spencer, he still focuses on you, puts you first. You’re not sure if you’re swooning over him, or the way his cock fits inside you perfectly.

You don’t need to encourage him to start moving. He rocks his hips slowly, somehow already familiar with your body, and makes you feel like you could explode with pleasure. 

He leans forward, pressing his body to yours as he kisses you. Like this, Spencer presses into you deeper, fucks you slow and deep and loving. The edge of the table is absolutely digging into your back, but you don’t care when every sense of yours is filled with Spencer, getting to taste and touch and hear him. You taste yourself on his tongue, hear the sloppy way he thrusts into you, your skin burning wherever he’s pressed up against you. 

Burying his face in your neck, Spencer pants in your ear, hot and heavy as he fucks you, giving you everything you need. Your head is swimming with arousal, as Spencer presses you against the table and fucks you like his life depends on it. “You feel so good, fuck, so good–”

“I’m so close, baby,” you cry out, the pace absolutely ruthless as Spencer fucks you. You didn’t think his stamina would be this good, considering your boyfriend’s lanky stature and abhorrence towards exercise. You certainly wouldn’t mind doing this kind of cardio with him more often. “Please, Spence–”

“Let go, I– I’m here for you,” Spencer stumbles over his words, but he’s so sweet that you’re losing yourself, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. You scream as you reach your peak, your toes curling while Spencer fucks you through it, shaking as pleasure and arousal zips through your body. Spencer’s hips stutter as the tightness of your pussy has him reeling, too close too quickly. 

While his hips keep a steady pace, you’re feeling loopy as Spencer continues to fuck you. You hold his head close to you, kissing his forehead as you murmur, “You’re so hot, Spence. Made me come so quickly, and you held out for me? So good for me, baby. Are you close?”

Spencer whines, a pitiful noise in the back of his throat. “Please, I’m so close, need you–”

“I’m right here, baby,” you coo, stroking his sweat-matted hair sweetly. You’re so enamoured with him. “Gonna cum inside me, Spence? Fill me up with your–”

You don’t even get to finish your dirty talk before Spencer is moaning, coming inside of you. It feels like he’s released so much inside of you, hot and messy as he fucks you through his own high. His chest heaves as he pants, trembling as he reels from the intensity of his orgasm. Spencer’s hips slow to a stop, and he mouths at your neck mindlessly until he seems to get his bearings back. You imagine you must look a mess, sweat and spit all over you, your makeup from a long day of work likely running by now. 

Spencer gets up off of you, so both of you have space to catch your breaths. You feel Spencer slip out of you with a slick ‘pop’, and feel his release trickle out of you just moments after. You stifle a quiet moan, but when you look up at Spencer, his eyes couldn’t possibly leave the sight between your legs. His lips are parted slightly, pupils blown wide, as he watches you drip with his release. You feel Spencer’s cock, resting against your inner thigh, twitch slightly. 

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckle, out of breath. “Give me a minute to recover.”

His eyes practically twinkle when they dart up to look at you. He’s like an excited puppy as he asks, “Again?”

You shake your head, laughing, and sit up to kiss Spencer again. “Maybe we could try something new?”

Spencer grins, nodding eagerly. It definitely seems like he’s down for whatever, as long as it’s with you. 

[yeonzzzn]

wanna be the sequel: sim jaeyun

part two of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 11.6k

synopsis: you decide to keep jake’s secret of him being the mysterious ghost face killer, always taking up for him and playing dumb to the cases. but as jake’s love for you starts to overpower him and blurs his lines, his killer instinct reaches new heights.

genre: situationship, ghostface!jake, journalist!reader, smut.

warnings: swearing, jake is fucking insane, blood & m*rder, reader has a dream of being k!lled, knife play, fingering, oral (m. rec), cum eating, multiple unprotective sex scenes, one public sex scene bc jake got jealous, reader gets fucked against a mirror, reader gets cut at some point, if I missed everything please let me know!

His smirk sent chills down your spine as he buried himself deep within you, one hand was on your neck and the other squeezed the plush of your thighs. His thrusts were rough and relentless, that evil smirk growing wider and wider as the clock ticked along. 

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he cooed, cock twitching against your walls, “Fucking you to death, it’s so hot.” 

His hand left your thigh, and where it went, you had no idea. You just knew his thrusts were now sloppy and his cum was filling you whole. 

“Hmmm, so pretty,” he cooed again, breathing hard after his release, an unbearable amount of pain now being felt at your side, “So pretty with how you bleed out for me.” 

You looked to your left, seeing his knife pushed between your skin and your blood gushing onto the handle, his hand, and the floor. 

You gasped for air, tears swelling your eyes as you looked up at him, begging for him to stop.  

“Awe, sweet baby,” he slowly pulls the knife out of your side, bringing it up to his face, “Your blood is pretty too, everything about you is so pretty.” 

You tried to pull yourself up, to throw him off you, but your body weighed millions, arms like lead. 

He presses the tip of his knife to your bare chest, aiming right atop your heart, “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to kill you, feeling your blood on my hands,” he slowly pushed the knife in, and your gasps came in a rush and slowly dragged. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Sweet honey, so pretty even when you’re dying.” 

He laughs. You blinked at him as the tears fell down your cheeks, taking one final breath and everything turning black. 

You shot straight up in your bed, hands reaching for your chest and side, not feeling the wounds. It was just a dream…just a dream. 

Sweat droplets slid down your face and you wiped them away with the back of your hands. The cool air of your apartment helped cool you off from the dream. Creating goosebumps on your skin. 

The dream. Where was Jake?

You looked to your left, seeing his side of the bed empty, “Jake?” you called out, your heart racing faster, “Jaeyun?” 

You glanced at the chair in the corner of the room, seeing his duffle bag still there, the ghost face mask hanging from the top of the chair, staring directly back at you. His side of the bed was cold, proving he’d been gone for a while, “Jake?” you called out again, the silence was starting to make you go crazy, crazier than you already were for homing a serial killer. 

You had feelings for him, despite everything he has done and will do. You wanted to fix him, praying that having him by your side twenty-four-seven was doing the trick, even if it was a little at a time. 

But you started to panic, slowly starting to crawl out of bed when your bedroom door opened and your heart stopped. 

“You called for me, honey?” Jake asked with a quart of cherry vanilla-swirled ice cream in his hands and a spoon hanging from his mouth. You stared at him, not knowing what to make of this. He looks down at the quart in his hands and back up at you, “I was craving a late-night snack.” 

How was the man in front of you a serial killer? How was he clinically insane and batshit crazy, but craved ice cream? Being so soft and gentle at this moment. You’d never guessed he’d murdered so many people. 

Jake pulled the spoon from his mouth and reached it back into the quart, “Want some?” 

You shrugged but nodded, might as well right? 

With a cute smile on his face, he sits down on the bed in front of you and scoops up the creamy goodness, and holds it to your mouth, “Say ah!” 

You let him feed you, feeling your heartwarming by how cute he was right now. How…angelic he was. Jake’s happy expression quickly changes to a concerned one, “Honey, what’s wrong?” He sat the ice cream down on the nightstand table and placed his cold hands on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t realize were still there, “talk to me.” 

You didn’t know how to tell him you dreamed of him killing you. Mostly when nearly two months ago he was so willing to slice your throat open on your kitchen floor. “It was just a bad dream.” 

Jake pouts, “My sweet baby,” he lays down beside you and pulls you to his chest, cuddling you close to him, “I’m sorry, want to talk about it?” 

You shook your head, wrapping your arm around his waist, “I just want to be close to you, it’s helping. I promise.” 

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what you dreamt of. The look on your face gave it away. Jake expected it, honestly. He almost killed you, so you have a very valid reason for having such horrid dreams as that. Jake couldn’t lie, he wanted nothing more than to slice his knife across certain parts of your body to watch you bleed, but not kill you. How could he kill the love of his life?

He held you close, listening to the sound of your breathing and how it slowed down as you drifted back off to sleep. He slowly traced his thumb up and down your back, his eyes locking onto his mask hanging from the chair, and a smirk spread on his lips. 

It was almost time. 

—

You leaned against the table, crossing your arms and staring at the corkboard. Eyes tracing along the red thread that connected each murder case. The murder cases against Ghost Face…against Jake. You mindlessly kept your eyes tracing, acting like you were busy trying to figure it out, acting like you normally would on any other day. It’s been a rough couple of months of lying to the rest of your club, that’s for sure. How did Jake do it this whole time? 

“YN!!” You whip your head around to the new recruit of the club, seeing her bright cute smile as she walks up to you, and then look at the board, “You’ve been staring for a while, find any new clues?” 

Danielle Marsh, a freshman and such a sweet girl who came from Australia on a journalism scholarship and has the brains—and the grades—to make it big one day. She is just as invested in the Ghost Face murders almost as much as you were. Lying to such a sweet soul every day was heartbreaking. 

“Nope, not yet? Dani,” you said with a fake sigh, looking back at the board, “Nothing new.” 

“Well darn!” her cute Aussie accent puffed, “I’ve also been staring at this all day, and going through your old journals and notes about the cases to get a brighter idea, but nothing.” 

You thinned your lips to a line and looked down to the floor, “It’s rough out here.” 

It was silent in the club room until the doors opened, both you and Danielle looking to see Jake walking in with a bag, “I brought lunch!” 

Danielle clapped her hands, rushing to Jake and taking the bag, “Thank you!” 

He smiles at her, both of you watching as she makes herself comfy at the table and pulls out everyone’s food. 

You sit across from her, feeling Jake wrap his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin atop your head. 

Danielle hands you a box with your food but notices there are only two boxes, “Are you not eating, Jake?” you ask him. 

He shakes his head, “Nope, I ate earlier. I have somewhere to be here soon. Only stopped by to drop off lunch and head out.” 

You hummed, wondering what he had to be doing here soon. You already knew, or assumed, what he was doing, but you also couldn’t ask, not with Danielle in the room. 

So you both ate in silence, her eyes glancing on and off from you and Jake, a small smile on her face, “Jake have you figured anything else out about the murders?” 

You tried to act normal, to keep your body calm and a poker face on, continuing to eat as if that question didn’t trigger something. 

Jake just sighs, deciding to sit beside you now and dropping his face into his palm, “Not a thing. Whoever he is, he’s smart, that’s for sure.” 

Way to boost your own ego there, Jake Sim. 

“He’ll get caught someday,” Danielle casually says, taking a bite of her chicken. 

Jake’s eyes lit up as he smiled, “Oh yeah? You think so?” 

You carefully watched him. Jake knew your eyes were on him, watching his body language and how he looked at Danielle. He knew you were probably worried about her, possibly what he’d do to her. But you needn't worry, he wouldn’t harm her. Not unless she got too close. 

Danielle nods, “He’s killed over thirty people and somehow stolen evidence from the police station after his first mess up. He’s bound to make another mistake.” 

Jake raised his brows, heart pounding fast with excitement. Silly little thing, thinking he was fucking stupid enough to make another mistake like the first time. He was more careful than ever to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Plus he had you now, you’d make sure nothing bad happened to him. 

“Anyway,” Danielle said, changing the subject, “Suspects,” she giggled, “Who do you think the man behind the mask is?” 

It was Jake’s turn to watch you, a smile still on his face, “Yeah, honey, have any ideas or clues?” 

You wanted to punch him, knowing he was doing this on purpose to tease you, to test you. 

So you shrug, keeping your eyes locked to your food, “No idea. I thought I was close once, but after the evidence disappeared, it was back to the drawer board.” 

Good fucking girl. 

Jake wanted to kiss you so hard right now. It turned him on hearing you lie for him. To act so dumb and oblivious. All for him. 

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, his smile only growing wider. 

“I’d love to stay with you lovely ladies,” Jake stands up, wrapping his arms back around you, “But I need to head out.” You nod, noticing Danielle’s mouth and eyes are smiling at you both. 

Jake kisses your cheek and squeezes you tightly then is out the door. 

“You two make such a good couple,” she coos, “Not only are you both the best journalists at this college, you’re the IT couple too!!~~~”

You softly chuckle, “We aren’t together though…” you sigh staring down at your chicken, “More of a situationship than anything else.” 

Danielle frowned, “But he moved in with you, didn’t he? He holds your hand around campus and even shows you off on his Instagram. Totally thought you’d be an item.” 

You shrug, taking a bite out of your food and swallowing, “He hasn’t asked me out or anything, so there’s technically not a label.” 

You honestly didn’t know what Jake wanted with you. He treated you like a girlfriend, made love to you like a girlfriend, and did everything a boyfriend would do. Yet you still had no idea what he wanted. You were more surprised that he agreed to move into your apartment with you, considering he spends his free time, ya know, killing people. You mostly only asked him to move in to save poor Sunghoon, but also because you wanted him close to you. Maybe you were more insane than Jake was. 

“Well,” Danielle sighs, “You two still are really cute together. I hope it eventually turns into a real relationship.” 

You and me both, Dani. 

—

Jake pulls a cell phone from his pocket, quickly dials a number, and presses the device to his ear, adjusting his duffle bag on his shoulder. 

“Jake!” she sang on the other line, “Where are you?” 

Jake smirks, “I am looking for you, Luna.” 

She softly giggles over the line, “I am standing right where you told me to.” 

Jake knew where she was. He could see her standing in the alleyway across the street from him. She wore a cute red glittery dress with matching high heels. Blonde dyed hair pulled back into a neat ponytail that was braided. She was cute, but nothing compared to you, his sweet honey. 

“I am almost there,” he says, dropping his duffle bag to the ground. He was also standing in an alleyway, it being too dark for anyone to notice him, or even notice Luna across the street from him, “I might have taken a wrong turn.” 

She giggles again, “Aren’t you like, top of your class or something? It’s what your dating profile said.” 

“Ahh,” Jake chuckles, pulling his black suit from the bag, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he puts it on, “I’m book smart, not street smart.” It took everything in Jake to not laugh at how gullible this woman was. It’s why he picked her in the first place. It was so easy to create a fake dating profile on some random ass app with a fake last night and profile picture. This woman doesn’t even actually know what he looks like. Made this all the more fun. It wasn't just because of how stupid she was, she openly has it on her profile that she’s a Ghost Face enthusiast. Imagine that! A personal fan of his, what an honor it was to kill a fan. And an honor to her to be killed by him. Pity though, she was really pretty. He didn’t drive three hours here and wasted another two waiting around for night to hit just to make this an easy kill for her. No no, he was going to make this fun. 

Jake continued to watch Luna as she laughed across the street, kicking her heels into the rubble of the street and pulling out his mask. “Wait,” He says, “I think I see you.” 

Luna looks up and down the street and even behind her. “I don’t see you.” 

“I’m across the street from you,” he smirks, tossing his duffle bag behind some abandoned boxes, and taking further steps back into the dark alleyway, “Walk over to me?” 

She smiles and tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, looking both ways before jumping from the curb and rushing across the street, “You better be giving me the best fuck of my life for making me run in heels.” 

Jake’s smirk only grew, adjusting his mask over the top of his head, “Oh, don’t worry I’ll fuck you real good, I promise.” 

He slid the mask down in place, holding the phone back between his shoulder and ear to slide his gloves on his hands. 

“Good,” Luna let out a huff, taking a deep breath as she reached the other side of the street, “snow where are you?” 

Jake hid in the darkness, “Hiding, gotta come find me,” he said in a teasing voice, watching how she smiled and walked down the alleyway. Stupid woman. 

“I don’t see you, and why do you sound muffled?” 

“Must be the shitty connection.” 

She shrugs, slowly but surely making her way towards Jake. The closer she got, the more he could tell she was getting uncomfortable, “Jake it’s really dark out here, where are you?” 

“Hmmm,” he hums, “I’ll tell you if you answer my question.” 

She stops walking, clicking her tongue, and turns around, facing away from him. 

Perfect. 

“What?” she says annoyed, “If you’re pulling a prank and are actually on the other side of the street I swear.” 

“I’m not, don’t worry,” Jake clenched the voice changer attached to his suit, “I just need to ask,” he pressed the button, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

Luna’s heart dropped, her blood going cold, but a smile on her face, nevertheless, “I didn’t know you were also a Ghost Face enthusiast,” she giggled, “That kind of hot, actually. Didn’t think I’d find anyone else from this town who also was into it.” 

Jake creeps up on her slowly, his knife being pulled from his pocket, “You see, the thing is, I am not from this town,” Luna’s smile fades, “I’m also not an enthusiast.” 

Before she could turn around, Jake ended the call, tossing the burner phone somewhere in the abyss of the alley, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and pressing the knife to her neck. 

Luna gasps, dropping her phone and purse to the ground, hands flying to Jake’s arm. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sharpness of Jake’s knife cut deep into her throat, the warm red liquid spilling from her neck and down the front of her hands and arms, her dress, and Jake’s arm. 

“I am the Ghost Face,” he whispers as Luna starts to struggle against his hold, clawing at his arm with her nails, ripping the long sleeve of his suit, and digging into his skin. 

He hisses as pushes her to the ground, her body landing with a thud. Using all the strength she had in her dying body to try and crawl away from him, her blood staining the concrete. 

Jake was pissed now. He’d have to sew his suit back together and probably stitch up his arm once he’s back at the apartment. Oh, how worried you’ll be once you see him tonight. His anger flourishes even more, pissed at Luna for how she will make you worry about him. 

Jake looped his boot at her waist, lifting her up and forcing her to flip over. He quickly dropped down, straddling her, loving the scared look on her face. The look of death looming over. 

“Awe,” he coos, his Aussie accent mixed with the voice mod sent chills down her spine, “You really tried your best to get away,” he pins her arms down with his knees, and free hand pinned her shoulder to the ground, “You really shouldn’t trust random people on the internet. Haven’t your parents taught you that?” She gasped for air, trying to find some way to scream out for help. Jake clicked his tongue, hovering the tip of his knife to her chest, “Don’t you also know it’s rude to ignore people?” he slowly pushed the knife in, “Your parents didn’t teach you a damn thing, no wonder you’re so gullible.” 

The sounds of her gasps mixed with the gurgling sounds of her blood pooling out from her neck and chest were music to his ears. He quickly pulled the knife out and slid it back in, creating a new wound. Jake repeated the process, spreading Luna’s blood all over himself, his mask, her dying body, and the ground. Loving how his knife sounded as it repeatedly broke her skin. 

Jake was sweating, feeling the droplets stream down his face, needing some air. 

He slid the mask up, finally revealing his true face to her. Blood dripped from her mouth as she stared blankly at him, vision going blurry. He laughs, “Still kicking? What a trooper.” He lifted up his right arm, shoving the sleeve up to his elbow, revealing the deep cuts her nails left, “No wonder you left such a nasty wound, you’re a fighter even when you’re fucking stupid.” Luna tried to fight, to say anything, her heartbeat barely holding on. 

Jake traced the tip of his knife down the side of her pale face, “My girl might kill me when I return home after seeing the damage you did to my arm,” he tilted his head, “I promised her I would be careful,” he chuckles, “Oh well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.” 

“fuck…you…” was all Luna managed to say with her dying breath. 

Jake’s smile grew, “That wasn’t very nice.” He was done playing now, wanting to return home and cuddle you the rest of the night. He wasted enough time here, “So long, Luna.” 

Jake made his final strike, her blood splattering across his face as she took her final breath. 

—

You paced about the living room, arms crossed over your chest and hands rubbing your upper arms. Where was he? It’s been hours and he was nowhere to be seen. You called Sunghoon asking if he was with him, only to your dismay, Sunghoon hasn’t seen him since soccer practice this morning. 

You already figured out what Jake was doing. His duffle bag wasn’t in its normal spot in the bedroom. The endless thoughts of the worst possible scenarios raced through your head. What if something happened? What if he got caught? What if his victim fought back and he couldn’t get away? Many more different thoughts spilled about your brain. And you wouldn’t rest until he either walked through that door or called you. 

You’ve called him multiple times. Texted him too. But got no response. Jake normally turns his phone off when he…to keep from someone tracking his location or disturbing him. It only made you worry more. 

The spots on the hard floor were now warm from your pacing and your neighbors below you were probably getting ready to grab a broomstick and start hitting their ceiling. 

But all your worries faded when your ears picked up the sound of keys jingling from the other side of the front door, being pushed into the lock and turning. The door opened and finally, Jake stepped inside. He smiled at you, “Hi my sweet honey, you waited up for me?” 

You wanted to rush to him, to hug him and kiss him and yell at him for being gone so long and making you worry. To beat the shit out of him for committing another murder and how you felt like shit because all you want to do is fix him. But to your dismay, you know you can’t fix insanity, not when you’re also insane. 

Jake tilted his head, “Not going to welcome me home?” 

You noticed the dried blood on his face and hair, you pitted whoever the victim was, “Welcome home, Jake.” 

“That my sweet honey,” he drops the duffle bag to the floor and walks over to you, embracing you to his chest. He smelt of sweat and blood, causing you to scrunch your nose. 

“You need a shower.” 

Jake chuckles, squeezing you tightly, “I know.” 

You ran your hands from his shoulders down to his forearm, his face wincing. You looked up at him, “What's wrong?” 

Jake awkwardly smiled, “Nothing.” 

You looked down to his forearm where your hand gripped onto his hoodie sleeve, noticing how pale his skin looked on his hand. Something happened. You quickly pulled up the sleeve, seeing four deep cuts to the skin.

“Now…honey—“

“What the fuck happened?!” You snapped, pointing your finger to the kitchen table, “Sit the fuck down.” 

Jake quickly nodded. Shit, she might actually fucking kill me. 

You pulled the first aid kit from the bathroom and quickly rushed back to him, kneeling down in front of him. He was lucky you decided to buy the most expensive one and had first aid training. Ya know, in case something like this happened. Jake explained to you the series of events that led up to now, with an insane smile on his face the entire time. 

“It was perfect,” he coos, “You should have seen it, honey.”

You gently smiled at him, deciding to keep your thoughts on how you were perfectly fine not being there to witness it. You cleaned up what you could of the wounds, “You’ll need stitches.” 

He cocks his head, eyes filled with so much endearment for you, “Good thing I have you to take care of me, ya?” He caresses your cheek, thumb gliding to your lips and pulling the button one down, “So good for me.” 

You pulled from his graze, reaching into the kit and pulling out the tools, dissolvable stitches, and bandages, “This will probably hurt.” 

Jake shrugs, “I’m a soccer player, I’ve had stitches and broken bones before.”

You pushed off his sassy attitude, preparing the needle and the string. Jake sat through it like a champ, only winching when the needle pierced through his skin. You placed ointment over the stitches and bandaged it up, “All done.” 

Jake leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead and then leans back into the chair, “Thank you, honey.”

You packaged up the kit, another thought shooting in your mind, “She dug her nails into you, correct?” 

Jake inhales, “Yeah? Isn’t that what I said?” 

You glared at him, “She probably has your DNA under her nails, you fucking idiot!” 

Your chin was between his index finger and thumb before you even had the chance to blink, his face inches away from yours, “I’m not a fucking idiot!” he hissed between his teeth, “I took care of it.” He dropped your chin, running his hands through his dark sweaty, and blood-soaked hair, keeping eye contact with you. Your pissed-off glare was relentless, and oh man, it was turning him on. Seeing you so pissed off at him yet so worried about his well-being. What did he do to deserve you? 

Jake drops his hand to his crotch, palming his hardening length, “I love it when you look at me like that,” he tilts his head, “You know what I’d love even more?” 

You waited, feeling your arousal starting to pool on your panties. 

“Your mouth wrapped around my cock.” 

Jake slowly unbuttoned his jeans, looping his thumbs in between the fabric of his boxers and skin, sliding both his jeans and boxers down to the floor, his fully hard dick resting against his abdomen. He tilted his chin up, signaling for you to touch him. 

So you did, wrapping your hand around his base and slowly pumping him, taking the precum spilling from the tip and spreading it around the head. Jake groans at your touch, cock twitching, “Stop teasing me, baby.” 

He places his hand on your head, gently pushing you forward, his tip touching your lips. You place a few kisses to the tip, sneaking your tongue out and wrapping it around the head, hand sliding up and down the shaft as you slowly take him in your mouth, bobbing your head in a slow motion and flattening your tongue to fit him in deeper. 

“Fuck, honey,” he moans, moving your head with his hand to help you pick up the speed, “Your mouth feels so good.” 

His tip hits the back of your throat, kicking in your gag reflex, sending vibrations against him. Jake hisses, flinging his head back over the chair and bucking his hips up, “Fuck, YN, oh fuck.” 

Your hands now held onto his thighs, feeling the muscles flex against your palms as he bucked his hips up into your mouth, your nose brushing against his pelvis. You tucked your feet beneath you and squeezed your thighs together, trying to feel some fiction of your own as your arousal pooled in your panties, more than likely soaking through the thin material and your shorts. 

Tears swelled your eyes as you tried to breathe through your nose, relishing too much in this pleasure of having him so far down your throat to even dare think about coming up for air. But the twitch his cock did against your tongue told you enough that he wouldn’t last much longer. 

You fluttered your eyes up, already seeing him staring back down at you. Jake’s eyes were completely blown out, mouth gaped open, and breathing deeply. The dried blood on his face—for whatever reason—mixed with the facial expression of pure bliss, was so fucking hot on him. 

It didn’t make sense to you, how you could find blood splattered across his beautiful face to be so attractive. Maybe it was just your plain attraction to him, the feelings you felt for him that ran so deep that he made blood look good. 

Jake loved this moment, loved you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching how his cock disappears down your throat. God, it was perfect, way better than the murder he committed hours ago. He loved how the tears swelled your eyes but you loved every moment of his cock in your mouth. 

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock, baby,” he bucked his hips up harder, hitting the back of your throat and you moaned around him. His fingers tangled in your hair, “I’m gonna fill that pretty little mouth of yours with my load and you’ll swallow it, understand?” 

You tried to nod but instead batted your eyes at him in understanding, he just smirked, “Good girl.” 

With a few bobs of your head, Jake pushed you down onto him, hips snapping up to meet your nose against his pelvis, his cum shooting down your throat. He took a few deep breaths, rocking his hips to chase out that high, flinging his head back against the chair. 

When his grip on your hair released, you slid him out your mouth, causing Jake to look back up at you, waiting. You swallowed his seed, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, showing the proof. 

Jake smirks, leaning forward and giving you a quick kiss, “I’m so in love with you.” 

He stands from the chair, kicking his legs out of his jeans and boxers and pulling the hoodie and shirt off too, tossing them to the floor. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, piercing daggers into his back. He just got the best head of his life and he��s stripping and dropping his nasty bloody clothes all over your floor? 

“Honey?” he calls for you, pulling out his bloody suit and mask, “Would you mind please washing my clothes for me? I’ll repay you by making breakfast in the morning.” 

He turns to you, picking up all the clothes he left on the floor and handing them to you, his naked body distracting you. 

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at his face, “I’ll make love to you after my shower, okay?” He gives you a wink, “Please wash my clothes?” You quickly nod, how could you turn down getting dicked down later AND breakfast tomorrow morning? He placed one last kiss on your lips and made his way to the shower. 

—

You leaned against the arcade machine, watching as Jake and Sunghoon slapped their palms onto the buttons of the Tekken game, both their faces with full smiles and concentration. Your eyes wandered down to Jake’s arms and hands, his beautiful veins popping out.  

“Be careful,” you said, fully noticing just how hard the two boys were slapping the buttons, “This is an old machine.” 

“YES!!” Sunghoon screamed, raising his hands in the air and causing you to jump back from being startled by his outburst, “Suck it Jake!” 

Jake dropped his face into his hands, resting his elbows on the machine, “I was so sure I had you!” 

Sunghoon patted Jake’s back, “Can’t win them all buddy.” 

Jake quickly shot up from the stool, his index finger pointing across the arcade, “Dance battle me!” 

Sunghoon smirked, “You’ll lose again.” 

Jake flipped him the bird, shoving the middle finger in his face as he walked away, “Try me.”

The two of them rushed to the Dance Dance Revolution game, fighting over who would use their coins for the round. 

You still get whiplash every time you see Jake doing normal things. That this man—who is a fucking serial killer—is fighting with his best friend over who is going to pay for the game, just like any normal set of friends would do. Besides the fact that he is far from normal. 

“Kids, am I right?” 

You got startled for the second time today, jumping and quickly whipping your head around to see where and who the voice came from. You recognize that dyed blonde hair and smile. 

Jay Park. A student in the film department. You’ve worked with him plenty of times on different projects for the college. He even helped you and Jake on one of the first few Ghost Facer murder cases. It’s been a while since you’ve actually gotten to see or really speak to him besides in passing. 

You leaned against the Tekken arcade machine and crossed your arms, your eyes wandering back to Jake and Sunghoon, watching as they competitively danced away, “Yeah, boys will be boys, I guess.” 

Jay follows your gaze over to them, chuckling at them, “Are they always like this?” 

That…was a good question. You and Jake didn’t hang out with Sunghoon very often. Even before you found out about Jake’s Ghost Face persona you didn’t see a lot of Sunghoon. Nothing was different now. 

So you just kind of shrugged, “When I see the two of them together, yeah.”

Jay was looking at you again, eyebrows raised, “When you see them both?” you nodded, “Oh, well figured you would since you’re dating Sim.” 

“Actually,” you sigh, once again being reminded how he’s not yours, “We aren’t…dating.” 

Jay was now even more confused, “Doesn’t he live with you?” 

You thinned your lips and gave another shrug, “It’s complicated.” Complicated because I’m housing a serial killer who has yet to slap a label on what we even are. 

“So you’re single then?” you nod again, “In that case.” Jay leaned closer to you, his face a few inches away from yours and his arm resting behind you against the gaming machine, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? If I am being honest, I’ve always found you super cute.” Jay couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down your body, stopping at the ruffles of your skirt, loving how the cute flowered laced ends looked against your pushed thighs, “I would pay and everything, be my treat.” 

The dance ended with Jake and Sunghoon practically coming to a tie, Jake only by three points ahead of him. 

“Fuck…” Jake pants, “You…” he said with another pant and once again giving his best friend his middle finger, “Beat your ass.” 

Sunghoon shoved his friend's hand out of his face, rolling his eyes, “By three points!” 

Jake just smiles, happy with his win, “YN did you see…” Jake barely turned around to speak with you to see you still by the last game they played and Jay in your personal space. His blood boiled and his fists clenched, “Why is Park in my girl's space?” 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, still tired from the intense dance battle, and turned, seeing the same thing Jake was, “Maybe he's just being friendly?”

Friendly? HA. Right. That look on Jay’s face was anything but friendly. Jay was looking at you the way he does, “Friendly my ass,” Jake hissed, “I don’t like it.”  

Sunghoon sighed, “Well, maybe if you made it official between the two of you, he wouldn’t be in her space.” 

Make it official? Wasn’t Jake living under your roof, sleeping in your bed, fucking you so good every single night not proof enough that you two were exclusive? That you’re his and no one else’s? 

Jake’s anger boiled further, seeing how you shook your head at Jay but kept smiling at him. His smile only became bigger. Jake’s nails sank into his palm. 

“Damn, dude,” Sunghoon whistled, “Never seen you so jealous before.” 

Jealous? Ridiculous.

“Why don’t you go get us a table at that restaurant we planned to hit up after this,” Jake said with a killing calm, “YN and I will meet you there soon.” 

Sunghoon agreed, mostly because he wanted no part of whatever it was Jake was about to do. He’s never seen him so jealous over something. Sunghoon definitely didn’t want to be around if a fight broke out. Praying to every god possible that you’re able to keep Jake calm. 

Once Sunghoon was out of the arcade, Jake stepped down from the dance game, eyes blazing at seeing Jay trace his fingers down from your shoulder to your wrist. 

Jake was on you in an instant, “Hands off my girl,” he growled, shoving Jay away from you and pulling you behind him, his killer instinct coming on full display. Oh man, how badly did Jake want to kill Jay. To slowly sink his knife into his neck and watch the life drain from his eyes and blood stream from the wound. 

Jay chuckled, “Your girl?” he smirked, leaning back against the gaming machine, “Didn’t realize she belonged to you.” 

This was the first time you were actually scared of Jake. You’ve never seen him so pissed off, so protective. His grip on your wrist was growing tighter the longer he pierced daggers at Jay. 

“I came in her this morning, making her mine,” Jake smirked, the fire in his eyes not relenting. 

“Are you a dog?” Jay scrunched his nose and raised a brow, “Marking your territory or some shit?” 

“Fucked her in doggy, so yeah.” 

“Jesus fucking christ.” Jay stood up straight, taking a few steps back, “What the fuck man.” 

“Woof.” 

“Jake!” you slapped his arm, trying to yank your wrist free, your cheeks flushed from him exposing your morning deeds, “Stop, let’s just go!” 

You tried to pull Jake now, only for him to yank you back closer to him, you tripping over your feet and landing against his back, “What’s wrong baby? Am I embarrassing you?” he coos, “Were you so bored of me that you had to slut around and flirt with someone who wasn’t me?” 

“Hey!” Jay barked, “Don’t talk to her like that!” 

“Or what?” Jake said with a chilling calm, taking a few steps closer to Jay, being inches apart from his face, “Don’t fuck with me.” 

“Get out,” Jay scoffed, “Before I kick you out.” 

Jake raised a brow, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, asshat, my family owns this arcade. I work here, get the fuck out.” 

Jake smirks, walking backward and sliding his arm over your shoulder, “Nah, we got some coins left to use.”

The last thing Jay wanted to do was call the police and have to explain to his family it was all over a girl. So he watched Jake cling to you as he turned you both around, placing a kiss on your temple, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. Jay didn’t know Jake well, but the man he was seeing right now, scared the shit out of him. Like he could kill him in a heartbeat. So Jay left it alone, walking over to the front counter and sitting down on the stool, keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay. 

Jake dropped himself in front of another fighting game, pulling you into his lap, lips on your ear, “You better fucking talk me out of this one,” he growled, “because if you don’t I’m returning here later tonight, and fucking killing him and stringing his body from the ceiling for his family to find tomorrow morning.” 

Your heart sank, eyes looking over to Jay and seeing his eyes staring back at you, “Jake please,” you whispered. 

“Please what?” he whispered back, both his hands rubbing at your thighs, “You were so flirty with him and now you’re begging me to not kill him?” 

You hated how his voice in your ear was making you wet. How his hands squeezing your bare thighs was sending chills up your spine. Jake knew it was turning you on, he wasn’t stupid. He knew your body and how it works and how to work it, he was using this to his advantage. 

You leaned back into him, slightly turning your face so you could see him in your peripherals, “Jake, you know I only want you.” And it was true. You wanted only Jake. You loved him. Yeah, you got kinda flirty with Jay, but it wasn’t going anywhere, you kept turning down his advances and he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but that doesn’t mean Jake needs to kill him. You had to play Jake’s game and be in control, “Only you.” 

Jake chuckles, sliding his hands to your inner thighs and spreading your legs, exposing your red panties to Jay. Jake took a quick glance at him, seeing his face turn red and his eyes widen. Jake didn’t just chuckle because of what you said, he was chuckling at you. He found it so cute that you think you’re the one in control, “I love watching you think you’re controlling me,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “You can’t play mind games with a serial killer, baby,” Chills went throughout your body as his fingers slid up to your core, “Nice try though.”

“Jake,” you gasped, clenching your fingers to the stool, his knuckle rubbing against your folds, “I truly only want you, I don’t want him.” 

Ahh your words were music to his ears. Your voice so full of truth, and your cunt so wet for him. Only him, “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he whispers, “You’re going to pull the last few coins from my pocket and play this game here, got it?” You nod, slipping a hand into his jeans pocket and taking out the golden arcade coins, “Don’t put them in yet,” he licks another stripe up your ear, his thumb looping into your panties. 

“What are you do—Jake!” you softly moaned his name, feeling the cool air hit your exposed cunt as he split your pussy lips open with his index and ring finger, the middle sliding up and down from your fuck hole to your clit and back down, “Jake, we’re in public,” you finally managed to say, eyes rushing back to Jay, seeing him dead staring. 

“And?” he laughs, sliding his middle finger into your cunt, “We’re going to give him a show.” 

You knew Jake was insane, knew something like this was nothing compared to the things he’s done, yet it still surprised you nevertheless that he had your legs spread and pussy out for another man to see. 

Jake kept a firm grip on your thigh as his finger slowly pumped in and out of you, his eyes piercing at Jay. Jake kept eye contact as he flattened his tongue against the end of your neck and licked up and up until he reached just below your jaw, planting an open-mouthed kiss on that sweet spot. Jake loved how agitated Jay was getting. How he tried so hard to look away from the two of you but couldn’t. It was a mind game, one Jake was going to win. 

But GOD you felt so good against his finger, so good he slipped his index and ring fingers in along with the middle, stretching your pussy. You moaned out, it being loud enough Jay was able to hear it from across the arcade, the tips of his ears turning red. 

You clenched around Jake’s fingers and he hissed, his cock begging to be freed from the confinements of his jeans. He didn’t want to want any longer. 

Jake lifted you off him, “Put the coins in the machine.” You listened, sliding the golden metal in one by one until the start-up screen loaded, “Now play the game.” You tried to focus on the start of it, but the sounds of Jake’s belt unlatching and zipper being pulled down, made it hard.

He spreads your pussy’s lips again, lining the tip to your entrance, “Slide down on me baby.” 

Heat rises to your face cheeks, eyes darting around the arcade, Jay’s eyes being the only ones watching you, the only pair that even noticed what was happening in this corner. You slowly slid down onto Jake, him hissing out a soft “fuck,” when his tip kisses your cervix. 

Jake squeezed your hips, thanking whatever little voice in your head that told you to wear a skirt today and making this so much easier on him and it is so fucking hot. 

He bucked his hips up, not even giving you time to adjust to his size. You bit down on your lip as you played the game, trying to focus on the fight in front of you. Your palm squeezed the joystick so hard you were afraid you’d break it. 

Fuck you felt so good wrapped around him. And it felt so good to fuck you in front of Jay, relishing in the look spread across Jay’s face and how tightly his jaw was locked. Jake just smirked, fucking into you harder and faster. 

You couldn’t keep control of the game, eventually giving up and gripping onto the sides of the machine, trying with everything you had to not scream out in pleasure. Jake took this as an opportunity, him grabbing you by your neck and pushing you against his chest, his knees lifting up and spreading your legs further apart. 

“You don’t know how badly I want to kill him,” he whispers in your ear, being so out of breath, “I can’t fucking stand how he was looking at you, looking at what’s mine,” The anger returned, the jealously. Fuck he was jealous. That was a first for him, “I want to kill him for looking at my girlfriend.” 

Girlfriend. He called you his girlfriend. You clenched around him after hearing that, the pleasure washing over you tenfold at having that label. 

“Hmmm fuck baby,” he groans, “keep clenching me like that and I’m going to spill into you.” You clenched again, not purposely, it just felt so fucking good to be fucked by your boyfriend, it felt good knowing he was jealous of another man to the point of wanting to kill for you. And maybe that made you just as crazy as him. 

“Jake,” you softly moaned, forcing yourself to keep quiet. 

Jake kisses your temple, “Moan my name louder, honey. Let our friend Jay over there know who you belong to, who is the only one that can make this pussy wet.” He bucked his hips harder, his skin slapping against your ass. 

You moaned his name louder, making eye contact with Jay again. 

“Fuck yes,” Jake smirks, “You’re so good for me.” 

You clenched around him again, your climax fast approaching. Jake moans at how your walls hugged him, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you tightly to him as he fucked into you harder, fixing to burst, “Cum with me baby, oh fuck please cum with me.” 

With his wishes, you both came together, him continuing to buck his hips slowly, mixing your cum together. 

Jake leaned back against the wall, still holding you to his chest, smirking at Jay as he catches his breath, watching how his eyes go from your face and travel down to your cunt, watching the mixture of your and Jake’s cum leak from your hole. 

You took deep breaths in, grabbing your skirt and pulling it down as far as you could, “Jae,”

Jake kissed your cheek, “Let’s go and meet up with Hoon now, ya?” 

You nod, pulling him out and readjusting your panties and skirt as Jake fixes his jeans and then leaves the arcade with Jake’s chilling laughter echoing within the walls. 

—

You sat at the edge of the bed, watching Jake sharpen his knife. He sat in the chair he usually kept his duffle bag and mask on, fully clothed in his Ghost Face attire, the mask resting at the top of his head. His brows furrowed in concentration, lifting the knife in front of his face and smirking at his work. 

You wanted to ask him who he was planning on killing tonight, if it was someone you knew or a random person off the street. But you didn’t know if you actually wanted the answers to those questions, not knowing if Jake would even give you those answers. He glances at you then goes back to sharpening, “What are you thinking about?” 

Shit. He caught you. You tried to find anything—literally anything—to come up with in a bullshit way to answer his question, your eyes falling onto the mask, “Why that mask specificity?” It was a real genuine question, you’ve always wondered it ever since the murders first started happening. 

Jake smiles at you, “Why not this one?” he tosses the sharpening tool into his duffle, reaching up and sliding the mask down onto his face, “It’s scary, isn’t it?” You nodded but also shrugged. You weren’t scared of Jake, so seeing him fully in this outfit wasn’t affecting you. You couldn’t see, but he was grinning ear to ear underneath the mask, “It’s better with the voice mod,” he chuckles, flipping the switch on the voice changer, “It makes all the difference, doesn’t it, honey?” 

Chills went down your back and you pressed your knees to your chest. The look on your face told Jake everything. He was right, it made a difference. If you didn’t know it was him beneath the mask you’d be terrified. His Aussie accent was no longer present and you couldn’t even tell it was his voice. No wonder his victims were always so scared. 

Jake tilts his head at you, honestly getting hard at how scared you look. That look, that pretty and scared look on your face was what he wanted that night he tried to kill you. Oh, how time has passed since then. But he didn’t have time to reminisce about the past, he was running late for a killing date. 

He stood from the chair, “You’re leaving already?” 

Jake slides his gloves onto his hands, “Yes. I’ll be back soon.” You wouldn’t be able to get used to that ghost face voice. 

You wanted him to stay home. It was the weekend and he BARELY spent the weekends with you. If he wasn’t off committing crimes, he was at soccer practice or with Sunghoon, or sticking himself in a study room at the library on campus to study. So you acted fast, not just in a way to stop him from ending someone else’s life, but to beg him to stay home. 

“Jae,” you called his name, stepping in front of him, “Why don’t you stay home?” 

He chuckles, adjusting the gloves and then flexing his fingers, “I have to go.” Jake was fucking crazy, he knew he was. He loved the thrill of the kill, the screams and blood and smells. It was intoxicating, almost like a drug. 

Jake goes to step around you, but you keep blocking his path, “Stay home with me.” 

He was getting irritated, “Move, honey, I am asking nicely.”

You shook your head, “Spend the weekend with me.” 

Jake takes your chin between his fingers and pulls your face to the mask, “I won’t ask again, be a good girl and listen to me.” 

You noticed he gripped the knife in his hand and could only imagine how pissed he must look underneath the mask. But you were desperate, wanting to find some way to keep him home, and what better way than to use your womanly charm? You pressed your breasts against his chest, knowing he could feel how braless you were under his favorite rock band tee shirt, “Please Jakey.” 

He almost caved—almost—he slid his fingers from your chin down to your upper arm, ready to brush you out of his path, but your desperateness only pushed forward. You reached for the knife in the hope if you took it from him things would go your way and he’d stay home. 

But you forgot for a solid second who it was you were dealing with. 

You were now facing away from him, your back to his chest and knife pressed against your neck. Your eyes widened as you looked into the mirror in front of you. Seeing how his gloved hand pressed tightly to your stomach, how his head rested to the side of yours and his knife pressed to your throat. You swallowed, rubbing your thighs together. 

“Ahh, it’s a sight to see isn’t it, honey? This is what you looked like the first time I held my knife to your pretty neck.” Jake was hard looking at you in the mirror with him pressed to you. It was one thing seeing you beneath him, but to see it in reflection? While he’s in his attire with the love of his life in front of him? It was even better than before. 

“Is this what all your victims look like?” you whispered, placing your hands on his forearms, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, exposing more of your neck, “How it goes before you cut their throats open?” 

Jake hums, “Yes, but seeing them like this never got me hard, not as you do.” He rubbed his clothed cock against your ass, “Fuck you get me so hard. I love the way my knife looks against your skin.” 

You backed your ass against him, grinding on his cock, “Use it on me then.” what the fuck are you saying?

“Fuck don’t say things like that baby,” he tightened his grip on you, “Don’t say things like that to me.” 

Jake would enjoy using his weapon on you, to cut you open and see how pretty you looked covered in blood, god it made his cock twitch. But he couldn’t do it, not at the risk of accidentally killing you. He loves you and can’t live without you. The risk wasn’t worth it. 

You continued to rub against him, “Stay home with me.” 

Fuck it. 

He pushes you forward, forcing you to reach your hands out to lay flat against the mirror, your nose brushing against the cool glass, “You want me to stay home?” the voice mod hissed, his hand leaving your waist to pull the mask from his face, his eyes full of lust as they stared at you through the mirror. He tossed the mask to the bed, pressing his lips to your ear, “Want to be dicked down that badly?” you nod, the knife getting pressed tighter to your throat, “Use your fucking words.” 

“Yes,” it came out in a loud moan, “I want you to stay home, to fuck me this whole weekend.” 

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pulling you off the mirror and back against his chest, “Let’s rid you of your clothes, yeah?” 

Jake traced the tip of the knife down your throat and to the edge of his favorite band shirt, not giving a single damn that he cut into the fabric, slicing a line down to the middle, then using his hands to tear it apart, revealing your bare upper half, sliding the torn shirt to the floor. 

The leather of his glove tickled when he placed his hand back to your waist, tracing the knife from your belly button up, moving it underneath your breasts, and circling them, slowly and carefully grazing your nipples. It made your core clench and the hair on your skin rise. Oh how badly he wanted to cut your skin, even if just a tiny bit, just to scratch that itch he’s been craving since day one. Deciding he was just going to do it. 

But he was going to fuck you first. 

Jake didn’t waste any more time and pulled your shorts and panties off your body and pressed you back against the mirror, ridding himself of his suit and other clothing, leaving you both bare, skin-to-skin. 

Jake kicked your legs apart, a string of your slick connected both ends of your thighs, showing off how wet you already were for him. Jake licked his lips, scooping up your juices with two fingers and placing them into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around his digits. His body shuddered at your taste, cock twitching, needing to feel you. 

He lifted your hips up, and slid inside you with ease, not being able to wait, and fucked into you. Pressing his hand down on your lower belly, feeling his thick length push in and out of your cunt, “Oh, fuck,” he moans, throwing his head back and fucking his hips harder. He was more sensitive right now, not knowing why or even really caring why. He doesn’t even care if he cums first, because he’s going to spend this entire night fucking you. Making you cum over and over and making him cum over and over. He’s going to spend the whole weekend with his cock buried inside you. Who gives a fuck about the people he could be killing when he can be balls deep in your pussy. 

He pressed his hand against you harder, feeling more of himself move against your walls and squeezing tighter around him, “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon,” he flings his head forward, leaning it against yours as he looked at you in the mirror, seeing your fucked out expression, pupils blown out and mouth open and moaning out with each thrust he gave you, his knife sitting pretty against your neck, “Fuckkkkkk,” he moans, “I can’t hold it in.” 

One final thrust and his cum painted your gummy walls white. Jake kissed your cheek, gently sliding the knife from your throat, down your shoulder, and stopping halfway on your upper arm. His hooded eyes lock with yours, asking for permission, but before you can even give it to him, he presses the metal into your skin, the crimson liquid slowly oozing from your body. 

Jake bit his lips, slowly pulling his cock out to the tip, and ramming it back inside you, already ready for round two. 

You were moaning louder this time, chanting out his name as your fingers gripped the mirror, feeling your blood streaming down your arm and onto the floor. 

“Goddamn,” he hissed, cutting another wound below the first one, not being able to control himself, “You look so pretty bleeding out for me.” 

Your brain went dizzy and you weren’t sure if it was from the loss of blood or from how good Jake was fucking you. It was probably both. 

You released one hand from the mirror and cupped it to your arm, trying to stop what you could from it staining the carpet. But Jake’s thrusts were unrelenting, working faster than before and hitting your g-spot. The knot threatened to snap and it made you dizzier, almost losing your balance, forcing you to place your now bloody hand on the glass, leaving bloodied handprints. 

“Jae,” you moaned his name, “Fixing to cum.” 

Jake bit your ear softly, “Cum for me, honey.” 

The pleasure of your release formed goosebumps on your skin, mixing with Jake’s previous cum. 

You don’t know what came over you in the second, but you felt powerful. You had your boyfriend a cumming mess within minutes of him being inside you. You got him to stay home, to be with you. You were in control right now. You’ve taken over in the mind games. 

You pushed yourself off from the mirror, forcing Jake out of your hole and stumbling back. You were quick to whip around, your hands finding home on his chest and pushing him to the bed, forcing him to sit on the edge as you climbed into his lap, sliding your cunt back down onto him. 

Jake was in heaven, feeling pure bliss as how quickly you dominated over him. He was a turn on, for sure, but he wouldn’t let you catch him off guard like that again, accepting your win. 

Jake was even more surprised to feel your bloodied hand gripping his jaw and his knife in your other hand being pressed to his throat. How did you get it out of his hand? And when did you do it? 

You smirked down at him, “What’s wrong Jaeyun?” 

Oh, FUCK. 

Jake’s hands found their home on your waist, pulling at you to start moving, “Ride my cock and maybe I’ll tell you.” 

You leaned closer to him, pressing the knife closer like how he’s done to you. His cock twitched, begging to be ridden. You click your tongue, “Does it turn on the killer to see his girlfriend turn his weapon against him? To have you like fucking putty in my hands?” 

He didn’t understand how this happened, but god was he relishing in it. 

Jake could easily turn the tides. Could flip you over and take the knife back and fuck you senseless. But he was enjoying this too much, letting you think you still had full control. 

“Baby,” he whispered, lifting up and placing a kiss on your lips, “Please ride my cock, I need to feel you.” 

You honestly loved seeing your little killer beg for your sex, it was a power move and boosted your ego. You rocked your hips, taking the point of the knife and pressing it up to the bottom of his chin. This was exciting, no wonder he enjoyed knife play with you. 

But alas, your power move eventually faded as you lost yourself on his cock, the knife was now tossed somewhere in the room. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, and the other behind him to keep balance as he fucked his hips up into you at the same motion of you fucking on him. Your bloody hand prints now covered him: his face, shoulder, neck, chest, all over his back and bicep. Everywhere. The wounds on your arm finally clotted and crusted over, no longer spilling. 

You came again and then Jake a few seconds after you. But he wasn’t done with you yet, picking you up in his strong arms and carrying you further onto the bed, laying your head on the pillows and placing your legs over his shoulders, “I love you.” 

You cupped his face, “I love you too.” 

Jake was true to his word when he swore he’d fuck you until you both came over and over and over again until the overstimulation was too much, cumming once more, then falling asleep in each other's arms. 

You woke up that next morning with bandages on your arm and in fresh clean clothes. The bedsheets were stripped from the bed and a blanket was covering you. The blood from the mirror was now gone, and Jake was on the floor at the end of the bed doing what it looked like scrubbing your strained blood out of the carpet. You smiled, quickly closing your eyes and falling back to sleep, never in your life have you felt so safe in the presence of a serial killer. 

—

You winced in pain as you dropped yourself onto the couch, your legs completely sore. 

Jake chuckles from the kitchen as he prepares lunch for you both, “You okay in there, my love?” You peek over the couch, glaring at him, “Don’t look at me like that,” he says sweetly, “You’re the one who wanted me to fuck you until you couldn’t walk the entire weekend.” 

Jake stayed true to absolutely destroying your cunt the entire weekend. Man has some STAMINA, that’s for sure. Any chance he got, he was balls deep inside you. You just tried to enjoy a nice warm shower, was halfway through when Jake pulls the curtains back and stepped in, immediately pinning you against the wall and fucking you until you couldn’t stand. You couldn’t complain though, you got him the entire weekend to yourself. 

The only thing that sucked was going back to classes tomorrow, meaning you’d have to share him again with everyone. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it where I could barely walk.”

Jake just smiles, “What can I say, I love my girl weak in the knees for me.”

You made a fake laugh at his joke but still smiled brightly. You reached for the remote and turned the TV on, flipping through channels until a quick scene of the news was on, catching your attention and forcing you to go back. 

“Yesterday evening, two bodies were found near a dumpster on the south side of the campus—“

“Jake,” you called for him, “Come in here.” 

Jake stood behind you, leaning his body against the back of the couch, “What’s up?” 

You point to the TV, “The two bodies have been identified as a young couple, we were last seen walking the campus, heading to the dorms—“The camera pans to the crime scene, their dead bodies being covered up by white tarps and police and investigators surrounding the area, one of the policemen pulling something out of the dumpster, your breath hitched “—a ghost face mask has been found at the scene of the crime—“ 

You whip around to look at Jake, “What the fuck Jake?!” but as soon as you yelled at him, you realized the look on his face. 

He was livid. 

“I’ve been with you the entire fucking weekend,” he snapped, “I didn’t do this.” 

You faced back to the TV, watching the rest of the news coverage, “If it wasn’t you, then who did it?” 

Jake pushed himself from the couch, ruffling his hands in his hair, pacing back and forth, “I don’t fucking know, but whoever they are, they are a fucking imposter!”

Jake was angry for more than one reason:

1: Whoever the fuck this person is, they fucked up so hard by leaving their mask at the scene.  2: They were trying to impersonate him.  3: WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY IMPERSONATING HIM?!

You stared at the TV screen, trying to process everything. Jake noticed it, how quiet you were, getting scared you were doubting him. So he rushed to you, kneeling before you and taking your face in his hands, “Honey. I promise you it wasn’t me. I’ve been here with you the whole weekend.”

You nodded. You knew he was here with you. He didn’t leave your side because he was too busy burning his cock in you. It just didn’t make sense. The last Ghost Face killing was about two weeks ago the same night Jake fucked you in the arcade. It was some random guy Jake happened to pass on a late-night walk to clear his head to not go back to the arcade and kill Jay. Jake has been clean since then. 

Jake looked back to the TV, gritting his teeth, “I swear to—“ then his phone started ringing. The vibrations made his skin crawl. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket, seeing Unknown Caller on the screen. 

Jake looked up at you, and it was the first time you saw a small hint of fear in his eyes. 

He accepted the call, placing the device to his ear. 

“Hello, Jake.” 

His eyes widened, hearing the voice changer nod that he uses on the other side of his call, “Who the fuck is this?” 

“Hahaha, you don’t seem surprised that I know your secret?” 

Jake stood up, quickly glancing around the room, “Why would I be? You’re playing the exact same game I do.” 

Whoever this was, they knew Jake’s secret. Studied him. Knows how he kills and even the exact mask brand he wears. If this person was playing Jake’s game, then being in this apartment was no longer safe. Because they were already watching, already listening. 

They laughed again, “Did you like the news? I did it special, just for you.” 

“Go to hell!” Jake barked.

“Oh, but I’d see you there,” they chuckled, “I very much rather just send you there.” 

Jake was tired of these games, “What do you want?” he clenched his fist, “You wanna be the sequel so damn bad don’t you?” 

Silence, but then, “What do you think it is I want?” 

“To be a shitty ass ghost face, but news flash, you’re already doing that.” 

“I’d watch your tone, Jake Sim. It’d be a shame for something to happen to our precious little YN / YLN, wouldn’t it?” Jake’s heart stopped, “Check your texts.” 

Jake removed the phone from his ear, clicking on the newly received texts. The first one was a photo of you at the college in the journal room looking over the corkboard. The second text was a video of you from the bedroom, the curtains were slightly drawn back and you were lifting your shirt off your body, revealing yourself in a black laced bra, and then the video cut off. The third and final text that came through, was a photo of both Jake and you on the couch yesterday morning, both naked as you rode his dick. 

He pressed the phone back to his ear, “I swear to fucking god if you touch her.” 

More laughter, “Maybe you should keep her closer and double check to make sure all windows are closed next time if you don’t want others seeing your…activities.” 

Jake pulled you off from the couch, holding you close to him and repeating, “What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want.” 

They clicked their tongue, “You’ll know soon enough. Goodbye, Ghost Face.” Then the line went dead. 

Jake tossed his phone across the room, pulling you to his chest tightly, teeth gritting. 

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever that is, and I won’t let them hurt you.”

For the first time, you were genuinely scared. And so was Jake. He wasn’t scared of this imposter, he was scared of what they’d do to you. 

And he won’t stop at nothing until they are six feet under.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

[dejwrld]

CHOSOIST KINKTOBER GAMING PLAYLIST — WEEK 2

( GUARDIAN ANGEL ) 🎮 GUARDIAN ANGEL!SEPHIROTH X READER

— game synopsis: he's been your guardian angel since you were sixteen years old. protecting you from danger you didn't see coming, but now that you're slowly wanting space from him—he makes it his mission to remind you who you belong to until you take your final breath.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, slight enemies to fuckers, reader somewhat purposely put herself in danger, possessive!sephiroth, mentions of sephiroth having pretty white wings, mating press position, cream pies, mentions of soul ties,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀kinktober masterlist / previous playthrough

You’ve known him since you were sixteen years old. The mere memory of him grabbing at your backpack strap to tug you out of the way as you were about to walk into ongoing traffic imprints your brain like a nostalgic TV memory. He was a sixteen-year-old guardian angel who aged through the years as you grew, interfering in your life as if you were the most life-threatening person ever. 

Freshman year of college, he’s taking the red solo cup of whatever mixed potion the older frat guys made out of your hand. This led to practically the whole campus thinking you were chronically insane as you argued with no one because they couldn’t see what you saw. He interfered with your life at moments when you had it all under control, and he didn’t need to baby you as if you didn’t. But you were grateful for him, and the things he did stop when things got bad.

It's like killing a guy who roofied you at a bar. Despite the toxic drugs from drinking your drink, it had you feeling like you were in another world. You remember the crimson-red liquid staining his large, elegant white wings after the deed was done. After that, he’s never left your side, and you grew to feel suffocated. You couldn’t do much in your life if you had your guardian angel down your neck twenty-four-seven commenting on you getting hurt or dying. 

Now an adult, he still was here. Despite you being perfectly fine. No freak accidents, no near-death experiences. He still was here lurking around as if you were a child. 

Right now, watching as you poorly attempted to get laid. Your panties dangle from your ankle as you wait for the guy to insert, but as your horny meter slowly decreases—so does the poor stranger you met at a bar cock. Your eyes averted between your bodies as he aggressively pumped his condom-covered cock; you could hear his laughs as he was sitting on your kitchen counter chewing on an apple. 

Fuckin’ Sephiroth.

“You know what? That’s okay. Just leave.” You pushed the guy off you, limp dick and all while you’re scrambling to tug your panties back on. 

“What? It just takes some time,” The guy’s tugging his pants up in frustration. “Just please…baby.” He’s grasping on you, and you’re swatting his hand away like it’s an annoying fruit fly. 

“Just go. I’m no longer in the mood.” You warned.

This was a warning not only for yourself but for him. You had a 6’1 angel looming around your apartment who didn’t care to kill someone—especially a person who wasn’t following directions. Your eyes darted from him in the kitchen to the guy who kissed his teeth while collecting his belongings.

“Don’t call me anymore! You completely wasted my time.” He sneered at you while leaving your apartment. The door closed with a harsh slam that made you jump. 

As silence drifts over your apartment, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of that annoying clock in your kitchen ticking, you lean back on the couch with a sigh. “You know, you completely ruined the vibe, you know?” Your eyes land on the white-haired male as he finishes the apple he obnoxiously chews on.

“Do not blame it on me.” He tosses the apple in a trash can and stands up to close the space between you.

“I am blaming you because it seems like every romantic connection I attempt to make, you are there to ruin it.” You sneered at him before sitting up. “I don’t think this will work anymore, Sephiroth.” 

“Are you saying you want to release me of my duties of being your guardian angel?” He asks. You can feel he got closer despite shifting your eyes closed to calm yourself down from this talk. 

You two have been together for years. He’s been protecting you for years, and now it felt so suffocating that you couldn’t breathe. Sometimes, you wanted to release him of his duties, but you knew when you did that every memory you’ve shared with him would vanish. It would be like you two have never met. 

The sight of him with his elegant white wings on his back. The sight of blood staining his pale skin after murdering someone that hurt you. The look of worry when you almost walk into traffic, and he was a split second from being too late. 

He was yours just as much as you were his. But you needed space. 

“Yes.” You breathed out, pushing yourself off the couch to enter your room. “You know, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t think we can co-exist in each other’s lives anymore.” You explained you turned around, and he was leaning against your doorframe with the most obnoxious face. 

It was as if your words were going out one ear and the other for him. “We’re not young anymore. I don’t need you being so….so.” You were searching for the word to describe how you felt—frustration riddling your bones as you attempted to express yourself. 

Sephiroth took steps forward, closing the gap between you two. When he was towering over you with such little care at how close he was to you—he fixed your tank top strap and let his slender fingers linger on your shoulder just a little longer to cause goosebumps to garnish your skin immediately. 

“Possessive.” He finishes your sentence as his teeth graze upon his lower lip. “Is that the word you’re searching for, my little ward?” 

And with challenging eyes, you met his and said, “Yes. Possessive, like you own me or something.” 

His chuckles. But this chuckle was different from the one you have heard. It felt more sinister, more agitated. 

“You’re stuck with me, love. If you like it or not. We’re bound together until you die of old age or better yet, I briefly take my eyes off you as fate finally chooses a moment for you to die. Maybe a bus will hit you as you walk into traffic for texting on that silly device of yours, or maybe you’ll accidentally hit your head.” 

Your eyebrows furrow together in frustration and anger at his words. 

“You enjoy my company but don’t want to admit it. You think I didn’t notice the way you bring home little flings to spite me. You think I can’t hear the way your heartbeat quickens at the sight of me watching you get fucked by some man who can’t even make you orgasm. Sephiroth’s eyes glance over your body like he was observing you under a microscope. “So tell me, Y/N.” His finger’s toying with that strap on your tank top that keeps falling off your shoulder. 

“How many times have you imagined me, your sworn protector—your guardian angel fucking you?” His fingers drag alongside your nipples that harden through the thin white fabric of your tank top. “And don’t lie; I know when you’re lying to me.” 

You couldn’t quite remember what you had said after his words for your knees to be pressed upon your stomach and for Sephiroth’s cock to be buried into your throbbing cunt while your moans bounced off the walls. The pornographic sound of heated skin slapping against each other with the sound of your headboard banging against the wall was like music to your ears. But you enjoyed the sight of Sephiroth more. 

His crystal white hair fell in his face so perfectly. Comically enough, you wanted to say he looked like an angel. His eyes kept averting between your fucked out face and in between your body. With each glance down there, it seemed he fucked you into the mattress even harder. Instantly, your legs snake around his waist, completely trapping him from depriving you of what you were so eager for.

Sephiroth chuckles darkly through your pants of desperation, “Seems you’re enjoying this a little too much.” He mumbles. He pulls his cock entirely out of you, leaving you whining for more. 

He guides his cock in between your pussy lips rubbing in the mixture of your essence and pre-cum. Your back arched off the mattress with urgency, and he pushed you back down so you could endure the pleasurable torture of his cock teasing you until you were staining the cotton sheets below your naked body. With each stroke between your puffy lips, you’re squeezing your eyes shut tightly to prevent even the littlest thought of him seeing you like this. You didn’t think you could fathom the mere embarrassment. 

“Come on, you don’t want to see how well you take me?” He questions, his voice rings with a teasing tone that makes your pussy pulse. 

“Fine then.” He mumbles what seems to himself before he hooks his strong arms under your knees, completely trapping you under him and what’s to come.

You wondered if Sephiroth could hear how fast your heart was beating. It felt like it was bouncing around your chest like a small ball in a pinball machine. The feeling of his thick tip brushing against your entrance felt like the world had stopped. Perhaps it did. The idea of a guardian angel fucking his ward into her mattress had to be some form of rule breaker, right? Maybe, just maybe—God had briefly paused the world to give you time to weigh out the pros and cons of this.

But when Sephiroth bottomed down inside you, you felt the world unpause, and a wave of pleasure travel across your body. You even could hear yourself let out a sigh of relief—as if you’ve been waiting for this moment in centuries. The way his cock was inside, you felt like it was a missing piece in a puzzle you need. It fit perfectly, but when he started rotating and thrusting his hips—you couldn’t help but call out his name like it was a scripture.

It wasn’t as if you could do anything else but take his sensual thrusts. The mating press position trapped you from doing anything else but that. The way he was making you feel at the moment had you ignoring all that. Your moans echoed into his ear, and Sephiroth was very responsive because he’d grunt back like a rabid animal in heat. Ensuring that the feeling was mutual. That he was feeling just as good as you were. 

“After this, you’ll be stuck with me forever, right?” Sephiroth asked. His tongue drags alongside the bridge of your right ear, and instantly, your legs snake around his waist, locking your feet together so he won’t let go.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” His words send a chill down your spine as he continues to fuck into the mattress.

The pornographic sound of heated flesh echos upon your bedroom, and your eyes seem to squeeze shut in bliss. Savoring the moment between the two of you until you couldn’t anymore. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, and your thighs quivered under your guardian angel’s touch. His grip on you grew tighter, and you knew that he was unraveling right on top of you. His groans that echoed in your ear changed into whines of desperation. If you were being honest with yourself, you haven’t seen him this desperate in your life.

But it was a reason for that because, in just three seconds, he was a coming mess. He didn’t even bother to pull out, either. His nails dug into your heated flesh with each thrust inside of you, ensuring that each droplet of his cum stayed inside of you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you leaned up to indulge in a heated kiss to seal the deal that you knew was going to follow you for years.

You truly were stuck with him forever until you took your last breath. 

TAGS // @salaciousdoll @syndrlla97 @lilvampirina @msun1c0rn

[zombvic]

hi, i love your writing can you do one where marc guiu is secretly dating lewandoski's daughter and he finds out?

MR LEWANDOWSKI (marc guiu x lewandowski!reader)

summary : in which the polish barcelona player finds out his daughter is dating his teammate

face claim : no-one exact

notes : ty for the request !! im gonna do some requests asap (theres like twenty so plsplspls be patient <3) also im gonna go on vacation soon so ill be less active.

pairings : marc guiu x fem!lewandowski!reader

BEING THE DAUGHTER of the Polish striker, Robert Lewandowski, came with its perks. Some of the benefits was the opportunity to meet your favorite players, attend exclusive events, and see important matches, such as the World Cup and UCL Finals. But managing the constant media attention and living up to the Lewandowski name were only two of the challenges that came with it. The hardest challenge of them all was keeping your relationship with the Barcelona striker, Marc Guiu, a secret.

You knew dating Marc was going to make you slightly insane. The constant hiding and sneaking around was annoying, tbh.. But if you managed to keep this a secret for over seven months, you sure weren't going to fuck it up now.

Hector quickly caught onto your little facade. All three of you were classmates, and it was clear by the looks you exchanged across the classroom, the way Marc spoke to Hector about you, and just the overall way he admired you. Hector was certain you were dating.

Him knowing would actually come in handy. It was a little easier to keep the secret when Hector was on your side. When needed, he helped cover for you by coming up with excuses in case your dad was on the edge of figuring things out.

One afternoon, while your father was out, Marc came over to your house. It was a unique chance for the two of you to have the house to yourselves, and you both wanted to make the most of it.

You were in your room, cuddling on your bed with Marc as a movie was playing on your laptop. It was relaxing, finally a moment of comfort without any worries or the anxiety of getting caught.

"This is nice," Marc murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I wish we could do this more often."

"Me too," you replied, pulling in closer to him. "But you're aware of my dad's history with my ex-boyfriends. If he found out, he would freak out."

Marc sighed as he played with the strings on your hoodie. "I know. Yet, sometimes I picture us going out on a typical date night. No concerns about your father catching us. You know maybe if he got used to our relationship, he could come along."

Playfully poking Marc with your shoulder, you mocked, "Are you using me to date my father?"

Marc gave you a gentle giggle and an amused look as his eyes met yours. "Maybe I am," he answered. "But in all honesty, I just want to go out with you—no sneaking around, just a regular 'I'll have her home by nine, sir' type date."

"Wow, real cute, Marc." Just as you were about to lean in for a kiss, you heard the front door open. Your heart stopped, as you and Marc exchanged panicked and confused looks.

"Oh fuck. He's not supposed to be back yet," you whispered urgently, scrambling off the bed. "You have to hide. Like now."

Marc quickly got up, looking around the room for a hiding spot. "WHAT?! Where should I go?!"

"Jesus Christ, Marc. I don't know just.. just get under the bed or something!" you whispered, trying to keep your voice down.

Just as your father yelled something from the living room, Marc dove under the bed. "Y/n? You home?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before opening your bedroom door. "Yeah, What's up?"

He walked down the hallway, a frown on his face. "I thought I left my other keys here. Have you seen them?"

You shook your head, trying to look casual. "Nah, I haven't seen them. Maybe you left them in the locker room after training?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. I'll call someone to check if someone found them. Are you okay? You seem... off."

"I'm good, Dad," you said quickly, hoping he couldn't hear the nervousness in your voice. "Just tired, I guess.."

He looked at you for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. Well, I'm going to head back out then. Let me know if you find the keys."

As he turned to leave, you heard a muffled cough from under the bed. Your eyes widened in horror as your father stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

"What was that?" he asked, turning back to you.

"What do you mean" you said quickly, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "I didn't hear anything. Is your hearing alright?"

"Hey, I'm still only 35 years young. Anyways, I'll just head out, I guess. See you later, honey." He said as he walked out the front door.

As you walked down the hallway to reach your room, you exclaimed, "Marc, what the fuck was that? The one time you NEED to be quiet, you actually cough. How on earth is that possible?"

"Hey, I didn't put all that dust under your bed," he playfully said while hugging you. "Calm down, babe. He didn't even see me."

"Yeah, but he heard your silly ass. Anyways you should just go. He might come back soon."

At least three hours had passed before your dad returned, which was kind of annoying because you had the chance to finish the movie and still had two hours left to hang out without interruptions.

"Hey honey, I'm back home," your dad said as he walked into the house. You were sitting on the couch, watching Suits (a goated show btw).

Your dad's voice startled you, making you jump slightly. You quickly paused the show and turned to face him. "Hey Dad," you replied.

He looked around the living room with a curious expression. His eyes fell upon the hoodie that Marc gave to you. The hoodie that exclusively Barcelona players got. His brow furrowed slightly as he picked it up, examining it with a puzzled look.

"Whose hoodie is this?" he asked.

You swallowed nervously, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. "Oh, uh, that's Marc's," you said, mentally cursing yourself for not changing beforehand. "He gave it to me last week."

Robert's gaze shifted from the hoodie to you, his expression unreadable. "Marc's?"

"Yeah," you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "We… we've been hanging out a lot. Last week i was cold so he gave it to me."

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge your sincerity. "Hanging out," he echoed, more a statement than a question.

You nodded again, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "Okay, yeah. So, Dad, we've been dating for.. a while now."

His eyes widened in surprise, shocked expression on his face. But he didn't look angry. Instead, he let out a slow breath and nodded.

As he stared at you for what felt like an eternity, processing the information, he finally spoke out, his voice calm yet tinged with disbelief, "You and Marc... have been dating?"

"I… I didn't know how you'd react," you admitted, feeling a pinch of guilt for keeping it from him. "And I didn't want you to worry."

Robert leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I see," he said. "And how long has this 'while' been?"

Marc cleared his throat, speaking up, "About seven months, Mr. Lewandowski."

Your dad looked at Marc with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Marc? What are you doing here?" he asked, seeing him in the living room unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Y/n messaged me to come over, so I did," Marc spoke out, trying to explain his sudden arrival.

"Sorry for not telling you sooner, Mr. Lewandowski," he said earnestly. "We didn't mean to keep it from you."

Robert eased his expression and laughed. "I understand," he softly said in response. "While I can't say I'm not surprised, I appreciate your honesty. Also, Marc, we've known each other for some time now. Just call me as usual." Your father joked with his teammate, your boyfriend.

You felt a wave of relief when you realized he wasn't upset. To be honest, he looked more interested than angry. "So, what do you think, Dad?" You questioned him.

Robert leaned forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, if Marc here has managed to win your heart for seven months without my knowledge, he must be doing something right," he said, his tone teasing yet approving.

Marc and you exchanged a relieved smile as you felt the tension ease. Despite his reputation for being serious, Your dad has surprised you today by showing you compassion and comprehension.

You said, "Thank you, Dad," appreciating his understanding.

He chuckled loudly and replied. "Please just promise me that you will keep me updated. I'm happy for you both."

It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming feeling of relief. The secret was finally out.

[f14fun]

pixelated love (!simmer x mv1) - chapter 2

synopsis: in which the famous three time world champion max verstappen wants to learn how to play the sims 4. except, he doesn't really know how to. so what does he do, search up a youtube tutorial. low-and-behold, y/n's video is the first he watches.

smau ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ prev | next | series index ˚୨୧⋆｡

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yourusername:

yourusername: WATCH LIVE ON TWITCH: i dominate my sub (max verstappen) as we play the sims 4 together - he's streaming too, ig 🙄🙄

(pls subscribe to my patreon and all of the cool cc looks that I put together)

view comments:

maxverstappen1: That is not the picture that we agreed on you to post, Y/N.

yourusername: deal with it max emillian 🙄

maxverstappen1: I look horrible, please delete it.

yourusername: max, i mean it in the best way possible, but you look so babygirl 😍😘🥺

maxverstappen1: This? Means me?

yourusername: SEE?!? the word fits u, totally 😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ???

user1: LMFAO MAX??!

user2: this is the most unlikely pairing/collab of the year, i'm bewildered

user3: ABSOLUTELY LIVING for this unhinged duo >>>

user4: the way they type is COMPLETELY THE OPPOSITE FROM EACH OTHER

user5: and we are totally living for it??

user6: they match each others freak in the phattest opposite directions its so funny everytime they interact

user7: this is the type of deluluship that i aspire to have one day

yourusername: DWAI! you will reach my level of mental illness and one day have to live in a mental insane aslyum like me! (my bedroom playing sims twenty-four seven)

user7: oh!- 😀 (trembling)

maxverstappen1: It's spelled as asylum*** @/yourusername.

yourusername: 😐😐😐 not funny

user8: ☠️☠️🫵🏾

user9: love to see a set of people constantly being able to humble each other, prime entertainment

user10: guys, the stream is so fucking funnny PLS WATCH IT RN.

user10: like my mom came in to tell me to eat dinner and she heard HOW FUNNY and UNHINGED it was and decided to join me 😭

yourusername: w mother fr ‼️‼️

yourusername: now max, this is a PRIME EXAMPLE of a MILF.

yourusername: watch and learn, okay!

maxverstappen1: I am still very confused...

yourusername: mom i'll learn from >>> mom i'd like to fuck

liked by maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: Ohhh, I see

user11: the BLATANT gaslighting has me IN TEARS. 💀💀

user11: like this is what she chooses to do the minute she gets noticed by a f1 driver HELPPPP

user12: this is MORE UNHINGED version of everything in the yt video i beg for u guys to join in on the stream i swear, NO REGRETS FRRR

user13: when she started teaching max the words to club classics by charli xcx mid stream 😭😭😭

user14: NOT A REAL EXPERIENCE. LMFAO.

yourusername: what can i say, i just need to educate this man in pop culture 😁

yourusername: i swear he is gen-z guys, just with a tinge of millenial in him (we are working on fixing that!!)

maxverstappen1: Yeah, I wanna dance to me, I wanna dance to A.G, I wanna dance with George @/georgerussel63

georgerussel63: ???

georgerussel63: Eww mate, I will not dance with you Max

georgerussel63: You can't dance well, so no thanks 🙃

yourusername: i already like you george

yourusername: you are very funny

georgerussel63: Why, thank you. May I ask who you are?

yourusername: only the funniest girl on earth ‼️🎀🌍🫨🌋

georgerussel63: I'll give that title to my girlfriend, thank you very much, but you can take a close second

yourusername: i'll take it 😁😁🤣

maxverstappen1: ☹️☹️

user15: it's okay max, you can be babygirl in the corner with me

user16: george russel once again rendering max bitchless, in front of a hot girl nontheless ☹️

yourusername: it's okay, max is my bitch 😈💦😼

user17: girl, i'm astonished everytime you open your mouth

liked by yourusername

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taglist: @hiireadstuff @sinofwriting @mehrmonga @the-untamed-soul @glai1023-blog @loloekie @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sheastri @llando4norris @gwginnyweasley @carmenita122

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 part three will be out sometime within the next week, comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[shalomniscient]

you’re seven years old and barefoot on the beach of yaoguang shoal with sand between your toes and salt-brushed wind in your hair when ningguang makes her first and only promise to you.

“when we grow up, i’ll marry you.”

the words are big, heavy on her child’s tongue but she speaks them with conviction nonetheless. her hands are laced with yours, your small fingers slotting perfectly with one another. the sunset makes her eyes glow like how you imagine the amber does at jueyun karst. you’re too young, too childish to really understand the weight of her vow—but you nod with a smile, squeezing her hands tighter.

“i’ll wait for you,” you say, hoping she can hear the sincerity in your voice. it’s a foolish hope, because you know that ningguang knows you better than you even know yourself. she returns your smile with one of her own, her hand never leaving yours as you walk back to your village, the sunset at your backs. the light paints ningguang in gold, and you can’t help but think at seven years old that this is how things should be—hand in hand with the girl you know you love before you even knew the meaning of the word, barefoot together in the sand.

you’re seven years old when you learn how things should be, but you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are.

ningguang leaves for the city. she tells you before she goes, of course, holds you close as you weep selfishly into her shoulder. her hands are gentle as she sifts them through your hair, along your scalp and down the nape of your neck before wrapping around your slim, hunger-carved shoulders. i have to go, she’d said, or else how will i afford our wedding? and you’d wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter at all what kind of wedding you had, as long as she stayed with you—that all the riches in the world are worthless without her. but for as much as she knows you, you know her, and you know that ningguang is not to be deterred once she sets her mind on something, so you send her off with a delicately packed mora meat and a prayer in your heart that she’ll come back soon.

you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are, and you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be.

it’s been six years since ningguang left. even in the backwater village you call home, tales of ningguang’s exploits reach your ears. how she runs circles around liyue’s businessmen and businesswomen, how she effortlessly finds her place amidst liyue’s social elite, how she’s rising, rising, rising like an unstoppable eclipsing star. she keeps writing to you, always keeping you updated on her progress, and you always write back, filling your letters with the mundanity of your day-to-day life—about the way the glaze lillies have been blooming, or about the way everyone around you says you’d make a fine wife.

my parents are getting restless, you confess in one letter. i’m getting older, and they think i should get married soon.

the reply that returns the next week is simple, but succint. i haven’t forgotten. wait for me, please. and you know she hasn’t, which is why it kills you when your new husband forbids you from ever writing to her again. you weep yourself to sleep on your side of the bed for the next week following your wedding night. the distress of wondering—if ningguang is worried, if she’s upset, or worse, if she’s hurt by you—drives you near insane to the point you worry yourself sick. your husband only tells you to stop holding on to naive childhood promises and perform your duties as a wife. it is the only thing you are good for, now.

you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be, but you’re twenty-nine when you learn that things can change.

in the years you have been married, your husband has grown—not in character, but in wealth. he is rich enough, now, to take you and himself from your village and to the big city to further his business. a small spark flickers to life in your chest that you might see her again, but it fizzles out when your husband makes it clear that you are just to stay at home. you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything other than the house, he’d said. i’ll give you everything you need. and you know better than to argue with him, so you resign yourself to staying at home, spending your days gazing up at that palace in the sky and wondering if its lady even remembers you—or if she, like you, has decided to let go of naive childhood promises. after all, she has the world now, can see it from the edges of her floating sanctuary. what need has she of the memory of being barefoot in the sand at seven years old?

(selfishly, you pray she hasn’t forgotten, even if she has no need for remembrance. you pray she chooses to remember.)

change comes when a woman in a white fur jacket and the prettiest emerald eyes you’ve ever seen breaks into your house. it’s certainly a very unorthodox meeting, and you come dangerously close to throwing the knife you were using to finely dice some cabbage at her. the woman only laughs, nimbly prying it from your hands and setting it on the counter. before you can even ask her what in rex lapis’s name she’s doing in your house, she says the words that make your blood run cold.

the tianquan wants to see you.

ningguang wants to see you.

the woman promptly leaves after delivering her message and additionally telling you not to breath a word of it to your husband, leaving you standing in your kitchen reeling from the shock. the mora meat you were working on putting together is forgotten as you swallow your nerves and take the chance you’ve waited nine years for. you’re nearly sick with it by the time you’ve ascended to the jade chamber in all of its opulence, feeling like you stick out like a sore thumb.

but the moment you see ningguang again, everything else fades to white noise. archons, she’s as beautiful as the day you last saw her. she was lovely dressed in commoner’s clothes, and she is just as lovely dressed in finery no doubt worth more than a year’s worth of your rent. she will never be anything other than lovely in your eyes.

“it’s been a while,” she says softly, the first to break the silence. you nearly cry at finally hearing her voice again. instead, you stifle it with a wet chuckle.

“only took fourteen years.”

ningguang manages a small laugh, lips curving upward in a smile you know—you remember—is reserved only for you. she offers you a seat by her desk, and two secretaries file in to place a tea set down by both of you, before disappearing as quickly as they came. and then ningguang is telling you about the real reason she asked to see you; your husband, as you are quite unsurprised, is involved with some sort of fraud, and the prosecution—the tianquan’s office—needs a witness. namely, you. after all, who better than the wife of the man himself? you try not to let your disappointment show, though, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking her if she remembers—or worse, if she missed you. your conversation with her is pure business, and when you descend from the chamber later, it’s only with the taste of sweet tea on your tongue and half your heart; the other half you seem to have left with her, up in the clouds.

your husband, to his displeasure and rage, finds himself in millelith custody the very next day. and the very next week, you, to your pleasure and joy, find yourself lacking a husband. the millelith who take him away politely point you to an office down the street ran by a pink-haired half-adeptus, who takes care of your divorce affairs with a cheery smile in less than four days. you’re both scared and impressed—is this just how people move in the big city…? you don’t have time to dwell on the question, because unfortunately, without your husband you are also without your income, and without your income you are also without your house. which would be a very big problem; were it not for the fact that ningguang once again invites you to the jade chamber, but this time, to stay with her. you nearly decline because of the sheer insanity of the request, but the part of your heart there with her wins out. you relent, and now, you find yourself playing house with the tianquan of the liyue qixing.

it’s almost frightening, how quickly you fall back into old habits. ningguang, you find, hasn’t changed much. she is still whip-smart, still as cunning as she is devious, but she is still just as kind as she was before. something in you aches viscerally when you see the way she speaks with the children, offering them candies and goodies as she goes. (things neither of you had the luxury in indulging as children.) you smile and tell her, you haven’t changed at all. she only looks at you and returns it with, have you? the answer eluded you at the time, but thinking about it more, you would say that yes, i have. but the parts that loved you never did.

(you don’t say this out loud, of course. it’s too early, and the chasm of years between you both yawns achingly large. but by the glint of her eyes, you think she knows. and if she didn’t, the time and care she spent relearning you would have told her as well.)

since you’re not sure how long ningguang will let you stay, you decide to make the most of it. you’re almost thankful for the nine dull years you spent with your former husband—since at the very least, it taught you how to be a half decent wife. it’s all you’re good for now, after all. ningguang’s meals are cooked by you, and you’re the one who brings her tea in the afternoons and evenings. you talk with her over your cups like nothing ever happened, and you walk with her round the perimeter of the jade chamber as the sun sets, her hand close enough to hold. rumors dance in the wind like dandelions about the tianquan’s new companion; some call you an old friend, others, a lover. the answer is somehow both, yet neither. she is everything to you, and more.

(and you are everything to her and more. the infinte she has been searching for her whole life is right there in your eyes. it always has been.)

you’re twenty nine years old when you realise things can change, and you’re thirty years old when you remember how things should be.

ningguang takes a rare day off, and invites you on a little excursion to yaoguang shoal. it’s been a year since you started living with her. a year since you’ve been freed from a man you never loved, and a year since you’ve come to realise that it’s because you’re still in love with ningguang—and that perhaps, you never stopped. it’s not as difficult as an epiphany to come to terms with, but it does make your chest ache every time you look at her. especially now, in this place, where the waves carry salt-brushed wind and memories of a distant time. the sun hangs low in the sky, and ningguang is kicking off her heels, barefoot in the sand. all of a sudden you’re seven years old again, watching her watch the waves and wondering if her eyes glow the same like the amber at jueyun karst. you slip your own footwear off too, standing by her side in the sand, the water lapping at your ankles. she speaks first.

“i still remember,” she murmurs, and your heart catches in your throat. when she looks at you, it’s with all the bare innocence she looked at you with twenty-three years ago. “do you?”

“of course,” you answer, without a beat of hesitation. “how could i forget?” how could i forget you?

ningguang smiles. “then you remember what i promised you here?”

“yes,” you breathe. “i remember.”

the woman before you exhales, the sound nearly drowned out by the sigh of the waves as they crash onto the shore. her geo vision glimmers, and a crystalline box manifests in her hands—her hands that tremble as they open it, revealing a simple golden band inside. “will you forgive me for taking so long?” she whispers, and you clasp your hands over her own, steadying them. you rest your forehead against hers, caught halfway between a sob and a laugh.

“i would have waited for you forever, ningguang.”

she exhales again. catches her breath. “then, will you let me fulfill my promise and marry me?”

you answer her with the only possible answer, catching her lips in a kiss twenty-three years in the making.

yes.

[wonwoonlight]

take a chance / jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo x Reader // 1.7k words // nothing but fluff lol they're idiots

a/n: if you cant tell im absolutely insane abt this wonwoo. 100000% self indulgent and 100% not proofread as always ehe <3 v lowkey inspired also by niki - take a chance with me

He drives me crazy, it's so beyond me

How he'd look at me dead in the eye and stay unaware

Niki - Take A Chance with Me

[☆]

Wonwoo has never really been interested in romance.

When he was six and his friends started talking about girls were icky, he couldn't have cared enough to even think about girls in particular.

When he was fourteen and his close cousin who was practically his big brother told him about his first girlfriend, Wonwoo had simply nodded and congratulated him because the older guy looked like he was waiting for it even though he didn't get what's there to congratulate.

When he was seventeen and another cousin got married, he thought a little about what it'd be like to commit yourself for the rest of your life to another person.

Anyhow, now he's twenty seven and still pretty much free from the dating experience.

He just simply couldn't be bothered to try nor was he even curious enough to try.

There's too much risk. Too much things to do. Too many factors to think about. It's too complicated and Wonwoo has never been a fan of complicated.

Sure, the older he gets the more he understands about the attraction and whatnot. But the few dates that he has been on (which he could count with his two hands) was entirely due to his friends setting up with someone and his inability to say no the second time even though he did reject their so-called-help the first time around.

They eventually get the hint and stop setting Wonwoo up on a blind date.

He never sees romance as a necessity and he doesn't feel the need to have a partner, what is there more to say?

“I lost the floor 12 Abyss again.” You pout, half tempted to throw away the joystick in your hands. “I'm never playing this game again, I'm telling you.”

Wonwoo chuckles and tells you to move as he slides next to you, taking the joystick away and getting ready to restart your game.

“You just suck at this.” He teases, not minding your glare because he's way too used to it at this point. “And you say that everytime but here you are, still playing.”

“Shut up.” You pout, both impressed and unimpressed at the way he easily goes through the stages.

“Done.” He grins, all nine shining stars looking back at you.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“I do!” You take back the joystick from him and close the window. “You don't even play this game! This is bullshit!”

He laughs under his breath and ruffles your hair, saying something about how he can't help being good at it.

You like that side of Wonwoo, as you often tell him, because people have always said that Wonwoo is quiet–that he doesn't talk a lot and it could be awkward being left alone with him.

And whilst it's not entirely untrue and you've been there too, you also know that Wonwoo is much more than his lack of words.

Wonwoo talks a lot once he's comfortable. You just need to be very patient and understanding about his silence before he gets there.

You… have been plenty patient, amongst other things.

You're patient enough to get where you are even though you've never imagined you'd get here.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to be comfortable with you that he doesn't mind inviting you over to his place with no other companies.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to not mind the fact that you like him and not act weird about it.

Here, meaning being close with Wonwoo despite the fact that you've confessed to him about your feelings but you're still here in his place, right next to him with not a single air of awkwardness between you two.

Turning off the Playstation, you settle on Wonwoo's sofa and decide to scroll through Instagram instead. You sigh, catching his attention, and when he asks you what's wrong, you simply shake your head no.

“What are you sighing about this time?”

This is something that people don't know about Wonwoo either: he prods when it comes to people he cares about.

Granted, he does it exactly three times to see if the other party would relent by then. He does that because that's how he is, he once tells you, because he rarely opens up at the first question but eventually cracks on the third time. That, by the third question, he's already had enough time to consider whether or not he really wants to talk about it.

“Nothing important.” You try to reassure him. “Just silly stuff.”

Wonwoo looks at you pointedly, but you simply smile and turn back to your phone, which he supposes means you don't feel like bringing it up just yet.

He closes his book and puts it on the coffee table, leaning closer to you to see what you're up to.

You wonder if Wonwoo knows what his action means to your poor, poor heart. If he's aware that, as much you said you're cool despite your confession, you still have romantic attractions towards him and confessing doesn't mean you're no longer affected by anything and everything he does.

After watching you go through your phone for a bit, it is quite easy for Wonwoo to realize what might be the core of your problem.

“You're thinking about why you're single again, aren't you?”

Your fingers freeze and so does your entire body, and Wonwoo would've laughed at how surprised you look right now, but he knows you're actually bothered by this problem from time to time though he doesn't exactly understand why.

And for someone who's observative and quite sensitive when it comes to things around him, Wonwoo can be a bit dense, still.

On what kind of universe does he think this topic would be okay to talk about with someone who literally confessed to you and somewhat got rejected though not explicitly?

“I don't want to talk about it.” You whine despite the fast beating of your heart. You honestly don't think you have it in you to talk about this with Wonwoo. At least not just yet.

“Why?”

You look at him, incredulous. “You know why.”

“Because you like me?”

You shrug, not wanting to deny it.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, voice very gentle and careful.

“What?”

“I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive.” You press your lips together as he starts. At least, he has the conscience to know that. “But… what is it about being in a relationship that appeals so much to you?”

You pause before you answer, wondering what to say. “Do you want me to actually answer that?”

“If you don't mind answering.”

Wonwoo wonders if he makes you uncomfortable by asking such question. But if there's anyone he can ask about this, it can only be you. No one else would answer it in a way that he would understand. No one else would give him the sincerity that you'd give in your answer.

He feels bad knowing you like him and still asking you like this. But he supposes you're both close enough for that discussion, that he doesn't want to let your feelings get in the way of your precious friendship.

Perhaps he's selfish, but he doesn't want to be too conscious when it comes to your relationship with him despite everything.

“I guess it's just the fact that someone's always there for you.” You start, not looking at him even though his gaze is locked at you. “That there's this person who… you can tell everything to, from your secrets to what you feel like eating today. That when you want to do something, you can always run to them first before wondering if anyone else is available. That–”

“But that's already how we are?” He cuts you off.

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering if it's some kind of prank even though you know he's not that kind of person.

“That's already what I do with you.” He says one more time–more firm and somewhat determined with a hint of confusion. “Why do you think you're in my place so often?”

“I… I– I don't know? You're… bored? And I happen to be free?” You stutter a little, not used to the way he's staring at you.

“I am bored.” He agrees, things suddenly crystal clear in his eyes. “But I'm bored because I don't have you around. And I want you here. That's why I asked all the time if you're available.”

You open your lips to say something–anything, but nothing comes out because your heartbeat is ringing throughout your body right up to your ears.

“You're the only person I send those posts about places I want to visit because I want to visit with you. I don't send them to anyone else. I don't even like going out all that much.”

“I… I don't understand?”

“Are we in a relationship?” He asks rather bluntly, mixing all your feelings together with one single question.

“Wonwoo, I don't think this is how you should go around it–”

“Have we been dating all this time?” He asks one more time, not even seemingly nervous about it.

He looks at you like he's expecting an answer, but how are you supposed to answer that? You've simply been happy that you get to spend time with him. You didn't think for one second that he might be into you despite all the time he asks you to accompany him somewhere and all the time you're alone in his place.

“I've been too oblivious, haven't I?” He concludes by himself, your silence doesn't deter him at all.

He reaches for your cheek, and if he notices how warm your face is, he doesn't mention it. But he caresses the apple of your cheek as he looks at you with the gentlest reflection you've ever seen in his eyes.

“I'm sorry it took me too long.” He whispers, and you bite your lip so hard to hide your smile because you don't want to be too happy before anything's decided. You're not sure what he's trying to say, your head is spinning with thoughts and your heart is beating at an erratic rhythm. “Do you mind… letting me learn a bit more?”

“About what?” You whisper back.

“Being a good boyfriend?” He smiles when you do too, feeling warmth all over his chest at how shy you seem to be. “You know I've never done this before, right? Let me take a chance with you?

You finally let yourself grin at this, no longer able to control the happiness blooming within you at whatever this might mean.

And as you lean your face more into his palm, Wonwoo thinks he's ready to take all the risks that might come together with whatever the future has in store as long as he has you by his side.

[miraculan-draws]

While I believe we'll see more similarities than differences in Show vs Book Lestat overall, and that Show Louis is now the Only Louis for me—as a narrative bone to chew I definitely see Book and Show Armand as very different characters who share very similar traits and I mean this in an overwhelmingly positive way like??

Book Armand was turned at SEVENTEEN. and by the sound of his descriptors, he could pass for younger than that. Young enough to have a bit of androgyny to his presentation. Book Armand is like. Ganymede. Frozen in time in what his maker must have thought as his prime. His name before was Andrei.

SHOW Armand is TWENTY SEVEN. Older by a long shot than the other boys in his maker's house. So what kept him there? He's no longer a Ganymede, he's an Adonis. In the light, you can see a shadow on his jaw. Hair on his chest. He's TALL, but always seated—attempting to look smaller and weaker than he is. His name before was Arun.

And here's the thing that really enamours me!!...Andrei could have like designed Arun for himself. Would your life be much different, if you were allowed to be a man and not a boy? Would you still want to be lovely? To whom? And in what way? Would you want to be tall? Would you want to be strong or slight? Would you want to keep your dark, doll eyes? Or would you give yourself a pair that were bright and sharp and curious—like a cat's, meant for the night?

And would Arun shun the boy who he is and was, the boy who made him? Curse him for wishing past childhood, where things were terrible but familiar, where choices were things other people made? Would you protect that boy, or shun him?

ANYWAY. I'm insane.

[supernovafics]

•*⁀➷ ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. ❞✭・

supernovafics!

✭•*⁀➷ a modern fake dating steve harrington series ·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

in which a friendship is surprisingly born in an elevator, and a crush that feels hopeless is developed very soon after that. for what feels like forever, you debate whether or not you should be honest with eddie and see if he maybe feels the same way as you. but, you upsettingly miss your chance to say anything when he gets into a relationship with someone that’s not you. ultimately, you decide to push everything you feel to the side so that you don’t potentially ruin everything between you and him; because at the end of the day, he’s still your best friend. now, two years later, things have changed— there’s a break up, reignited feelings, and pining that feels worse and even more helpless this time around. a blind date leads to you fake dating some guy you barely even know with the hopes of finally getting eddie to see you as more than just a friend. at first, you’re hesitant and you honestly think that steve’s suggestion sounds a little insane. but, then you decide that perhaps it could actually, somehow, maybe work? you and steve haven’t even known each other for a full twenty-four hours before you two are shaking hands and agreeing to fake date for a month, and hoping that you both get what you want out of this abruptly thrown together arrangement.

warnings: modern au, college au, fake dating trope, Big Big slow burn, bestfriend!eddie, slight fuckboy!steve vibes, unrequited feelings, pining, angst, specific warnings will be tagged per chapter

author's note: ah i'm very very excited for this series! i had this idea since like december and have been up and down and back and forth with outlining and writing it for the past few months (its been a bit of a roller coaster to say the least lmao). but here it finally is woooo !! i'm gonna actually do a taglist for this one so let me know if you wanna be added<333

wc: 83.2k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

prologue — can't go back

chapter one — from the start

chapter two — how to fall in love

chapter three — easier said

chapter four — playing pretend

chapter five — somehow, it works

chapter six — keep it simple

chapter seven — in the dark

chapter eight — what this could mean

chapter nine — if there’s a next time

chapter ten — alone with you

chapter eleven — wishful thinking

chapter twelve — it’s all for you

chapter thirteen — i don’t ever wanna leave

chapter fourteen — maybe it’s you

chapter fifteen — let it all out

chapter sixteen — fragments of time

chapter seventeen — maybe we got it right

chapter eighteen — for real this time

chapter nineteen — close to you *

epilogue — nothing else feels like this *

(as of right now, the entire series will be nineteen chapters and an epilogue!)

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: that's it folks. welcome to the end. peace out (my hand is hurting like a bitch) NOT EDITED NOT BETA READ EXCUSE THE MISTAKES

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

max: ANSWER ME

max: [NAME] I SWEAR TO GOD

max: I’LL FLY TO TEXAS RIGHT NOW I SWEAR

max: THIS IS ALL FUN AND GAMES FOR YOU ISNT IT

max: YOU FUCK ME AND THEN YOU LEAVE

max: YOU'RE ALL FUCKING THE SAME ALWAYS LEAVING ME

max: FUCK YOU [NAME]

max: TALK TO ME YOU COWARD

max: EXPLAIN YOURSELF

max: IM GOING INSANE HERE

Max has visited your apartment a total of two times since he’s given you the keys. The first time—Max remembers it was in early January 2020. You held a housewarming party disguised as a little lunch get-together as a thank-you for his gift. Daniel and him as well as two of your former roommates, Max recognizes them as Julia and Kendall from the PR team, are the only ones invited. You cooked pasta. Your mother’s recipe, you claimed. It easily became one of Max’s favorite dishes in the world and he requests you to cook it from time to time.

The second time, Max remembers going there again after the Monaco Grand Prix 2021. It’s been only a week after your breakup with Leo and four races before the incident with the Hamilton fan in Silverstone. The team holds a dinner to celebrate Max taking P1 and usually, you’re present in these types of things—the after parties and team dinners and all forms of team celebrations in general because you like celebrations but you're nowhere to be found.

Max finishes dinner quickly and excuses himself to Horner. He grabs a beer and drives himself to your apartment, because he knows you’re definitely not staying in the hotel with the team.

When you’re sad, you tend to hide away. It's an annoying habit. You make it your career to dig your nose into everyone’s problem—Max’s most especially—and provide everyone with the help you can offer. It's your love language, Max thinks, to be insanely helpful to everyone but the moment that the places switch and you’re the one who needs help, you run away because you refuse to bother everyone else with your problems despite the amount of people who are willing to return the favor you gave them in the past. It is very hypocritical of you.

He knocks on your door. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him. It's an established pattern, a system that works for both of you. You shout for him to wait and Max does so, observing the details of the woodwork in front of him as he waits patiently for you. You have a very nice door.

You open the door. Max’s brows raised slightly at the sight of you. You're still in your Red Bull polo shirt but instead of the pencil skirt you were wearing during the race, you wore short shorts instead. Black, fitted, and they stop a little above your mid-thighs. You're barefoot, too. No YSL heels in sight.

Max turns into a lovely shade of pink. You don't notice it.

You have long legs despite being 5’5” only, which gives off the illusion that you’re very tall when you're actually not. Your body ratio consists of seventy-five percent legs and twenty-five percent upper body. You have lean legs. It's full of childhood scars—thin white lines that are barely noticeable because of how old they are. You have well-built calves and dainty ankles, which look weird but also look right, and your feet are veiny, jagged lines of green blue on skin. Max thinks it's because you wear heels every day.

“Somethin’ wrong, man?” your voice sounds nasal, hoarse, and deep at the same time. Your eyes and nose are red and Max knows full well that you’ve been crying over Leo again and yet you carry yourself as if you're fine, standing in front of him with your shoulders straightened and your tone professional.

Max never liked the bitterness that washes over him whenever he sees you with Leo. But at that moment, he’ll rather endure the bitterness that chokes him until he thinks he’s about to pass out if that makes you alright, if that makes you stop crying.

“I have beer.”

It's a lame thing to say. He should have said something better. He should have asked if you’re alright, should have asked why you were crying, should have asked if there's anything you need him to do just so you’ll feel better. But his mind blanks and he just thrusted the beer forward.

You smile, shaking your head. You take the beer from his hands gratefully, “I have pasta. Wanna go in?”

It's a fair trade. You love beer. He loves your pasta. And so, he entered your apartment.

He faces your door for the third time in 2023. A million thoughts run around his brain per second as his eyes train on the wood patterns of your front door. Dread pools in his stomach as he holds the door knob. He only holds it, not twisting it and pushing it open just yet.

Max is stalling. He knows that. He shouldn't be stalling. He knows that, too.

He dreads what's waiting for him on the other side of the door. He can hear your voice in the back of his skull, saying, “Pussy. You risk your life and drive a rocket ship for a livin’ and you’re afraid of openin’ a damn door?”

Max takes a deep breath and opens the door. Silence and emptiness greets him.

Your apartment has always been bare. You refuse to buy carpets, curtains, houseplants, decorative furnishings or anything that can make your loft apartment seem like someone actually lives there.

(“It's expensive here,” you said.

“I’ll pay,” Max offered.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll just bring something from home.”

You never did.)

Max’s feet lead him to your living room. Dust accumulates on top of your glass coffee table and couch. Max remembers them coming along when he bought the apartment. You never got them changed.

His brows furrowed when his eyes landed on the familiar looking box that sits atop the coffee table. He strides towards it, head tilting to read the little pink sticky note attached to it. It reads: Sorry Max, I can't steal more from Kelly.

Max’s entire world crumbles down. He opens the shoe box and sees the shoe, arranged carefully in place.

He hurriedly reaches for the folder next to it and reads the writings inside.

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024.

Max keeps re-reading the last two sentences just to make sure he’s reading it correctly.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager.

I resigned, Max.

resigned.

Max hurls the shoe box and it zooms in the air and hits the wall. He fists his hair and pulls. A scream erupts in his throat. The neighbors are going to file a noise complaint but Max cannot bring himself to care. He’s the one whose heart is breaking here.

He grabs the folder. Max feels something fall on his foot. He looks down.

A beaded bracelet. Navy blue and red—the color of Red Bull. There are three white beads in the bracelet and on those three white beads are the letters M and V—his initials—and the number 1—his current number.

Max drops on his knees. He picks up the little thing with trembling hands. He brings the bracelet to his chest and Max falls apart. This time, you’re not here to hold him together.

max: hey im planning to visit the US

max: do you think you can show me around?

Logan Sargeant is a good driver. That's a given. It's his profession. But the way he drives; it's making Max sleepy.

“So….” Logan begins awkwardly. “I’m assuming you're visiting Texas because of [Name].”

Max nods, “Yeah.”

“You're not mad at her, are you?” Logan asks. “For resigning?”

“She told you?”

So you told the American boy but not him? Max cannot help but be offended now.

“Well, I kinda assumed? Liam mentioned it to the other day, who heard the news from his cousin.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lawson?”

“Yes, Lawson.”

Max remembers the kid all too well. Liam Lawson has overtaken him in Singapore after all. It's embarrassing. Watch out, Max, you teased him. Liam’s out to get you.

“Liam probably heard it from Leo.”

“Leo?”

Logan is mentioning too many names. Well, it’s just two but two is still many for his brain to comprehend right now.

“Yeah, Leo and Liam are cousins.”

Max pauses.

“Leo and [Name] still talk so I guess [Name] told Leo, who must have mentioned it to Liam, who then mentioned it in the groupchat with me and Osc—are you okay?”

Max tries his hardest not to scream.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, voice tight. “I’m fine. How far are we from Austin?”

They drive past a sign that says “Welcome to Austin.”

“Well, it looks like we’ve just arrived.”

Max is once again offended that Logan knows where you live while he doesn't. Vista Del Pueblo, Logan tells him the name of the place as they hop off the car. It's funny how close you lived from the Circuit of the Americas. No wonder you always requested to be home after the Austin GP before flying off to the next city.

The two-storey yellow and red brick house is empty. Despite that, it looks like a perfect picture of a happy childhood home. The backyard and the patio is wide. Beside the driveway stands an olden tree. Below the tree is a reclining chair that looks like it has gone through a dust storm and a thousand rains.

“It’s empty,” Max announces. Logan nods.

“Yeah.”

Logan ends up approaching an old woman in the neighboring house who was sweeping dust off her porch and asks her if she knows the [Last Name] family’s whereabouts.

“They haven't returned home since Christmas,” she replies. “Everyone in the neighborhood tried contacting them but no one got through. Ever since Julio died… It's like the entire family followed after him.”

Max and Logan stiffen, shocked at the news that's just been revealed.

Julio died….?

Max needs to find you. Urgently. He needs to see if you're okay.

The sun retires for the night and Max decides that it's time for Logan and him to retire as well. Logan drives them to a hotel and Max pays for two rooms despite Logan insisting that he can pay for his own. They grab dinner at the hotel restaurant, in a private area that Max paid for.

“You’re not angry at her, aren't you?” Logan asks for the second time that day. His plate is half empty. Meanwhile, Max’s plate is barely touched. His appetite significantly decreased. He keeps thinking about you, worried about how you're coping with Julio’s death. You are never the best person when it comes to dealing with pain. Physical pain, you can handle. You’re barely fazed when you burn your hand in the oven, when you hit your hip at the corner of the table, when you accidentally get scratches and you don't even notice it until someone points out the blood that terrifyingly drips down your arm. Max can still remember how you dealt with your breakup with Leo. All those nights crying, the unhealthy fixation in work so you won't have any space feeling human emotions, the moments where you disconnect with reality that Max has to pull you out of many times. The death of a father is a million times worse than a breakup. Max imagines a thousand scenarios in his mind. He needs to be with you right now. He needs to make sure you're alright.

“I hope you're not. You obviously are but I still hope you're not,” Logan continues. “She was always going to leave, you know? She told me in January. She told me that she needs to—

Max accidentally throws the glass of water he was holding. It falls onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoes throughout the room. Logan stares at Max with his eyes wide. A cleaning crew comes in a hurry and cleans it up. Max doesn't apologize, he only says, “send me the bill later” and sends the crew out. He turns to Logan.

“She needs to what?”

“You're angry.”

You reminded me, Max said in his mind.

“And?” Max raises his brow. “She needs to what?”

Logan lets out a shaky breath, “She needs to become an engineer or else she’ll never forgive herself.”

Manager. Engineer. What's so damn special about that engineering position anyway? Why are you so hell bent on leaving Max? Red Bull pays you more than an engineer. Hell, Max is even willing to raise your salary to the same amount as half of his annual salary in Red Bull if it keeps you from leaving him. Max is willing to pay for your student loans and refund everything you paid to USC during your college years.

Max pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. He’s feeling too many emotions all at once.

“I think it's best if you talk to Leo?” Logan suggests. Max appreciates that he’s trying to be helpful but mentioning Leo brings nothing but more anger in him. Fucking Leo. Why does he know where you are? He’s your fucking ex for god’s sake. Why are you even still talking to your ex? “He’s close with [Name]. I think he can help you.”

Max contemplates.

He doesn't want to ask fucking Leo.

And he’s not that desperate to seek help from him.

Logan writes his number on a table napkin. Max pockets it.

After dinner, Max sits inside his hotel room. He dials the number Logan gave him because if he’ll tell you where you are, he can swallow his pride for a day. It takes three redials and two rings before Leo answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Leo Stark?”

“Yes, this is he. May I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s Max Verstappen.”

Silence.

“Hello, are you still there?”

Max hears a loud crash followed by a series and a whole lot of ruffling, “Sorry about that. Do you mind repeating that?”

“Max Verstappen.”

“Ah, so I’m not hearing things. I thought I was hearing things. Sorry. Do you wish to talk to James Vowles? I can transfer the call to him.”

“No,” Max says. “I want to talk to you. It's about [Name].”

“Oh.” A pause. “You're going to ask me where she is, aren't you?”

“You're smart.”

“Well, mate, too bad. I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t,” he echoes. “I mean I can but I won’t.”

“So you know where she is.” It's not a question. Something bitter rears its ugly head in his stomach. His bitterness and anger now dwarf his worry for you in size. Fuck Logan for reminding him that you always wanted to leave. Fuck Leo for knowing where you are.

“I’m going to ask again and you better give me the answer I want. Where is she?”

“The answer you want?” Leo clicks his tongue. “It’s always what you want. Have you considered what she wants? Does [Name] even want you to find her?”

“You don't know what you're talking about—”

“I do,” Leo interrupts and the way he sounds so sure of himself aggravates Max. “I do, mate. Believe it or not.”

“I see what's happening here,” Max sneers. “I’ve heard you and [Name] broke up because she was prioritizing me over you. Is this it? Are you doing this out of petty jealousy?”

Leo sighs, “You’re making this about you again.”

Max opens his mouth to retort but Leo cuts him off, “Let me get this straight with you, mate. When we were still dating, not once have I been jealous of you. I understood that she works for you and that she has to put you first in certain situations. After all, you’re her job. I’m just the home she returns to after work.”

Max’s jaw clenches. Leo was her home. It was the truth no matter how much Max hated it. Leo does not stop there.

“I have no issue with her focusing on you. The only problem I have with it is her tendency to focus more on you than herself. If you come to her at a very vulnerable time, especially now, there’s a chance that she’s going to focus on you again. She deals with grief in a very unhealthy way and I don't want her to do that. Not when she needs to properly grieve for her father.”

Leo sighs again.

“So please, mate, just this once. Think about what she needs right now and it’s not you.”

You don't need Max.

But Max needs you.

That is one of the most painful truths he’s ever been given.

“She’ll come back. She always does. It may take months. Years, even. Just… Let her grieve and let her pick herself up. There are people who don't want help because they need to do it themselves or else it won't feel fulfilling. [Name] is no different. Also, I’ll be honest with you, mate. I don't want you coming to her before she achieves her dreams. You’re so used to [Name] giving you everything you want that you forgot that she, too, is someone who needs and wants and dreams. She just wanted to be an engineer.”

“And how is this my fault?”

“You knew what she wanted. You agreed to help her achieve it. You didn't allow her to move to Renault. You told her that you’ll ask your team principal after you win and you did win but you didn't keep your end of the bargain.”

“I—”

“Who are you to control her dreams? If you love her, you would have asked Horner, at least. She knows you never asked Horner. Maybe she would have never resigned if you tried to talk to Horner, but you let your selfishness win.”

Max feels all breath punched out of his lungs.

“You had the power to ask your team principal yet you didn't and she has to watch you achieve your dreams while she can't. Unfair, don’t you think?”

A pause.

“Just start considering what she feels, mate. That's all.”

“I am considering her. Always.” This is the closest to a love declaration he can admit out loud. The purest form of love is consideration, they say. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel, pays attention to detail, holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you, keeps promises so you won’t be disappointed, that's when you know they love you.

“Are you really?”

Is he really?

“Take care of her for me, Verstappen. Even from afar. You can do that.”

The call ends.

Max stares blankly at the wall, still holding his phone against his ear. Then, he hurls it across the room. He aggressively drags his hand through his face.

Max flies back to Belgium after Austin to spend the rest of his off-season with his mother and sister. He apologizes to Logan for his behavior. Logan is a kind man, he forgives easily. He drives Max to the airport.

The next day, an article is posted, titled—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN.

On New Year's Eve, Kelly messages Max. He can't say that he’s surprised. In truth, he’s been expecting her to message him, whether it's to beg to take her back or to curse him out or to tell him something about Penelope or it's to inform him that she's going to pick up her things in Max’s penthouse in Monaco.

kelly: i sent someone to pick up our things in your place

max: okay

kelly: also

kelly: *sent a photo*

kelly: she apologized for something that's not her fault

kelly: you have a good one

The photo is a screenshot of Kelly’s conversation with you, dated December 30. That was yesterday.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Max looks up to see his mother’s worried face.

“Oh, uh,” he closes his phone and almost drops it. Fucking clumsy fingers, fucking messages, fucking pain. “Nothing, Mum.”

His mother does not look convinced.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? No need to hide it. You may be a world champion now but you’ll always be my baby,” she says. “What does [Name] always say? Even champions are allowed to cry.”

At the mention of you, Max looks away.

“Tell me. Is it Kelly?”

The last time Max cried in his mother’s arms was when he was eleven. Jos always said boys should never cry. That boys who cry are weak. And weak people do not become champions. Max wanted to be a champion so he never allowed himself to be weak. Weakness only becomes a weakness if it is known so he learned to bottle it up over the years and all the bottled grief became anger. Hence, the birth of his serious anger issues.

He’s twenty-seven now with three WDC titles under his belt. He’s outgrown both of his parents in terms of physical size and in career accomplishments but when his mother’s arms wrapped around him, he allowed himself to become a little boy again. He allowed himself to be weak.

“She left me, Mum,” Max whispers, hugging her mother close. Sophie rubs his back in soothing circles.

“You’ll find someone, Max,” his mother assures.

“I don't want someone else,” he says. “I want [Name].”

“Oh.”

Sophie blinks.

“Max, you—”

“Please, don't make me say it, Mum,” Max pleads, squeezing his eyes shut. A lone tear drips down his cheek. “Don't make me say I’m in love with [Name].”

Max sends an email to Christian that he’s not going to take a manager in 2024. Christian tells him it's a bad idea, that he needs a manager because he’s becoming busy with his schedules and everyone wants a piece of time with the third-time world driver’s champion but Max cannot care less. If it’s not you, he’d rather have no one at all.

Max wants to learn how to get used without you on his side. He did a little reflecting over pre-season and realized how he had become so dependent on you. He learns the functions of a Google calendar and how to use a Notion page.

Max just knows 2024 is going to be a shitty year for him.

Bahrain, Max remembers, is your favorite track. He doesn't know why you like Bahrain. Bahrain is hot. Bahrain is not as exciting as other race tracks. Personally, he prefers Spa-Francorchamps.

He also remembers that you like watching the air show. You never said it outright but you always have this smile on your face while watching the jets painting the sky with colors so Max kind of figured.

Max snaps a picture of the jets in the sky. He opens his Instagram and searches for your name in his message list. When he presses his conversation with you, the first thing that greets him is his spam of angry messages. All delivered, all unread. The last message, Max remembers, was sent when he visited Austin with Logan to search for you.

max: SO YOU TOLD LEO BUT NOT ME? DO I EVEN MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU?

His finger hovers on the send button. He lets out a sigh and he pockets his phone instead.

Daniel approaches Max after Max wins Jeddah.

“Hey, have you been talking to [Name]?” he asks.

“Not lately,” answers Max. Not since she left me, Max thinks.

Daniel scratches his nape. “I think she's angry at me.”

“You’ve been talking?”

Now, Max is offended. So you talked to Leo, you talked to Kelly, you talked to Daniel, but you made no effort to talk to him? When was he going to get a message from you?

“Well, I kinda…” Daniel pulls out his phone. “I just checked up on her? And she replied like a week later. She sounds kinda angry? I don't know. Do you think she sounds angry?”

Daniel shows Max his last conversation with [Name].

daniel: hey!

daniel: heard from max what happened

daniel: we miss you! you should visit come by in bahrain! the opening is gonna be sick

you: can't sorry

daniel: aww how about jeddah

daniel: i’ll fly you out don't worry about traveling commercial

you: idk man

you: might be too much noise and distraction for you

you: good luck in jeddah tho

A very passive aggressive reply.

“Yeah, she is,” Max supplies.

Max wins Bahrain. Max wins Jeddah. Australia, on the other hand, is a funny story. First, the Williams team pulls an annoying move. Poor Logan. He had to give his car to his teammate and sit out of the race.

Max visits him after the news was officially announced. He finds the American racer in his driver room, sitting sadly on the bed with his head bent low, after asking a rookie Williams mechanic, who trembled at the sight of him.

It's a pitiful looking room. Max has a villa for a driver room. Logan doesn't even have a closet for his overalls, just a rack held together by hopes and dreams. The bed is so tiny and narrow that Max is sure he wouldn't even fit if he lies in there unless he assumes a tight fetal position.

“You’re here,” Logan stands from the bed, eyes wide in surprise. He hasn’t expected Max to visit him out of all the people in the grid. Not even his own teammate performed that courtesy. “Uh, I don't have anything. Here, have my seat. Do you want me to grab—”

“It's fine,” Max holds his palm up. “Sit back down, Logan.”

Logan slowly sits back down and moves to the side so Max can have a space to sit on. Max occupies Logan’s given space beside him. Their shoulders and elbows are touching.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Logan nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Max nods, but he doesn't believe him. Comfortable silence wraps the entire room. It lasted less than five minutes.

“You should break the car,” Max suggests seriously. “So no one can drive it, too.”

A soft laugh escaped Logan’s throat.

The door swings open and enters Leo, who freezes when he sees Max Verstappen sitting next to Logan. He looks at the two F1 drivers then back in his hand, where he was holding a large Stanley cup and two styro cups.

“Great, I only brought two cups,” he says, kicking the door behind him to close it. “Should have told me the world champion is coming. I would have brought the expensive wine.”

“What do you have there?”

“Beer,” Leo lifts the Stanley cup and gives it a small shake. “Transferred it to a Stanley cup so no one would notice.”

“James wouldn’t be happy,” says Logan, frowning.

“We’re not happy with him either,” Leo retorts, pouring the beer into the two cups. He hands one to Logan and another to Max.

“I suggested breaking his car,” Max inserts, accepting the cup. He still feels a bit weird to be hanging out with Leo like this. He’s angry still, but he’s not as angry as he was in Austin. Leo’s words, though Max would never admit it out loud, made sense. You left because of Max’s own selfishness. He was the one who had cut your wings and thought that his gesture was out of love when in fact, it was an action born out of his desperation and his fear of being left behind by you.

“Should I?” Leo humors his suggestion, shrugging his shoulders.

Logan sighs, shaking his head at the two. He can’t believe they're both older than him but still wield that petty immaturity.

“Please don't.”

Second, the RB20 has brake issues in Australia so Max ends up retiring in the middle of the race. Max hears everyone cheer at his retirement. That's when you know he’s good. When everyone wishes for his downfall. Everybody in Red Bull grows wary watching their prized driver stomp inside the garage, looking like he has a lot to say to the mechanics. His head is as hot as the burning car at the pit.

Max hears two people whispering amongst themselves:

“Mad Max is back.”

“Where's [Name] when you need her? He’s going to get blow up at us now.”

“[Name] really is a saintess because she’s the only one who can handle him when he’s angry.”

“I never appreciated her efforts before but I am now. I hope she never left.”

Max hopes she didn't, too. Out of all the people in Red Bull, he’s the one who wishes that she hasn't left the most. Now, he’s even angrier.

Max wins P1. If he doesn't, it's a DNF. The problem is the reliability of the car, not him. Never him.

He steps foot in Austin soil again on October 15th for the 19th race of the season, eager to win another P1 and increase his chance of snatching his fourth consecutive world driver’s championship title.

Fortunately, the RB20 doesn't fail him mid-race. The Dutch national anthem is heard all around the Circuit of the Americas and Max retires to the garage, too tired for any form of celebration. He wants to change out of his racing gear. He still has to fix his Google calendar and check out a few things in his Notion page. Who knew being your own manager can be so tiring?

Kendall comes by, a camera in hand. She snaps a quick picture, only one take because she knows Max hates taking pictures. Max believes you mentioned it to her before and has asked her to take the pictures quickly so he wouldn't get annoyed. You were always too thoughtful, always mindful of the little details. Perhaps, it was why he fell in the first place.

Max pivots on his heels to leave after he hears the camera click.

“Oh Max,” Kendall stops him. “[Name] came by earlier. She said congratulations.”

Max entire world stops spinning. Everything else became a mass of white noise.

“Where's she?” Max demands.

“She left already, said she’s got somewhere to be—”

Max sprints to his driver room, grabs his keys and ran all the way to the parking lot where his car was parked, not minding the screams and the questioning stares he received from the people he ran past them to his car. His mind only focuses on one thing—he has to get to you.

He drives down to the familiar road that he and Logan drove in last December 2023. He's racing against time and like all races he'd participated in, he hopes to win. He hopes that he’ll be able to see you. Max arrives at the red and yellow brick house in Vista Del Pueblo, jogging up until the front door and knocking. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him.

No one answers. Max jogs up to the window at the front and peeks inside. The house is still empty as it had been in December.

Max's shoulders sagged.

He wasn't fast enough.

[hotteokyu]

Bad Girl Syndrome

MINORS DNI ~ EXPLICIT CONTENT

Synopsis~ Reader and Yunho are some bad bitches. They're lovers in crime, infamous for their heartless acts. Everyone knows them. The scariest of the scariest are scared of them. They're insane. Except... there's one little secret. The lovers are so innocent behind closed doors. They've never thought about it until now, let alone done it. Sex, that is.

Word count~ 11.4k

Pairing~ outlaw!yunho x outlaw!reader

Genre / WARNINGS ~ NSFW / EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, romance, violence, drugs, criminal activity, sexual tension, pet names, insensitive language, yu and y/n are super cute, they "participate" in an orgy temporarily, dry humping, vaginal fingering, oral (female and male receiving), vaginal sex, yuyu's big, first time, virgins.

a/n~ have fun!! mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Everyone has a story. Most of them aren’t important. 

     But yours is.

     You were fifteen when you met him. 

     It was silly because he was just like you.

     He liked to do bad things.

     You saw him first at a local charity. One that helped ex-convicts start a new life. You saw him hand a freaky-looking shit a gun. It was on the news the next morning. Fifteen people died. And that freaky guy killed himself after.

     You liked to do bad things too.

     Smashing vending machines, selling drugs, breaking into rich fucks’ houses, and snipping their whores’ hair off while they slept. Just small things.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Jeong Yunho was his name.

     It took only a month for him to notice you. When you got together at sixteen, you began to do worse things. Kill, rob, torment. It felt so much better to do it with Yunho. Your reputation built on its own as your desire to play alongside him grew.

     You were wanted in four countries by eighteen.

     At nineteen, you were arrested in Mongolia for murder and wanted to die rather than live through that hell. You were assaulted physically and sexually multiple times by inmates and guards alike.

     You were twenty when you killed an inmate for trying to take your clothes off. You had smashed her head against the cell bars until her brains were spilling out and she collapsed, dead. You were gone before she was found.

     You and Yunho had to move around a lot after that, and you found others along the way. Seven outlaws, wanted for this or that. Your gang was somewhat official by the time you were twenty-one. That’s when you found your turf. And you never left.

     By twenty-four, you were fucking unstoppable. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Hmm? Where’s your bitch?” 

     The bar was quiet. The bartender, a youthful drunkard, was always talking the customers away. It was bad for business but nice for the locals. For you and your bitch.

     “He’s around,” you sighed. “You think he’ll leave me? He doesn’t even take me out anymore.” You sat down softly upon a stool at the bar, your chin resting on the palm of your hand sadly. There was even a little pout to go with it. “I just might die if he leaves me.”

     The man scoffed, rubbing uselessly at a stained glass, pinching its rim with a black hand towel. It looked like it would turn to dust, as it used to be purple. “About time. I’m tired of your shit.”

     You ignored him, instead sighing again as you eyed the door gloomily. 

     Wooyoung was his name, maybe. You’d thought about killing him before, but Yunho really liked him. For some reason. He was so loud. Holy shit, he did not stop talking. It made you so fucking close to slicing his neck wide open.

     The bell above the door rang, and two heavy feet stumbled inside. You closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. You’d taken a shower that morning, but a bath didn’t sound too bad. Just to soothe your frustrations, though you could already feel them fading away.

     You opened your eyes slowly, cocking a brow at the bartender, who was very much not amused. At least he wasn’t talking. 

     “Wooyoungie~!” you sang, hopping to your feet as the steps grew closer. You let a smirk land on your lips. “I think I’ll live tonight!”

     “I think you should just go home,” he groaned, eyeing the customer behind you, then returning his annoyed orbs right back at your growing grin. Your lips stretched far over your teeth as you reached a cheek-squishing smile.

     “There’s no tomorrow! Only tonight!” you shouted. 

     The steps behind you halted. Even retreated just once or twice. You stepped out, twirling your hair over your shoulder as you turned your head toward him. Six feet tall, big, strong, eyes wide in terror as he laid them on your grin. 

     You liked eyeing up those men. The big ones who turned to putty as soon as they heard your pretty voice or saw your beautiful face. It was so cute. I mean, who could be scared of you? Your little bows and skirts. Your cutesy smile and pretty pink lip gloss. Not to mention your beautiful eyes. Any man would want to fall deep into their ethereal design. But instead, they were drained of all color. Gray clumps of old smelly men who were so scared of you. It made the killing part so much more fulfilling. 

     You took a step, your left foot before your right. A straight line as you pattered your way, just a few steps, toward the frozen man. They were so slow. Could he even see you moving? He didn’t even move his eyes from your smile. He was a little nervous. You had to let him get comfortable with your face, let him enjoy it. It would be the last thing he ever saw.

     You could see his tremble as you got closer, just a bit. He didn’t move, but he consistently quivered in that spot.

     Around then, you would usually be thinking of how you wanted to do it, but you were so tired. You just wanted to slit his throat and be done. Have Wooyoung take care of the rest. Or maybe just let him go. He seemed to want to leave anyway. Not that you were stopping him. 

     A glass slid against the counter then. You glanced over, just a little curious. You were so zoned in, but the sound broke that abruptly.

     “Hi, baby,” Yunho mumbled from a stool at the bar. Your pin-sized pupils dilated significantly at the simple sight of him. The soft, low sound of his voice. 

     You heard a whimper of sorts from the man beside you, and you frowned, eyeing him and deepening the curve of your lips. “Can you just go?” you sighed, rolling your eyes when his legs stumbled in trying to figure out where to move. 

     His knees dropped to the floor, a droplet of water splashing against the dirty mud-tracked tile. That was either a tear or the drool that had been dripping from his mouth since he fucking walked in. Disgusting. He suddenly choked out a sob so gruesome and horrified as he slammed his arms over his head.

     “Oh, okay.” She glanced over at the two men at the counter, slowly shrugging in confusion. They were getting so stupidly scared. How could fear make you like that? That’s so embarrassing. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “How are you still standing, Wooyoungie?” Yunho chuckled, splashing his drink as he clanked his glass against your kitchen counter. “Her face is so scary~!” He took your head between his two huge hands and squished your cheeks together, imitating the pout that your lips formed as he watched your features reshape between his palms. “Ooh~ I’m so scared~!” He grinned when your tightly knitted brows lightened and hopped a little with your small laugh. 

     “I’m going home,” Wooyoung grumbled, pushing his glass away as he sighed dramatically at your lovey-lovely shit. “Don’t call me. I’ll be dead anyway.”

     “No~! That’s not true!!” you laughed. “We’ll protect you!” 

     Yunho nodded, giving Wooyoung a confident thumbs up. He wasn’t really having it.

     “Don’t call me.”

     The door creaked and slammed, the sound echoing throughout the room. Yunho was watching the frames on the wall tremble for a moment before he eagerly turned back toward you. His grin was playful as always, his eyes squinting as he watched your pretty little face.

     “Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asked, his smile growing a bit bigger when you nodded quickly. He put a gentle hand on your head, stroking down once, then twice. There was always a gentleness to his gaze that you adored. Because Yunho was a dangerous man, but he also became putty when he looked at you. Only in a completely different way from anyone else. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Money wasn’t the issue. It was just so thrilling. Of course, money was great too. There was just something about that moment outside of the forbidden vault. You could hardly breathe with the mask sticking to your face like a second layer of skin. Your eyes sparkled out of excitement and the reflection of the shimmer of the silver vault door. 

     You weren’t allowed in there. You weren’t allowed to have any of what lay beyond the door. So you wanted it. 

     “Ladies first.” Yunho’s voice was soft beside your ear, his body pressing lightly against your back as he bent down to meet you at your level. You lifted your hand just high enough to feel the fluff of his black hair peeking out from the mask at his neck. You slid your fingers against the soft of his skin gently. “Or are you scared?” he whispered, folding just a little closer. He took your wrist in his hand and lowered it, placing it on the wheel of the door. “Or do you need help?”

     You pulled, and the door creaked, slowly opening to reveal the bags and boxes of treasures within. This town was so underdeveloped. No need for technology or even locks within the vault because there was hardly anything to anyone’s name anyway. 

     “You’ve got three minutes. We parked out back. Call when you’re ready to go.” You could hear the crinkles of a bag and the crunches of snacks through your earpiece. Seonghwa was probably in the driver’s seat munching on some chips. At least he ate neatly. 

     As soon as you stepped foot into the room, the other three outlaws on your raid team rushed inside. San, Jongho, and Yeosang. They were big, and strong, and good at being efficient in times like these. They would take care of loading the goods. 

     You walked past the gold bars and green bills toward the back of the vault, an empty wall, the perfect canvas. Yunho held out the spray paint, black this time. Black meant murder, though this was a robbery. There was one death, the lady at the counter who wanted to be a hero. But it was hardly murder. She collapsed with a little push against the wall.

     Sighing, you took the can. Then, as far as your arms could reach, you sprayed your gang’s cute little symbol. The curves looked nice that time, dripping just a bit as you stood back to admire your hard work. 

     “We’re leaving,” Yunho announced as you turned toward the door. The room was nearly empty. You grabbed the final bag as everyone filed out.

     The blood on the floor from the lady had spread into the walkway. You stepped into the puddle with a small smile. You liked leaving a trace of your cute pink boots behind. The cops would go crazy over the evidence, but it would be useless.

     “I thought you liked those boots,” Yunho mumbled, pouting a little as you all got in the van and drove off. “They’re ruined…”

     “I’ll get new ones,” you assured, knowing he liked them more than you did. 

     You wiggled your feet out and frowned when you saw a drop of red on your white sock down by your toes. Yunho gasped, taking your foot off of the van floor and placing it in his lap. 

     “You like these too,” he grumbled.

     Yunho always grew a little attached to cute things. Especially when they were on you. 

     You placed your hands on his soft cheeks, his eyes meeting yours. “I think you like them more than I do,” you teased, and he nodded. “Do you like them more than you like me?” you asked, pouting a little.

     “Holy shit!” San suddenly shouted. Everyone turned their heads in confusion, your hands dropping to your lap. “Get a fucking room,” he practically growled, glaring at the two of you in the back seat. “I’m tired of hearing it! You’re practically fucking each other every heist! Just wait until you get home!” He huffed and turned around in his seat.

     Sex. What distaste.

     “San, be for serious right now,” Wooyoung snickered.

     “They don’t even kiss. What do you mean fuck?” Jongho added. San glanced around in confusion.

     “They’re all up on each other, though, what do you mean??” 

     When you simply shifted in your seat, making your presence known, silence passed through the air. Not a single thought passed through that rigid air. No one moved. San’s face was awfully fucking pale compared to his golden skin. You’d think out of all of the seven outlaws you picked up from the streets, the stray cat should be the most grateful. I guess even loyal pets need to be retaught their manners.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     San looked guilty. There was nothing for him to be afraid of. You would never hurt him too badly. He was family, after all. 

     Choi San.

     You loved to joke around. You loved to have fun. You were a jolly girl. But to label you a whore? To speak or even think about such vulgar, lowly things?

     “San, what did we talk about, honey,” you asked, glancing down at his trembling hand, gripping his thigh and staining his black pants with his sweat. “It’s not too hard, is it? To respect me and your people.” 

     He shook his head, staring straight at the ground. You could feel your eye twitching. This relationship was not built on violence, so, unfortunately, you couldn’t just fucking kill him. 

     “San, please look at me.” His head shot up, and you saw the hot tears quivering in his bloodshot eyes. You frowned. “Poor, baby.” He was doing a poor job of keeping those tears bottled up. They looked like they’d spill over. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

     “I know,” he said between gritted teeth.

     “You know, I love you,” you said sweetly, giving him a small smile. 

     “I know.”

     “So what brought about this disrespect?” you asked, your voice growing just a bit tighter as you tried to contain yourself. He was fragile. “Was I rude to you? Was I bothering you too much? Do I annoy you?”

     He shook his head. “I was worried about your privacy,” he mumbled. His jaw was locked tight, the veins in his neck bulging as he stared into the center of your face. “That’s all.”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Fuuuck~” Wooyoung groaned. “I’m so ready to get the fuck out of here!” He leaned his head against the wall, lifting it and dropping it in quiet thuds.

     “Got a day left, Woo,” Yeosang reminded, smiling optimistically at his friend. He gave a cute thumbs-up, but the goon was uninterested, instead banging his head just a bit harder against the heist room wall. 

     “We’ve only been here for three months,” Hongjoong said as he walked in through the back door. His steps were a sophisticated rhythm, one foot in front of the other as he strolled into the little abandoned warehouse. “What’s one more day?”

     “Captain, I’m sick of living in hiding like a fucking criminal,” Wooyoung grumbled, stopping his banging once the man sat down.

     “That’s crazy,” Jongho snickered. “Who’s gonna tell him?”

     “Fuck, we deserve luxury,” Wooyoung practically moaned. “That town we went to two years back. We should go there again.” He bit his lip, rolling his eyes at the pleasurable thought of living like normal rich biches again.

     Hongjoong smiled softly. It always looked a little menacing that way. “Our princess picked out a nice place for us this time,” he said, winking as Wooyoung’s face lit up. “I thought it might be nice to fuck up something nice.”

     “Fuck, you’re so right,” Wooyoung moaned.

     “Did we forget our manners, Wooyoungie?” Yunho asked, leaning against the back of his chair. Wooyoung flinched just slightly before relaxing into a playful smirk.

     “Yeah. I’m a bad boy,” he mumbled, leaning his head back into Yunho’s stomach. “Gotta punish me.” 

     He glanced at you and your indifferent expression. He looked annoyed, disappointed, even. Then he lifted his head, sighed, and acted like nothing had just happened. 

     “Can we focus on tonight? We can’t fuck this up,” you said, and all eyes landed on you. “The cops are on high alert, and they know we’ll be there. They want to get us tonight.”

     “You mean, you?” Wooyoung grumbled. “They don’t give a shit about us. They just want you.” He eyed you reluctantly, then glanced toward Yunho. “And maybe him.” He half-assed a point toward the man. 

     “Don’t be silly,” Yunho cooed, patting Wooyoung’s shoulder sympathetically. “They want all of us equally.”

     Hongjoong shook his head. “No, he’s right,” he said. “We’re all fucked up, but you guys are on another level of fucked up. You’re the real prize.” 

     “I bet they’d cuff one of us just to ask where Y/n is. They’d let us go if we told,” San said, puckering his lips. “But I’m a good boy, so I’d never tell.”

     You scrunched your brows. Why were your teammates such freaks?

     “Aww~!” Wooyoung sung. “Is Sannie a good boy?” San nodded, giving his best puppy eyes as Wooyoung leaned over the table to stroke his short black hair.

     “Anyway!” you interrupted, clearing your throat when the freaks wouldn’t stop petting each other. “Does everyone remember what they need to fucking do?” You pressed your lips together, glancing at each individual as they nodded. One of them would find a way to fuck this up. You knew they would. It would probably be fucking Choi San, his head stuck thinking about sex. Sex. Sex. Fucking whore. 

     You left the room first, and Yunho followed close behind. Your black heels clacked on the cracked concrete floor and echoed throughout the empty warehouse. You loved that sound. You let it envelop your mind. Let it calm you down just a bit. 

     You should’ve been excited for that night. It was the night you’d been waiting for for a long time. Then you could finally get out of here. You just couldn’t get yourself hyped. You were so annoyed. 

     Yunho peeked into your line of vision, and you cracked a small smile, turning toward him happily. He was grinning, his hand folding into yours. He always fell into step beside you, his heelclickingng in time with yours. He was so conscious of every little detail. The folds on your skin, how they wrinkled just slightly at your agitation. The falter in your step, how your confidence must not be at its peak as it should be on an important night like this. 

     “Do you think we’re fucked up?” he asked, and you gave him a knowing look.

     “Of course not, baby. Don’t think that,” you cooed. “I’m just so pretty. They all want me so bad.”

     He laughed, squeezing his eyes together giddily as he pulled you just a bit closer. 

     “You gonna dress in black tonight?” he asked, looking from your shoes to your top to the pin in your hair. You were feeling a little depressed today. So what?

     “Mm…” you hummed to yourself. “Maybe I would feel better if I wore some pink.”

     He nodded quickly. “I think so.”

     “Yeah?” you giggled.

     He bit his lip, eyeing you shyly. “Pink looks really good on you.” You nearly coo at the pink blush tinting his cheeks from ear to ear. 

     He was so adorable. You didn’t even need to put any pink on to feel good.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     For context, it was a masquerade party or something. The cargo was a small vial of a newly developed drug. It gave an aroused, high feeling. A lot like an aphrodisiac, but stronger. It didn’t really matter what it was. Your buddies in Russia wanted it, so you would supply it. 

     But, of course, there was a guest list. No one would let you in. Everyone and their mothers knew your pretty little face. 

     That’s where your pretty princess came in. Mingi wasn’t a “member” of your gang, nor was he affiliated with you publically. He was born with money and status but liked to do bad things. He was naughty, but he was quiet. And he fucking loved you and Jeong Yunho. He met you two back when you were kids in Korea. He tagged along for a while but was dragged back to the princess life before anything became public. He had connections, money, and a fine good reputation. Your perfect princess. 

     You would go to the party as “Mingi”’s plus one. The man at your side would only be Mingi until you got inside, though. Once the identity authentication was processed, he would sneak out and switch with Yunho. As much as you all loved Mingi, he wasn’t very good at being naughty. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Are you feeling all right, baby?” Yunho asked, his arm escorting you stiffly through the crowd.

     You hardly heard him over the extremity of your heartbeat. Fuck, this place was gorgeous. You wanted to look around at each painting, each dress, each extravagant jewel bedazzling the walls and tables, and fountains of assortments of drinks, and the gold flakes on sweet macaroons. The clacks of gentle steps elegantly echoed throughout the doming walls of the crystal structure. You could die a happy lady with this sight.

     “Do you like the dress I picked out for you?” Mingi asked from over the radio. Yunho’s arm tensed at your side, squeezing yours to him to keep your steps from wandering too far in amazement.

     You glanced toward Yunho with a soft, composed smile. “It’s lovely,” you told Mingi. In all honesty, it was pale and boring. Not at all your style, but at least it was shiny and blended in with the majority of the crowd. 

     Your mask, on the other hand, was absolutely stunning. When Yunho saw your sparkling eyes hidden beautifully in the shadows of the decorative piece, he nearly fell to his knees. He was in awe, not wanting to part from you, even if it was for, like, ten minutes. Mingi had to pry your arm from his grasp. It was embarrassing in front of your members, but you could just coo at his needy behavior. 

     Yunho gave you a knowing look as you frowned slightly down at your dress. 

     “The room you need to go into is downstairs,” Mingi sighed. “The guy with your package should arrive there soon.”

     “Any cams in there?” Yeosang asked, his fingers clacking against his ancient keyboard. 

     Mingi hummed. “I doubt it. Most of the time… shit goes down in the basement, ya know?” 

     It was a disadvantage you wish you didn’t have, but there was literally no information on the activities in the room you needed to be in. You had to be prepared for anything, and that was dangerous. 

     “Y/n, you see anything noteworthy around the stairs in the back?” Wooyoung asked. “I think I might know something.”

     You turned to Yunho, smiling up at him as you swayed your hand animatedly, talking almost silently but very expressively. “I think I know too. Butlers are carrying drinks down there every few minutes. Attendees…” you chuckled, a little nervous now that it’s all clicked for you. “The most revealing of the ladies and oldest, ugliest of the men.”

     Yunho nodded, smiling. “Does that mean…”

     “Well,” Wooyoung chuckled. “At least there’s two of you! It should be fine!”

     You winced as he let out a louder, monkey fucking laugh into your ear. You'd beat him up later, respect aside. 

     “You think this is funny?” you asked through tightly ground teeth. 

     “Guuuys~” he giggled, starting to calm down a bit. “It won’t be too hard. There’s gonna be tons of drugs and butt-naked men, but don’t pay attention to any of that.”

     “We don’t even know if that’s what it is,” Yeosang interrupted. 

     “That’s definitely what it is,” you sighed, watching as panting men and ladies escaped the darkness of the basement, sweating, flushed, and high as fuck.

     Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Listen. All you have to do is pretend to have some fun together. Then, pull out your magic drugs and get the guy’s attention. You know what the new stuff looks like. Make sure to bag it. You’ve done this for years, babes.”

     “Yeah, but people weren’t fucking and moaning and blocking every fucking sen-”

     Yunho placed a hand on your hip and squeezed lightly. You needed to shut the fuck up. Who were you to complain? It wouldn’t be hard. Woo was right. You would get in, bag that shit, and get out.

     “Let’s just go,” you mumbled, letting your expression sag to its natural annoyed state before you plastered an excited smile on your lips. 

     Yunho also seemed reluctant but tagged along regardless. I mean, neither of you really had a choice. This, or your Russian “buddies” would come find you while you were sleeping. 

     The guy at the door stopped you as you approached. You giggled like a slut, leaning into Yunho as you bit your lip. You reached into your man’s jacket pocket and slipped out just barely your little container of candy. He looked satisfied and let you pass. 

     You practically gagged as soon as that stench hit your nose. What the fuck was it. Alcohol. Tobacco. Cum. 

     What a fucking mess. 

     Woo was right. Buck naked, boobies hanging. Sex in every corner. Sex on every couch. 

     “Come on, baby,” Yunho groaned in your ear, pulling you to a free chair in the back of the room. Your ear twitched at the sound. It was definitely something you’d never heard from your sweet man before. You already knew he was much better at acting like he’d actually had sex before than you were. 

     He sat down and pulled you onto his lap. That was about all he had in him. He dropped his arms, pressed his lips tightly together, and stared wide-eyed at you above him. 

     “So you guys are in,” Wooyoung chuckled. “Where are you two in the room? Stay in the back, away from everyone’s attention.”

     “We’re in the back. O-on a chair,” you whispered into Yunho’s ear, right where his mic was. You lingered there for a moment. You could figure this out. It couldn’t be that hard. Sex. I mean, not sex. Pretending you were having sex. 

     After a long moment of horrible silence in your little area, Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Do you guys need some help?”

     “Yes,” you and Yunho both whispered immediately. 

     Wooyoung let out the biggest sigh, but he didn’t say anything about your incompetence as a couple. I mean, everyone knew you DID NOT fuck. For some reason… Everyone knew that. 

     “Sit on Yunho’s lap, Y/n,” he said. You nodded, glad you already had step one down. “All the way. Get all the way up on him.”

     You tilted your head. “All-?”

     “All the way.”

     You blushed, clearing your throat lightly as you scooted up on his lap, your hips flush together. You leaned over him, your mouth beside his ear simply to have his mic handy, but, this close, it felt too real already to simply be a mission. You’d never climbed your man like this before. You were probably heavy.

     “Yunho, hands on her hips.” 

     They were quick to tap your flesh, trembling as he curled his long, slender fingers around your waist. 

     “Now, listen to me,” he sighed, “Y/n, you’re gonna, like, roll your hips, BUT, you're gonna push against his stomach, NOT his crotch. Okay?? Not his crotch. Don't touch him there. Lift your hips a bit and roll them against his stomach.” 

     Yunho helped you lift your hips up a bit. You puckered your lips as you slowly pushed your hips forward. It was awkward and stiff, but you thought maybe you were doing it right. I mean, it didn’t feel like anything, so you couldn’t tell if it actually looked like you were doing anything. 

     “Does this seem right?” you whispered, continuing the slow rocking motion with his gentle guidance. 

     “Probably…” he mumbled, taking a slow, shaky breath.

     “Yunho, make sure to put on a good face for the crowd, buddy,” Wooyoung said. Yunho tensed a bit at that. You, though… immediately lifted your face from his side and stared at him. He was flushed, his eyes wide, a bit shocked at your sudden movement. 

     But you didn’t want him to make expressions like that for everyone to see. 

     You pressed your forehead against his with slightly parted lips. He was so close, his hands on your body, lips just an inch from yours. You had to close your eyes, taking slow breaths. 

     “I think this is better,” you mumbled, your nose brushing just barely against his. 

     He tried to nod, but it was just a tremble of his adorable features as he gazed at everything in front of him. 

     After a moment, everything started to slow down a bit. Your legs were relaxing, getting a bit messier in their precise movement, and you lowered just a bit. 

     He hissed, and you eyed him in confusion. Was he hurting somewhere? He shook his head, his grip on your hips tightening. He whispered something, but with his mouth so far from your ear, his voice was drowned out by the moaning and slapping throughout the room.

     So you leaned forward, your head above his shoulder, but instead of words, you were met with a low groan.

     You could hear the sudden confusion in Wooyoung’s hums on the other end. “Yunho? You good, man? What happened?”

     “I don’t think this is right,” he mumbled.

     “What do you mean?” you whispered.

     “I don’t think we’re doing it right,” he breathed, his voice starting to tremble as he let out the smallest peep of a sound against his will.

     “It’s not like I’ve done this before,” you grumbled. “It’s fine as long as it looks like we’re doing something.”

     “No, I mean-”

     “It’s fine, Yunho. We’ll be done soon anyway.”

     He dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a defeated sigh, his grip loose on your hips as he let out small, shivering sounds, some low, some soft and light. You could hardly hear them at all. 

     You didn’t really know what to do. It would be over as soon as you found your guy. You would apologize and pamper him when it was all over. 

     “He’s headed in,” Wooyoung announced. “Get his attention, please.” 

     “Wow, so polite today,” you mumbled, lifting your head just a bit to glance toward the door. 

     There he was, old, wrinkly, ugly, short. You know how it is. You wondered if he’d even be interested in you with your clothes on. Cause you were not fucking taking them off.

     You grabbed the drugs from Yunho’s pocket, hopped off his lap, and strode across the room. You caught his eye almost immediately. Without a word, you grabbed his tie and pulled his head toward yours, tapping your forehead against his.

     He looked interested already, but at the sight of what was in your hand, his pupils blew out completely. 

     “I brought my toy with me tonight,” you said, slurring your words with a giggle. “But he’s no fun right now. Wanna join us?” 

     He was practically drooling, so you pulled away. If any of that fucking got on you, you would’ve made it everybody’s problem. 

     He nodded, but, stepping just a bit closer, you shook your head, tisking at his desperate agreement.

     “You got anything with you? Dick is no fun tonight.” You pouted a bit. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     To say this was the easiest fucking mission you’d ever done just wasn’t enough. I mean, you got to climb on your man for the first time. You got to dress up and attend a fancy ball with a fancy ball gown. You didn’t have to show your face. You got what you needed without a problem.

     But then you were back in your little home, buried under the rush of the working class. Buried under the city, under the shops and the stars and the people. You and Yunho were alone.

     And to say it wasn’t the most awkwardly silent moment in your entire life simply wouldn’t give justice to the situation. Because how does one go about something so different from anything you’d ever done before? Especially when your relationship status has been set at relaxing routine for years on end. Nothing has ever changed or developed since you were teenagers. 

     Now you were sitting on your little couch, facing the wall, side by side, as there wasn’t much room for any more than just the two of you. There was never the need for any more space. Why was everything so clustered all of a sudden? Everything was so hot. You were flustered, warm, and you needed to change into something lighter. You needed to scoot just a little bit away from him. You needed some fresh air.

     You didn’t move from your spot. 

     He rubbed his palms against his pants. He must’ve been hot too. He was breathing slowly and deeply. He must’ve been flustered. He was blushing from ear to ear. He must’ve been thinking the same things.

     So neither of you moved.

     Your eyes wandered from the floor to your hands to the wall to his eyes. You both looked away. 

     Fuck, this was so embarrassing. You’d lost track of how many years you’d been together. You hardly remembered a time when you didn’t know him. And this was what it all came to?

     “I’m sorry I did that, Yuyu,” you mumbled, nibbling just slightly against your bottom lip. You promised you would apologize and pamper him until he forgave you, but that was all in the heat of the moment. You were too embarrassed now.

     “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, almost laughing. He did that when he was beyond embarrassed. Practically humiliated. 

     “It was an inappropriate thing to do on a mission. I should have been more careful,” you sighed. 

     He did laugh then, but more because he could finally look at you and see how serious you were. Your little pout was the cutest thing.

     “I think that was a very appropriate place to do that,” he joked, grinning when you tilted your head in disbelief. He patted your knee, settling down his giggles. “It’s okay, baby. It was just a disguise.”

     “You felt good, though,” you mumbled, your head lowered as you gazed up at his cheeks, turning back to their pink flush. His hand twitched on your knee. He wanted to cover his face with his hand, but he kept it planted there, shaking his head instead.

     “I didn’t,” he denied. “You were doing what Youngie said to do, so I didn’t feel anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Seriously.” His voice rose, a small scoff leaving his lips when you just sat there. Yunho couldn’t let lies simmer in silent air for much longer than, like, ten seconds.

     “Well,” you started, sitting up a little straighter, “I didn’t feel anything either.” Which was mostly true. You were so focused on the heist. You didn’t have time to focus on… that.

     “Exactly,” he mumbled, eyeing you with a slight pout. “We didn’t do anything. We don’t do stuff like that.”

     “Well, I mean,” you huffed,  taking a few short, puffing breaths. “It wouldn’t be weird for us to do something like that.”

     “I just mean we haven’t,” he muttered, so quiet and muffled between his puckered lips.

     You blinked a few times, staring blankly at your hands in your lap. “We don’t even know how to do it,” you said, biting your lip as you glanced from him to the floor to him again. He had a similar blank, thoughtless expression, but you knew his mind was spinning like crazy. Just like yours. “And anyway,” you started, tilting your head from side to side as you thought, “it’s weird to start that so late, you know? Like, no one’s a virgin at twenty-four. That’s weird…” You eyed him slowly, and he was covering his mouth then, looking out the window with deep red ears. “...Right? That’s weird, right?”

     “I’m a virgin at twenty-five,” he mumbled, glancing at you. You could tell he was grinning behind his long, slender fingers. “I’m a freak, right?”

     You stared at him, thinking honestly about your answer, for just a moment before nodding. “Yeah, you’re a freak.” 

     He nudged your side with his arm with a grumble of some nonsense, words jumbled together quietly and fast.

     “Hmm?” You quirked a brow, staring at him as he avoided your eyes. “What’d you say?”

     “Nothing,” he mumbled, leaning away from you as you leaned closer, trying to catch his attention. “Nevermind,” he said, obviously fighting a smile as you poked at his side, trying to get him to look at you.

     “No~” you groaned. “What did you saaay??”

     You slipped your leg over his as he refused to look your way and sat right back down in that controversial place you’d been discussing. His lap. 

     He shut his eyes and dropped his head back to the couch cushion in disbelief. “You’ll get mad,” he mumbled.

     “I won’t,” you promised, tapping his chest as he stayed silent for another few seconds. “Were you gonna say…” you pretended to think hard, humming softly as you scooted forward on his lap. “...that you actually felt really good?” You, ever so slightly, rolled your hips forward, and his eyes squeezed tighter as his lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head. “In a room like that? You like that? Have you been a pervert this whole time, baby?” You gasped as his eyes shot open, and you rolled your hips again. His left eye twitched, making cold contact with yours. “So I was right,” you beamed.

     “No,” he said, planting his hands on your hips and halting your tiny movements. “When did you learn to do that?” he asked, frowning deeply.

     “What do you mean, baby,” you mumbled. “Wooyoung taught me earlier today. You were there.” 

     “This is different,” he said, pushing you away slightly. 

     You shook your head. “Nuh uh. I was doing it like this earlier too.” You suppressed a giddy smile as he gazed at you, completely unimpressed. “Why? Does it feel good?”

     “Of course it does,” he grumbled, glancing from his lap to your eyes over and over like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

     So you cupped his cheeks in your hands and focused his eyes on you. You raised your brows lightly, a soft smile on your lips. “How about a kiss?” 

     His brows twitched. “What?”

     “You know,” you mumbled, “we kiss all the time.”

     “Do we?” he questioned knowingly. 

     “We do it enough. A good amount. The amount people should, I guess.” 

     He laughed, his cheeks puffing up under your soft palms. He leaned with a small sigh into your right hand, not too tense anymore, just enjoying the view.

     “Should we kiss then?” he asked, pressing his lips together as he gazed at your flushed cheeks. You nodded, your eyes wandering around the room, sometimes flickering to his plump pink lips. 

     As he leaned forward, you quickly closed your eyes. Honestly, you didn’t remember the last time you’d kissed. You only remembered the first one, but you were sixteen. Things were definitely…

     Softer. Gentler. So, so delicate as he pressed his lips against yours. His hands left your hips to cup your cheeks, mimicking your position out of comfort or familiarity. You didn’t care much, though, because this felt really nice.

     The way you paused and let your lips melt into each other's embrace. Then you moved just slightly in no particular way. You just wanted to feel him a little more. He moved his lips along with yours, slow, slow and careful. You could feel his quiet breath through his nose, but his pulse was racing under your pinky finger on his neck. It was silent other than the soft movement of your lips. 

     You shifted closer. Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if he was distracted. A low groan muffled against your lips and rumbled against your chest as your hips pressed against his. His lips parted but never stopped, moving just a bit faster. He moved one hand to the back of your head, his fingers sliding through your hair. He pulled your face closer. His lips urged you to work faster. Meet his demands. You opened your mouth just a bit like he was. You couldn’t find much of a common movement, but it was a mutual understanding of a growing need. Desire. 

     You flinched, though, when you felt something poke against your sensitive area. You backed your hips away in confusion, but his hands were quick to pull them back.

     “It’s okay,” he whispered, his lips giving little pecks to yours as he let you both catch your breath. “It feels good.” His hands found your back, sliding under your shirt and resting on the bare skin of your lower back. “Does it feel good, baby?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I think I like it.”

     “I like it,” you repeated in a soft whisper. 

     He smiled against your lips before leaving them completely. When he leaned to the side and kissed your neck so gently, you shivered with a trembling exhale. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his lips moved in little kisses along your neck. His hands slid up your hack, bunching your shirt above his arms as he raised him inch by inch, feeling your soft skin shiver under his fingertips.

     “Yunho,” you breathed, feeling completely embraced by him from every side. It was heaven, and you felt so warm, so delicate and loved.

     He giggled to himself, his lips still attached to your neck, and you scoffed in disbelief, nearly sitting up. 

     “I want to taste you so bad,” he laughed. “Is that weird?”

     “What?” you squeaked, your eyes popping out from their sockets as he held you closer to him from behind, afraid you’d run away from the confession. 

     “I mean, people do that, right?” he mumbled. “Lick and bite and stuff. That’s normal. It feels good, probably.”

     “Whatever,” you grumbled. “Do what you want.”

     He hummed against your neck, a clear smile growing on his sly lips. “Really?” 

     You didn’t answer, instead burying your face in his neck in complete embarrassment. You were so red. So dazed. And he hadn’t even done anything. This should have been nothing. But every little thing he-

     Your hand slapped to your mouth as the weirdest, grossest sound left your lips. His teeth had sunken into your neck without warning, his tongue giving little kisses of apology as he chuckled. Your breath was warm and quick against your palm as he soothed the red mark he’d left. You wanted to hit him. That felt so bad. It felt so fucking good. No, that’s weird. It shouldn’t feel good for someone to bite you. Or lick you or anything. Like, that’s weird. 

     “Baby~” he mumbled, practically whining with how pathetically he stretched it out. He lifted his head, his mouth agape as he panted and watched you with such a… how would you describe it even? It was like his pupils were starting to glaze over. Like he was high on the tension in the air. Or maybe just the look and the sound of you. 

     “What?” you mumbled shyly.

     “I didn’t know you could make sounds like that,” he said, shutting his mouth to swallow hard. “Did you?” He paused, biting his lip. “And you didn’t tell me?”

     “Obviously not,” you grumbled, looking away as you tried to wipe away his kisses on your neck, suddenly feeling a little cold without him there. But you felt hot everywhere else. There was no forgetting about that. Especially in some places. I mean, it’s not like you were the only one.

     You shook your head quickly, trying to clear your thoughts. I mean, who was going to lead everything if your man was already high on air? You had to stay level-headed. 

     His features twitched suddenly, and his eyes shot down to his lap where his… now that you’re fucking looking at it… huge bulge pressed against your… now that you’re fucking noticing it… leaking core. You were mortified, to say the least. Like, that’s disgusting. You were getting your… stuff on his pants. 

     Your eyes shot up to him, though, when he groaned at the sight. His brows curled upward desperately as he suddenly couldn’t wait another second to move on to the next part.

     “Baby,” he breathed. “Is it… fuck.” He smiled slightly, but it faded quickly, his emotions overwhelming him all at once. “Look at you,” he sighed.

     He pulled your hips closer, rubbing your clothed core against him. You shut your lips tightly as a tiny whimper escaped. He rubbed against you just the right way, sliding against your clit as he pulled you back and forth. 

     He was breathing heavily, his head resting back against the couch. He basked in the feeling, his cheeks red and features feverish. 

     You slid your fingers through his soft hair, and he leaned toward your touch, his eyes closing gently with a content sigh. You kissed his parted lips as he ground your hips against him. Your noises were muffled in each other’s lips as everything started to pick up its pace. His hands left your hips to travel up your stomach, but you kept the rhythm steady. You tilted your head as your lips moved faster and harder against his. You whimpered into his mouth as you felt his tongue lick hesitantly against your lips. You let him in, his tongue meeting yours with desperate intention. Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him, and his hands gently cupped your breasts with a low groan. 

     “They’re so soft,” he mumbled against your lips.

     “Did you think they’d be rough?” you giggled, breaking away from the kiss with a playful smack of your lips. Your smile faltered as he gave them a soft squeeze. Feeling his big hands slowly envelop your chest made you blush. Sure you weren’t insecure about your body, but his hands just made everything feel so small. Not that you minded at all.

     His thumb brushed against your nipple, and you whimpered at the sensitive touch. His ear visibly twitched as he took note of your response. He brought his fingers to your nipples and flicked them lightly, and you shivered, plopping your forehead down to his shoulder. 

     “Does that feel good?” he cooed, puckering his lips as he listened to your little hiccups of soft, airy moans as he gently pinched and caressed your aroused buds.

     Your thighs were getting weak as you lazily ground your hips down against him. One of his hands came down to your thigh and tapped it lightly before he lifted you from his lap and laid you carefully down on the couch.

     He sat between your legs resting on his heels as he gazed down at you. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and let it fall from the top of his head. His lips parted, bruised and puffy from your abuse. His eyes were glazed over, staring intently yet so dazedly at you. His cock strained thick against his pants. Fuck, all of it was making you feel so good all on your own. Just looking at him above you.

     You grabbed your shirt and stripped it over your head impatiently. You didn’t care if you were naked in front of him. You were so hot, needy, and maybe he’d take the hint and take his shirt off. That was a rare sight to see. It was a pity. Yunho had the most handsome pecs and the softest, cutest tummy. Your baby was always insecure about it, though.

     When he didn’t move, his eyes staring in complete awe at your chest, you tugged lightly at his shirt. He didn’t move his eyes from you as he tossed it over his head. You bit your lip, your hand spreading over his stomach as you engraved the sight into your mind. Who knew when he’d let you see it again?

     You quickly took your pants off, leaving you in just your pink panties as you laid back down.

     His hands caressed your thighs gently as he carefully eased your legs open, nice and wide for him. “Should I make you feel good?” he asked stroking your thighs from your hips to your knees to the dip between your thighs and your sensitive area.

     You nodded, sinking deeper into the couch as he placed a tentative thumb on the wet of your panties. He glanced from his slow rubs to your face, watching cluelessly as you breathed softly. 

     “I should just take these off,” you decided, feeling a growing frustration in your core. You needed his hands on you now. He nodded in agreement, slipping his fingers under the elastic before you could do it yourself. He hadn’t even finished getting it off your leg when he stopped to stare down at you. He shivered, exhaling with a trembling breath as he slowly reached down and parted your wet lips, revealing your pretty pussy for him. His hips bucked forward just slightly into nothing as he sat there, gazing pathetically at how wet you were. 

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “Touch it more.” You pressed his fingers flat against you, sliding them slowly through your slick. He shuddered, applying just a bit of pleasure over your clit as you guided him there. You sighed, your hips squirming a bit as a gentle pleasure flowed through you. 

     “So pretty,” he whispered, watching drops of thick slick drip onto the couch and hearing the soft squelch of your juices as he gently circled your clit. His head was beginning to hang as he focused on his movement. Eventually, you let go and allowed him to work you how he wanted. Touch you how he pleased. His messy hair fell in front of his eyes, and you gently pushed up back, holding his hair so he could see well.

     Your moans were soft like sighs and tiny whimpers until he stopped his light pressure on your clit and moved to your hole. He eyed you with each movement, worried he’d hurt you or do something that didn’t feel good. As he slipped a single, long, and slender finger inside, your eyes rolled back with a long moan, and his mind spiraled with how it felt. You were so thick and creamy and warm and tight. How could you have been hiding something so perfect from him?

     “Fuck,” he whispered, his finger pulling out before he could even put it all the way in. “Y/n,” he said with a strange determination. “I change my mind.”

     “What do you mean,” you sighed. “We’re already this far.”

     He grabbed you without a word and twisted you around so you were on top of him again. Only this time, he was laying on the couch, and you were sitting on his chest, your ass practically in his face.

     “Yunho!” you squeaked in shock. “What are you doing?!” You frantically turned around to look at him, but he was long gone, his eyes focused solely on one thing.

     “I don’t want to figure everything out right now,” he mumbled. “I just wanna get to the good part.” 

     “The good part,” you scoffed. “What the hell are you doing?”

     He lifted your hips and pulled them over his face, and your cheeks grew a deep red in embarrassment and confusion and so many overwhelming thoughts. You felt his warm breath against your core, and your thighs trembled, unsure of what to do. He gently pulled you lower until your pussy was aligned with his puffy lips. You whimpered as he gave you a soft kiss.

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, slowly lowering your chest to his stomach as your limbs started to grow weak.

     He licked a slow, fat strip between your lips, and you jolted at the wet, lude, so fucking pleasurable sensation. You raised your hips, your brows curling and mouth falling agape, but he wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you back down with a long groan as he did it again.

     “Fuck,” you whimpered, your voice raising an octave as your entire body trembled in his hold. It felt so good, so vulnerable, but it made it feel even better. His soft vibrations as he breathed and groaned against your core… fuck he was so hot. “Keep going,” you mumbled, your cheek pressing against his bare stomach as you let the sensation take over your senses. He kissed you and licked you in that same area you’d shown him with your hands, rolling his lips and tongue over your clit with a gentle yet eager pressure. You had to grind your pussy against his mouth. For your sanity, you had to. You were moaning and whimpering with each rhythmic roll and lick and kiss. He was fucking drowning, and he loved it, and he was eating you like the sweetest dessert, desperate to swallow every last drop. 

     If it was so easy for him, though, it couldn’t be too hard for you either. I mean, it was just sitting there, straining against his pants. You couldn’t not be curious. 

     You mustered the strength to sit up a bit and fumbled with his pants until you unzipped the zipper and unbuttoned the button. It took you much longer than it should’ve, but your hands were fucking shaking, your eyes were watering, and your mind kept shifting back to the beautiful man lapping at your pussy. Fuck, it felt so good.

     But once his length sprung loose from his pants, you wanted it inside of you. You didn’t know how big was big, but Yunho was big. It was veiny and worked up from all of the teasing, and you wanted to make him feel so good. Make you both feel good by getting it deep inside of you. But, for now, you should return the favor to your hardworking man. 

     You wrapped an eager hand around him, not sure how much pressure to apply, but by the way his hips bucked up into your hand, you were probably doing something right. You moved from the bottom to the tip slowly, smiling slightly as you saw a little bead of precum at the top. Was he liking it? You were sure he’d like anything you did to him, but he was making you feel so good. You should reward him, right?

     You swiped your thumb over the tip and spread the new lubricant around, a soft squelch delighting your ears as you set a slow rhythm. His mouthwork faltered and turned more into heavy breaths against your core. His hips were trembling with little uncontrolled rolls into the air for more friction.

     “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, giving little kisses to your clit that sent gentle bits of pleasure throughout your body. 

      “You’re really big, Yuyu,” you whispered, licking your lips as you prepared to dive in for your treat. “You think I can take it all?”

     “I don’t know,” he sighed. “You’re so tight here. I can hardly fit my tongue in.” He gave a show of sliding his sopping tongue slowly into your clenching hole, and you whimpered, grinding your pussy pathetically on his mouth.

     “Just get me nice and loose, okay?” you panted. “I’m gonna get it all inside.”

     You flattened your tongue along its length, licking from the base to the tip before pressing the tip between your lips. He was so thick, stretching your mouth just slightly as you circled your tongue around him. His hands gripped your thighs with muffled whines as he opened you up slowly on his tongue.

     “You even taste handsome,” you mumbled before taking him in your mouth again.

     You pushed just a bit deeper, keeping your hands flat on his hips in case he felt too good and accidentally choked you on his handsome cock. Yunho’s fingers made your loose mouth tighten just a bit along his length as he inserted a finger into your tight hole, and he hissed lightly. As he set a slow pace, feeling around your drenched hole for anything that felt really good, you set a pace, too, with your little head bobs. Although you couldn’t go too far down, you stroked the rest of his length with your hand.

     He let out tiny gasps and low groans as you worked him toward ecstasy. And, fuck, you could feel it too. Everything was building up. He could hardly drink everything you were leaking as he pushed two fingers in, thrusting against your gooshy walls and pulling moans from your lips. The vibrations sent shivers of pleasure through him, which made him work harder. You were pulling each other toward climax quickly, but that’s not what you wanted.

     His fingers left your hole as your body lifted from his. You wanted the pleasure back as soon as it went away, but you knew there was something so, so much better waiting for you.

     “Fuck, this is taking too long,” you groaned as you flipped over until he was between your legs once again. 

     He giggled at your impatience, but his cock was practically begging for some sort of relief before it started hurting with how hard it was. You were both desperate, not even thinking anymore. Who cared if this was your first time? The feeling was all the same. You needed to be connected. Right fucking now.

     “Fuck, put it in,” you panted, pulling him by his neck flush against you. 

     He chuckled, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, then your neck, then your ear. “It'll hurt, baby. Even I know you’re not ready.” You groaned as he pushed two fingers into your hole, setting a quick pace as he sensed your impatience. “I’ll give you what you want,” he sighed, “if you cum once.”

     Your eyes widened. “Seriously?” You scoffed. “You don’t want our first orgasms to be together?” You fluttered your lashes as he shook his head in disbelief. He pushed in another finger, and you tensed up a bit as he began to actually stretch you open.

     “This won’t be my first,” he whispered, scissoring his fingers against your walls as you breathed heavily against his ear, gasping out of shock and jolts of pleasure. 

     “Are you serious??”

     “Ever since Sannie mentioned us having sex, I’ve been so fucking horny,” he chuckled. “I think, like, every night, I went to the bathroom and came while thinking about you.”

     His fingers were almost forced out of you as you clenched down on them, a deep blush covering your cheeks as he glanced toward you teasingly. 

     “You like that?” he asked, curling his fingers up as he thrust them in faster and faster. Your head buried into the couch cushion as you panted and moaned, lifting your hips to meet his fingers desperately. The pleasure was building, and every time he fucked his fingers into that one spot, you thought you’d fall apart right there. When he finally figured out that perfect spot, he rammed his fingers into it repeatedly until you were gasping for air as your entire body squirmed, working toward that release. 

     “Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” you whined, “Yunho~” He kissed you gently, nibbling on your neck as he grunted softly, using all of his strength to keep his rhythm as your eyes rolled back, body trembling. The pleasure built and built until everything fucking crashed, and your nails dug into his arms as you came with a long cry. He rode out your high, stroking your walls gently before pulling his fingers out quickly. 

     “Good girl,” he sighed, kissing your forehead as you whimpered, trying to calm down. Your eyes could hardly focus on one thing, your eyes fuzzy and brain scrambled. “I’ll give you what you want,” he mumbled. “Such a good girl…”

     His cock pressed against your hole, and it pushed just slightly inside. You winced, your eyes squinting at the oddly painful stretch. I mean, you knew it would be painful, but this was a bit unnecessary, right…? 

     Yunho stopped and lifted his head with a small smile on his lips, and, as much as it felt much better to stay still than to move, you wanted to get to the part that felt good. 

     “Baby, please?” you whispered, looking from one eye to another as you fought the urge to just get on top of him and put it in yourself.

     “Did I make you feel good?” he asked, pointing to his lips. “With my mouth?”

     You nodded immediately. “Yup, it felt so good.” It did, but that didn’t fucking matter right then.

     “You tasted really good,” he mumbled. “And your mouth…” he licked his lips, “...felt so good. So wet and tight.”

     “My pussy will feel even better, baby, please.” You didn’t want to whine or beg, but this was getting ridiculous.

     “Your pussy likes me, I think,” he thought aloud. “You know it flutters when I do something it likes. I wonder what that’ll feel like when I’m inside.”

     As his hips became flush with yours, you whimpered in slight confusion, a bit uncomfortable, but mostly confused, and also so, so fucking full. He was shivering softly, but you couldn’t find yourself having such small reactions. He was enveloping you completely, filling you to the brim, and your entire body was tense and limp, weak but so hyper at the same time. 

     Your fingers grabbed his hair with one hand and gripped his shoulder with the other, your mouth agape as you brought him closer frantically. You pulled his chest to yours, his face to your neck, your leg around his hip.

     It wasn’t because it hurt at all. It just felt so inexplicably good that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted him to move so bad, but you couldn’t let him move or you'd completely lose yourself to pleasure. 

     “Yunho,” you whimpered, holding him tighter, desperately. “Yuyu, fuck… ’s so go..ood… j’s stay here… stay here, b…by, ‘s so good~”

     He could hardly understand you, but he was so glad you weren’t letting him move. He would cum right then and there. You were so tight. So tense, squeezing him like crazy. You were so warm and wet… It was clouding his mind. Even locked down like this, his hips couldn't help gently grinding against you, looking for any kind of friction. 

     He wanted to pound into you, fuck. He wanted to watch you go crazy. He hadn’t even done anything yet. Imagine what you’d look like, completely broken and fucked out, overtaken by your desire.

     “Can I kiss you, baby?” You nodded quickly, letting him lift his head so he could smash his puffy lips to yours. He untangled your limbs from his and wasted no time in slowly shifting his cock in your sopping hole. He groaned happily, rolling his eyes back as he ground inside of you in little pulses. 

     “Yuyu~” you whined. “Please, please, baby…” You kissed him hard before he could speak, desperately pushing your hips against him. “More... Fuck~” you whimpered, your fingers running through his hair as your tongues lapped and tangled together desperately.

     Finally… FINALLY, he set a rhythm, slow and trembling, as you panted against each other’s lips. He rolled his hips, his hips gently tapping yours with each slide in. He reached so far, your pussy tight around him, sending shivers throughout your bodies. You bit your lip as breathy moans escaped. 

     He cursed under his breath, whimpering as he kissed you lazily, picking up the speed of his thrusts. As your hips collided with more force, your moans matched the pace, and he basked in your pretty noises, hardly able to contain his own. 

     His hands slid along your body and squeezed your soft stomach gently, gripping you as he thrusted harder. “Everyday,” he groaned, kissing your ear. “We’ll do this every day.”

     “Okay,” you panted, your eyes rolling back with a squeak as he hit that perfect spot with a particularly hard thrust. “Mm… Yuyu… ngh~ you’re doing so good~”

     “Yeah?” he mumbled, sitting up on his legs. It was cold, but the sight of your tits bouncing, your fucked out expression… you were so ruined.

     “Yeah, baby~” you hummed.

     “I’ve wanted to fill you up for a.. hh… while now,” he grunted. “Thought about your pretty pussy taking my cock.”

     “Me too mmm~” His brows curled as he took steadying breaths. 

     “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

     “I wan’d t-to touch you s…o bad,” you moaned, pushing your hips in the air as his pace quickened, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. “Thought I was being bad,” you panted. “But yo…ou were being bad too, huh?” You tried to give a playful smirk, but it faded quickly. 

     He nodded eagerly, his head dropping each thrust and little noise from your lips brought him so close to cumming. He desperately brought his fingers to your clit, circling the nub until you were a moaning mess, practically screaming and gasping as he slammed his hips against yours. 

     “Cum, baby, please?” he begged, biting his lip as you fluttered around him clenching and teasing as you were getting so, so close. “Come on,” he whimpered. “Wanna f-feel you, please.. ngh~”

     Your hips were squirming, jaw dropped as the pleasure built. You could hardly see through your tears, your clit adding to the pleasure of each of his ecstatic thrusts. Fuck, you were so close… so close… fuck, it felt so good.

     “Yu-ngh yuyu ah~ baby, don’t stop,” you moaned, your eyes squeezing shut forcefully as your pleasure reached its peak for the secind time that night, your body spasming as you creamed on his cock, your juices spilling from your hole and soaking the both of you. 

     He stilled after a single thrust in your clenched, orgasm-filled hole, whimpering and moaning as his cum spilled into you. He was trembling as he kept cumming hard and long, both of you panting as you tried to calm down. Your hearts were beating, cheeks wet with overwhelmed tears. He pulled out with a shudder and collapsed beside you, pulling you to his chest as he was hit with the raw cold air.

     You were shivering, wrapped in his arms as you tried to clear your head. You were content there, your mind fuzzy and limbs trembling. You were both completely exhausted, but Yunho took the initiative to bring you both to your feet and drag your legs toward the shower. 

     He wiped you both up, laid you both down on the bed, snuggled up in your blanket, and you were both instantly asleep.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Y/n~ Yunho~” San whined as he trudged into your bedroom. “Jongho was being mean to me again~” 

     Your eyes were hardly opening when San was inviting himself onto the bed. But he stopped as he saw Yunho’s shirtless body wrapped around your shirtless body. He gasped, nearly falling off the bed.

     “Y/n!” he yelled, and Yunho was spooked awake, raising his head in shock with his eyes hardly open. “Did he force himself on you?! You can tell me! I’ll get him fucking killed!” He pointed at Yunho angrily, but you just rolled your eyes, snuggling back into your pillow.

     “Sannie?” Yunho mumbled, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing here? Did you have a bad dream again?”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     The van was rowdy and noisy when you and Yunho hopped in. You sat beside him with a giddy smile, holding his hand as you all rode to your hideout as usual. 

     “Aw~ they’re so cute,” Seonghwa cooed. “You guys are the ideal romance. So wholesome and perfect.” He grinned at you, and you blushed lightly.

     “Than-”

     “No, they have sex now,” Jongho interrupted. “Everyone knows that.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

Just really close roommates?

You guys wanted Rosekiller :D

Year One:

"McGonagall's a hardass," Barty grumbles, collapsing back on the foot of Evan's bed, rolling his eyes. "Twenty-four inches in two days? I'm going to die."

He realizes too late that Evan is giving him a weird look, probably because he has just invaded his personal space. "Erm, sorry," he apologizes, sitting up and making to move off of the bed.

"Nah," Evan shrugs, grinning. "Too right. She's a bitch."

And Barty laughs.

Year Two:

"-and then Father said he'd rather I have been sorted in any other house than Slytherin," Barty says shrugging.

Evan, from his usual space at the head of the bed, kicks Barty's shoulder with his foot. "Your father's a prick."

Barty just snorts from his spot by Evan's feet. "Yeah. Fuck him."

Year Three:

"Alright. Marry, shag, kill..." he begins his turn, searching around his brain for the perfect three girls. He's wedged next to Evan in his bed, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking at the canopy above them.

"Shag, Narcissa Black. Every time. But don't tell Regulus," Evan smirks.

Barty cackles, ignoring a weird feeling in his stomach.

Year Four

His head is in Evan's lap, the taller boy's long fingers combing through his hair. "I took that bird to Hogsmeade," Evan offers as they lay there.

"She put out?" Barty askes, grinning.

Evan winks. "That's between me and the broom cupboard."

"Slag."

But he feels a strange pang in his chest.

Year Five

"You're an idiot," Evan says, rolling his eyes as Barty leans back into his chest.

"She's the idiot. She wants me to skip hanging out with you lot? For what?"

"Your anniversary!" Evan almost yells, shaking Barty with his laughter.

"One month hardly counts," Barty argues, rolling his eyes and leaning into Evan's hands in his hair. It makes him feel better. Calmer.

Year Six

"Honestly never would have though it'd be Reg who'd be the first of us to settle down," Barty quips, laying next to Evan, tangling their legs together.

"He's a romantic at heart," Evan jokes back.

"Don't let him hear you say that. I won't protect you," Barty warns, grinning.

"Like I need your protection," Evan says, nudging him.

He pushes back, making the taller boy yelp a bit, grab him to stop himself from toppling off the small bed. And then suddenly, without even thinking about it, they're rolling. And Barty is, without even really knowing how he got there, laying on top of Evan.

"I-" he begins to say, not sure what to say, because his body is hot, now, his chest pressing to Evan, his voice stuck in his throat.

But Evan just laughs awkwardly and places his hands on Barty's hips gingerly, rolling them both back on their sides.

The only thing that gives Barty some hope that Evan is just as confused as he is?

He leaves his hands there for a few minutes as they continue to talk.

Year Seven

"It'll be weird, huh? To not have this next year." Evan says it so casually, but the statement stabs Barty in the chest as he lays on top of Evan, their bodies pressed together.

"Suppose...suppose we lived together?" he whispers, unable to speak any louder for fear of rejection.

Evan chuckles. "You still want to be roommates? After dealing with me for seven years?"

It's only then that it all comes violently colliding into place in Barty's head.

Roommates?

No.

No.

He does not want to be roommates with Evan.

So he takes a deep, steadying breath and murmurs, "Maybe...maybe really close roommates?" he asks, unable to find the words for what he wants.

But before Evan can open his mouth to ask for clarification, his bemused expression showing Barty that he is definitely confused, Barty leans in and kisses him.

And the kiss is insane. It is intense and passionate and all tongue and teeth and they're already pressed so tightly together that Barty realizes he's been a total idiot for not doing this sooner.

Evan pulls back for a minute, eyes wide and pupils blown and whispers with a chuckle, "Really close roommates, huh?"

"Fuck off, you arse."

[watchmegetobsessed]

NO MORE GAMES

A/N: so this concept might be familiar for some of you bc i posted about it earlier before i started working on it but now its officially here! and this is my thank you gift for all of you for reaching 15k followers!!! it's insane, thank you so much and hope to bring you even more stories soon!!!

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it's a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad's barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father's company.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“This has got to be the lowest point of desperation.”

“Don’t be so dramatic!”

“I’m not, this is truly the end.”

Dani rolls her eyes and just keeps tapping away on your phone’s screen, setting up your Tinder profile.

You. On Tinder. The app you swore you’d never use. How did this happen?

Well, it happened because your boyfriend of two years decided to dump you in a McDonald’s parking lot, only to post about his engagement to another woman on Facebook three weeks later. 

Disgusting pig, you’re convinced you were blind and deaf in those two years, that’s how you could put up with him for so long.

You’ve been wallowing in your self-pity for the past three months and Dani, your best friend had enough and said that you need to get on a dating app, hook up with some fine ass men and forget about Cruz.

“Alright, it’s all set, want to have a look?” Dani smirks, obviously pleased with herself as she hands you over the phone.

It’s a decent profile, she chose some good pictures of you, your profile was never your concern, it’s others on the app that makes you crawl out of your skin.

“Perfect,” you flash her a forced smile, she grabs the phone and then starts swiping vigorously. “Hey! Don’t swipe right on everyone!”

“Not everyone! Just the hot guys!”

“You’re not even reading their bio!”

“Because I don’t care, we’re looking for a hookup, not your husband here, duh!”

You sit, feeling helpless as you watch your best friend decide who is worthy of you in the virtual meat market. This is really not your scene and you’re more than skeptical anything good will turn out from it.

Dani keeps swiping for a while before you finally talk her out of it and you settle watching a movie instead, forgetting about the profile that is now available for every single man in your area. 

To be honest, it completely slips your mind until you’re getting ready for bed and unlock your phone to set an alarm and see all the notifications from Tinder.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, falling into bed as you unwillingly, but tap on one of the notifications and the app opens.

It’s been only a few hours, but you got twenty-seven matches and five out of those even messaged you. You instantly skip the first three because one straight up asks for nudes, one just sends you a bunch of emojis and the third one sent the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard. 

The fourth one is okay, but it’s kind of… well, it’s a simple “Hi, how are you?” and you’re not sure how to reply to that, so then only one’s left.

Harry.

The age next to his name reads 36, that’s not that big of an age gap, only eight years, you’ve seen worse. Besides, he looks younger, almost your age according to the pictures. He has a couple, but not too many. He’s smiling on his profile picture, the t-shirt displays his many tattoos on one of his arms, his hair is slightly curly and mostly a mess, but it’s the good kind.

He is definitely your type. 

He opened with referring to something that’s written in your bio which feels nice, knowing that he actually read it instead of just swiping right based on your pictures. Your thumbs hover over the screen for a bit before you finally give in and type him an answer.

He replies right away. And so the conversation starts.

One message follows the other, you’re jumping from one topic to the next and at one point it feels like you’re talking to an old friend and not a guy you’ve never actually met. The next thing you realize that it’s three am and you’re still talking. 

Y/N: We’ve been talking for hours and you still haven’t asked for my number, should I take it as a bad sign?

HARRY: Didn’t want to seem too pushy, but I wanted to ask for it the moment I saw your profile. 

You smile like a little girl as you type your answer.

Y/N: That would have been too soon, you’re right. But now would be a good time.

HARRY: Hey, crazy idea! Can I maybe have your number?

You laugh. You genuinely laugh at the screen and that probably never happened before.

You give him your number. 

You didn’t think it would go this far, this whole Tinder ordeal Dani forced you into. You were kind of set that it won’t work so why should you even try? 

Now it’s a surprising outcome that you’re on your way to meet Harry at a bar, only three days after texting nonstop. And you’re kinda nervous about it.

You haven’t been on a first date in a long time and it’s giving you the jitters as you get ready. Your experience getting to know Harry in the past few days has been incredibly positive, you wonder if it will be the same when you physically meet.

You arrive at the bar a little early and take a seat at the table he reserved on his name. To ease your nerves you order a vodka soda that you drink quickly, the alcohol mixing in your veins pretty fast, but you’re still nervous to meet him in real life. 

As you wait, a guy comes up to you who seems to be more interested in your cleavage than you while he tries to chat you up, but you quickly reject him, your gaze keeps returning to the entrance, expecting Harry to walk in at any moment.

Minutes pass by and then seven o’clock rolls around, the time when you were supposed to meet, but you see no sign of him, which makes your stomach twist and turn. You double check the time, the date and the place to make sure you’re where you need to be.

“You seem awfully lonely,” a voice speaks up behind you and for a split second you think that it’s Harry, you just missed when he walked in, but when you turn around you see a totally different man, holding two drinks in his hands, clearly offering one to you. You make no effort to accept it.

“I’m not,” is all you say, turning your eyes back ahead. He doesn’t get the hint.

“If you’re waiting for someone I’m happy to be your company until they arrive.” He rounds the table and stands in front of you, blocking your view of the entrance entirely. Exhaling irritatedly, you finally look up at him, your face making an obvious statement that you’re not open to the chit-chat.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You definitely seem like you could use some cheering up, let me be the–”

“Oh my God, are you really this dumb? It’s a no, I don’t want to talk to you, now leave the table!”

“Jesus, what a bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he walks away. Normally, you’d definitely call him out, but right now, you’re just staring at the entrance, almost like a maniac as the minutes pass by and there’s still no sign of Harry.

You check your phone, praying there’s gonna be a text at least, saying that he is just late, that he will be here soon, but nothing. It’s dead silent. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, your feet jumping underneath the table. It’s already twelve past seven. This is not just being fashionably late now.

You wait some more, hoping for a miracle, but it never comes. So does Harry.

When it’s been over thirty minutes you chug down the rest of your cocktail you ordered to make you seem less like a loser and call it a night. On your way out of the bar you pull up your messages with Harry and send him one last text.

Y/N: Thanks for nothing.

And then you block his number, throwing the experience to the very back of your head while you delete Tinder off your phone.

The annual barbeque is here. Once a year your dad’s home turns into one big fair, he invites most of his employees, investors and partners, throwing a feast in his backyard. It means about five hundred people invade your previous home, where you still spend a lot of your time even though you have your own apartment now. 

You always come as well, because one, your dad loves to show you off and introduce to everyone and two, you usually use this occasion to network a bit. You’ve just opened your own gallery and what’s a better place to promote your art than a backyard full of wealthy investors? Selling your art can seem like an impossible task sometimes, or to be more precise, most of the time. Until your work is not known you make no profit, you need that first purchase that will bring in the rest and get the business rolling. Unfortunately you have not had that one first customer.

Yet.

It’s a sunny Saturday, as if your dad ordered the weather especially for the occasion. There has never been a barbeque with rain or cold before, your dad seems to have control over this as well. There’s endless food and drinks, several activities for children, since it’s a family friendly event and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, mixing and mingling.

You’re nursing a mojito you mixed yourself, so it’s generous in the alcohol department. Wearing a white sundress you’re trying to have a word with everyone you know and everyone you want to know. 

“Sweetheart!” You hear your father calling out and you spot him a few feet away, waving at you. “Come over here, I want to introduce someone to you!”

Excusing yourself from the conversation you slalom between the guests and reach your father under the oak tree that’s near the tiny pond in the middle of the backyard. Yes, your father has a pond in his backyard, as well as two pools, a jacuzzi and a whole ass greenhouse. He is just that extra.

“Hi daddy,” you smile, joining him as he places a hand to your back and gestures towards a man who is currently turned away.

“Y/N, let me introduce you to the man who will take my place in the future, my successor, if you’d like. This is Harry Styles. Harry, this is my only daughter, Y/N.”

Your body makes the realization faster than your mind. The man turns towards you, but by that moment you’ve already recognized the tattoos you’ve looked at in pictures more than you’d like to admit. Then you see his face and your stomach drops before your brain processes who you’re facing.

Harry stood you up on your first date two weeks ago and you thought you’d never see him, but fate decided to make a joke out of it, because now he is here, in the flesh, looking at you with a just as shocked expression as yours.

You both are quick to gain control back over your faces and Harry is the first one to break the silence.

“Hi, it’s, um… It’s nice to meet you,” he clears his throat as he holds a hand out for you. For a short moment you think of just turning around and walking away, but you don’t want to cause a scene and have your father question your behavior, so instead, you shake his hand, the touch of his skin sending tingles down your spine as you let go of it in a bit of a hurry.

“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you,” you nod, but can’t hold back the spite in your voice. Luckily, your dad seems to be oblivious to the scene happening in front of him. 

“Remember that awfully long procedure we had to find the perfect person to take over after me? Harry was the only one to survive it and I knew we found our guy.”

Your dad pats him on the shoulder proudly and Harry smiles back at him, but you notice how tense he appears to be, most likely because of your presence. 

“Ah, he seems like a decent, reliable guy,” you add with a forced smile and you know he understands the meaning behind your words.

“He is!” you dad beams. “And Harry, this is my wonderful daughter, she graduated from CalArts, top of her class, she is an exceptional artist, you should see her work!”

He has seen your work. Well, virtually. Naturally, you talked about what you do and he asked you to send pictures and you did.

He loved them. Or at least that’s what he said. Now you question everything he wrote in his messages. 

“I’m sure she is… fantastic.”

The torture continues for a few more minutes before others join the three of you and you have a chance to slip away, which you grab without hesitation. 

It feels like all your blood is pumping in your head, you can’t tell if you’re shocked, angry or disappointed, most likely all of these together. Part of you wants to chug something strong to forget about it all, but then another part wants to read everything on him and tell him to fuck himself.

A tequila shot and some internal raging later you’re inside the house, it’s quiet, everyone is enjoying the weather outside, so you have a chance to settle your thoughts. With another mean cocktail in your hands you’re pacing back and forth in the spacious living room, your racing thoughts making it impossible to calm yourself. 

“Can I at least try to explain myself?”

The voice coming from the sliding door that leads out to the backyard makes you jump and when you turn around you spot Harry standing there, looking awfully good, but you’re way too angry at him to acknowledge it. 

“I don’t think I want to hear it.”

Out of frustration you can’t do anything else than drinking and avoiding to look at him, hoping he might disappear if you ignored him. Unfortunately, it’s not the case, he moves closer.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry about standing you up. It was unacceptable, I know. I had a… um, I had a family situation and I didn’t have a chance to let you know I wouldn’t make it.”

“What situation?” you ask right away, and when he hesitates you know it’s all made up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t need your apology, you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me you wouldn’t come then, now you’re only apologizing because you were forced to meet me.”

“Y/N, it’s not… it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, I think it’s very much what I think it is,” you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s fine, but I thought you were mature enough to tell me you’re not interested in me anymore. I’m a big girl, I can take the rejection.”

“But I was interested, I still–” He cuts himself off, not sure if it’s fine to say that he is still into you in the situation you found yourself in. “Y/N, I didn’t want to hurt you. This… It’s not how I planned it. I’m sorry.”

You want to stay mad. You want to stand your ground and unleash all your rage at him, but… you can’t. He might have been bullshitting you about why he stood you up, but he truly seems like he feels bad. 

And he really looks way too good.

“Alright. Apology accepted.”

He looks visibly relieved, his shoulders ease and even a tiny smile appears on his lips.

“Thank you. Really. So… Do you want to have a drink now?” he chuckles, but the devilish smirk you flash at him scares him instantly.

“Oh, I said apology accepted. That doesn’t mean we’re fine and back at where we were.”

Before he could say anything or question what you said you walk away, leaving him in a blur. 

You only see him from afar a few times until the end of the barbeque, you catch him staring quite a few times as well and his looks reflect hunger, so you assume your looks definitely live up to his expectations after all. You miss when he leaves at the end, but you know it won’t be the last time you see each other. 

A plan is formed in your mind about how to teach him a lesson for standing you up. A little game, to be exact. 

Two days after the barbeque you have to meet your dad in his office and you definitely don’t want to miss the opportunity to mess with Harry. You go out of your way to change before heading to the office, wearing a tight, extra short black dress that will surely catch his attention.

With a stack of documents under your arm you stroll into the building as if you owned it. Well, for a while you were set to inherit the business, but when your father realized you’re more into art, he ditched his plans and started looking for his successor. You remember how nervous you were before sitting down with him and telling him you wouldn’t take over the company like he wanted you to. To your surprise, he took it well and you realized he just wants you to be happy, doing whatever your heart desires. 

As a side hustle, you still get involved in some part of the business, just to learn the basic ropes and gain skills you can use in other fields as well, so every once in a while you can be found in the office. Today is one of those days.

The girls behind the front desk smile at you warmly and let you pass by, heading straight up to your dad’s office on the top. Standing in the elevator you check your outfit, making sure it’s not too revealing, but will do the purpose you wore it for. It doesn’t look like you’re going clubbing, but the amount of leg you’re showing will definitely earn you Harry’s attention, just how you planned.

It’s like fate is playing on your side, when you’re approaching the office you spot Harry in there with your dad, a devilish smirk tugging on your lips as you finally reach the glass door, knocking on it gently. They both lift their head up, but the expressions they make are very different. 

While your dad seems happy to see you, gesturing for you to come in, Harry on the other hand seems… shocked to say the least. Most likely not because he is seeing you, but because of how you look. You catch his gaze wandering down your legs right away, his chest rising with a deep breath as you walk inside.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. I brought the documents you asked for.”

“You’re not interrupting anything, come in!” your dad waves around, rounding his desk to greet you with two kisses on your cheeks.

“Hi Harry, it’s so nice to see you again,” you smile at him charmingly, angling yourself so your legs are perfectly in his view. 

“It’s uh, it’s nice to see you as well, Y/N.” 

The blush on his cheeks is proof that your plan worked pretty well. While chatting with your dad, you keep an eye on Harry and see him practically devouring you with his eyes, his jaw clenches every time you move your weight to one leg and pop your hip out to the side. It’s safe to say he is a fan of your outfit.

“Alright, I better get going,” you sigh and start to pack your stuff when you drop your pen on purpose. The plan was to lean down and tease him even more, but he jumps to your rescue instantly, picking it up for you, but it gets his face to the same level as your thighs and he straightens up faster than the speed of light.

“Here,” he hands you the pen, obviously avoiding looking at you. This is probably the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

“Thank you,” you smile at him, making sure to brush your fingers against his hand as you take the pen from him. “Have a nice day.”

And with that, you stroll out of the office. 

Y/N one, Harry zero.

You don’t give him much time to recover from your appearance at the office. A few days later, on Friday, you decide to take advantage of your dad’s pool, which is one of the reasons you spend so much time at his. 

And of course because you love him. 

Today however, you have a different reason to parade in his backyard in the tiniest bikini you own. 

Your dad’s office has floor to ceiling windows watching over the glistening pool. Most of the time you try to avoid having a pool day when you know your dad is working from home, but Harry is here today, so that changes everything. 

You saw him arrive a few hours ago from your room’s window and they are still working, so when you’re done with your own business calls you decide it’s time to go for a swim. The neon pink bikini you chose was worn last time in Miami on spring break when you were still in college, a wild weekend you’ll never forget, but you’ve changed since then and it’s not really your style, but it will serve the purpose the best. To help your success you ‘ve also covered your body in tanning oil, making you glisten in the sun.

Putting on your sunglasses you grab a towel and tanning oil and head outside. 

It’s hot outside and you’re already planning to lie in the sun after a swim, the water glistening on your body. Putting on your best poker face you finally walk out and approach the pool. You know this place like the back of your hand, so you know exactly when you come into view from the office. Squaring your shoulders you keep your head high and walk up to one of the sunbeds, dropping your stuff down before striking a not too obvious pose as you put your hair up. Angling yourself just right, you catch a glimpse of what’s going inside and you need everything in you not to start grinning when you spot Harry not far from the window, staring at you like he is about to burst. Your dad is somewhere in the back on the phone, oblivious to the scene that’s happening so close to him. 

The second act starts when you grab the tanning oil and start applying it, rubbing it into your skin, making a show out of it. Oh, how you wish you could see Harry’s face up close, but you have a good guess what’s happening in his mind and it’s very pleasing.

First, you lie down to tan some, normally you cover your head with a towel because of the heat and not care about how you look, but this time you try your best to look as if you just jumped out of a Sports Illustrated catalog. 

Not long later it’s time to jump in the pool. You swim a few laps before emerging from the cold water and returning to your sunbed, all while imagining what could Harry be thinking right now. 

You’re still chilling in the sun when you hear the sliding door open and spot your dad walking out. For a moment you freeze, afraid he might tell you off for using the pool when he is working with someone in his office, but he seems delighted.

“Hey, I have to head out for a quick meeting, I’ll pick up lunch on my way home, want me to grab you something?”

“That would be great, thank you,” you smile at him peeking over the rim of your sunglasses.

“Harry is here, so don’t be surprised if you run into him. He’ll probably stay in the office.”

“Alright.”

With that he turns around and disappears in the garage. You hear the engine start and then he drives away, leaving you and Harry as the only people in the house. Not to make it obvious, you turn to look inside the office, but you’re surprised to see that Harry is not there anymore. Has he left the house as well? Did your plan not work after all?

It’s starting to get too hot outside and you didn’t bring anything to drink so you decide to give up and go inside. Heading into the kitchen all you can think about is a glass of cold lemonade.

Rummaging through the fridge you grab the bowl of fruit salad you made yesterday and brought over and as you’re balancing everything in your hands and pushing the fridge’s door closed with your hips, it scares you when you see Harry standing behind you by the kitchen island.

“Jesus, are you a fucking ninja? I didn’t hear you.”

Walking closer you set everything down to the island and pretend like your pulse is not over the roof. Not just because of the scare, but because he looks incredibly good. FItted pants and simple white shirt, the top few buttons are undone, showing a glimpse of his chest, the sleeves are rolled up, allowing you to check out his tattoos as well. God, if you weren’t trying to teach him a lesson you would be all over him already.

It makes you feel better though that he is definitely checking you out as well. He is not trying to mask it too much, his eyes keep wandering down your body that’s still only covered at the most crucial parts by your tiny swimwear.

“Having a day off?” he leisurely asks, hiding his hands in his pockets as he leans against the island next to you.

“Nope, my work is pretty flexible. I’m mostly my own boss.”

You see him nod from the corner of your eyes as you dig into the fruit salad, trying to act casual and ignore the fact that you’re in a hot pink bikini while he is dressed for work. 

“So how long are we going to play this?” he then asks out of the blue. 

You know exactly what he is talking about, but you won’t give in that easily. With your hands on your hips you turn to face him with an innocent look on your face and you don’t miss how his eyes snap down to your chest, then to your lips before they move back to your eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A tiny little smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he looks away, out to the terrace where the pool’s glistening surface is probably reminding him of the show you gave him not long ago.

“Is this supposed to be punishment?”

“Did you do something you deserve punishment for?” you tilt your head to the side. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but then decides against it, just stares back at you and you wish you could read his mind. He pushes himself away from the island and starts to walk away, you take it as your wind or this round, so you turn back to your snack, but then suddenly he moves back and cages you between his arms, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you. He is behind you now, not even touching you anywhere, but still, it’s as if he was everywhere on your body. Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear his low voice in your ear.

“If you want to play, I’m happy to play along. But be careful, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

This should be the perfect moment for a clever remark, but your mind is so fogged up you can’t articulate one solid thought. He moves back and you feel his presence disappear from behind you before you see him walking back towards the office, but before he could disappear he shoots one last comment at you.

“Pink looks good on you!”

He did not joke when he said he would play along.

So far, only you’ve been playing this game, but since your little pool side performance, Harry has definitely turned it up on his side as well. 

He has been pretty subtle so far. The bastard has noticed that his tattoos make you droop, that you love to check out his backside whenever he is wearing fitted pants and those smirks… they make you weak in the knees every damn time. And he takes every opportunity to use these against you whenever you run into each other. 

You’ve been dropping by your dad’s office a lot more often than usually in hopes of seeing Harry and he’s been a frequent guest at your dad’s house as well. Stolen looks, tiny touches and never ending teasing have become your usual lately and you’ve been enjoying it way too much probably. 

It’s been pretty long since you had a crush and it’s an exciting change to have this little thing going on with Harry, whatever it really is. 

The major change is that you’ve started to text again. A few days after your encounter in your dad’s kitchen the flow started again and you’ve been talking ever since. It’s like before the failed date. 

Two weeks pass by and you realize it’s been only small little games, nothing extreme since your show at the pool. You’ve been trying to come up with a move that will leave him defeated and a shopping spree with Dani is what gives you the idea. 

She always makes you go lingerie shopping, she likes to surprise her boyfriend with new sets and while looking around you find one that catches your eyes and you end up buying it with the pure intention of making it part of your game. 

You’ve never been that big of a fan of fancy lingerie sets, but you do know it’s what you need to spice the game up. 

When you’re finally home you put on the quite revealing black set, fix your hair and even look up what poses are the best if you want to send racy pictures to your partner. Well, Harry is not your romantic partner, but definitely your partner in this game. 

You take quite a few pictures, some in the mirror, some with a timer, your camera roll turns into the newest issue of PlayBoy and it takes even more time for you to choose just one. When you finally settle on one it’s time for the fun part. Opening up the text threat with Harry, you send the photo and a few moments later a text.

Y/N: Sorry, meant to send it to someone else.

And then you just wait. 

For an hour your message stays unread, but then the status changes and your heart jumps into your throat. He saw the message eleven minutes ago, but there’s no response and it sends you down the rabbit hole.

Did your plan work? Is he fighting a major hard-on at the office? Or does he think your attempt to seduce him was ridiculous? Is he gonna lecture you about sending nudes? Why is he not responding???

Minutes turn into an hour and you’re losing hair at this point, regretting you even thought about sending him a spicy picture and you’re about to block his number, getting yourself ready to never see him again when your phone finally chimes with a message and Harry’s name appears in the notification.

HARRY: No. Shit like this can only be meant for me. I’m serious.

You gasp. Almost moan reading his words. And suddenly you forget about the madness you went through in the past hour. It was worth it, it was all worth it because this one message has lit you on fire. 

His message stunned you so much you didn’t even reply. What could be said after that? 

Got it, sir.

Or maybe…

Don’t tell me what to do.

Oh yeah, that would have really messed with him, but you chose silence and he didn’t double text you either. It stopped the flow of regular messages too and in the next three days you realize how much you miss him when you’re not talking. 

You’re falling for him and you hate that beside the little games, he is not taking the step you want him to. 

A few days after the picture was sent an old friend of yours comes to visit his family in the city and the two of you agree to catch up over dinner. Salim was your study buddy through college, he was always up to spend the entire day in the library whenever you had a theoretical exam to take. Art school wasn’t just painting and creating all the time, unfortunately. After graduation he moved to France with his boyfriend and has been living there for the past years, but he often comes home to visit his loved ones and he always makes time for you as well. You’ve been keeping in touch, but not as regularly as you used to and it’s great to talk when you’re not only in the same time zone but also in the same room. 

“Look at you! You’re glowing!” he greets you when you get out of the Uber and he wraps you in a tight hug. 

“Not as much as you! I see Claude is taking good care of you!” you chuckle, squeezing him back before letting go of each other. He looks stylish as always and you notice he’s starting to dress more and more like Claude, whose style is excellent, by the way. They fit each other really well.

You walk into the restaurant, it’s one of your favorite places and the host shows you your table. You order appetizers and drinks and dig into everything you haven’t discussed over the phone in the past couple of months. 

“Now, tell me about that Tinder guy you last mentioned,” Salim smirks at you over the table and you realize you never told him the whole story, just that you were going on a date with Harry. 

A lot has happened since then.

You update him about the failed date and the meeting at the barbeque and how you’ve been messing with each other since then. 

“You did what?” He almost chokes on his wine.

“I sent him a nude picture,” you repeat yourself with a coy smile. 

“You’re really brave, I would have never had the balls,” he snorts. 

“I needed to step my game up. But we’ve been stuck since then.”

“He’s too busy jerking off to your photo,” he chuckles.

“No,” you smile. “Maybe he is… here.”

Your eyes grow wide when you spot the all too familiar form of Harry by the bar and he is staring at you with a bewildered look that does things to you that you can’t exactly explain. 

“What?” Salim’s face forms a confused frown. 

“He is… literally here. At the bar and don’t turn around, but he is looking straight at us.”

Your body is reacting as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, but nothing like that is happening, so you’re not sure why your reaction is so intense. Luckily, discretion is no problem for Salim, so he turns to see Harry in a way that’s not too obvious. When he looks back at you his eyes are just as wide as yours.

“Holy shit, he really is hot!”

“I know!” you whisper, not sure what to do, because Harry is still very much staring at you. “Fuck, should I say hi?”

“No, let him come to you if he wants to!”

Nodding, you try your best to focus on the food and your friend in front of you, but it’s almost impossible when you can clearly see Harry over Salim’s shoulder. Either he keeps staring at you or you always catch him looking, doesn’t matter, because it makes your stomach drop every time your gaze meets his. 

Then your phone lights up with a text from him.

HARRY: I hope it’s not a date.

“Oh my God, he thinks we are on a date,” you whisper to Salim upon reading the text while keeping your face as straight as humanly possible. 

“Is he jealous?”

“Most likely,” you nod, typing your response.

Y/N: And what if it is?

His reply comes before you could even lock the phone.

HARRY: It better not be.

Y/N: So bossy. Unfortunately, you have no right to hold me back from dating.

“I think I stood my ground, but I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Placing the phone back to the table with screen down you’re determined to focus on Salim from now on, but it’s just impossible to move on from those texts. At some point however, Harry disappears from your view and you fight the urge to check your phone to see if he had any response.

While Salim is trying to decide if he wants some dessert or just another cocktail you excuse yourself to the restroom. It’s definitely been an emotional rollercoaster, not just your usual friendly catch-up, you’ll surely be thinking about it for a while. 

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you a foot sticks in and stops you and then everything happens so fast.

The door is forced open and you gasp as you take a step back and watch Harry walk in, close the door behind him and lock it as well. His eyes are burning as he looks at you and you’re just a speechless ragdoll as he pushes you against the cold, tiled wall, caging you between his arms, his hips pressing against yours.

“Who is he?” he hisses at you, his pupils dilated and wild and you’ve never seen him from this close, you’re basically breathing the same air.

“He’s…” You can’t speak or form any words, the air is pushed out of your lungs every time you try to fill them enough to give you the strength to speak up. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, but it’s making your pussy throb for sure.

“Answer me or I’ll go out and make a scene to find out.”

“He’s just a friend,” you manage to breathe out. 

“Are you fucking him?”

“No.” You want to tell him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to, because Salim would be more interested in fucking him than you, but the words die on your tongue when he exhales sharply at your answer.

“Fuck your little games, Y/N,” he then says, almost growls as he shakes his head in defeat. 

“Fuck me instead,” you hear yourself saying, but it’s as if it wasn’t you who spoke, yet you still said exactly what you had in your mind. 

HIs eyes are throwing flames again when one of his hands moves to the side of your neck, his thumb moving under your chin to tilt your head upwards, angling your head, but still just teasing you.

“No more games.”

“No,” you shake your head desperately. Your hands have found their way to his waist and you fist his shirt, fighting the urge to rip it off him.

“I mean it, Y/N. It’s all in or nothing. I want you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

His kiss comes so fast your head goes dizzy for a second before you recover and return it just as eagerly as it came. It’s been the longest foreplay, weeks worth of teasing and yearning after each other end now as Harry’s body presses you against the wall with so much force it’s almost too much, but you want him as close as possible. 

Even though you’re certain you’ve lost your mind, your consciousness still knows you’re in a public bathroom and you have limited time. Harry knows too and he wastes no time moving you over to the counter, he hoists you up and sits you on top of the granite next to the sink. You gladly wrap your legs around his waist and lock him against you while his mouth is now exploring the curve of your neck and shoulders, desperately pushing the straps of your dress to the side to reach more of your skin. Your body is reacting instantly to him, your hips roll against him and you feel his bulge between your legs, a tortured moan slipping out of your mouth. 

“Harry!” you beg him, when his hand slips under your dress and into your underwear, his skilled fingers teasing you just right, but you need him fast and hard, this is not the time and place to play games.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” he grunts before playfully biting the soft skin on your neck while unbuckling his belt. “But I’m gonna fuck you fast and you’ll take it like the good little slut you are.”

All you can do is whine and force your legs further apart, watching him push his pants and underwear down in one motion, his cock springing free, ready to ruin you. Harry pushes your dress up your torso and hooks a finger into your panties, pushing the fabric to the side to reveal your drenched pussy. 

“Have you thought about me while touching yourself?” he asks, his other hand going to his cock, lazily tugging on it, precum dripping from the tip.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He jerks on his cock a few more times before spitting on it and pushing inside you without warning. A scream dies in your throat, because you bite into your own hand not to make too much noise, but he is definitely bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, his erection is filling you up, stretching you like nothing and no one before.

“Don’t whine, I know you can take it,” he pants, his eyes rapidly switching between your face and his cock buried balls deep inside you. 

All you can do is nod before he starts moving. He gives you a few slow thrusts to adjust, but then he picks his pace up and starts slamming into you ruthlessly.

And you love every moment of it.

It’s so animalistic, so intoxicating, your head feels dizzy again and you need everything inside you not to start screaming his name. Normally you need more stimulation and time to feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, but it’s different with Harry. You can already feel your climax nearing.

“So fucking good, you take me so well,” he preaches you, his hands holding onto your thighs to keep you in place and you curl an arm around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss.

“I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you in that bar.”

His words reach your brain and you process what he said, but you can’t reply at that moment, because you’re already on the verge of your orgasm.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your climax, he is the first one but you chase after him just seconds later. It lasts long and he keeps thrusting into you even when it’s dying down. His face is buried in your neck when he finally stops and you both are panting heavily.

When he lifts his head he’s looking at you with hazy eyes, but the smile that tugs on the corners of his lips is something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

“You said you wanted to fuck me the moment you saw me at the bar,” you repeat his words from earlier now that you can actually form words. Judging from the look on his face he knows why you’re questioning him.

You never met at the bar, he stood you up that night.

“I went there,” he admits. “I saw that other guy flirting with you and… I didn’t think I stood a chance with you. So I left.”

You’re staring back at him in disbelief. All this time you thought he didn’t come because you weren’t good enough for him, but it was the opposite. He was there. He came and wanted to meet you, but lost his confidence because of that random guy.

“You’re the only person who ever stood a chance with me,” you softly say as you reach up to take his face in your hands.

“I thought I was too old for you.”

“But I knew you were older all along,” you chuckle. “It was never an issue for me.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.” He kisses you softly and it’s mind-blowing how he was fucking you hard just moments ago and now he is treating you so gently.

“I need to go back, Salim will get suspicious,” you sigh as you slip off the counter, trying to fix yourself.

“Oh, your date is waiting for you,” he teases you, pulling his pants back up.

“He is gay, Harry,” you chuckle and watch his expression change.

“Okay, I approve.”

You laugh and pull him down for another kiss.

“Should we talk about this after?”

“I can come over when you get home.”

“I’m afraid we won’t do much talking if you do that,” you grin at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Promise, I’ll be a gentleman for at least thirty minutes. That should be enough for all the talking.”

“Uhuh, alright. See you at mine then,” you nod before slipping out of the bathroom.

The plates are empty, dinner is now officially nearing its end but you still haven’t broken the news to your dad. 

The news that you and Harry are together.

He is sitting across from you at the table, his hesitant eyes finding your gaze every other minute. He is shitting his pants, you know that, even though you told him your dad will probably take it well. He is not one to stress about such things, but Harry didn’t believe you, he thinks he’ll throw him out of the company and tell you to never see him again.

Absurd. 

Clearing your throat you decide it’s time for the announcement.

“Dad, I want to tell you something,” you speak up and panic flashes through Harry’s face for a moment, but he’s quick to mask it. 

“Alright, I’m listening,” he smiles at you.

“Okay, I’ll just… Um, I want you to know that I’ve been dating someone. It’s kind of… serious,” you add, your eyes finding Harry over the table and you don’t miss the blush on his cheeks. 

“That’s amazing! Do I know this person?” your dad enthuses.

“Well, you know him very well. He is actually sitting here at the table.”

You watch as realization washes over his face, he looks over at Harry and then back at you, while you both wait for his reaction.

Then a tiny smile appears on his face and you know you were right, there was nothing to worry about.

“That’s great news, I’m happy for you.”

Harry exhales in relief and you can’t help but laugh.

“See? I told you,” you smirk at him with a shrug.

“Are you sure you’re alright with it?” Harry asks, still a bit doubtful, but your dad just smiles at him warmly. 

“I’m more than sure, son. Why would I not be alright with it? I trust you with my company, I trust you with my daughter too. Easy as it is.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Thirteen

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky goes on a date; Jake and Ducky come to an understanding, before everything becomes complicated again

WC: 2.4K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

It happened when you least expected it. You were at the grocery store, reaching for the top shelf, when a hand appeared from behind, plucking the jar of salsa you had been wiggling your fingers at. 

You turned, looking up at an insanely gorgeous guy. He was tall, but not too tall, still under six foot, with a sleeve of tattoos and a layer of dark stubble over his cut jawline. He grinned, handing you the salsa jar. “Here you go, sweetheart.” 

You smiled, placing it in your cart. Salsa Guy kept his eyes on you, just the two of you in the aisle alone close to nine o’clock at night. “Thank you.” 

He looked down at your cart. Chips and salsa, a pack of Twizzlers, a container of stuffed olives, a bar of white chocolate, three apples, a pack of ginger beer. “Someone has a good night planned,” he said with a grin. 

“Oh, you know, cravings.” It came out automatically. But once you realized, you looked up and gulped. Here was a cute guy who had probably been hitting on you, and had failed to see the enormous baby bump hidden behind the handles of the cart.

His dark brown eyes gave you a quick once over. At twenty two weeks, you were pregnant. It was obvious by now. No matter how flowy the dress, there was a little bump there. Your fingertips gripped the cart handlebar tighter. 

“Sorry, I, uh, should get going.” You were just about to turn the cart around when his voice stopped you.

“How about you let me take you out for a real meal.” You looked up in surprise. He shrugged. “Unless you’re involved?” 

“Um, no, I—” You faltered. 

He tilted his head. “No to dinner,” he said slowly, “or no you’re not involved with anyone?” 

You straightened. “No, I’m not involved.” 

He held out a business card. Phillip Walker. You cocked your head to the side. Attorney. Since when did attorneys have sleeve tattoos? “Can I ask your name, before we go to dinner?” 

You smiled. “Y/N.” 

“Let me get that for you,” he said, steering the cart down the aisle. 

“Wait, you were serious?” you asked. “You want to go to dinner now?” It was almost nine thirty. Your bedtime. 

Phillip nodded. “I would.” 

You paused at the end of the aisle before the rows of cashiers. “Um, Phillip?” 

“Yes?” 

“You know I’m pregnant, right?” 

He laughed. It was low and rumbling. He nodded. “Yes, doll, I can see that.” 

“Is this some kind of kink thing?” you whispered. 

His eyes went wide. “No?” 

You frowned. “Alright. Well, free dinner, I guess I’d have to be insane to say no.” 

Phillip grinned. “Your pick then.” 

“I know just the place.” 

You and Phillip ended up eating tacos from a food truck near the beach, sitting with your feet hanging off the side of a picnic table as the waves crashed against the shore in the darkness. Phillip was funny, a dry humor that caught you off guard at first. He was an immigration attorney, just turned twenty seven, and his mother was born in Venezuela. 

After you finished your final taco, four in total but who was counting, Phillip turned to you. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“The guy,” he said. “Is he in the picture?” 

Phillip was the first person you had really talked to, let alone gone out with, since everything that had happened with Jake. You weren’t sure what to say. He was your roommate? Your friend? Your brother’s coworker? 

Was he anything? 

Sometimes it felt like Jake was a stranger. And other times it felt like he was the only thing you had. And yet, you still didn’t know what to say about him. 

“We’re not involved,” you replied after a moment. “But we’re friendly.” You paused. “He and my brother work together.” 

“Ah. Sounds complicated.” 

“I am a complicated woman.” 

“Who also likes white chocolate and nacho flavored Doritos.” 

“Everyone likes Doritos!” 

“Cool Ranch forever,” he replied and you tipped your head back in a laugh. Phillip leaned over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.” 

“Thank you.” It was a whisper. Suddenly the sound of the sea, the waves crashing loudly against the shore, was dulled by the sound of your heart beating in your chest. 

“I’d like to kiss you,” Phillip whispered, one of his hands pressed against the table behind your seat, the other still lingering against your jaw. 

“I probably taste like tacos.” 

“You’re in luck,” he murmured, “cause I love tacos.” 

And then his lips were on yours. He was a good kisser – firm, but not hard, no tongue at first, and he smelled like a woodsy cologne that transported your mind to a lush forest. For a moment, you felt yourself melt into the kiss. There was something so lustful about being wanted. 

It wasn’t until after, when Phillip pulled back and your eyes fluttered open, that the heart sinking realization kicked in. 

Was this the last time someone was going to kiss you like this? With expectation, with the unknown hanging out in the abyss. Soon, you’d be a mother. Soon, you’d belong to someone else. And nothing would ever be as easy as it was in that very moment. 

“I’m tired,” you whispered. “I should be getting home.” 

“Of course.” Phillip leaned back, stepping off the picnic table and holding out his hand. “I can drive you home in your car, and I’ll get an Uber back to mine.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “That’s a hassle.” 

“I’m sure.” He held open the door and you took a seat in the passenger seat. It felt like a different world, just ten inches from where you usually sat. You turned as Phillip slid into the driver’s seat. 

Everything felt different. 

He set down the bag of groceries next to the door and straightened. “I’m really glad I went to the store for toothpaste tonight,” Phillip said. 

You frowned. “Did you forget to buy the toothpaste?” 

He nodded and you laughed. “Yes, yes I did.” 

“I’m glad we met, too.” 

“Can I see you again?” he asked. 

“Are you sure you want to?” 

“I’m positive.” 

“Here.” You pulled out a pen and scribbled your number on his card, handing it back to him. “Call me.” 

“I will.” He waited until you had opened the door to the apartment before turning and walking down the hallway. 

You set the bag of groceries on the counter before a voice behind you burst out into the silence. “Who was that?” 

You whipped around. Jake was wearing a Naval Academy sweatshirt and a pair of boxers, tall socks pulled up around his bony ankles. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It’s midnight, Y/N. Where have you been?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not my father.” 

“Someone has to be looking out for you.” 

“You and Bobby, you’re the fucking same,” you spat back. 

Jake squinted. “Is that how you see me?” he asked. 

“Right now, yeah, it is.” You shook your head and started to unload the groceries. “Just some guy I met at the grocery store. He helped me reach the salsa.” 

“You left three hours ago.” 

“Jake, it’s late.” You turned, one hand on your hip. In the bright light of the kitchen, you had a sudden glimpse of the future. Standing in a kitchen, rolling your eyes at your husband. But then you blinked, and it was just Jake, standing in front of you in a pair of almost too-tight boxers. “Ask the real questions you want answers to.” 

“Did you fuck him?” 

“Did you fuck the redhead from the bar?” you spat back. 

Jake went ghost white. 

“I said ask questions you want the answers to,” you replied. “And for your information, no, I didn’t whore it out for a bottle of salsa in the back of a pickup truck. That kind of naiveté ended about five months ago.” You pressed one hand against your tight stomach and rubbed a gentle circle. “What do we owe each other, Jake?” 

He stepped closer. “I know you don’t want to be with me,” he whispered. “And maybe you don’t really even like me. But we’re stuck together, Y/N. For better or for worse, we’re having a baby together. So I guess what I’m saying is we owe each other the truth.” 

“You want the truth?” you asked. He nodded. “The truth is, I don’t know who I am anymore. Because in four plus months, I’m going to be a mom. And that scares the shit out of me.” 

“I’m here,” Jake said. “I’m going to help. You’re not alone in this.” 

“How can I trust you when I don’t even know you?” 

“Well you haven’t really tried, now have you?” A bit of his Texan accent slipped out. It was small but it was there. A twang at the end of the sentence. 

“You’re right.” 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.” He grinned. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“I’m trying here,” Jake said. “I want to do what’s best for you. And for the baby.” 

“What about what’s best for you?” 

He shrugged. “What’s best for you is best for me. Happy wife, happy life, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not your wife, Hangman.” 

“Do me a favor.” 

“I’m carrying your enormous child, and you want another favor?” 

“Don’t call me Hangman, OK?” 

You frowned. “Alright, I won’t.” 

“I can be Hangman at work. But with you, I want to be Jake.” 

“OK.” A silence enveloped the room and for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease with Jake. “Well, Jake, I’m going to go to bed. I’m exhausted.” 

You shuffled off to the side of the kitchen toward the bedrooms. Jake’s hand reached out, fingertips curling around your wrist. You looked up. “I didn’t get to tell you before, so I’ll tell you now. I’m really happy it’s a girl.” 

You smiled. “Yeah, me too. Little boys' clothes suck.” 

Jake grinned. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Goodnight, Jake.” 

***

Jake was sixteen the first time he held his niece in his arms. His older sister Mary had gotten married young, and immediately had a baby. 

Kirsten was tiny, shriveled little fingertips, a nose that barely protruded from her face, almost no hair to speak of. 

And yet, something changed in that moment. He felt his world flip upside down. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to hold someone’s life in his hand and know that he would lay down his life for that person. 

Kirsten was thirteen now. At age eight, she asked Jake to be her show and tell item for school, and he took off a long weekend to go back to Texas to tell her class what it was like to be an aviator. And even though all that time had passed and she had grown up, sometimes Jake still looked at her and saw the newborn balanced perfectly in his scrawny arms. 

***

Your second date with Patrick created even more mixed emotions. 

On one hand, he was beautiful and successful, dynamic and smart. On the other hand, you still had a lump in the back of your throat that some random man would want to date a pregnant woman. 

“It’s weird, right?” you said. Phoenix paused for a beat and you frowned, your fingertips gripping the steering wheel tighter. You had opted to drive yourself home from the restaurant, giving Patrick a kiss before he asked that you texted him when you got home. 

“It’s a little weird,” she replied, her voice crackling through the car speakerphone. “But not unheard of.” 

“It’s a porn category,” you argued. 

She laughed. “OK but so is girl on girl. Doesn’t make it a fetish. He might just genuinely be a good enough guy to be OK with it.” 

You flicked the turn signal, waiting for the light to turn green before taking a left into the apartment complex parking lot and switching the call back to your phone. “I guess,” you said. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you replied, locking the car and stepping into the lobby. “It’s just kind of weird. Everything is weird right now.” 

“It’s uncharted territory,” Phoenix said. “Just take a shower, get in your pajamas and watch Young Sheldon.” 

“God, a perfect night,” you said. “Alright, I’m home. I’ll see you tomorrow for the party?” Coyote was having a house party for his new condo, and you and Phoenix had made plans to go. 

“I’ll pick you up at nine.” She hung up as you opened the apartment door. 

It was quiet, but there was a light on in the hallway. “Jake?” you called out, setting your purse down. “Are you home?” 

“In here!” You rounded the corner into your bedroom. Jake looked up. “Surprise.” 

You gasped. A brand new white crib sat in the corner, the one you had gawked at in a Pottery Barn catalog and then promptly flipped the page when you spotted the price tag. There was also the matching dresser, with a changing table on top. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered. 

Jake stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry, just finished building it, still have to clean up.” 

“You did all of this?” 

“Well we needed a crib. Oh and look.” He stepped over to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer to reveal a perfect line of folded onesies. “My mom sent them. Look at this one.” He tugged one out and held it up. 

It was a Naval Academy onesie. 

Jake grinned. “Great, right?” 

“I can’t believe you did this,” you whispered. 

“No big deal. Besides, we needed a nursery. Maybe once we move into a house we’ll have a spare bedroom, and—”

You held up one hand. “A house? Since when are we moving into a house?” 

Jake looked around slowly. “I mean, it’s just the next step, right? This apartment is OK for now, but when the baby gets here it’s going to get crowded.” 

You crossed your hands over your chest. “I thought this was temporary,” you replied. “I needed a place to stay to get away from Bobby. But this.” You swooped your hand out toward the crib and dresser. “This is feeling very real.” Your pulse started to race. 

Jake frowned. “What are you saying?” he asked. “You don’t want to continue to live together once the baby is born?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

@rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @boiolay @sometimesanalice @na-ta-sh-aa @bobfloydsbabe @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @palepeanutponyshoe @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @mel119g @daggerspare-standingby @grxcisxhy-wp @mrsjobarnes @csmt-m @rockbottompunk-blog @joaquinwhorres @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away @bobfloydsbabe