#i do not think this is that time and place.
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kisakunt · 1 day ago
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BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?
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description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.
warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.
a word from the writer… i’ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!
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TRAPS YOU
you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.
“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.
you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.
“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.
“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”
and so does he. but you’re scared.
“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”
“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”
“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.
he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.
“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.
he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”
GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI
GETS TRAPPED
your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.
but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.
“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.
but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.
“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”
it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.
“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.
and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.
it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.
MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI
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astonmartinii · 2 days ago
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other side of the moon - chapter two | formula one imagine
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chapter two: a dutchman and an italian in london
pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli
y/n still has a decision to make, maybe a little visit can sway her vote
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PREVIOUS PART
the next morning y/n found herself sat on her couch with only brando’s loud purrs breaking the stifling silence. the letter from kimi sat on the coffee table collecting the condensation from y/n’s abandoned glass of orange juice as she continued to mull over the decision.
stuck in her mind, y/n stopped petting brando and stared off into the grey skies of west london. she told herself over and over again that decisions like this should be easy. simply, if she wanted to do it, she would’ve known the first time the offer was floated to her. but she didn’t have that immediate burst of excitement, instead she felt her heart stop and hairs on the back of her neck stand up. in that moment y/n had realised that a place that ignited that kind of reaction in her was not a place she needed to be - therapy had worked it seems.
but then again, if it was such a sure no, why wouldn’t it leave her mind? pictures of her in black alongside the young italian, back at the tracks she loved and around the people she admired flashed across her mind.
three polite knocks rung out across the apartment. y/n wasn’t expecting visitors and the front desk hadn’t notified her of any visits or deliveries. it was probably mrs. granger from down the hall forgetting which door was which again so she ignored it and went back to petting brando.
three more knocks, a little more urgent this time, came ringing through the rooms. brando’s ears perked up as he jumped down from the couch and trotted towards the front door.
“brando, come back here,”
y/n whisper-shouted towards the cat who neglected to heed her warnings. tiptoeing into the kitchen, y/n rifled through her draws for a weapon, settling on a ceramic rolling pin as her weapon of choice. as she crept towards the door y/n could hear some quiet bickering being dulled by the thick door and then a sudden pounding at it. brando meowed in surprise and bolted, likely for his preferred hiding place under y/n’s bed.
“y/n open the fucking door i know you’re in there!”
max verstappen. y/n sighed, lowering the rolling pin and opening the door. much to her surprise the dutchman wasn’t alone, peering over his shoulders was kimi antonelli himself.
“were you going to make me into a pie? move out of the way,” max said looking at the rolling pin and pushing past y/n into the apartment.
“yes, i guess you can come in max…”
max shucked off his shoes and moved into the kitchen, opening the fridge and cracking open a red bull. kimi followed apprehensively, taking his shoes off slowly and placing them neatly by the door.
“see! it’s almost like you knew i was coming,” max said with a smug smile, “now where’s my little boy?”
almost on cue, brando strolled back into the kitchen and immediately started rubbing against max’s legs. the dutchman knelt down and scooped brando up in his arms, red bull long forgotten as he doted on the cat.
“now you’ve tormented my son, do you want to tell me why you’re here?”
y/n asked, arms crossed and with an unimpressed look on her face. looking over to kimi, the italian quickly ducked his head and fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper. max continued cuddling brando, ignoring y/n’s questioning stare.
“i’m giving you two ten seconds to give me a good reason as to why you’ve come to disturb my peace today before i throw you out,” y/n announced. max cleared his throat and straightened his back, much to the chagrin of brando.
“right, okay,” max started, “you gotta take the job y/n. look at his little face,” max leant over and pinched kimi’s cheek, “look at him he’s so young and innocent. think of all the big ugly bullies like carlos and lando, you can’t leave him alone with them!”
“you came to guilt me into taking the job?”
“no!” kimi squeaked, “that was max’s idea. i wanted to come and tell you my reasons myself. i wrote you a letter but i don’t know if it ever made it to you.”
kimi’s eyes locked on the letter on the coffee table and looked back at y/n, eyes getting watery.
“oh. you did get it,” kimi started biting at his nails, “i’m sorry for coming and invading your privacy miss y/ln, we’ll leave you alone now.”
the italian turned to max, pleading with his eyes to go. max held up his hand, jostling brando again.
“we’re not going anywhere kimi, this has gone on far too long. y/n i get that you don’t really want to come back and for very valid reasons, but deep down i know you do. racing is everything to you and i know you changed your mind when you read kimi’s letter.”
kimi’s head shot up, looking at y/n with an unbridled and heartbreaking amount of hope. he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, as if to stop himself from blurting out whatever he was thinking.
“that bullshit article about zak is no reason not to come back. he’s doing it on purpose to keep you from coming back. he’s a fraud, we all know he is. he’s terrified of you, that’s why he takes cheap shots at you. you don’t need to go anywhere near him in the paddock but don’t let him keep you away from what you love.”
y/n sighed, her head in her hands but max just grinned, sending a wink kimi’s way.
“you know i’m right y/n.”
“why can’t you be a mentor? you can look out for kimi?” y/n countered, her words sharp like an animal backed into a corner.
“and have to spend more time with george russell? i’m sorry kimi but there’s only one person worth suffering through that for”
kimi didn’t really seem too bothered by the dig at his new teammate, his eyes not leaving y/n’s, holding onto every word.
“so you’re saying that i should have to suffer through that instead?”
y/n smirked at kimi and took her cat from max’s arms. she sat back down on her couch and motioned for kimi to come and sit beside her. the italian sat cross legged, body angled towards y/n. to his surprise the first thing the brit did was place brando on his lap. kimi let out a soft yelp before brando started nudging his head against kimi’s chin. ”he likes you, that’s a good sign. my brando is an amazing judge of character so i trust he would pick out a good work partner for me”
kimi stopped petting brando so abruptly at y/n’s words that the black cat pawed at his chest to regain the italian’s attention.
“so you think we could work well together?” kimi asked in a small voice, making sure to continue stroking brando’s head this time.
“the annoying one over there won’t leave me alone if i don’t say yes,” y/n said, nodding towards max. the dutchman let out a ‘i heard that’ from the kitchen but left the other two to their discussion. “but he’s also right. i love racing and it hurts me very deeply that i can’t do it anymore. but i also see a lot of myself in you and your letter was so sincere it’s honestly changed my whole world view. i’ve been throwing myself a pity party for three years, enough is enough - and i can’t think of a better racer to be a mentor to.”
“really?”
the smile on kimi’s face was all-consuming, his eyes crinkling and a little giggle escaping as well.
“yes. although i am also impressed you came all the way from monaco to ask me.”
max plucked brando from kimi’s lap and crashed into the armchair, “oh he came all the way from italy actually”
y/n’s head whipped back to kimi who shrugged, whispering a small ‘worth it’ under his breath. max continued,
“he messaged me on instagram - my official account so vic had to text me about ‘this kid who wants to see if you’ll go to london with him’. then he drove all the way from milan to monaco and then we took air max here. he’s a very dedicated one you got there”
“you drove from milan to monaco? do you even have a road licence?”
kimi went to interject but y/n kept going, “it’s so early, when did you drive? you didn’t drive overnight did you?” the silence was answer enough.
“that is so not good for you kimi! right,” y/n stood up, dragging kimi with her, “i don’t have the spare room set up yet so you’ll have to deal with my bed. i have some of max’s clothes here that you can borrow but i order you to go take a nap and in a couple of hours i’ll take you both to lunch.”
kimi followed y/n like a little duckling to her room, hearing max in the background grumble about how he never gets offered a bed for a nap. y/n grabbed some clothes from her bottom draw and handed them to kimi.
“sorry they’re red bull branded, that loser doesn’t wear anything else, we just won’t tell toto will we?”
kimi let out another giggle, heading towards the en suite room to change. at the door he turned to y/n who was plumping the pillows and making the bed.
“thank you for taking a chance on me. i promise i’ll make it worth it.”
“don’t worry kimi. i think we’ll be great together. get a couple hours of sleep and we’ll get some food.”
y/n moved towards the door and gave kimi a soft smile as she closed it. the italian felt an even bigger smile break out on his face and allowed himself to let out a girlish squeal - he just had to text ollie about this.
back in the living room both max and brando had moved to the bigger couch and stared at y/n with knowing eyes.
“what?”
“nothing. just by my calculations it took you a whole two minutes to crumble and start the mother duck act.”
“so you don’t want me to come back?”
y/n poked, max sighed.
“you know that’s not what i mean. but it’s cute, it suits you.”
“shut up,” y/n said, fighting off a blush, “do you want to watch some tv while the little one sleeps?”
max yanked the remote from y/n’s hand and patted the seat. it was just like old times, nearly.
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maxverstappen1
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liked by olliebearman, isackhadjar and 803,899 others
maxverstappen1: when in rome
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user1: you’re not fooling me buster
user2: the way this is defo vic being told to create a diversion
user3: sorry to break it to the gal she’s not doing her best
victoriaverstappen: keep me out of this one
landonorris: rome you say
maxverstappen1: that’s what the caption says does it not
maxverstappen1: can you not send me twitter links you know i do not have the abomination that is that app on my phone
user4: so you haven’t seen all the f1 yuri ??? you’re missing out
maxverstappen1: what is yuri?
maxverstappen1: i’ll google it one sec
landonorris: can we get back to my original point please?
maxverstappen1: manners lando!
landonorris: they butted into our conversation ???
landonorris: you’re not in rome so stop lying
maxverstappen1: you’re right 😟
maxverstappen1: i’m in monaco!
landonorris: YOU’RE IN LONDON WE ALL KNOW YOU’RE IN LONDON
maxverstappen1: nuh uh
maxverstappen1: i literally saw you on my morning run today lando
landonorris; don’t try and gaslight me bitch
landonorris: i saw the twitter account of your private jet it says you’re in the u.k. ?
maxverstappen1: that’s an invasion of privacy lando, i can’t believe you
landonorris: THEN STOP LYING
maxverstappen1: wow, big accusation buddy, you must be learning from george
user5: max will never not bring that up
user6: the way y/n and george used to be so close i wish i could’ve seen her reaction to that whole thing
user7: considering he never said anything in support of her after everything that happened… well i don’t think he would’ve gotten much support from her
user8: george russell and y/n y/ln takes a drag i haven’t heard those names together in a long time
user9: real ones know they were the OG brit ship
user10: yall just can’t let a woman exist can you
user11: lando up in the business sorry mclaren you can’t fool me
user12: i think if y/n does come back to f1 she should be allowed to shoot one man a day there
user13: i agree
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the trio are huddled around a cramped table way in the back of the quaint restaurant. both drivers are meant to be following their meal plans but have both gone for the hearty bowl of pasta recommended by y/n.
“i can’t believe my best friend is going to be back in the paddock, i love you my little italian man,” max sighs happily, ruffling kimi’s hair. “but also i don’t care if you’re going to be in the mercedes garage, i need a united front against george this season i am not letting the shit he pulled last season fly.”
kimi suddenly stopped, fork halfway to his mouth, looking at y/n alarmed.
“kimi, stop worrying, i’ve said yes, i’m not going to back out now,” y/n said, refilling the italian’s glass of water, “but i can’t guarantee i’ll be anything but just civil with george.”
“wait!” kimi yells, mouth full of pasta, “ollie and i have always wanted to know what happened between you two, if we’re allowed to know…”
y/n and max shared a look.
“i didn’t know me and george were such a hot topic with the rookies. i don’t know whether to be annoyed or not?”
“well it’s just me and ollie,” kimi slams his cutlery down and waves his hands, “one time i was wearing some of your merch after an f2 race and i was sat with toto when george came in and he took one look at my shirt and just glared at me. it was very weird but we’d never heard of anything about you two.”
“i mean we haven’t spoken in three years so i’d be impressed if there was still some gossip to go around,” y/n turned to max, “but if it’s anything like the last two races, it won’t take long to kick off again.”
max laughed to himself when y/n grabbed his hand.
“what did you say to him allegedly? that you’d put him on his head in the wall… well it sounds familiar…”
both max and kimi gasp, the younger leaning in, on the edge of his seat.
“oh boys, let me take you back to 2019…”
may 2019.
jimmyz smelt overwhelmingly of sweat. fancy sweat, but sweat nonetheless. y/n was stuck in the sea of bodies, clinging to the arm of mick schumacher and her watery vodka cranberry like her life depended on it. many hours earlier she stood proudly on the top step after winning the formula two feature race by an impressive ten seconds, her dancing partner standing second on the podium.
“i’m going to get a drink, do you want one?” mick tried to shout over the booming music. y/n waved her half-empty glass in his face and gave him a thumbs up. the german nodded and turned, starting his fight to get to the bar.
now alone, y/n let the atmosphere of the club and her earlier victory wash over her. yes, she was doing the typical white girl club dance but she’d earned that right on the track. y/n was lost in the music when mick finally returned, balancing his drink, two tequila shots, two limes and a packet of salt.
“i told you i didn’t need a drink, silly,” y/n yelled in his ear.
“the barman told me podium sitters had to have a tequila shot, jimmyz law?”
y/n took the shot glass from him and one of the limes. mick licked two lines on his hand and poured out the salt. she raised her eyebrow at him.
“what? we’ve done worse?”
she leaned forward and licked the salt from the german’s hand, threw back the shot and sucked on the lime. tequila shots still hadn’t gotten easier. mick beckoned her forward and whispered in her ear, “miss monaco winner, i fear we have an audience.”
y/n pulled back and looked around jimmyz. lewis hamilton was nearby, taking off his comically wet shirt for a captive audience after daniel had insisted on emptying another bottle of champagne on the brit. sebastian vettel had dragged an unwilling charles to jimmyz, who despite the thunder in his eyes, tried to dance along with his teammate. the trio of rookie brits were all off to the side, both lando and alex were trying their luck with the many girls alongside them in the vip booth but george stood alone. he was glaring, y/n thought it was at her but on a closer look, george was attempting to murder mick with his eyes.
“well doesn’t he look like a ray of sunshine,” comments mick, spinning her around again. “i should probably go check on him, that williams was as shit as ever today, he doesn’t take losing very well.”
y/n thinks she hears mick mutter a little ‘he should get used to it’ but elects to ignore it. she lets him spin her once more before making her way over to the booth.
“penny for your thoughts mr russell,” y/n asked, dragging him to sit down in the booth with her. george sits down but puts some healthy room between them and looks around, paranoid.
“leaving room for jesus, georgie? don’t worry, i won’t tell if you don’t?”
y/n laughs at her own joke but george looks less than impressed. y/n face falls as she takes a long sip.
“hey, i know today was tough but you don’t have to take it out on me i’m just trying to talk to you.”
george grumbles something under his breath. y/n looks at him, asking him to repeat himself. george looks out onto the dancefloor, not replying.
“you clearly have a problem, can you spit it out or i can just go back to mick.”
“i’m sure you’d love that”
“excuse me?”
george scoffs and goes to stand up. y/n gets up just as fast, a little unstable on the heels she thought she could handle for just one night out.
“i said i’m sure you’d love to go back out there and rub all over mr nepotism out there,” george shouted spitefully.
“i’m allowed to dance with my friends george. i don’t see what the problem is here.”
george wipes his face in frustration, “that’s the issue - you don’t think. what if people were allowed to film in here. a video of you like that, licking his hand like that - imagine what they would say?”
“i don’t have to imagine when you seem more than happy to say it yourself george.”
“i’m trying to be a good friend, clearly someone has to think of these things if you won’t”
y/n laughs bitterly, “my knight in shining armour, thank you for taking time out of your day to metaphorically slutshame me so i don’t have to.”
george groans and slams his drink down onto the table.
“mick is not just a friend, he is a competitor. there’s a difference. people will say things - that you’re sleeping with him to get an advantage, that you’re using him and his name to get a seat in formula one,” george said, exasperated.
“or is that just what you think?” y/n said, looking up at george with tears in her eyes.
“no! of course not, but people will say that y/n you have to be careful.”
y/n’s tears turned to hot, angry tears, the tequila shot pushing her to say the things she would usually push down.
“let them. if what you say is true, they’ll say it even if it’s not true. who cares? what do you expect me to do when i make it to formula one? take a vow of celibacy and not leave my hotel room every weekend?”
“i’m not saying i agree with it but this is how the sport is right now unfortunately. your image will matter so much more,” george said, trying to grab her hand but y/n yanked it away from him.
“george, people will call me a slut no matter what i do - i’m not going to let it stop me from celebrating when i want to, when i deserve to,” y/n hissed, she’d had quite enough of this conversation, this is not what a monaco winner does to celebrate.
“they won’t respect you if they see you like this,” george pointed to her dress, a short black number that showed off her legs but had a high neck, “they definitely won’t respect you if they see you dancing like that with mick or licking his hand.”
y/n’s head was hot, she needed george out of her sight or this could get ugly. “it sounds like i’ve already lost your respect, or did i even have it to begin with?” george protests, but y/n kept going.
“why do you really want to keep me at home? do you want to have me all to yourself, is that why mick is bothering you so much? or can you not stand the fact that i might beat you next year? a girl you deem a slut might be faster than you? might get a better seat than you faster? i might be a girl and you might think in some fucked up way that you have dibs on me because you’ve known me so long but let it be known, you try and pull anything with me on track and i’ll put you on your fucking head in the wall.”
y/n turned on her heel and stormed out of jimmyz.
present.
“oh shit.”
max whispered while kimi sat with his mouth open, struggling for words.
“we were young there,” y/n goes to explain, “but he ruined that monaco win for me. i think in a weird way he was trying to help but it came out wrong.”
the waitress had come to start clearing away the table and kimi was still gaping like a fish.
“that was so much worse than i was expecting. am i still allowed to tell ollie, i promise he won’t tell.”
y/n chuckled, “you can tell who you want, kimi, i don’t really care. it’s a fun tidbit, maybe if he pulls a fast one again with either of you it’ll be a cute ted’s notebook segment.”
“now that would make the sky prices worth it.”
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GQ Man of the Year Red Carpet Live Updates
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excerpt of red carpet interview between Y/N Y/LN and interviewer
interviewer: hi y/n! wow you look beautiful tonight!
y/n: thank you so much, you look amazing too!
interviewer: oh! you’ve got me blushing…
y/n: that’s my job!
interviewer: it’s amazing to see you, this is your first public appearance in over three years, we’ve missed you!
y/n: i know, i was nervous for tonight, i thought maybe i’d be on the red carpet and everyone would’ve forgotten who i am…
interviewer: we could never forget you
y/n: that’s too sweet
interviewer: especially when you’re turning looks like these
y/n: i know, three years of religiously wearing sweat pants, i knew i had to dress to impress
interviewer: don’t leave us for the sweat pants for that long i beg
y/n: i think you’ll see me out and about more often don’t worry
interviewer: is that a hint
y/n: it can be… as much as i would love to give you the exclusive darling, i have a contract i have to abide by
interviewer: very intriguing… well thank you for stopping and talking with us tonight
y/n: no worries! i’ll see you around
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the apartment was quiet when y/n returned from the GQ Man of the Year event, max and kimi had only been there for a couple hours the day before, but already the apartment seemed scarily empty. brando slinked up to y/n brushing against the expensive fabric, meowing for food as if y/n hadn’t gotten the notification for his automatic feeder.
“oh stop being so loud, baby,” y/n slumped down on the couch, kicking off her heels, “i might order some food and give you some scraps if you’re nice to me.”
the back of the dress was too complicated to tackle on an empty stomach so y/n resigned to eating cheap takeout in her designer dress. the chicken shop was embarrassingly frequent in her recent orders but she purchased her usual order anyway, not like she had a diet like the others anymore.
after just five minutes of scrolling through twitter, seeing her fans having a meltdown did bring a smile to her face, the bell went. her usual chicken shop was good, but not that good. however, in a good mood, y/n swung the door open with a smile.
“oh. you’re not my chicken shop order.’
“no. i’m not. but you are a mercedes mentor now?” lewis hamilton said with a tenacious smile.
“i’m kimi’s mentor,” y/n reminded him quickly, opening the door enough for him to enter.
“quite a get up you’re in,” lewis said, “quite a way to annouce your return.”
y/n poured a glass of water for him, “technically sky announced my return. you sad you missed me at mercedes?”
lewis smirked and moved around the kitchen counter. he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “what could you teach me?”. the air was thick with tension and the room was suddenly a lot hotter, y/n didn’t know where to look or how to reply. as she stood there, just inches away from lewis with her mouth open, ready to reply, the bell went again.
“that’ll be the front desk with my food,” y/n choked out, moving back towards the door and taking in a deep breath. she took the food from the concierge and slips him some money as a thank you.
y/n placed the order on the counter and flicked her eyes back over to lewis. “i’d say we could share, but this is definitely not vegan. was there a reason you came? i didn’t even think you had my address?”
the smirk again. “i can’t just want to come and see you? in his excitement max was very loose-lipped, but i can’t say i’m too angry about it. i would’ve preferred if you had trusted me with it from the start…”
“no one had my address,” y/n replied.
“max did.”
“max is different”
“how so?”
“he just is, okay? i didn’t think anyone would want anything to do with me after the crash. i just wanted to wallow in peace”
“please don’t assume how i feel about you again,” lewis finished his water and moved towards the door, “i’ll leave you to your food, don’t be a stranger in the paddock.”
lewis picked up her hand and gave it a quick kiss and left as fast as he came.
what the fuck. the door shut and y/n was floored. what just happened?
whatever it was, it would have to wait until after she had eaten to be processed. while plating her food, y/n picked up her phone and opened her text thread with max.
i’m serious dude, stop giving people my address.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・
fin.
note: oh wow so this series blew up - i'm serious i got such an influx in followers i'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! some new players have entered but you'll just have to keep guessing! one warning, i do go back to work thursday so updates will slow but one of my new years resolutions was to write more anyway!
taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998
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prlssprfctn · 3 days ago
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Kinda obsessed with headcanon, where Damian and Jason just randomly (out of nowhere, completely unprompted) start to referring to their shared past in the League in the middle of the family conversations, while everyone just stare at them in concern
Like
Jason, staring at Dick, trying to put Tim's shoulder back: huh, do you remember that one time-
Damian, instantly: when grandfather's shoulder relocated by itself, but instead of properly putting in on its place, he killed himself and mother threw him in the Lazarus Pit?
Jason, cackling: it was hilarious
Damian, no less amused: right?
Bruce, sitting behind them: (concerned sips of tea)
Or, it is not necessarily funny, but it just cute (or sad) details, regarding each other that others are confused about.
Jason, who accidentally fell asleep in the Batcave: (instinctively cards through his hair as he naps)
Tim, teasing: ladies and gentlemen, the criminal lord of the year--
Damian: Drake, bluntly, that's not funny. Back when he was out of the Pit, this was the only thing that could help him to calm down.
Dick, knowing that this is because Bruce constantly stroked Robin!Jason's hair, when he saw nightmares, with eyes full of tears: oh
Jason on the random Friday night, trying to be less awkward about staying with Bruce in one room: actually, Damian's first word was my name
Bruce: really?
Jason: he had, uh, problems with saying his first word. People around him were constantly speaking on both language at the same time, and, I guess, he couldn't figure out what to say. Then, Ra's said that if his heir doesn't get his word in the next two weeks, he will throw him in the Lazarus Pit (as a joke), but I wasn't sure if it was a joke (Talia said later it was), and I panicked, and since Talia wasn't around, I just kept repeating him her name, or just word Mother, but he just, uh, wouldn't say anything - kept blinking and staring at me like a little idiot. And then on a random night, he just grabbed me by the hair, and said, Jason. Food. And he kinda spoke properly since then. Like in full sentences and stuff. I think he just didn't want to speak with us, actually--
Bruce, getting grey hair out of nowhere: RA'S SAID WHAT--
And sometimes they just speak in Arabic, and Damian keeps bullying Jason that his skills are getting rustier.
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homunculus-argument · 24 hours ago
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My method for staying in at least somewhat-decent shape is to just think of myself as a temporarily embarrassed fit person. If some activity requires strength, athleticism, or endurance, I don't pause to contemplate whether I can do it, the answer is always "of course I can", what an odd question to ask.
And if it turns out that I cannot do that after all, and instead I eat shit, get hurt, and look stupid the whole time I'm dying, I'm not thinking "wow, I can't do shit like this anymore", but "wow, I gotta do this more often, I'm really out of practice". And then get determined to get that level of strength and endurance back, even if I never had it in the first place.
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gudfornuthin · 3 days ago
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Want You So Bad
Dae-ho/number 388 x fem!reader
(MDNI)
A/N: No thoughts, just Dae-ho. I thought these anon asks worked well together so I’ve combined them into one. I hope this is what you guys wanted, and apologies for my poorly written smut lol. (Also apologies if the Korean isn’t correct, copied it from a romanised version on Google) Feedback is appreciated :)
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“Dunggulge dunggulge, jjak
Binggeulbinggeul doragamyeo chum-eul chupsida
Sonppyeogeul chimyeonseo, jjak
Noraereul bureumyeo, jjak
Rallallalla jeulgeoupge chumchuja
Ringga ringga ringga, ringga ringga ring Sone soneul japgo modu da hamkke jeulgeoupge twieo bopsida”
Standing on the turning floor, your vision is going dizzy and your stomach is churning. There’s blood everywhere, and you’re trying not to think about all the people who were killed in the last round. You almost didn’t make it. But you got lucky. Mainly because of the man standing next to you.
You look to your left, Dae ho’s side profile devoid of any emotions. You’d only known each other for a couple of days (at least that’s what you thought. Time in here is weird) but you’d already grown close. Closer than you expected to with anyone in this nightmare fuelled place. But you trusted him the most. And he’d also saved your life during red light green light.
He finally feels your stare and turns to look at you. He smiles slightly. “You okay?”
He knows you’re not, but you smile back either way. “Yeah.”
The floor suddenly stops moving, and the lights dim. The group prepare for their next number.
“Five.”
Chaos ensues, as everyone begins to panic, grabbing and pulling, hoping they have the right amount of people. Dae ho holds your hand, as he quickly follows Gi hun, and two other people you’re yet to know the names of. You run as fast as you can, trying to find an available room.
Just as you’re about to make it to one of the doors, someone slams into you hard, knocking you off your feet and losing Dae ho’s firm grip.
“Y/N!” You hear him exclaim, before completely losing sight of him and the others.
The thought of dying consumes you as reality sets in. You feel like screaming and throwing up the little food they’d given you last night. Before you have the chance, strong arms lift you up and drag you to an open door. Getting a grip on your footing, you rush into the room, just as the timer runs out. The door locks and gunshot can be heard from outside your safe space.
Breathing heavily, you feel a soft touch on your back, rubbing up and down.
“Are you alright?”
You glance to the side, the number ‘333’ catching your attention first. You look up to be met by the kind eyes of your saviour. You nod rapidly, still trying to catch your breath.
“You saved my life,” is the only thing you can say.
He laughs halfheartedly. “You sort of saved ours too.”
You stand up to your full height, remembering the other people in the room with you. You quickly thank them as well and they nod.
“I’m Myung gi by the way,” player 333 says.
“Y/N,” you reply, smiling at each other.
The door unlocks as everyone slowly makes their way out. As you leave the room, yelling can be heard from across the room. It’s Dae ho. You see him push a player you don’t recognise up against the wall, as he continues screaming in their face.
“She’s dead because of you!”
You rush over, hoping to stop this before it turns into a full blown fist fight.
“Dae ho!” You call out.
He stops what he’s doing and frantically searches for you. Your eyes meet, and he lets the player go, running over to meet you halfway. He throws his arms around your waist, shocking you briefly, but also wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He squeezes you tight, his face buried in your neck.
“I’m okay,” you whisper. “I’m fine.”
Dae ho pulls away and holds you at arms length. “I thought they killed you. I just… what happened?”
You feel a presence behind you, and turn to find Myung gi standing awkwardly a few steps behind. You nod at him to come closer, taking him by the arm. Dae ho flinches slightly at the motion.
“I was a goner, had it not been for my knight in shining armour here grabbing and saving me.”
Myung gi laughs at the nickname you give him. “Don’t sell yourself short. We saved each other really.”
You continue smiling at each other, all the while Dae ho watches the sickly sweet interaction. Weird feelings bubble up in his stomach, one of relief but another of petty jealousy. He tries to brush it off, as he nods at the man standing next to you.
The game continues on for a couple more rounds, until you figure out there’s only one more to go. 126 players. 50 doors. That means only 2 people per room. You’re standing in between Dae ho and Myung gi, finding it hard to breathe.
The floor stops moving, and the number is called.
“Two.”
Both of the men on either side of you reach out at the same time to take your hand. Myung gi is faster, as he links your fingers with his and rushes towards the door in front of you. You stumble behind him, looking back and seeing Dae ho watching on like a kicked puppy. Thankfully someone grabs him as they too head for an empty room, his sad expression imprinted in your mind.
- - -
Night rolls around, and Dae ho finds it hard to fall asleep. After the last round of Mingle, Myung gi didn’t leave your side once. He seemed eager to know more about you, where you were from, and why you chose to be apart of the game. Dae ho knows it’s wrong to feel jealous. After all, he’d only known you for two days, and most of that time is spent either sleeping or trying not to be killed.
Yet it bothers him to no end. It bothered him when you two hugged at the end of Mingle. It bothered him when you two shared food with each other. It bothered him when Myung gi asked if he could sleep closer to you tonight. It shouldn’t. But it did.
Dae ho feels himself almost drift off into a deep sleep, when he hears scuffling to his right. You’re slowly getting up, rubbing your eyes and hobbling to the front of the large room. His eyes follow your every move, as you knock on the door to where the toilets are. A guard appears and after some brief back and forth, opens the door and allows you to enter.
He lies back down. You still run through his mind.
“Fuck it.”
Dae ho crawls out from under the bed and speed walks over to the door. He knocks and makes the excuse that he needs a piss. Another back and forth with the less than happy guard, but once again the door opens and he walks through.
He makes his way up the stairs and, making sure the guard isn’t paying attention, heads for the women’s bathroom. He walks in, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and stupid. What’s the plan? Profess your love to a stranger you just met and how you can’t stand the thought of them being with anyone else? Dae ho knows you’ll tell him he’s gone mad. And maybe it’s not love. Something more intense. Something more primal. There’s only one way of finding out.
The flush of a toilet sounds as you walk out of one of the stalls, jumping slightly when you spot Dae ho by the sinks.
“Shit. You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
You walk over and stand by his side, washing your hands thoroughly, as he waits in silence.
After you’ve finished, he decides to speak up. “So, you’re getting on well with player 333?”
“Myung gi,” you respond. Dae ho doesn’t care for learning his name. “And yeah, he doesn’t really have anyone else in here to talk to and I don’t mind the company.”
He nods as you continue talking, leaning next to him on the sinks. “He also saved my life in the last game, so there’s no way I’m abandoning him now.”
Dae ho tries not to rolls his eyes, but can’t stop himself from huffing like a child. “I saved your life too but nah let’s put him on a pedestal,” he mumbles under his breath.
Unfortunately you hear what he says, sending him a puzzled look. “Do you have a problem with Myung gi?”
Dae ho stares at you, wondering how to respond. He doesn’t want to sound like a possessive, overprotective boyfriend, because he isn’t one. But he also knows it’s getting harder and harder to hide his brewing feelings for you.
“Nothing I just,” he huffs again. “I feel like you’re gonna wanna spend more time with him instead of me.”
You laugh, shocking him slightly, as you move to stand in front of him. “So just because I’ve made a new friend means I have to ditch you?”
Dae ho shrugs, feeling embarrassed and incredibly dumb.
You poke him softly in the stomach. “I like you. I wanna get to know you better. Hopefully outside of this hellhole.”
He laughs along with you now, staring deeply into your eyes. “I like you too.”
The air around you suddenly feels hot, a tension you didn’t realise was there until now. You move closer, testing the waters, and thankfully Dae ho does the same thing. One second more, and your lips lock in a passionated, heated kiss. Dae ho grips your hips hard while you run your fingers through his hair.
“Wait,” you say through the kiss. “What if one of the guards comes in?”
Dae ho shakes his head vigorously. “They don’t care. We could be killing each other in here and they wouldn’t stop us.”
“Romantic,” you reply sarcastically, as he moves to kiss your neck.
You moan, feeling your back press against the wall. Even though the guards don’t care what goes on in here, you know they’ll start to question why you’re taking so long. So, as you continue kissing Dae ho, you reach for his pants and pull them down slightly. He’s shocked at first, then quickly catches on to what you’re doing and pulls yours down a little bit too.
“Are you sure,” Dae ho tries to catch his breath. “You wanna do this?”
“I’m not stopping now.”
He lifts you up spreading your legs to wrap around his waist. You feel him push into you slowly, eliciting a gasp from your mouth. His thrusts amp up as he fills you entirely. Your make out session goes interrupted, as beads of sweat form on your skin, the taste of salt landing on your tongues.
You’re about to scream his name, when a bang on the entrance door stops you both in your tracks.
A deep voice booms from the other side. “What’s taking you so long in there?”
Dae ho puts you down on the floor, clumsily pulling his pants back up around his waist as you do the same. You’re both breathless, hair a mess and lips swollen.
“Almost done!” Dae ho calls out, not thinking of how the guard will react to him being in the women’s bathroom.
He turns to you, kissing you briefly on the lips. “We’re not finished here.”
For the first time since you came here, you couldn’t wait for another night.
- - -
Taglist
@meeeeeees-stuff @lemon-lysol @smally97 @idkidkidk22333 @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @k1michii @maymustdie @honey-whiskey-666
(Apologies for anyone I couldn’t tag)
(More to come as I have a lot more requests)
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uncharted-constellations · 17 hours ago
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I’m just straight up late this time, that’s on me.
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another redraw except this one i had already redrawn before XD
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hoodzgyal · 3 days ago
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Wdyt Bruce, Clark, dick and Jason would be like with a virgin?
ok i lurvvvvvvv asks like thissss alr alr let’s go down the line.
bruce is an expert at reading your body language. he’s comforting in the sense that his voice assuages all the thoughts in your head. he’s a master at taking on that more dominant role so you can sink into submission. aftercare king by the way.
clark is honestly more afraid than you are. constantly checking on you, giving you the most gentle, slow strokes ever. he’s shocked at his own patience because you’re so, so wet, and so, so tight, and he’s fighting the urge not to manhandle you. will give you head before and after he fucks you.
dick is the ideal virgin killer. kind, suave, but also emotionally intelligent enough to know when you need some sweet words whispered in your ears so you’ll get out of that pretty little head of yours. he’s slow at first, but as soon as you show him you want to take it all, he’s quick to satisfy. a people pleaser through and through.
jason is realllyyyyy weird about taking your virginity. (he doesn’t wanna defile you but he also doesn’t want anyone else doing it in his place. it’s not you, it’s The Trauma talking.)
because of this, it takes at least 3 different attempts for him to even indulge in putting his dick in you. once he’s on you though, it’s hard to get him off. even if it was a one time thing, you’ll be thinking about it for years.
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okwonyo · 3 days ago
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CAN YOU SEE ME? IM WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME ..
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──── 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇.
𝐁𝐀𝐆𝐒 ㅤㅤ𓈒 bsf!enhypen x fem!rea 7OO non-idol au fluff potential future relationship yearning ૮(^﹏^ ! skinship jealousy 【 MUSÉE 】
じや wrote this in a rush ! enjoy 🎀
rbs ✶ comments please + daily
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𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 。 。 watches you from a distance. with his eyes wide as a deer caught in the headlights, he doesn’t say anything or does anything about it— he just watches. he can’t help but observe your movements, the way you laugh or how you tuck your hair behind your ear while you talk to the other man. he studies you, sadness in his eyes, trying to find out if you are interested in someone other than him or not. “what?” you ask him when you see the grimace on his face. instead of answering, he questions you too, “do you like him?” relief washes over him in a wave when you shake your head, “i thought we were just talking but he wanted more,” then you add, “i’d rather spend time with you”.
⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡
𝐉𝐀𝐘 。 。 is always near you. in any circumstances, in any sort of place. if you are near, he is too— almost as if he was your bodyguard or, you as you prefer to say, guardian angel. any person that approaches you, approaches him too and needs to get approved by him to even talk to you. therefore, there is no need to explain that when a guy tries to talk to you, they get hit by a presence impossible to ignore right behind you. the menacing glares can make anyone pale and stumble over their words in front of you. and the funniest part, is that you are well aware of that but decide to act clueless— always shooting a fake confused look at him before smiling sweetly when yet another man runs away from you.
𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 。 。 as your known best friend, many people come to him when they wonder if you are single and try to find a way to ask you out. unfortunately for them, he is not only your best friend but also desperately and irrevocably in love with you. so, in lieu of giving proper answers and advice, he assures them that you are already taken, by no one else but him. and to be completely honest, it works quite well. he even likes to, just for the sake of the silly little lie— of course, be really clingy in front of others. you don’t mind, he has always been like that, and it makes him happy to touch you for a second and be your lover. even if it’s through everyone’s eyes but yours.
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 。 。 he has a special radar for whoever has romantic interests towards you. i mean, he would know how having a crush ok you feels like. since he has been in love with you since primary school. so, where are both around someone who seems to like a you a little bit too much, he starts his extra-clingy and affectionate best friend act. draping his arm on your shoulders, talking to you nonstop and asking for your attention as soon as your eyes go on anywhere else but him. “are you drunk?” you laugh all of the time, not even annoyed in the slightest. he is drunk, drunk in love.
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 。 。 he is unable to control his face when a guy comes to talk to you. he stares at him with a disgusted and utterly offended expression on the surface of his face. as soon as romance is being involved, he tugs you close without thinking— the petname ‘sweetheart’ even slip out. you don’t seem to mind, you only excuse yourself to your other interlocutor before focusing fully on your best friend. when you don’t look, he shoots to the flabbergasted man a very proud grin. he loves to be your favorite.
𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 。 。 he is flabbergasted, took over by immense disbelief and utter shock. he just watched the cashier shamelessly flirt with you— right in front of hom, without decorum. yes, he is not your boyfriend, but come on! he believes that the cashier should have been a little bit ashamed at least. “please,” he pleads as soon as you get out of the shop. “don’t tell me you are going to go out with that guy.” you immediately smile, a teasing question already tingling your tongue, “why? are you jealous?” his heart drops, his face reddens and he starts walking as you chuckle.
𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 。 。 uses all his strength to try to not be jealous— alas, he fails as soon as he even thinks about you and that ‘nobody’ together. he looks at you with sad eyes and a frown, as if he was a kicked puppy, whereupon you tell him you got asked on a date by the stranger. “wouldn’t you rather spend time with me?” he asks you, and you giggle. “what? this guy will be boring in two weeks but, i will be fun forever.” this idiot isn’t even able to contain his happiness when you tell him that he is right, that you will stay with him tonight. he is so happy that he hugs you, tight.
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𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open & network : @sgz-net
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orangeblossomsintheair · 3 days ago
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HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33
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summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”
wc : 5k
an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. 😦 also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))
Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.
It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor.
When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.
But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.
Monaco isn’t a city, not really.
It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.
Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.
The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.
It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.
Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.
There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.
Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.
Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.
Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.
He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.
That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.
He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.
A voice.
Your voice.
It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.
Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.
The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.
He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.
He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.
You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.
The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.
And God, you look good.
For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.
You look different.
Not in a drastic way, just… grown.
Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.
And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.
To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.
You were his best friend.
No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.
He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.
People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.
Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.
Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.
But Max has never been great at logic.
For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”
But then you glance over your shoulder.
And your eyes lock.
He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt
You see him.
And Max realizes he’s fucked.
For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.
He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.
It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.
His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.
But this? This disarms him completely.
You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.
“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”
Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.
No one except you.
“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.
Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.
“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”
Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”
You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.
He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.
It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.
Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.
“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”
“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.
“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”
Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.
The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.
Maybe months.
It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.
You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.
“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”
“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.
You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”
Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”
“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”
Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”
“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.
Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”
You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.
“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.
“He is,” Max agrees.
When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.
“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.
“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.
“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”
“WHAT?”
You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.
So you double down.
“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.
“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.
“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”
“WHAT?”
This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.
He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.
“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.
“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.
“UPSTAIRS!”
“WHY?”
“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.
“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.
The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.
The relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.
“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”
“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.
“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”
“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”
“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”
“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.
He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”
You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”
You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”
Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”
You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”
“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”
“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”
Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”
“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”
“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.
“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”
“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”
“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.
“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”
“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.
“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”
“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”
He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”
You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”
“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”
You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”
He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”
“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.
“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.
“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.
“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.
“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”
The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.
Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.
Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.
The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.
Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”
“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.
“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.
“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.
“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.
His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.
“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”
“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”
You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”
Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”
“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.
Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”
“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.
Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”
“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”
Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”
“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”
“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.
“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”
“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”
“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.
“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”
You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”
“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”
“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.
Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”
You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.
“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”
“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”
“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”
“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.
“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.
“Am not,” you huff, pouting.
“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.
When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.
It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.
Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth.
His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision.
He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.
“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night.
You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out one over the other. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”
Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.
He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.
By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities.
It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.
Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.
The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.
As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.
Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.
You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre.
The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.
“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.
Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You’re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.
You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.
The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.
Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.
You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles.
“This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.
Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”
You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”
The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure.
Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.
When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.
At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent.
The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives in a garble of Dutch and English.
“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh.
“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates.
He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”
You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair.
With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.
“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.
Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.
“Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.
“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.
“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”
“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under.
The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.
For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.
—-
Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry.
He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses.
A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.
He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices.
He’s still in his room. So far, so good.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.
Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.
For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.
But then—
There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.
Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.
It’s... a person.
A person in his bed.
What the actual hell?
His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last.
Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him?
Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train.
The person is you.
You, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.
For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up.
How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no.
This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.
“I need to call Daniel..”
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webism · 3 days ago
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CHAPTER ONE: The Businessman.
kento nanami x fem!reader. nsfw.
your first night at Tsukumo's Angels, and you get put on the phone sex line.
masterlist. read on ao3
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You sit on a peeling leather couch that sticks to the back of your thighs in the heat. An old metal-blade fan sits mounted on the wall to your left, but it’s a sorry excuse for one—someone blowing on you would quicker dry the sweat from your brow. It’s not as dingy as Toji’s apartment, which you suppose is an upside: things are looking brighter already. Yay.
The beautiful woman sitting across from you in a small black tank and jeans—in this weather—taps her nails against the surface of her desk. Her blonde hair gates her vision a little, but you can still feel the sharpness of her gaze on your skin. She’s sizing you up. You aren’t sure if you like it. 
“So,” she leans back in her seat. “Your name was..?”
You look up at her, at the way her hands are clasped together. She could look down at the faded resumé in front of her and see your name written as clear as day, but she asks you instead. Maybe to hear it from your own lips.
You tell her your name, and she parrots it back to you to test it on her tongue. She decides that she likes the taste. “I’m Yuki Tsukumo. I own Tsukumo’s Angels, the finest budget escort service in the city.”
You knew that, of course, but you nod as a formality regardless. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Yuki smiles at you—wide and toothy and ever so beautiful. She reaches into her drawer and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag. She blows her smoke to the left and you almost forget just how hot it is in her office. “I hear you’d like a job?”
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You’re going to hell. Every late-night-TV preacher and grandmother in the congregation would tell you the same thing. It’s not just what you’re doing—it’s what you’re thinking, what you’re willing to become to make it out of this.
When you were younger, stupider, you’d fear hell like nothing else. Eternal heat, endless suffering, a constant lack of breath, a pit with no end. Now, you’re starting to think it might feel a lot like this city at night: oppressive heat rising from the pavement, the air thick and stifling, and an unshakable sense that something, or someone, is watching you.
Toji used to call the nightlife a cancer. And although he rarely managed the truth, this might have been one of the rare times it slipped past his lips. You tug at the hem of your dress—a little too tight, a little too short. It’s what you had to work with, cobbled together from a half-hearted thrift store run and whatever nerve you could muster.Yuki didn’t say anything about a dress code, and maybe you’re stereotyping yourself here, but you’re out of your element and this dress is short enough to strip the attention from your fidgeting hands. 
The fluorescent lights outside Tsukumo’s Angels buzz faintly as you approach, the words glowing in neon pink that is reflected in the puddles on the concrete. The heavy metal door creaks loudly when you push it open and step in. 7 on the dot. You’ll be here tonight, so you don’t have to worry about finding a place to live until tomorrow. Don’t think about it.
Inside, the air is cooler, though not by much. The same peeling leather couch greets you, as does the same faint smell of smoke and something cheap, floral, and over-applied. Yuki isn’t at the desk this time, but a tall man in a plain white button-up leans against it, his arms crossed. He’s an attractive man, a cigarette hangs from his lips—you’re starting to see a trend in staff here. 
“You the lamb?” He asks, though the way he looks you up and down tells you he already has an answer to that question.
“Lamb?” you ask.
He smiles, moustached lip curling upwards in something mocking and dangerously sultry. “Yeah, you’re the lamb—” he extends a hand for you to shake “—Shiu.”
Shiu has a rough grip, you note. Not mean or calloused like you’d expect from a man of physical labours, but just… rough. “It’s nice to meet you,” you hum. He laughs. 
He takes another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brighter in the dim light, and looks you over once more before flicking the ash into an already overflowing tray on the desk. He blows a plume of smoke toward the ceiling, eyes narrowing slightly as the smoke curls. “You look familiar. I’ve seen you here before?”
You shake your head. “You haven’t.”
Shiu narrows his eyes even further, takes in the way your dress clings tight, how your frame stands in front of him. Your nerves… the tinge of excitement beneath them. “Have we..?”
“No!” your eyes widen, voice a little louder than you intend it to be. “Sorry. I just got out of a relationship so… no, we haven’t…”
“A breakup, huh? That’s always an interesting reason to land somewhere like this.” His voice lowers. He’s toying with you. “What’d he do? Not give you enough attention? Leave you out in the cold?”
You don’t owe him an explanation: you’re here and that’s all that matters, but you find yourself shrugging regardless. “Something like that.”
Shiu smiles, something teasing but not quite mocking. “Right, well if you’re here as a rebound I’d advise you to walk your ass right back out of that door. You’ll get attention here, for sure, but this isn’t the place for… soft comforts.”
“I’m not here for comfort.”
“Good,” says Shiu. “Keep it that way. You’re here to provide a service, an experience, but not without boundaries. Those lines blur when you start wanting cuddles and reassurance after, and when the lines blur you aren’t doing everything in your power to keep yourself safe. These men—and women—pay for sex for a reason. Remember that.”
You know. You know. There’s nothing warm and fuzzy about being an Angel, or a lamb, as he puts it. Still, you want to make the most of the hole you’re in. You narrow your eyes at Shiu and hope he doesn’t chide you for changing the subject when you ask: “and what about you? Are you—”
“For sale?” A door behind Shiu pushes open and in walks Yuki Tsukumo. She’s ditched the jeans from yesterday for a long black dress: one that hugs her figure and flows like liquid down to her ankles. She looks taller, and a whole lot cleaner than the gritty lobby you stand in. “Give me a good offer and I’ll rent him out to you. Shiu is security, he’ll take care of you if and when you need him to.”
Shiu scoffs at Yuki’s joke and takes a step to the left so that she can slot in next to him. Yuki, your boss, looks you up and down. You catch the way her gaze lingers on your dress, though you can’t tell if it’s judgement or approval behind her lashes. She flits her gaze to Shiu. “Are you trying to scare my lamb away, Kong?”
Shiu shrugs. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Yuki rolls her eyes and lands her gaze on you once again. Seeing you so out of your element, she gives you a soft smile to try and ease your nerves. “You’ll be okay here. I showed you my office yesterday, I’ll be in there if you need me at any time, okay? You’re never more than a few steps from security and if you have issues with anyone, co-worker or client, you can come to me.”
Weirdly, that does soothe you. Though your moment to take a breath quickly passes when Yuki straightens up and turns on her heels with only a nod for you to follow. “Come then.”
The door she came from leads down a long hallway with dim fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The walls are bare, the paint chipped in spots, revealing patches of old wallpaper beneath. Yuki doesn’t wait for you to catch up; her heels click with purpose on the tiled floor, echoing through the narrow space. You’re almost at the end of the hall before she speaks again, her tone matter-of-fact. “I’m not going to throw you in the deep end, but you’re not getting a soft landing either. I’ll introduce you to one of my angels, Utahime, and she’s going to walk you through our phone sex services. Sound good?”
Without waiting for a reply, Yuki steps through another door and leads you into a big lounge area. Against the back wall are a bunch of mirrors and vanity stations, makeup and hygiene products littered over each tabletop. A few girls in even fewer clothing sit and do their hair and makeup, chatting amongst themselves and shooting you soft smiles as you and Yuki walk past. 
Your boss steps over to a cream chaise lounge against another wall where a girl around your age lays splayed across the cushioning. She’s wearing a dress like yours, short and black and very ‘sex-sells’, and is tapping away on her phone with such rapt attention she doesn’t notice the two of you approach until Yuki clears her throat. 
“Utahime,” she drawls and gestures to you. “This is our newest lamb. I’d like you to walk her through our phone services tonight. Doable?”
The girl—Utahime—looks you over. She looks a little bored, gorgeous black hair falling over her shoulders and her nails still tapping absentmindedly against her phone screen. Her perfectly arched brow raises, just slightly, before she finally glances at Yuki.
“Doable,” she says with a lazy shrug. “I have the businessman booked in for a call in half an hour… maybe he’d like a session with the new girl?”
You look at Yuki, who looks at you in the same breath. She seems to think about something before ultimately nodding. “If you can get her up to speed before he calls, let her have a go with him.”
“The businessman?” You ask.
Yuki smiles. “He’s a hard worked man, but he’s so unfamiliar with his sex drive that you’d think he was a priest. He might actually benefit from talking to someone new.”
You nod—sex therapy for a businessman couldn’t be that hard. Utahime stands and adjusts her dress before grabbing your wrist and parting from Yuki to pull you across the lounge and into a room off to the side. Utahime’s grip on your wrist is firm but not unkind, and loosens once youre in what she introduces to you as the studio. 
It’s so much nicer than you expected. The room is decently sized and lit up with warm fairy lights. Almost like a recording studio, there are doors to a few booths across the wall, each one decorated to the nines with pillows and blankets and a station for water and personal items. A few low tables hold candles, fake or otherwise, alongside a small black box of… what you imagine might be toys. A plush little sofa sits in each one too, for comfort. 
“Nice, right?” Utahime hums and gently pushes you into one of the booths. “Everything’s designed to make you more comfortable. Clients pick up on that, even over the phone. It’s all sound-proofed in here too, so if you get into it you can be as loud as you want. Seriously, make it yours. You’ll be in here a lot until you start taking in-person clients.”
Utahime sits down on the floor and tosses a pillow in your direction. You startle a little but look at her with a knowing smile at her efforts to start feeling familiar. “So,” you start, sitting down on the plush sofa and toying with the small headset that hangs from the armrest. “The businessman… tell me about him?”
Utahime leans back against the wall and props her chin in her hand. “The businessmaaaan. He’s sweet. He’s only called in once before, spoke to me but got too nervous to do anything more than talk about his day. He was polite—apologised about ten times for wasting my time, which, by the way, he wasn’t. He’s got this earnestness about him that’s kind of rare. But you can tell he’s not used to this kind of thing. Not even close. It’s… cute.”
You look at her, a soft smile crosses her lips. If it wasn’t just work you’d think she had a soft spot for him. “Do you think he’ll mind talking to me instead of you? Changing things up might make him feel even more nervous.”
Utahime shakes her head. “I think he’ll appreciate someone who’s also new to this. You can learn from each other. He’s booked to call in twenty minutes. We could do some practice calls until then? I’ll show you the ropes.”
She puts her hand up to her ear to simulate a phone and you laugh at the gesture. “Sounds good.”
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Meanwhile, in his small apartment bedroom, Kento Nanami—the businessman—paces from door to dresser. Back and forth, back and forth. He tightens his tie, and then loosens it just to feel unmade and tighten it again. 
Why did he book a second call? The first was ridiculous, he talked to a nice young lady about officework woes and quarterly reports and hung up after an hour with a call-girl sized dent in his wallet and no sexual relief to show for it. He’s of half a mind to walk over to his mirror and start practicing lines, but he hasn’t yet lost so much of his decorum.
For the next ten minutes, Nanami sits with his fingers drumming over his thighs, dull thuds against his slacks. He’s lost in his mind, is he even aroused? Capable of being aroused? He can’t remember the last time he jerked off—last month?
He’s two minutes late to call by the time he next checks his phone. “Shit,” he mumbles, fumbling to the contact saved under ‘Personal Services.’ Nanami stares at the screen for a moment, his thumb hovering over the call button. He clears his throat, adjusts his posture, and exhales sharply through his nose before pressing ‘CALL’.
The line rings, once… twice… and then— “Tsukumo’s Angels, what’s on your mind?”
His breath hitches. He shouldn’t freeze like this, but the poor man simply cannot help it. “Good evening,” he sounds clinical, and his mind is working faster than his mouth because he’s talking before he can register the words that leave his lips. “You… aren’t who I talked to last week.”
“I’m not,” the voice says, Nanami picks up on an edge of unsurety that traces your words. “You’ve caught me on my first night… you could get to know me, if you’d like to.”
Nanami nods, and then realises you can’t see him. “I’d, uh, I’d like that.”’
There’s a soft hum of acknowledgement from your side of the call, and Kento stops feeling the need to toy with his tie. “Great,” you say, your voice steadying a little. “So… why don’t we start with something easy? Tell me a bit about yourself.”
Nanami hesitates. “There’s not much to tell. I work in finance. My days are… predictable, for the most part.”
“Predictability isn’t always a bad thing,” you reply gently. “But I get the feeling you aren’t fulfilled.”
"You could say that. It’s a practical job. It pays the bills." He pauses, then adds, almost reluctantly, "though I think I’d like a vacation.”
From your spot on the sofa at Tsukumo’s Angels, you lean back and glance at the door. Utahime had stepped out a few minutes ago, giving you space to settle into your first call. “Are you a beach man or a mountain man?”
“Beach,” his reply is immediate. He clears his throat. “There’s something calming about the ocean. The sound of the waves, the salt in the air… it’s grounding.”
You smile at the vivid image his words paint. “I get that. The ocean feels endless in a way that’s comforting, doesn’t it? Like it can hold all your worries for a while.”
“Yes. Exactly that. I’d read, listen to the water, just exist.”
“What does a man like you read?”
“Anything classic. I like things tried-and-true, change is… difficult for me. Hemingway maybe. Or Murakami, if I’m in the right mood.”
“Tasteful,” you reply. “And if I were there on the beach with you, could I distract you from your book, or are you diligent in your focus?”
In his room, Nanami’s mouth goes dry as his cock twitches in his slacks. You haven’t even said anything lewd, but he’s feeling oddly restless nonetheless. “I like to think I’m a focused man,” he starts, shuffling back on his bed to rest against the headboard. He takes his glasses off and rests them on the bedside table. “But under the right circumstances, I could be persuaded to set the book down.”
“Careful, businessman, I could take that as a challenge.”
“I’d hope so.”
He’s blushing at his own words and, in the same breath, reaching downwards with his free hand to palm as his hardening cock. He takes a sharp breath in and prays to every god he’s ever read about that you didn’t hear him.
“You’re saying I’d have to earn your attention?” Your question is honeyed. 
“I suppose,” so is his reply. 
“Good, I like working for my meals.”
Nanami snorts— “what, you’re going to eat me?”
“Yes,” your voice makes his cock jump. He sighs and pulls his slacks down enough to hook it out. “Have you ever wanted something so bad that you’d consume it whole if you could?”
Nanami thinks for a moment about a promotion, and then shakes his head. His mind jumps instead to the hypothetical beach retreat, with a book in one hand and the back of your head in his other as he pushes your mouth down on his cock so deep you’re gagging and drooling all over the place. Ungentlemanly, but enough of a visual to incite his tip to start drooling precum. He smears it over the head with his thumb, and nearly chokes on his words. “I have.”
“That’s how I feel. There’s an intimacy to taking care of someone, especially when they’re stressed like you. I bet your muscles are so tight they’d be hard under my hands. Being the one to relax you, make you feel good? That’d make me feel good.”
Nanami hums. “Usually I’m the one doing the servicing.”
“I don’t doubt that. You should be the one being taken care of. Poor thing, working so hard every day: carrying all that weight on your shoulders. You deserve a break.”
Poor Kento moans at that—a break. God, the things he’d do for a break. He feels almost pathetic pumping his cock to the thought of reprieve from the monotonous 9-5 he lives, but he hasn’t felt this good in a long time. His breathing grows heavier as your words coil around him. “You’re… ha, you’re good at this. It’s your first day?”
“Don’t distract me,” you hum. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“You,” he exhales. “Your eyes. Looking up at me. Or your hands on my thighs. How you’d touch me like you know me. Like we know each other. Like we’ve done it a hundred times before and still aren’t sick of each other.”
He doesn’t know why he says that, why his fantasy quickly shifts from a beachside blowjob to the domestic life. To lazy morning sex or late nights in the kitchen that turn from snack runs to you hoisted onto the counter with his head between your thighs. He pictures you, whatever you look like, laughing as he kisses your neck and brings home gifts carved out of his paycheck. He pictures a life shared, and feels awful for it.
“Sorry,” his strokes falter. “Sorry I don’t  know why—”
“I like that thought,” you stop him from spiralling. “Maybe we have. Maybe in another life you’d come home to me every night, waiting for you… ready to make you forget about everything but the way you make me feel.”
His chest heaves as his hand works faster, stroking his cock at a near brutal pace to the images you plant into his mind. You’re in his bed, you’re bent over his desk, you’re lazing on the sofa with him, you’re up against the wall in his shower. “Fuck.”
“I’d know you inside and out,” you continue on, and he swears he can hear a slight hitch to your breath—are you touching yourself? He pictures phone sex operators sitting bored at a desk as they read from a script. But you sound…invested. Heated. “I’d know exactly how to take care of you. You’d come home exhausted and I’d make it all better—god, you’d know all of me too.”
Nanami’s hips jerk up into his hand as he feels his release start to build. It’s already dizzying, after such a long dry spell, and his head tips forward in want.“You’re—ha—too good at this. How the hell… how are you—”
“Shh,” you soothe him. “Don’t think. Just feel, just let me take care of you… even from here. You’re touching yourself, yea? Imagine it’s my hand, stroking you after a long day, love. Or maybe I’m riding you, letting you lay back and feel me around you… you wouldn’t have to do a damn thing.”
His free hand fists the sheets as he imagines the warmth of your body pressing against his, the way your nails might scrape lightly over his skin. He pictures your head tilted back, lips parted in ecstasy as you moan his name over and over again. 
“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he rarely curses like this. Still, he’s never indulged in something like this before—never let himself slip into the raw, visceral need he now feels. The restraint he’s so practiced in every aspect of his life is dissolving fast, leaving him chasing the pleasure you’re pouring into him.
“Good,” you hum. “I want you to let go for me, give me everything you have all pent up. I can take it.”
Nanami’s pace turns frantic, hips fucking up into his fist as he strokes himself at a torrid pace. His mind is hazed with fantasies of a simple life, domestic and passionate and before he can stop himself and force a few more minutes of pleasure he’s cumming—hard. A strangled moan, one made for porn, leaves his lips and is met with a sharp intake of breath from your end. Nanami feels self conscious for a moment, drawing his now-sticky hand from his cock as he listens to the phone—were you uncomfortable?
Far from. You hardly realise you have your dress hiked and your hand under the fabric of your panties until you’re timing your orgasm with the businessman on the other end of the call. This is far from protocol, but the last time you’ve been spoken to about making love was when you and Toji first started dating, when he was still sweet on you. Sex since then has been rough and passionate and bruising and great, but never love-making. 
You try and stifle your sounds, not knowing yet if it's appropriate for you to touch yourself alongside your clients. You hadn’t intended on it, that’s for sure. You blink the blur from your vision as you try and regain your composure, sliding your hand out of your panties and holding it up in front of you—your fingers glisten under the soft lights and you scramble for a tissue to clean yourself off. 
The silence on the phone between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. “Are you… okay?”
“Yes,” you breathe out a lot quicker than you need to. 
“Good,” he says, and you can almost hear the faint smile in his tone. “I was worried I’d—well, that I’d crossed a line.”
You shake your head, even though he can’t see it, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from blurting out how very far from uncomfortable you’d been. “Not at all. I guess we both… just got caught up in the moment.”
He hums in agreement, his voice still a little strained, and something about the lilt of his voice lays deep inside of you. Maybe this line of work isn’t for you if… after one call with a man you don’t know otherwise, you’re already starting to feel open with him. When he speaks, you can hear the nerves lacing his words. “I’m not unhappy it happened.”
“Me neither. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Businessman.”
“You have a way of coaxing them out of me,” he replies. “If I call again, will I get to speak to you?”
It’s a simple question, yet it still implies something more. There’s no rule against it—not officially—but getting closer than needed with clients has already been explained to you as a messy line. Still, you’ve just fucked your fingers to his voice and the fantasies he spoke of—you aren’t in a habit of keeping straight edges. 
“Maybe,” you reply, leaving the door open just enough. “Ask for the lamb.”
“The lamb?” He laughs, you like the sound. “I’ll remember that.”
“Please do.”
There's a moment of silence, and you can see Utahime’s shadow in the frosted window on the door. A quick glance to the clock tells you that an hour has passed already. As if sensing your coming end, the businessman speaks. “My time is almost up. Take care of yourself.”
You stare at the door. “You too, Mr Businessman.”
“Nanami,” he corrects you gently. “You can call me Nanami.”
The call ends with a soft click, leaving you sitting there and rpelaying his correction in your head. Nanami. 
You’re so lost in thought that you barely register the door creaking open. Utahime steps in, and it’s only when her gaze drops to your lap that the realisation hits—your dress is still slightly rucked up, and your flustered attempt to straighten it comes a moment too late.
“Oh, lamb,” she drawls, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Caught you, didn’t I?”
Your cheeks burn as you stammer, “It’s not—”
“Relax. It happens to everyone eventually.”
You gape at her, mortified. “This doesn’t happen to everyone.”
Utahime grins, her black hair falling over her shoulders as she dips her head down in laughter. It’s not teasing—moreso friendly. She’s trying to laugh with you, not at you. Though still embarrassed, you feel a little less like you want to melt into the couch as she continues. “And you know what that means?”
You tilt your head at her. “What does it mean?”
“That you’ll fit right in here, lamb.”
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@sugarcoatedsoul @bleedforferxx @y34rnf0rcc @bmorgonzobean @esvinsevyn
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sxorpiomooon · 2 days ago
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your first ever own home - a pac reading
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pile 1-
You'll play alot of songs while cooking, cooking will actually become sort of your religion. Something stupid is playing in my head while a girl tries to pick up a very hot container and slightly burns her finger. You are very poetic if you are not yet you will be. I see you writing alot I think alot of you will want an open home. Open doesn't mean big it just means that you would want it to have big windows and you'll keep them open so that the wind can flow. This pile will love living alone they'll love to make food for themselves while dancing. Living by themselves in their own apartment will be like a religion to them. I see you guys rushing back home whenever you are out because your home truly will feel like home. You won't style it that much but it will be very comfortable i see light colour sheets and curtains flowing wind chimes? I'm also seeing frames haha you might have a wall dedicated to that only ooooo I'm also seeing a good scenary it'll be at a good place sort of like the house that ask 101 boy lived in. There might be alot of birds chirping around I'm getting turkey and Italy etc. Some of you are going to be writers or this might be during your 20s for sure.
Pile 2-
This is going to be at an old house the type of house that others might have not really wanted to buy because it's old or something? I also think for some of you this is going to be your old family home or related to that I see alot of memories. This house might have alot of memories of its own which is precisely why you'll choose it. Vienna started playing in my head. Do you guys like how much love old things hold? Do you like dedications piano and finding old love letters? I see you actually not making much changes to this house I heard "this house has a spirit of it's own". This pile very much believes in a house having a spirit or personality of their own. I see some sort of photo frame that's going to be there. There will be stuff of the previous owners that you'll keep and I also see you going on alot of first online dates? Lmao this pile might also like to play those vinyl records and drink white wine. I see this pile being more in their 30s? Or more mature than the other one. There's a sense of being very authentic so much that it almost scares others to this pile which I absolutely love. I also see a new beginning
Pile 3-
LMAOO this pile will be at their all time high some of you very few are going to gain alot of popularity as soon as you step into your career or might be given this house by some other people. I just see you receiving money instantly and then you quickly investing it in a house. The only issue is that instead of trying find a home you'll buy a house. I dont see this pile staying here alot as well? This will mainly be because of your work schedule and also because this won't feel like home and won't call out to you. I'm getting the age of 24 but def will buy it young without much thinking, will have no time because of career and then will buy another one after ages of thinking. Strange but I keep getting aries perhaps venus in Aries or something and a very loud and busy city.
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hanniebaeee · 17 hours ago
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Feral Puppy
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Hyunjin x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT MDNI
Genre: colleagues/friends to lovers, fluff, smut
Summary: Hyunjin has the hugest crush on you, and you've been trying to avoid any workplace drama. He's an idol after all. But what are you supposed to do when this feral puppy is totally invested in winning you over?
a/n: Sweaty Jinnie is a weakness 🤭🤭🤭
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You sat at your desk, deep in work. The office was quiet this early in the morning, except for the rhythmic tapping of keys. You were so focused on your task that you barely noticed the group of boys passing by your little cubicle.
That is, until a soft thud caught your attention.
You glanced up, just in time to see a certain dark haired menace dropping a cupcake onto your desk - perfectly adorable with heart-shaped sprinkles, no less.
Hyunjin flashed you a wink that could make anyone melt. And you? You were trying so hard to not react. 
You could feel your heart skip a beat, and you sighed in exasperation, your cheeks heating up. Felix who was passing by gave you a wink. 
“Honestly, I don’t know if I should be flattered or embarrassed.” you muttered, and Felix snorted in response. 
"A little bit of both, I think." He said, picking off a sprinkle and popping it in his mouth.
You couldn’t help but laugh, because Hyunjin had been trying to get your attention for months. He was always sneaking little treats or flowers to your desk, or winking at you as you passed each other in the hallways.
It was adorable in the most frustratingly complicated way, especially since you were colleagues - technically- and it was strictly against the company policy. Especially since he was an idol and all that. 
But you still felt a rush of affection that made your heart ache. Hyunjin was too cute, and you hated that you had to keep it professional.
---
It was just a little after lunch that you had walked into the practice room to have a word with Chan. You've been bracing yourself for impact, because you know what a feral puppy he could be sometimes. 
The second you entered, naturally his head snapped around - he’d caught a whiff of your perfume. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the way his whole body seemed to tense.
"Down, boy!" Changbin barked, grabbing Hyunjin by the collar just as he took an eager step forward.
But Hyunjin just growled, still looking at you with those wide, pleading eyes.
"I just need to see her face," he insisted, his voice a little too dramatic, and oh dear, lets just say it hit you just at the right spot.
Felix was leaning against the wall now, clearly entertained.
"Bro, her face is your phone wallpaper," he teased with a wink.
The comment made you blush harder than you ever had in front of these idiots. Your eyes darted to Chan, who was supposed to be the mature one here. And now the said mature one was desperately trying to stifle his laughter.
You gave him a glare and he just shrugged, like there was nothing he could do to stop this chaos.
“Chan, are you serious right now?!” You hissed and he cleared his throat trying to regain some seriousness. 
But before he could respond, Changbin was back at it, pulling Hyunjin back by the shoulder.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Down, puppy, down."
You couldn't help the little chuckle that left your lips.
God, you loved him. It was undeniable. But there was no way you could get involved with him, not with all the rules in place. You just had to keep pretending that his antics weren’t making your heart flutter in the most inappropriate of ways.
"You’re such a menace, you know that?" You muttered, shaking your head at Hyunjin. 
Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, "If that means getting your attention, then I’ll gladly wear that title."
Your poor heart screamed at that, because honestly, you loved every minute of it.
And so did he.
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A few days later, you found yourself staying late at the office, finishing up some urgent reports. You were surrounded by an ominous stillness, because you were the only one left working on your floor and it was getting a little creepy by the moment.
You sent your emails quickly, packed up in record speed and bolted out of your workspace. But as soon as you turned the corner, you walked straight into a wall of muscle.
You froze, heart skipping a beat as you looked up slowly. And seeing Hyunjin’s sweaty, disheveled face staring back at you, you let out a sigh of relief.
That didn't last long because this exactly was your biggest…undoing. Sweat soaked Hyunjin was a weakness you didn't even like to discuss with yourself. 
His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his body, and you could actually see the muscles in his chest through it. His damn hair fell messily around his face, and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, making him look like some kind of god sent from another realm.
His wide eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You looked away quickly, absolutely embarrassed, but the damage was already done.
You could feel the string of control inside you stretching taut, ready to snap. 
Hyunjin watched you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Not aggressive. No, it’s playful - and so damn hot.
“Didn’t expect to run into you tonight,” he said, his voice husky. 
You forced yourself to look up at him, and for a second, you both just stared at each other. Your body was screaming for release, but your brain was holding on.
You couldn’t cross that line. Not when it could ruin everything.
"I…uh, didn’t mean to startle you," you managed, your voice trembling just a little too much for your liking.
His scent is intoxicating, a mix of sweat and his cologne. And pheromones or whatever. 
"Startled?" he teased, his lips curling into a smile. "You’re staring. Are you sure you didn’t come to see me?"
"I-I wasn’t staring," you stammered, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye. You were so aware of every inch of him right now - it was like the droplets of sweat trickling down his skin were begging for your attention. 
"You're not fooling anyone, you know," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, sending a wave of heat shooting straight to your core. "You’re trying not to break, but I think it’s too late for that."
“Hyunjin-”
"How long are you going to pretend you don’t want this?" he asked, his words heavy with desire, making your heart race faster. "I can’t be the only one who feels it."
You swallowed hard, your hands trembling, your resolve completely gone. You wanted him so badly, it hurt. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore.
Seeing that he has tormented you enough, Hyunjin pulled back just slightly, giving you a playful look that said, I’ll let you off the hook for now. 
"You’re so annoying," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.
He just smiled, completely unfazed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Am I?"
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The next few days were a nightmare. The lingering, burning tension that Hyunjin’s created between you two was literally frying your insides. And let's be real. Seeing him in all his sweat soaked glory, you were so unbearably turned on. 
Seeing you at the edge of your own self control, has unleashed something in him. He knows you were just as interested. That little moment? He was holding onto it. 
So you did the best thing - the only thing at this point - avoiding him. You asked Chan to meet at a conference room for a quick chat when it was necessary. Or you generally didn't venture towards the practice room. 
You’ve learned to keep your distance, at least a little. And you hoped that Hyunjin wouldn't notice. But Hyunjin was not having it. No. He was making it his personal goal to make sure nothing went unnoticed.
---
You were walking through the hallway, minding your business, trying to get to the elevator. You heard the footsteps behind you too late. You could swear you felt the heat of his presence before you even saw him.
Hyunjin, being the menace he was, barreled into you out of nowhere, pressing you up against the wall in a move that was so absolutely ridiculous that for a split second, you wondered if you were dreaming.
“What the hell, Hyunjin?!” you exclaimed, flailing as you try to regain your balance, your palms slapping against the cold wall.
You're heart raced and you glanced around feeling kind of dazed. But Hyunjin just stood there, smirking, totally unbothered.
“What?” he said innocently, his body still pressed against yours. “There’s not enough space to pass.”
“Are you serious?!” You flailed again, trying to step aside, but he just shifted his body to keep you pinned, making it impossible to escape. 
“Oh my God, Hyunjin, move!” You were flushed, not just from the physical contact, but from the audacity of it all. You didn’t even know if you were angry, embarrassed, or completely turned on. 
He looked down at you, his eyes glittering with something so mischievously feral.
“I know you don't mind, sweetheart,” he said, and you groaned internally. How did he keep doing this? The way he was so confident, so sure of himself. 
“Hyunjin, please.” You tried to get him to step back, but it’s like he’s glued to you.
“I didn't even do anything,”
Oh the nerve!
You tried to wiggle away, but his arms came up on either side of you, trapping you even further. You’re caught, pressed against the wall with nowhere to go, and his body is all around you.
“Let me go, Hyunjin,” you breathed, but it’s almost a plea now. “There are cameras everywhere!”
His grin widened as he watched you, and said, “Oh is there?”
You let out a soft growl of frustration, realizing you’ve lost all sense of control. Your grip on his shirt tightened, and Hyunjin bit his bottom lip seductively. Your were trembling in his arms. 
Maybe that was what he was aiming for, because he dropped his arms and took a step back. 
You quickly scrambled away, muttering curses under your breath as you speed-walked away. And Hyunjin watched you go, that mischievous smirk never leaving his face. 
“See you around, sweetheart,” he calls out after you.
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Hyunjin has successfully invaded every corner of your mind that you had so meticulously disciplined against doing exactly that. 
The teasing. The tension. Oh the need - it's been eating you alive. You couldn’t focus at work. You couldn’t go anywhere without your heart hammering at the thought of him. 
You’ve tried to ignore it, tried to compartmentalize it, but the truth is - you were well past the point of no return.
And then, of course, it happens again.
It was another late night at the office - one you tried so hard to avoid, but here you were. You were discreet and quiet.
You thought you'd made it. That this time you’d escaped his clutches. But as you walked down the dimly lit hallway, your heart just started to race again.
Because of course, he was coming toward you from the other side. And he stopped in front of you, his hands stuffed into his pockets. 
"Are you trying to avoid me?" he asked, his voice so low and husky, you wanted to jump off a cliff.
You swallowed hard, shaking your head as you said, “Why would I do that?”
Your voice wavered worse than a leaf in a storm. 
“Just making sure you don’t get any ideas,” he whispered - his face was so close now that you can feel his breath on your lips.
You were so damn tempted to lean in just a little. You shouldn’t. You couldn't.
“You know, I’m waiting for you to crack, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, you know you want to.”
Your heart raced and flipped and fluttered all at once, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You tried to step back but obviously there's nowhere to go. But he followed, matching your every movement.
“Hyunjin,” you said his name so softly, a breathless sound that made his eyes flash with something darker, something predatory. “Please, just-”
But he was done playing nice. His hand came up to gently hold your chin, lifting your face so you couldn't look away and you were forced to meet his gaze.
“You think you can just keep running from me?” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer. “If you didn't want me, you would've said that by now. But you keep me hanging, and I'm just about done with that.”
And that was when you lost it.
Before you knew what you were doing, your hand came up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, unrestrained. The kiss was hot, messy - all tongue and teeth.
And it was everything you’ve wanted.
He groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you even closer. His body was hard and slick with sweat, and you could feel the heat radiating from every inch of him. 
His lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp as he kissed the sensitive skin just below your ear.
“Told you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot. “I knew you couldn’t keep pretending.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips  slightly swollen from the kiss. 
“I need to hear it, okay?” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. “Tell me you want this too.”
You looked at him, your breath coming in shallow pants. You were done pretending.
“No more running,” you whispered. “I want you too…”
And Hyunjin gave you a smile so radiant, you could die happily at the moment.
“Come on,” He said, taking your hand and pulling you away. “Let's go somewhere safe.”
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A room next to their studio. Barely used. Kind of dusty. But it worked.
The minute you stepped in, his lips were on yours. He had you pressed up against the cold wall of the unused office, your bodies tangled together in an almost desperate need. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he didn’t even hesitate, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. 
His hands roamed over you, caressing, groping, pulling you closer as if he was starving for you. 
“God, I love you-” He growled, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you into him. The heat  radiating off his body and the feel of every muscle flex beneath his skin - you were blinded by it. 
His hands were sliding up your sides, tugging at your clothes, as if he was hungry to see every inch of you. You gasp when his fingertips grazed the skin of your waist, as he took off your shirt. 
"Hyunjin..." you whispered, breathless, the sound of his name escaping your lips like a prayer. 
"You’re so fucking beautiful," he growled, his lips finding their way down down chest. His fingers pulled down the cup of your bra, as he pressed soft kisses around the flesh. 
Your lips parted, but no words came out, just breathy gasps as his lips wrapped around your nipple. The soft scrape of his teeth on your skin made you shiver, and you couldn't stop the low moan that escaped from deep in your chest.
“Fuck baby,” he moaned against your skin, his breath hot, sending goosebumps across your body.
“Hyunjin,” you gasped, tugging him closer, your hands finding his waistband of his sweats. He groaned, clearly as desperate as you are, and his lips crashed back to yours. His tongue sweeped over yours, and you lost yourself in the kiss.
His hands moved down to your waist, his grip tightening as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you felt how hard he was for you. 
He carried you effortlessly toward the desk in the corner of the room. Placing you on the edge of the desk, his hands trailed up your thighs as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn't stop the trembling in your body as you pulled him closer. 
Hyunjin’s hands move quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes. His dark eyes take in your body, pupils blown wide with lust. 
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands sliding over the exposed skin of your tummy. 
“Hyunjin… now.” you said desperately, pulling at his pants again, and they're gone in a flash. 
When he finally stood completely bare before you, the sight of him sent a shock of heat straight through your body. He was so beautiful - every inch of him. 
His eyes never left yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist as he brought you closer to him. You felt his hard length pressed against you, and you whimpered softly at the thought of what’s about to happen.
“I need you,” you whispered, your hands running through his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. “Now.”
And with that, Hyunjin moved, spreading your legs and pushing into you slowly. You shivered as he filled you completely, stretching you out.
You gazed up at him, the beads of sweat (he was sweating again - again) trickling down the side of his face. 
“Oh my God,” You whined softly, closing your eyes, and he grinned, a chuckle escaping his lips. He began to move, slipping in and out of you with every thrust. Your hands gripped at the edges of the desk, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure built between you both.
You were so wet, and Hyunjin couldn't stop looking at where you two were connected, and with a frustrated sigh, he pulled out completely. 
You gasped and stared up at him, as he grabbed your legs and pulled you more to the edge and then, his face was in between your thighs. 
You almost shrieked - because that was absolutely unexpected. He wasn't wasting any time, his tongue lapping at your dripping folds and nudging your clit. Your hand landed on his hair, pulling at it gently and Hyunjin hummed - the vibrations of it making you drip even more.
“Hyun… Hyunjin!” You moaned, as he licked softly over your clit and nibbled on it gently making your breath catch. 
It didn't take long for your first orgasm to crash down over you, and when Hyunjin straightened, he had the most satisfied grin on his face. 
“You're so sweet, baby,” He cooed and you were sure your cheeks were at least two shades redder than before. “I couldn't resist it.”
You laughed, a tired one at that and he laughed with you before stepping in between your legs again. He ran his hands up and down your thighs and you watched, breathing heavily. 
“Can I?” He asked softly, and you nodded with a smile. 
It felt deliciously good when he slipped in this time, and the rhythm between you was slow at first -  tender - but it didn't take long for that to change. Hyunjin’s need took over, and he began to move faster and harder, his body crashing into yours with a force that left you breathless.
The sound of his body slapping against yours filled the room, and you couldn't stop the moans that escaped your lips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you clung on to him tightly. 
He was everywhere - his hands, his lips, his body - and you were drowning in him.
You pull him closer, you lips kissing down his nand -  glistening with sweat - and you loved the way he moaned as you bit down right below his ear. 
You didn't know this was such a turn on for you until today. This man did things to you that even you didn't understand. And you didn't mind really. 
And you could feel that knot tightening in your belly again. Your eyes met, and you gripped him tightly, as his name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp. 
Your whole body shuddered as you hit your peak again, and Hyunjin kept moving, till you heard him groan and pull out quickly, spilling all over your tummy.
You were both left breathless, hearts racing, tangled together in a mess of sweat and your releases. For a moment, neither of you speak. 
Finally, Hyunjin gently cupped your face with his hand, his eyes softening. 
“I love you, Y/N. So damn much.” He whispered and you could swear you've never seen him being this serious. Ever. 
“I love you too, Jinnie,” You said, and your smile had him smiling. And the two of you were giggling and hugging each other tightly. 
“I told you I’d make you mine,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.
“Yeah yeah,”
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The next morning, you walked into the office, trying to act like everything was normal. But as soon as you stepped in, the atmosphere just felt different. 
You sat down at your desk, but before you could  even open your laptop, Changbin, Felix, and Chan came strolling into the office like they’ve been waiting for you. 
Oh they knew. 
“Morning, Y/N,” Changbin said, his tone way too casual. “Sleep well?”
You forced a smile, trying to stay calm, but inside you’re screaming. 
“Yeah, sure. Thanks for asking.” you managed to say, as you avoided making eye contact with him. 
“I’m sure you had a very eventful night, huh?” Felix was leaning against your desk now, his chin on his hand and a toothy grin in place. 
You dropped your head into your hands, already feeling the embarrassment creeping up. And then, you heard it. That sweet, chuckle which had you wanting to crawl under your desk and never come out. 
“Hyunjin,” you hissed, glaring at him as he strutted over to you, like a damn puppy who’s just been given a treat. 
And he looked so fucking proud of himself.
"Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, dropping that mandatory cupcake on your desk. 
You didn't hold back the sigh.
“Oh my God, Hyunjin,” you whined, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “Please.”
“What? You think they didn’t notice?” he asked innocently, pointing at the spot under his ear, where he sported a very evident hickey. 
Oh you wanted to die. Felix snickered, totally enjoying this. 
“And you’re glowing love, it looks good.” he said kindly. 
“Oh my god, oh my god,” you groaned, pressing your fingers into your temples. “Could you not?”
“You know we should have a talk about office etiquette. But then again... if it was that's good…” Chan added, raising his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he glanced between you and Hyunjin. 
“I’m going to murder all of you.” 
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Divider: @saradika-graphics
Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l
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rafesangelita · 3 days ago
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ everyone is lucky farmer’s!daughter!reader is in a jail cell when she finds out her favorite sheriff isn’t around because he’s on a date with another woman..
warnings: mentions of being groped in public, just a little bit of southern dialect, small town gossip, mentions of jj x reader, lots of comebacks and insults, jealousy, implied age gap, reader stays the night in jail, hitting, very slight physical altercation, reassurance, comfort (?), little bit of kissing, suggestive ending
a/n: read more of sheriff!rafe and farmer’s!daughter!reader here <3 i would say this particular situation takes place in the beginning stages of their complicated relationship lol. read how sheriff!rafe’s date went here!
wc: 1.5k
“what did she do this time?” sheriff thornton looked up from his desk, an amused smile playing on his lips as you glared at him from under your lashes. “she threw drinks over at keith’s son, ‘said he groped her and all hell broke loose.” your wrists ached as the metal of the handcuffs dug into your skin, your boots scuffing the concrete flooring before the sheriff behind you plopped you down in a chair. “she gave me a hard time and resisted arrest, so now she’s here.” you scoffed at his words, a bitter laugh emitting from your throat. “i gave you a hard time because you tried to apprehend me before the asshole that started it!”
both of them ignored you, leaving you to sit uncomfortably in the main office while bryan, the newest rookie in the department, got your paperwork together. “uhm— do you have anyone you could call? it looks like you’re going to stay the night in here..” he looked almost scared as he broke the news to you, his eyes blinking rapidly as you shot daggers at him from where you sat. “are you pulling my leg?” you narrowed your gaze, “there’s no way in hell i’m spending the night here.” you shook your head, hopping onto your feet. just then, topper came in and sat you back down.
“i’m already in the shit house with rafe for manhandling you last time, don’t make me do it again.” speaking of rafe.. “you’re not scaring anybody, topper.” you used his first name against him, catching him off guard. “where’s sheriff cameron, anyways? i’m sure he’d love to know that you haven’t fixed my skirt since i’ve gotten here. i think the new boy has already stolen a peek at my underwear.” bryan’s eyes widened at your words. “i haven’t, miss, i swear!” topper glanced over at him with irritation evident on his face. “she’s fuckin’ with you kid, jesus.”
dragging you up by your arm, topper lead you to the back where the holding cells were. “it’s a shame you’re wearing nearly nothing,” he shoved you inside, “it’s gets pretty cold in here.” you cursed under your breath when he finally uncuffed you, your fingers itching to punch him square in the mouth. he watched as you adjusted your denim mini skirt, his eyes trailing down your bare legs. “you’re a mystery, y’know.. ‘way too young to be acting up like this.” if you had a penny for every time someone brought up your age, you’d have enough money to leave this shitty town and never look back.
“and you’re just annoying.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest before sitting at the edge of the cold steel bed. you should’ve been used to the discomfort by now, considering you’re here at least once a month, but you still couldn’t help but shiver at the harsh contact. “i need to talk to sheriff cameron. i shouldn’t even be here.” topper walked out of the cell, locking it shut behind him. “yeah, well he’s not on duty tonight. my pal finally scored himself a date.” he laughed. you felt your stomach twist at his words. not a damn thing was funny. “what did you say?” your voice was barely above a whisper when you looked up at him and met his eyes.
“yeah,” he nodded, “me and the department decided we’d stitch him up with ms. belle, she teaches the children’s sunday school down at the church.” he winked. your leg was bouncing now, your chest heaving with anger as your eyes brimmed with tears. “who knows, maybe after tonight they’ll be the newlyweds of the town.” you looked down at your feet before topper could question anything, your nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. once you heard the heavy metal door slam shut, you covered your mouth with your hand as tight as you could and screamed.
rafe was so scared of what people would think of you two, he never showed you affection in public, let alone take you out on a proper date, yet here he was; willingly taking someone else. no matter how many times you told him you didn’t care about what anyone thought, he insisted that it was for your own good that no one saw you running around with a man who was much older than you were. the people of this town were far too judgmental to just accept something like what you and rafe had. figuring it was pointless to use your one free phone call, you settled into the hard surface before curling up and shivering yourself to sleep.
“y/n..” it was the next morning, and you were far from letting go of the information you found out last night. “y/n, you’re free to go.” your eyes were open as rafe patted your back lightly, his touch only fueling you with pent up anger. turning around, you shoved his hand away, your eyes bloodshot from crying so much. “don’t touch me again,” you hissed, “not ever.” rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you got up on sore legs. “i had to stay here all because you were too busy with someone else!” you spat, shoving him again except this time in his chest.
“hey, you stop that!” he said through gritted teeth, shooting up to his feet before backing you up against the cement wall. “i hate you!” you whispered, attempting to get out of his grip. your efforts were deemed useless of course, your strength being nothing compared to his. “no you don’t.” he pinned your wrists down by your sides. he hated when you said shit like that, then again he knew you had every right to feel the way you did. nothing about your shared arrangement was fair, especially for you. “i went on that date for the sake of getting everyone off of my back, alright? it didn’t mean a thing.”
you laughed, avoiding his heated gaze. “well surely it meant something, because you agreed. you agreed and got ready and dressed nicely for her. you fixed your hair, you shaved, you put on your best smelling cologne and you picked her up. don’t you dare tell me it didn’t mean nothing when you put in that much effort.” rafe blinked, his nostrils flaring as he cupped your chin and forced you to look at him. “it didn’t mean a thing.” he repeated. you stared at him, reading his eyes as best as you could. “sure.” to say you were hurt would be an understatement.
“i mean it,” he started, “i did it for appearances. i’ve never been married, i don’t have any children. people talk around here, y/n, and just recently did i hear something about us both. people are catching onto your ‘get out of jail’ free card, and you could only imagine what their reasoning for that was.” he grimaced, recalling the disgusting words filtering the air of the diner where he drank his morning coffee. while the claims weren’t completely false, his said intentions couldn’t be more wrong. “rafe,” you glared at him, “i. don’t. care.” not wanting to rile you up any further, he let go of you before you could get the bright idea to knee him in his manhood.
“you know.. how do you think i feel when i have to see you around here kissing jj fuckin’ maybank, and i can’t do shit about it, huh? how do you think i feel when i see him have his hands all over you? you think i like that shit?” you rolled your eyes, about to step out of the open cell before he shut it closed. “why do you do that? why do you get joy out of pissing me off?” rafe caged you between his arms, his gun holster digging into your hip.
“first of all, i’m keeping up appearances just like you.” you stood up on your tippy toes, pecking his cheek before you placed your lips right next to his ear. “and secondly; you only act like you care about me when i’m all over someone else. it’s either that or i have to get into legal trouble just to get you to myself. so you try to imagine what that makes me feel like.” you pulled him close by the buckle of his belt, his large hands finding your hips as he towered over you. “do i really have to go to jail just to get a kiss?” rafe leaned down, his lips finally taking your own. he groaned at the taste of you, your cherry lipgloss still sticky with its sweetness.
you two stayed kissing like this until he grew rock solid in his pants, the buckle of his belt not being the only thing poking your tummy. “i don’t want you with any other women. i can’t take it.” rafe nodded, his bottom lip shining with your gloss. “you have my word, sweetheart. i’ll set aside time for us to be together, i promise.” his sheriff’s hat tipped to the side, revealing his buzzed scalp. “but if i see you with that maybank kid i’ll have to lock him up for good.” you smiled, your red nails raking down his buff arms. “yes, sir.” rafe cursed at the nickname as he glanced down at the digital watch on his wrist.
“i got about an hour to spare..” you hummed at his words, palming him through his pants.
“well what are we waiting for?”
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pearlispunk · 2 days ago
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How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?
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pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. tags: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K
a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !
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“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table. 
Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?
“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house. 
Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel. 
Joel. 
Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.
Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better. 
Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older. 
You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.
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The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn. 
As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. 
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”
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“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.
Well? Do you know any better?
The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples. 
You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend. 
You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly. 
Joel. 
Need you, Joel. 
You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers. 
Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel. 
Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 
You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.
He was watching you. 
Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin. 
You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.  
It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him. 
After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.
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About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot. 
As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room. 
Was he..? 
You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline. 
“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?” 
Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.
You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat. 
You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed. 
“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him. 
“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in. 
“J-Joel.” You strain.
“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.” 
“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.
His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits. 
“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole. 
“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him. 
There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in. 
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars. 
You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw. 
“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release. 
And just then, he pulls out. 
“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break. 
“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips. 
His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.
“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.  
He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you. 
You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours. 
Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? 
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red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:・゚ !
a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!
tags ࿐ ࿔*:・゚ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk
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dazevi · 2 days ago
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thinking about vi in a suit...
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cw: vi x reader, fluff, smut (18+ mdni); bottom!vi, top!reader, fingering (vi! receiving), semi-public sex | masterlist
thinking about vi who absolutely hates the idea of wearing one and can’t understand why she can’t just wear something comfortable to this formal party you’re taking her to.
thinking about vi who grumbles under her breath but agrees anyway because, well, she’d do just about anything for you.
thinking about vi who looks so pretty and handsome at the same time and she starts to get why people might like this whole dressing up thing when she sees herself in the mirror—a sleek but slightly baggy black suit, snug in all the right places, showing off her broad shoulders and toned build. but what really sells it is the way you keep stealing glances at her, biting your lip, humming in approval, all while you squirm in your seat, thighs she’d very much like to be in between pressing against each other.
thinking about vi who sticks close to you at first, still feeling a little out of her element at the actual party. it really does help that you look so stunning tonight, dressed in a sexy gown that pretty much distracts her from every other thought crowding in her mind.
thinking about vi who quickly notices the subtle changes in your behavior throughout the night. you’re touching her more—adjusting her tie, smoothing her lapel, fixing her belt, tucking in her shirt properly. and when you lean in close, pretending to whisper in her ear about something but really just breathing in her cologne, she picks up on it immediately.
thinking about vi who can’t help the smug grin spreading across her face when you finally pull her away from the party by her tie, dragging her to some secluded hallway or empty room.
thinking about vi who asks breathlessly against your lips, “what’s wrong, princess?” you’re too worked up to play along, and when you push her against the wall, she lets out a low chuckle, tilting her head back slightly to look at you.
thinking about vi who likes it when you’re all handsy, clawing at the suit, wanting to get it off her, despite working so very hard to convince her to wear one.
thinking about helping vi slip her pants down slightly so you can put a hand into those checkered boxers of hers, feeling her happy trail against your wrist and how wet she is against your fingers. she groans and mutters lowly, “baby, please…” then leans her head back against the wall behind her when you finally slip inside her.
thinking about vi who is struggling so much to stay quiet, whimpering so prettily and breathing so heavily against you when you fuck her harder and faster, her hands gripping your dress for some sort of leverage.
thinking about vi who cums hard around your fingers, wet and sticky, while your other hand pulls her by her tie to crash her lipstick-stained lips against yours as she whimpers into your mouth, her body still trembling.
thinking about vi who looks so good standing slumped against the wall, her hair all tousled, your lipstick slightly smeared across her lips, some red marks peppered on her cheeks and jaw, black tie loosened around neck, her tattoos peeking out under her collar, her blazer almost slipping off her shoulders, one side of her buttoned shirt untucked and her pants loose with her belt undone at her hips.
and with a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips, she says, “hah… think i should wear this more often…”
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note: if anyone knows who made the fanart pls let me know so i can properly credit them ! ( found it on pinterest and could not find a name for my life ) fanart by HV_0519 on twt!
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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 days ago
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Intoxication [S. R]
Spencer Reid x fem!reader
wc: 9.2k
Summary: when Spencer and reader accidentally consume aphrodisiacs, it seems impossible to maintain control of themselves. It all comes down to who will lose their mind first.
warnings: +18, mdni!! alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, unintentional use of aphrodisiacs, explicit descriptions, oral (f receiving) fingering, kissing, porn with plot, p in v, protected sex, no y/n!
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It had been just over half an hour since I entered the fraternity building, fully aware that within the first second, I’d feel the need to leave. Attending any gathering wasn’t a regular thing for me. The noise, the crowds, and the multitude of germs everywhere were reason enough to avoid them.
However, that time, I thought, why not? I had never been to one of those university parties and wanted to experience it. However, I never considered the fact that, to enjoy one, you either: a) went with a group of friends or b) drank until you forgot your name and the discomfort you felt about yourself. I didn’t have the first option, nor did I want to do the second. So, after a few minutes of reflection, I decided I would walk back to my apartment and go straight to bed.
The place was huge, and since my postgraduate program didn’t include the benefit of dormitories, I rarely found myself in places like that. I was about to leave when a hand grabbed my forearm to stop me. In front of me, smiling widely, was her. The moment I saw her, I could swear my face lit up.
“Hi”
“Spencer! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
Without letting go of my arm, she came closer, wrapping me in a hug and planting a kiss on my cheek before I could react.
I quickly glanced at her, and in the dim light, I noticed her wearing a fitted, spaghetti-strap dress in a deep burgundy red with delicate floral embroidery that looked hand-drawn on the sheer fabric. The material, likely chiffon or tulle, clung to her figure as if custom-made. I tried to focus on her leather jacket instead because the last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable by staring too long.
“I was just about to leave, actually.”
“Why?” she asked, noticing my sigh.
“It’s just... I don’t know anyone here.”
“Well, that problem is now solved,” she kindly murmured.
I didn’t even get the chance to respond when she had already walked over to another girl, whispering something in her ear, probably to let her know she’d be away for a while.
Even though I wanted to decline to stay, the truth was that I genuinely enjoyed her company. Rejecting her would have been too rude. We had met some time ago thanks to the advanced classes she took, which overlapped with mine. She was younger than me, of course, but only by one or two years.
She had always been kind to me, attentive, and one could say she was a friend. After all, I trusted her enough to let her hold my hand and guide me through the crowd, despite my aversion to physical contact… and people.
“It’d be a crime to let you leave so early after finally coming to a party,” she breathed once we were both seated on a tiny couch where the noise was slightly muffled. At least she had been considerate in that regard.
“I don’t even know why I came,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. She was leaning against one side, legs crossed, looking at me with a smile. “I don’t like parties.”
“Do you like drinking?” she asked. I shook my head “Maybe that’s the root of the problem.”
“Getting drunk to the point of losing control isn’t my thing,” I replied.
“That’s not what it’s about,” she murmured almost compassionately “It’s more like… fuel for your social battery, you know? You don’t have to deal with these people. I don’t even know half of them, but the guys in this fraternity are disgustingly rich and just want to get as many girls drunk as possible to sleep with whoever they can. They won’t mind if you drink a little. Enough to have fun, but not so much you end up in some stranger’s bed.”
I thought about it for a second and silently nodded. I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of her by saying I didn’t want to drink because, come on, what kind of university student doesn’t drink?
“I understand your point, and I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but alcohol has a more complex impact than it seems. It’s not just something that ‘fuels your social battery’; it’s a central nervous system depressant, which means it slows down brain and motor functions. That initial feeling of euphoria or relaxation happens because it inhibits the prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain that regulates judgment and self-awareness. So, technically, drinking a little might make you feel more uninhibited or confident, but it can also impair your ability to make rational decisions if you overdo it, even if you don’t notice right away.”
I paused, gauging how much more I should say before losing her interest. Hearing no objections, I continued:
“Additionally, strong liquors, which have high ethanol concentrations, can hit your system faster than diluted drinks. And if you drink too quickly, you could easily exceed your liver’s ability to metabolize the alcohol. The excess ethanol stays in your bloodstream, raising your blood alcohol levels and increasing the risk of intoxication.”
I avoided looking directly at her, partly because I didn’t want to get distracted by her gaze and partly because I was nervous around her.
“It’s not that I want to ruin your fun, but if you’re going to drink, you should do it slowly, alternating with water, and never on an empty stomach. Not to seem smarter than everyone else, but because staying in control can be the difference between a fun night and a situation you don’t want to be in.”
I expected her to look bored, confused, or even indifferent, assuming she’d left halfway through my rambling. But when I looked at her, I was surprised by the admiration shining in her eyes, accompanied by an amused smile.
“All right, genius boy, if you know all that and basically have the perfect recipe for not making stupid mistakes while drinking, why do you still refuse?” she teased playfully. I didn’t know what to say, but luckily, she answered for me “Listen, I drove here. How about we make a deal? We can drink a little, have a good time, maybe dance if you want, and if either of us starts doing something embarrassing, the soberest one will make sure to drag the other to the car and drive them home. Deal?”
She handed me her car keys, and I wasn’t sure if the brush of her hand against mine was intentional or if she had decided to linger a little longer.
I agreed to her proposal, and a second later, she was already off her seat, walking toward where I assumed the kitchen was. No one noticed us entering, too absorbed in their own business to care if we were strangers.
There was every type of alcohol scattered around, and she took the liberty of pouring me a shot of a clear liquid, which I guessed was vodka. She warned me to drink it in one gulp, and when the warmth hit my throat, I barely managed to avoid coughing. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.
“Tastes like… strawberry.”
“It’s good, right?” she laughed, giving my shoulder a playful nudge.
Our previous seat was already taken, so she opted for us to stand in a quiet corner. I have to admit that, although I still felt slightly awkward, the vodka was having the desired effect; making me feel more animated to talk.
Talking to her was almost hypnotic. Maybe it was the rhythmic movement of her lips, still stained with traces of what had once been red lipstick, or perhaps it was her tone, but it made me feel like I had to watch her. She never faltered when she spoke, always exuding confidence and calm, no matter the topic.
On the other hand, whenever I responded, I completely lost focus. No matter what I said, she kept looking at me with a wide smile, nodding, and even leaning closer when something made her laugh. But her laugh wasn’t mocking—no, it was as if she genuinely found my intellectual jokes or nonsensical remarks funny.
Gradually, my glass emptied, and she guided me back to the kitchen, serving us moderately but consistently. After an hour, all my nerves had vanished, leaving only a normal guy enjoying the terrible background music, unconcerned about how dirty the place was, and utterly captivated by the woman next to him.
“It’s strange, you know? I didn’t think I’d enjoy something like this. Parties always seemed so… chaotic,”
She looked around with a slight smile.
“That’s true. They’re not exactly calm, but in a way, the chaos has its charm. It lets you leave everything else behind for a while.”
“I suppose you’re right. Sometimes, you just need to disconnect.”
“You seem less tense now, huh? Are you sure it’s not the vodka helping with that?”
She moved closer, almost leaning against my chest in a friendly way, and seeing her looking up at me made my face feel hot.
“Maybe. But it’s also largely due to the company.”
She seemed surprised by my sudden boldness and let out a laugh that I interpreted as a sign of approval. We continued drinking, laughing, and soon my stomach demanded food. Even in my slightly tipsy state, I still remembered that eating would help lessen the effects of the alcohol.
I have to admit that the way I held her waist to guide her to the kitchen was entirely intentional. However, she didn’t seem bothered by the contact. By this point, I’d realized that no one really cared about what we took or didn’t take, so we felt free to rummage through the pantry.
“There are chips, pretzels, Cheetos, some cookies...” she began listing, handing me each package she found.
I grabbed a stray cookie, and suddenly, she let out a sigh of admiration.
“What is it?”
“Chocolate,” she murmured happily. It was a half-eaten, luxurious-looking golden package with no label “Do you want some?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Chocolate has properties that can slightly boost energy and mood. Both alcohol and chocolate can be hard for the body to handle, especially with a combination of high sugar and alcohol content. This can lead to stomach discomfort, dizziness, or a stronger hangover the next day.”
But she wasn’t listening. She had already popped a sizeable piece of chocolate into her mouth. Immediately, she offered me a piece, slightly bigger than hers.
“You have to try it,” she moaned.
I resisted, but I have to admit that the fact she grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer caught me off guard enough to let her slip the chocolate into my mouth.
“Hey!”
“You’ll thank me later.”
It was delicious, that’s for sure. Like a pair of sneaky raccoons, we kept scavenging for snacks in the kitchen until we were satisfied. She grabbed a bag of chips, and I took the bag of pretzels.
After our little break, she poured us another round of drinks, and something inside me told me it was time to stop. I decided that would be my last glass for the night.
Let’s dance she suddenly whispered, and once again, I let her lead me toward the crowd.
I didn’t know how to dance; I think that was pretty obvious. But the situation managed to make me forget that fact.
She was patient with me and laughed every time I made a mistake. Even though there was smoke around me, probably from weed, that didn't stop me from staring intently, and even somewhat intimidated, at my friend. Beautiful, statuesque, and drunk friend.
We danced for a long time until something in her swaying movements, in the way she smiled at me, began to make my head spin. It was as if the atmosphere was charged with something more—something I couldn’t identify at first.
She leaned closer, and my pulse began to quicken slightly. Her hands rose to tangle in my neck, bringing a warm sensation that followed: my thoughts seemed clearer, sharper. I wondered if it was the alcohol, but then something different began to course through my skin.
The warmth intensified, not just in my body but in my mind as well. I felt more alert, more awake, yet the calmness of the vodka lingered, balancing the sensation. My skin felt more sensitive, as if every little touch sent vibrations through me in a more intense way.
My eyes focused more on her movements, her voice, and the way the air filled with her perfume. I wanted to get closer, as if there were an invisible force pulling me toward her. And though my body responded with a soft yearning, my mind remained present, conscious of every second.
By the way she was looking at me, I imagined I wasn’t the only one experiencing these kinds of emotions.
“Sweetheart.”
“Hmm?”
“Can we sit down for a moment? I’m completely sweaty, and the smell of weed is starting to bother me.”
“Of course.”
My hands rested on her waist, unsure of where else to go, and we stumbled out of the crowd, finding a couch to collapse onto.
I was sweaty too, and we were both breathing heavily. When I saw her lean her head back against the seat, leaving her neck exposed, something stirred inside me.
“You move well, Reid.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I mean it. You just need a little confidence,” she smiled. Perhaps the alcohol dulled her sense of personal space, which is why she leaned so close to me. “You’re so smart that, with a bit of practice, you’d be the most skilled at a lot of physical activities.”
Did she know how nervous she was making me? My face was already flushed from the alcohol, the effort, and now from the way she was looking at me while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.
I wanted to say something else, but a voice interrupted mine: a tall, burly guy accompanied by two others who seemed to be flanking him. Probably a member of the fraternity hosting the party.
He specifically addressed her, asking how she was enjoying the party and throwing in a compliment, clearly with ulterior motives. For a moment, I felt disheartened. Of course, she could have gone with him and I would have understood. I was far too used to rejection.
“I’m having a great time—with my friend. Thanks,” she exclaimed, cordial but curt.
“Want a drink?”
“Honestly, no.”
By the uncomfortable smile she gave the men, I assumed she was politely ending the conversation. With some reluctance, the guys walked away.
Suddenly, my breath caught when I felt her hand rest on my thigh, sliding painfully slowly down to my knee. I couldn’t even hear her words over the heat of her fingers on my pants.
“Sorry?”
“I thought you were going to say something, earlier.”
“No,” I quickly replied, smiling like an idiot because of the way she had leaned toward me. “Nothing.”
“I like listening to you. You know so many things, and you don’t make me feel dumb when you explain them. That’s very sexy.”
“Sexy?”
“Yeah,” she smiled, because I’d replied in a voice an octave higher than normal. “You are very sexy.”
Her compliment was followed by a soft, distracted kiss on the line of my jaw, which sent my brain into overdrive.
“Uhm… you… you’re beautiful. Very beautiful.”
My clumsy compliment seemed to please her, and I felt one of her nails, long and painted black, tracing circles on the skin of my knee. Each small movement felt deliberate, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Did you know fireflies don’t just glow to communicate but also to… attract?”
Her voice broke the silence between us, soft but layered with a double meaning that made me lift my eyes to her.
“Yes, I know,” I responded automatically, my brain switching to autopilot. “Bioluminescent signals are a form of courtship. The light patterns vary by species and can be very specific.”
She turned her head toward me, her lips curving into a lazy smile.
“Of course you’d know that. But tell me something—do you think it actually works? Making someone notice you just by glowing?”
My throat went dry. There was something about the way she was looking at me, like she was expecting a more personal answer than a scientific one.
“I guess it depends on who you’re trying to attract,” I murmured, feeling ridiculously exposed under her gaze.
“That makes sense.”
Her hand slid slightly—barely noticeable—toward the edge of my knee. After tapping her fingers on my pants, she withdrew it.
She didn’t move from the couch, and neither did I. There was something about her posture that held me captive—the way she leaned back against the seat, relaxed yet naturally elegant. Her dress had ridden up slightly along her thighs, revealing more skin than I felt prepared to handle at that moment. I tried to look elsewhere, but it was as if my eyes had a will of their own, always returning to the same place.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with a hint of amusement.
“Yes, of course,” I replied quickly, turning my head in the other direction. Perhaps too quickly, because my neck cracked slightly in the process.
She didn’t say anything, but her suppressed laughter made me feel even more awkward. In the silence that followed, I forced myself to focus on something safer: the empty glass on the table, the flickering lights through the window, anything but the curve of her leg or the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
“It’s hot, isn’t it?” she commented suddenly, with almost theatrical casualness. Then, without warning, she leaned forward as if to adjust her shoe, causing the neckline of her dress to dip even further.
“Do you think so?” I muttered, my voice raspier than I intended.
She smiled, a gesture somewhere between innocence and knowing.
“Yes, definitely. Though maybe it’s because we’re sitting so close,” she said, glancing around as if she had only just noticed the temperature.
Her words felt like both a slap and a caress at the same time. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on her face, but it didn’t help that her eyes shone with a kind of mischievous intent. Then she lifted one leg, bending it to get more comfortable on the couch, and her knee accidentally brushed against my thigh.
“Did you know you have a very particular way of distracting yourself?” she remarked while toying with the hem of her dress, as if unaware of the chaos she was causing in my head.
“Do I?” my voice sounded weak, almost a whisper.
She nodded slowly, leaning in a bit closer until I could feel the warmth of her proximity.
“Yes. It’s like you’re trying to avoid something but… you can’t.”
My throat went dry. I wanted to say something clever, to steer the conversation away, anything to regain some ground. But instead, all that came out was a nervous, forced laugh.
She didn’t stop looking at me. Then, with exasperating slowness, she smoothed the fabric of her dress over her thigh—a casual gesture.
“You know, sometimes you seem so self-aware. It’s something that can be endearing, but also… well, how do I put it?” she paused for a moment, bringing a finger to her lips as if she were reflecting. “It makes you seem easier to impress.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing, Reid. It’s just me rambling” her voice softened, and I felt the lightest touch on my nose as her finger grazed it. I tried to ignore the fact that her gaze had lingered on my lips “Scattered thoughts I have in my head.”
Without warning, she let out a loud exhale and leaned back into the couch, arching her back as if trying to relieve some muscle tension. I know she probably wasn’t aware of the movement, but it was what finally made me lose the little composure I had left.
“I need to use the restroom. Can you give me a moment?”
I escaped. Cowardly, completely, I got up and practically bolted toward the bathroom, desperate for a moment of peace. As soon as I entered, I realized I had an obvious problem in my pants—I was hard as a rock, and that wasn’t good. I looked at myself in the mirror, surprised at how flushed my face was. My pupils were dilated, my lips dry… What the hell was happening to me?
It quickly became clear that she was the reason for my situation.
The alcohol prevented me from feeling the embarrassment I surely deserved, and instead, I felt like my head was spinning. I placed a hand over the fabric of my pants, letting out a frustrated, pained groan.
I stayed there for a while, trying to think of something that would make my erection go away, but nothing worked. A couple of knocks on the door startled me, and that forced me to leave. Once in the hallway, I walked for a bit until I bumped into someone.
“Spencer! I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?”
“No! I mean, yes… it’s just…”
I needed to think of something quickly—something believable, but not catastrophic. However, it was hard to concentrate with her body so close to mine, mere inches away from her noticing my situation.
“Did you throw up?”
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s nothing. I think the vodka didn’t sit well with me, uh, maybe I got dizzy from dancing, I don’t know. I think it’s best if I leave.”
“Poor thing,” she murmured, pouting “I’ll take you home right now.”
“I can take a cab.”
“Nonsense. That was our agreement, remember? If one of us was in bad shape, the other would take care of them. Plus, I was the one who encouraged you to drink. I’d feel bad if something happened to you.”
She was already putting on her jacket—she’d been holding it, probably suspecting the situation—and tried to find the keys in her pocket. My outstretched hand reminded her that she’d already given them to me earlier.
When she placed her hand on the small of my back to guide me out, my breathing deepened. The sensation of excitement coursed through me in a way I couldn’t ignore. I realized that something in me desperately wanted her. Too much.
It wasn’t an impulsive desire but a subtle one that had been building throughout the night—with every glance, every gesture. Perhaps the vodka had intensified my evident attraction to her, but whatever the reason, it had turned into something far more palpable.
It was almost as if my body was begging me to stop her right then and there, to kiss her recklessly, and maybe, just maybe, ease the relentless ache inside me.
The cool night air made me feel better, and as the noise faded behind us, I began to calm down. I fervently tried to hide the bulge in my pants, but the truth was she didn’t even seem to notice. Then again, it would’ve been strange to catch her staring at my crotch, right?
“Are you sure you’re in a condition to drive?”
“I’ve driven home in far worse states of drunkenness. Don’t worry,” she smiled.
She looked more lucid now, as if her intoxication had vanished in an instant. I decided to trust her abilities.
The drive home was silent, and I kept shifting in my seat, trying to find strategic positions to avoid embarrassment. I guess she attributed my silence to the supposed discomfort I was feeling, as she didn’t try to start a conversation.
She didn’t say anything when she caught me looking at her through the rearview mirror. It was an innocent glance, at least on my part, simply admiring her. Her lips were driving me crazy, her eyes, slightly narrowed from the lack of light and smudged with mascara, seemed the most beautiful to me. I didn’t know what she saw in me, but I think—no, I feel—that it was something she liked.
“Thank you so much for bringing me home… and for everything.”
“Did you have fun?”
“Quite a lot, actually.”
“We should do this more often.”
“Go to university parties?”
“Just go out in general. To a bar, grab some drinks, a coffee, the library if you’d prefer,” she laughed “The place doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re there.”
Was she implying she wanted a date with me? I swallowed hard and looked at her, trying to decipher what she wanted me to do. I couldn’t figure it out.
“I’d like that, yes. We can talk about that later. Thanks again for the ride.”
A kiss on my cheek marked her goodbye, and I rushed out, eager to get inside my apartment. I was about to unlock the building’s door when the sound of a car horn made me turn around.
“Hey, would you mind if I use your bathroom? I’ll be quick,” she promised.
I needed to get to the shower and turn on the cold water, but I didn’t protest when she turned off the car engine.
Almost no one visited me in the apartment, so I kept the space however I pleased. It wasn’t really messy, but there were plenty of things on the desk and several books scattered around.
She entered, as she had said, rushing to the bathroom. It was only then that I dared to put a hand over my pants, swallowing a moan that was about to escape from my throat.
In my limited sexual experiences, nothing like this had ever happened to me, and I wondered what the cause might have been. Alcohol couldn’t be blamed, of course, but it was responsible for ruining my ability to react enough to find another explanation.
The shirt began to feel heavy on me, and almost out of necessity, I undid the first buttons to let myself breathe. I tried to ventilate my skin by tugging at the fabric with the tips of my fingers, but it was useless. I sighed.
I glanced around the room, just wanting to make sure nothing was embarrassing in view, and at that moment, she came out of the bathroom. She looked flushed and had some wet hair, as if she had washed her face.
“You okay?”
“Yes, just… suddenly felt a bit feverish”
“Let me check”
My intentions were purely medical when I cupped her face with one hand, putting the back of the other against her forehead to confirm or deny my suspicions. Of course, I hadn’t considered how close we would be. Or maybe I had, subconsciously, and that’s why I moved forward.
My choice of words wasn't the best either.
“You’re hot,”
“I don’t think it’s as much as you.”
A daring smile slid across her lips, and I held my breath as her fingers traced up to the line of my collarbone, exposed by my shirt.
“Why are you saying that?”
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s just… I don’t understand it.”
A soft laugh echoed in my ears.
“Well, I think you’re very handsome. Would there be any other reason for that?”
I swallowed deeply. She noticed the movement of my Adam’s apple.
“No… I think… I think not. It’s the most logical thing.”
“Don’t they tell you that often?” she murmured, genuinely confused. I shook my head “That’s a shame.”
Her hand, which had been tentatively caressing my skin, moved up to my neck and pulled me just a few inches closer to her.
“Hey, Spencer.”
“Yes?”
“Could I kiss you?”
A chill ran down my spine. And without thinking, I answered yes.
Her mouth found mine with a softness that contrasted with the whirlwind of sensations inside me. It was a heady contrast: the sweetness of her lips against the intensity of the desire that had been building up in every fiber of my being.
My hands instinctively moved to her waist, hesitating for a moment, as if fearing that this might just be a product of my imagination. But she didn’t hesitate. Her body leaned into me, closing any distance that remained.
Her lips were insistent, demanding, and before I could process what was happening, her hand slid down to my chest, pushing me gently back until my back collided with the wall.
“I’m sorry…” I managed to murmur between kisses, pulling my face slightly away. My voice came out more trembly than I wanted.
She raised an eyebrow, tilting her face toward mine, her fingers now brushing my jawline.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“For this” my gaze dropped quickly before returning to her eyes. “No… I didn’t want you to feel it. It’s embarrassing.”
For a moment, I thought she would pull away, that the spell of the moment would break. But instead, her lips curved into a mischievous smile.
“Embarrassing? I thought I was the only one feeling all this tension,” her tone was low, almost a whisper, but filled with a certainty that made my breath grow even more erratic.
Before I could respond, her lips captured mine again, this time with more intensity. The kiss was everything I didn’t know I needed: desperate, intoxicating, completely consumed by the connection between us. I felt her body press against mine, her curves fitting perfectly as if they were made to be there. And then, all my doubts, all my attempts to hold back, vanished.
My mind was a whirlwind. Every touch of her lips, every time her tongue sought mine, was like a fire I couldn’t put out. My face was hot, yes, but now not because of the alcohol, not even from the effort of holding myself back. It was her closeness, her touch, her condescending voice still echoing in my head.
She knows what she’s doing. And she’s slowly killing me.
“Hey, wait…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you feel okay with this?”
“A lot. Do you want to stop?”
“No. It’s just that… you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you” my voice came out hoarse, full of doubt and repressed desire.
Her eyes met mine, firm and warm at the same time, as if her gaze could completely disarm me.
“Relax. You’ve been drinking too, pretty, and I think if anyone could make that accusation, it would be you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?”
“No”
“I’m fully aware of everything. I don’t even feel drunk anymore. The only thing that’s making me dizzy right now is you, Spencer…”
I shivered when I heard my name on her lips like that. She continued:
“I’m just as anxious as you are. I’ve been holding back all night, trying not to make this too obvious, but I can’t anymore. Please, don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt what I want. I want you”
Her confession hit my heart like a blow and ignited a spark that set my entire body on fire. My hand moved up her back until it tangled in her hair, while the other rested on her hip. The pull was gentle but enough for her to understand that my inner struggle had ended. I wasn’t resisting this anymore.
I wanted her too. I wanted her now.
“I never imagined…”
My words were barely audible as our lips brushed in a kiss that was both an explosion of emotions and a long-awaited relief. Her mouth was soft, and so perfectly synchronized with mine that I felt like the world stopped at that moment.
Her hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring the connection between us, while my thumb traced a slow path along her jawline, savoring every detail of her skin. It was more than a kiss. It was the confirmation of something that had been lingering all evening.
When we parted just a centimeter to breathe, our foreheads stayed pressed together.
“Did that clear your doubts?”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say all that,” I replied with a weak smile, the only one my pounding heart allowed me to form.
“Then stop overthinking”
The space between us disappeared again as we kissed with desperation we had both been suppressing. Her low laugh vibrated against my lips, and I couldn’t help but smile. How did she do it? How did she drive me crazy with so little effort?
But now wasn’t the time for questions. It was time to feel.
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The whole world had reduced itself to him: his warm breath, his lips that wavered between soft and desperate, and the hands that roamed my waist with a mix of reverence and clumsiness, making me want him even more. Spencer had always been an enigma to me, a balance between restraint and passion that I didn't know how to decipher... until now.
I had waited for this moment more than I would ever admit. Maybe it had been the way he looked at me when he thought I didn't notice, or the warmth in his voice when he said my name, as if it were something sacred. But now, with his body pressed against mine and his doubts finally gone, I knew I hadn't imagined anything.
It was as if the pieces of a puzzle I had been trying to put together in the dark finally clicked into place, and the resulting image was more beautiful than I had ever dreamed.
Wanting to reverse the roles, it was now him who gently pushed me against the wall, and I felt the control he always seemed to have begin to crack. His breath was heavy, his body trembling slightly, a sign that this was as new and overwhelming for him as it was for me.
"Spencer..." I murmured his name again, feeling it resonate in my chest at the same time his lips moved more intensely against mine. "Can I ask you something?"
I received an affirmative exhalation, and to let me speak, his lips moved to the hollow of my neck. Although my mouth was free, the soft and wet kisses I was receiving blurred my judgment a bit.
"Tell me”
"Did you really feel bad at the party? Or was it just..."
"I didn't want you to notice what you were doing to me. Although I think at this point it doesn't matter much, right?"
Contrary to what I expected, Spencer pushed his hips against mine, as if he wanted to prove that it was true. I could even call it a claim, something that said: look what you did to me. And I wanted him to know just how much my body was begging for him.
Carefully, I moved one of his hands from my waist, and before he could protest, I guided it to one of my thighs, dangerously close to my core. I was glad I had thought of lingerie as a great complement to my dress, maybe in an attempt to feel sexy even if no one saw it. But now, he was going to see it.
Spencer understood my silent request. Those long, slender fingers, which seemed made for more than just flipping through the pages of a book or scribbling frantic notes on paper, slid across my smooth skin. I sighed as I remembered the veins tracing a map under his fair skin, like rivers of contained energy.
Until they finally reached where I needed them. And his touch... God, his touch was something else. They were hands made for discovery, for holding, for exploring, but in those moments, they seemed to be made only for me.
Spencer wasn't an overly bold guy, so it didn't surprise me that he just traced shapes above my panties, as if he wanted to diagnose my anatomy before making any move. My sighs at his ear seemed to please him.
Suddenly, he stopped kissing me, and I huffed, since I liked the attention he was giving my shoulder, until I felt his lips drop just slightly. A loud, pathetic moan escaped me when he squeezed my tits while burying his face to leave an experimental kiss.
I was barely processing that when he knelt in front of me and, carefully, took the edge of my dress and lifted it.
My legs trembled with anticipation at the thought of what he was going to do next, and then I felt his lips brush my thigh. He started gentle, kind, but soon he began sucking every bit of skin he could, and in the end, he made sure to leave bites strong enough to make me whimper.
Who would have thought that this man, seemingly so inexperienced, turned out to offer the best foreplay a woman could desire?
I squealed as I felt his kisses trail down to the fabric of my panties, pausing for a moment to lick the length of my still-clothed pussy.
“You’re dripping wet,” he observed. I was too focused on not giving in right then and there to say anything "Is oral something you're into?"
“I don’t know,” I exclaimed honestly. I didn’t care how vulnerable I looked as I confessed that no man had ever dared to give me head “You?”
“It’s an idea that piques my curiosity, yes.”
Gently he slid some of the fabric aside to clear the way for his tongue, and I felt as if my entire body was only aware of the parts he was probing, kissing, sucking. When he raised my thigh to shoulder height, deepening his thrusts, I felt like I was going to pass out.
I lowered my hand to his thick head and tried, in vain, to push him away from me. I honestly didn’t have the strength or desire to do so, much less when he had picked up the pace.
I moaned a sweet nickname out loud and then Spencer pulled away, looking up at me with glossy, swollen lips.
“Take me to bed, please.”
He didn’t need me to say it twice as he immediately stood up and took me by the waist to guide me to said spot. I was able to taste myself on his lips and for some reason that only turned me on.
Once we hit the mattress the way he laid me down was gentle and I sighed at that. How could he be so sweet all the time? I wondered. And worse yet, how much would this little adventure affect my future expectations?
Because if it was about standards, I was finding out that Spencer Reid was the standard.
Seemingly more enthralled now by my lips than my pussy, he continued with the make-out session we were having. With each touch we had, my excitement was increasing more and more. In the midst of it all I managed to unbutton his shirt and take it off to leave it somewhere on the bed; the semi-darkness of the room shielded any insecurities he might be feeling, as well as my own.
“You are painfully stunning, did you know?”
My tone was one of reproach, and he laughed at that, looking down almost embarrassed. Maybe he wasn't used to compliments, but something told me he was definitely enjoying it.
I heard him murmur something under his breath about me, while he took down the straps of my dress. My hands almost instinctively went to unbuckle his belt, and before I could do anything, he pulled away from me. Needless to say, this left me confused.
"Sorry, I..."
“You don't want to?” I murmured understandingly. I thought maybe he wasn't a big fan of these situations, and I understood, but somehow I felt hurt.
"No! Sure I want to. I want it a lot, but..." he tried not to look at me, as if avoiding confrontation "It's just that I don't have any protection here”
A laugh escaped my lips, and I feared he might interpret it as mockery, so I stretched my neck to steal another kiss.
"One would think there are many girls who pass through these sheets."
"Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not making fun of you. It's cute, actually. It even makes me feel guilty," I murmured, smiling "For a second, I was afraid something had made you uncomfortable."
"No, it's not that."
I hesitated for a second whether I should suggest what was on my mind.
"We could do it like this. It doesn't bother me."
"It's not just about avoiding an unwanted pregnancy..." he began. At that moment, I saw him return to his usual nerdy mode. "Although, of course, that counts. But there are things like sexually transmitted infections, some of which don't even show symptoms at first and could complicate things if not detected on time. I know this doesn't sound very attractive, but believe me, protection isn't just for avoiding future problems; it's also to take care of you now, so you don't have issues later: because sometimes men can transmit diseases we're asymptomatic for, and to be honest, I've never done those kinds of tests. A lot of people don't think about it, but the risks are real. And don't get me wrong, I trust you, but even though you trust me, diseases don't discriminate. And I'd like us both to have that peace of mind. Prevention is never too much."
“You conflict me deeply. On the one hand, I admire how responsible you are; it's very cute. But on the other hand, I just urgently need you to fuck me deep and cum inside me”
Spencer was surprised by my desperate whining and tensed when I placed one of my legs around his waist, trying to persuade him. But I was even more surprised when I felt him pull completely away to stand beside the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"To the pharmacy," he announced, putting a jacket over his bare torso.
"Are you serious?" I laughed widely, sitting on the bed now that my companion had moved away.
"Definitely. I feel like I can't handle it any longer, it’s physically painful, and when you talk to me like that, it just drives me crazy” he groaned, joining in the fun. It was the first time something like this happened, and I honestly thought it was absolutely hilarious “I'll be back in a minute, I swear! Please, don't go...”
"I couldn't," I murmured sweetly. He came closer, and I took the opportunity to kiss him again "Be quick. I'll be waiting anxiously for you."
Something in my tone of voice affected the man, or maybe it was the wink I gave him, but I saw him bolt out the door. I flopped back onto the bed, taking a moment to digest what was happening.
I have to admit that my classmate had always been attractive to me, but I never thought he could feel the same way. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would be waiting for him in his bed so that, with any luck, he could ravish me without holding back.
As I reached out my arms, I could feel the fabric of the shirt I had previously removed from him, and then I brought it up to my nose, inhaling without thinking. A familiar scent hit me immediately: the mix of sweet cocktails he had drank during the party and a subtle trace of cannabis, as if the night was still impregnated in him. I could distinguish a hint of wood, perhaps from the furniture in the place, combined with a light scent of sweat that was not bothersome, but rather natural. And then, among all that, there was his perfume: a citrus and spicy aroma that evoked something fresh, but also deep, sensual, as if every molecule of his being was waiting for something more. I breathed harder, feeling that this aroma, this moment, defined him.
I didn't know why that particular night my whole body was screaming for his closeness. I was crazy about him and it wasn't the alcohol's fault, because I'd had too many drinks to know. Neither of us had ever done drugs and for a moment I was terrified by the idea that I could want to be with someone like that, with such fervor that it was worrying.
Still dizzy from the excitement of the moment, I lowered one of my hands to my crotch to get rid of my panties. I thought about him, wondering how skilled he was. Not that I doubted his abilities, but just like I’d told him that night, he might need some practice.
I started to fantasize about helping him through this situation, maybe guiding him or pampering him by just asking him to lay back so I could do all the work. Spencer was the kind of man who invited you to please him, the kind of man you wanted to satisfy because he never pressured you into it.
Playing with myself, I sniffed his shirt again, desperately wishing I could have the source of said scent with me, until my brain was filled only with daydreams in which he was the protagonist and my fingers were replaced by his. That's why I didn't notice when he opened the apartment. And that's why I didn't know he was watching me from the door frame until I heard him let out a ragged sigh.
Being caught in that position made me feel embarrassed at first, but the way he practically lunged at me and kissed me more decisively than before, I figured he liked seeing me like that.
"Busy?"
I was caught off guard by his sassiness and I knew he was proud of it by the smile I felt on my neck.
“I guess you found what we need, right?”
“Uh-huh”
“Have you read any books on female anatomy?”
“Quite a few”
“So I guess you know a lot about sexuality, don’t you?”
“In theory, yes. Unfortunately, I haven’t had many opportunities to put it into practice.”
A smile spread across my face, which luckily he couldn't see because he was too busy leaving a trail of kisses along the top of my torso.
“How unfortunate, considering you’re a scientist. I wouldn’t mind becoming an object of your study, though, you know?”
He subtly slid the straps of my dress and revealed my bra, from which a considerable part of my boobs protruded, which he happily kissed.
At the same time his hand came down to caress me, making me shiver with anticipation, resting on just the right spots. It was the least I could expect from such an intellectual man, one who definitely knew about the thousands of nerve endings concentrated in my clitoris, which he was definitely tapping into to satisfy me.
“May I?” he whispered, looking at the little underwear he still had on.
I nodded immediately and arched my back to make it easier for him to unbutton it, which didn't take too long. He was practically worshipping every inch of my skin, which, combined with his gentle yet firm fingers rubbing me, was driving me crazy.
We both moaned in unison as he pushed a finger into me. It felt just as good as I had imagined.
I had read somewhere that, physiologically, women need more time to achieve an orgasm and although none of my exes had cared about that, this one seemed to know that fact. Maybe that was why he was giving me such attention, which I was undoubtedly grateful for.
“Honey…” I choked out “you’re doing great, really, really good, but would you mind if we replaced those fingers? I want to feel you inside me,” I practically begged.
I never begged, I felt like a fool doing it, but if that got me the intensity of the kiss he gave me, I wouldn't mind starting to do it.
Spencer pulled away from me, searching for the packet of condoms he'd run off to get, and while he unbuttoned his pants I got rid of my dress, which by this point was just a mass of fabric around my waist.
My body wasn't perfect, but I figured that wouldn't matter to him. Besides, I doubt he'd be rude enough to mention it.
“Need a hand?” I joked playfully, noticing that he was struggling to open the silver package.
“I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous,” he said to himself, hoping I wouldn’t mind too much.
I wanted to reward him for treating me so well a few moments ago and I took the package from his hands, placing my palm on his chest until I laid him down against the mattress. Once in that position it wasn't difficult to get rid of the wrapping to place the piece of latex on him, thinking that I didn't have a single complaint about his body.
My hands on him made him nervous and I watched him turn into a mess as I began pumping his cock up and down to make sure he had the condom on properly.
“You don’t have to hold back. I like the sounds you make,” I exclaimed in a velvety tone, trying to sound as genuine as possible “That way I know you’re enjoying it.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out for much longer,” he confessed, as my hand continued to move along his length. Although I wished I could take better care of him, I understood the situation.
“Your wish is my command”
He didn't complain when I put each leg on his sides and he bravely hardened as I teased him for a moment before sinking my pussy onto his dick. I started slow, trying to make him last as long as possible, but with each second it was getting harder to keep up a pace.
I tried my best to ride him, trying to give him the best experience as a thank you for all his hospitality. And from the whimpers coming out of his throat I assume I was doing my job well.
At some point his hands ended up on my hips, guiding me as he pleased. Sometimes he pushed me down, as if he wanted to get to the bottom of me, and other times he manipulated me so that the thrusts were fast.
He wasn't lying when he said he would cum in no time, as the repressed desire added to the previous sexual actions had him on the edge of the abyss. I knew he had reached orgasm when he closed his eyes and his hips slammed against me, in erratic movements.
I kept riding him a little longer, chasing my own climax, and when I got it I put my hands against his chest, arching in pleasure. Spencer, breathing heavily, grabbed my wrists in his hands and then pulled me so that I was against his torso, my lips too close to his.
He placed his palm on my cheek and pulled me in his direction, seemingly asking for a kiss. I granted it.
“Are you satisfied?”
“I am,” I sighed wryly. It was cute that he didn’t know that sometimes girls don’t even make it. “How was it for you?”
“I'm speechless.”
I laughed and, to a certain extent, felt flattered that I had left a man who knew a million ways to express himself in that state.
We enjoyed the high we had just had for a few minutes and waited for our breathing to slow down; when our sighs took the same rhythm, he spoke again.
“You should go to the bathroom. It’s, uh… healthy for you to do it after every encounter.”
I reached for the garment he had been wearing and, trying to protect myself from the cold air, I put it on over myself.
“Do you mind lending it to me?”
“Nu-huh,” he hummed, eyeing me as if I were a cupcake. I would later learn how affected he was to see me using his clothes to slide out of bed.
When I came out of the bathroom he already had his boxers on, probably wanting to maintain modesty, and when he went to attend to his needs I also looked for my panties. It wasn't long before he returned to keep me company.
“Do you want to cuddle? I’d feel like a whore if I just left”
“Yes, of course I want”
He made sure to throw anything that was on the bed onto the floor and patted the pillows to make them more comfortable. I settled into the space next to him, leaning against his chest, right at heart level.
One of his arms was holding me from behind and in some strange way that made me feel safe; protected.
“Your feet are frozen, are you cold?”
"Not much"
“Do you want me to get you some socks?”
“I’m fine, Spencer,” I laughed softly. I brushed my cheek against his skin and tried to snuggle closer to him. “It’ll just get colder if you leave.”
“Did you know that the human body is incredibly efficient at maintaining its temperature? When two bodies are nearby, like… now,” he paused, settling a little closer to me, “heat transfer occurs due to thermal radiation and direct conduction. Essentially, each body generates heat that helps the other maintain a stable core temperature.”
“So you’re like a human blanket”
“That’s right. In fact, in situations of severe hypothermia, sharing body heat in this way can literally save lives.”
I raised my head to look at him and noticed an excited gleam in his eyes, the one he always had when he shared something from his vast knowledge.
“I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what you said earlier, about female anatomy,” seeing him frown, I continued, “No field of study considers one experimentation enough, right? Everything needs to be replicated two, three, four times. Ten times if necessary.”
“Your guess is quite accurate.”
“Say no more. We must give everything if it is in the name of science”
From the smile on his face, I knew that my joke had pleased him and that my proposal seemed to please him. To seal the deal I reached up and kissed him softly. We remained silent for a while, him caressing me over his own shirt and me enjoying the closeness.
“I like you a lot”
“I had a feeling,” I teased, earning a soft laugh from him “I really like you, too."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and for some stupid reason a blush crept up my cheeks, even though we had just had sex. I carefully placed myself on top of his body and buried my face in his neck, feeling him hug me around the waist.
It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, I could tell by how calm his breathing was becoming, and I tried to enjoy the peace he emanated a little longer, until, eventually, Morpheus picked me up in his arms too.
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